The irony is not lost on me, my son.

We fear the mighty Ehecatl Dragons, we always have. And yet, our very way of life is inspired
and motivated by them. From the moment we are born until our dying breath, our eyes are fixed on
the skies above. The Way of the Dragonborn is life, even in death. My light dwindles with every
waking hour. Even with the flame of Erakor the First’s blood raging through my veins, I can feel the
embers burning low. Soon I will be but ash, and you, my boy, will lead our people.

We are a practical bunch, and perhaps have spent too much time acting, and not enough
thinking. So, allow me to provide some guidance for the dangers that lie ahead. I have lived a long and
full life, and there is much wisdom that is held only in living memory. Tonight, that ends. Tonight, I
begin the process I hope will continue for generations – we must share our knowledge. We must put
it to paper, to be learned and remembered. To be used against the Sky Beasts that threaten us. Let us
begin by looking inward. The Way of the Dragonborn has evolved through necessity, and while we
value every member of society, there are three Holy paths that our most hallowed members take:

The Path of the Shaman for the wise who can wield the powers of Old.

We entrust them with the creation of our weapons, for the only way to infiltrate the thick
armoured scales of the Ehecatl is with expertly crafted Draconic Blades. Borne from ancient magic
and dragons’ blood; we rely on these powerful weapons to survive. It is an honourable path, but it is
not without its dangers. The power of a Shaman is not infinite. Each incantation takes a heavy toll.
For a sword to shatter a Dragon’s soul, it must also take from the soul of its creator.

The Path of the Warrior is the way of the blade.

Life is not easy, nor is it guaranteed, for those that walk this path. Only the strongest will
survive the intense training grounds, and live to see the Ehecatl with their own eyes. By the time they
can walk, young warrior boys and girls begin their training. It can be a solitary journey, and one
bathed in blood and pain. It is not for the faint of heart. When they are ready, we send them off alone
in search of metal, emulating the spiritual journey Erakor the First embarked upon before his first kill.
The Path of the Warrior is first and foremost one of discovery; to know oneself is to know one’s
enemy. If they return, and not all will, they will bring the materials needed to craft their weapon. In a
ceremony I will not describe here, for it is a private thing, this freshly minted warrior watches as a
Shaman builds his weapon. Our warrior makes an oath, there and then, as ancient as the powers that
bathe his blade, vowing to never part with his sword, and to hunt the Ehecatl Dragons forevermore.

The Path of the Old Tongue are the rarest and most sacred.

Said to be born of the skies themselves, the blood that courses through their veins is not
wholly human. We call them the Whisperers. When a woman is expecting child, and close to giving
birth, all are alert for the sign of the full moon. Those born with the gift are always born when the
moon reigns full in the night sky, when the doors between the physical and spiritual realms lay open.
When such a child is born, they must be given to the temple to answer their calling. Their origins, and
their lives, are shrouded in secrecy, for their path is one of constant peril and absolute power. They
have the Power of Sight. An intrinsic connection to the Ehecatl Dragons that allows them to conjoin
with a Dragon’s soul for a short time – See what the Dragon sees, feel what they feel. It is said that
with a whisper they can take control, and turn that dragon against his kin. The Whisperers are the
most powerful of us all, and the most viciously hunted, for the Ehecatl can smell them a mile off.
 The trident of the Dragonborn is three-pronged for a reason. Each path is integral in the fight
against the Sky Beasts, for how does one fight nature herself? The Shamans describe the Ehecatl as
the embodiment of the Sky; the speed and grace of the Wind, the everburning might of the Sun. But it
is not just their ferocity that we must fear, for they are not mere animals. They are smart. Capable.
The Whisperers have fed us fragments over the years, pieces of the puzzle, and we have learned a
great deal about their sentience. The Ilhuicatl Conclave is what binds all Dragons together. They
consider themselves divine beings, connected to the very Firmament itself. Gods. Their hubris is their
folly. We know them to be Demons, and treat them accordingly.

They can be found anywhere, but we’ve come to understand their preferences. They will
always choose height, and prefer to settle in barren landscapes. Canyons, desolate mountaintops,
desert valleys, and occasionally, conquered human cities. They stake their claim by reigning hellfire
down upon an area, heating it to their desired temperature and destroying anything within. Entire
cities have been engulfed in this way; entire nations swallowed whole. The do not burrow like lizards,
but build their nest like great scaled birds – Wielding the mighty forces of nature, Wind and Fire, they
sculpt the earth to their desired shape. Landing atop a mountainside, for miles around you might see
the churning flames glowing while a Dragon renders its home from the very stone itself. Keeping
themselves closest to the Firmament, up high in the sky, they will construct jagged rock formations
surrounding their chosen plateau. Whether this is for decoration or protection, or both, we know not.

The more we learn about the Ilhuicatl Conclave, the more we realise just how advanced their
society is. And how dangerous that makes them. We have come to understand that they claim all of
the highest points of the world as theirs by right. The Peaks, they call them. The height at which they
make their home directly correlates to their level of strength and sway within the Conclave. The
tallest peaks are reserved for only the fiercest of them. The battles for dominance can be bloody, and
fatal. The war between the Dragonborn and the Ehecatl is one thing, but when there is infighting
between the Dragons themselves, we run.

Our fight has existed for millennia, but we now believe we have a chance at finally winning
this ancient war. The Whisperers believe there may only be a dwindling number of Dragons left in
existence – A combination of our efforts, and their own territorial conflicts, has decimated their
numbers. Our best guess is there are perhaps one thousand or so Ehecatl Dragons left, for now.

My legacy is etched in these pages. I can feel myself weakening, but I must go on. I will ensure
that my children’s children may one day know peace. So, let me tell you what we know about the
various factions of the Ehecatl. I will begin with the most dangerous, and monstrous of them all:

The Undead are a result of the magic imbued in the Draconic Blades.

When a Dragon’s soul is cut, but not severed completely, there is a chance that their broken
soul can awaken and take control of the carcass. The legend of Zombie Dragons is all too real. These
Dragons are severely wounded, and lack intelligence. They are simply Sky Beasts baying for blood.

The Skeletal are members of the Undead family driven by vengeance.

These tend to be borne of the more powerful Ehecatl, who never give up seeking revenge.
Once they have fallen to their wounds, their shattered souls fester. Their bodies decompose, and rot
away to expose their skeleton. It is then that they awaken, driven by a will to avenge their own death.
Only then, is their fragmented soul able to leave the Earth and enter the Astral Plane.
 Ehecatl Dragons can be grouped into five Chromatic Variants.

The colour of their scales tells us all we need to know about their allegiances, their
motivations, and their history:

Scales of Yellow Amber signify the desire for wealth above all else.

These Dragons are drawn to valuable minerals, gold deposits, man-made artefacts; like great
serpentine magpies they feel a magnetic pull to all objects of value. Their golden hue a reflection of
their unerring greed. Legend has it that after acquiring almighty hordes of treasure, their gluttony
satiated, they fall into a deep slumber. During this period of hibernation, the Dragons intense body
heat melts the surrounding gold, solidifying it to its scales. Upon waking, their trove is significantly
diminished due to its new home lining the Dragons body, and they must embark once more to
continue their never-ending quest for wealth.

Scales of Cerulean Teal are the most elemental of them all.

Fiends of our coastal towns and cities, these Dragons reside with the tides. Finding their nest
in isolated islands that dot our coastline, or else harrying the small fishing villages to lay claim to the
beaches. It is said that their hunt is not for human flesh, or world domination, but simply to decipher
the secrets of the Seas. They have shown themselves to have great power, wielding the strength of
the ocean’s waves against us. There are rumours that these Dragons renounce the Way of the Wind,
following instead the Waterways to guide them.

Scales of Blood Red strike fear in the heart of the bravest of men.

Most afeared, and for good reason. These Dragons are sometimes referred to as Children of
the Flames, because they are incapable of ignoring their bloodlust. The very fibre of their being urges
them ever onward to the next battle; they have never been seen to sit still. They are the berserkers of
their fighters. Stories tell of a hellfire raging in their chests, churning them into violence. Wherever
they may be, they leave desolation in their wake. Fear them.

Scales of Amaranthine Purple scout the skies as silent watchers.

The least violent or dangerous of all factions, they have confused and unnerved us for
generations. From what the Whisperers have managed to gather and relay unto us, these Dragons
appear to value knowledge above all else. They are more aware of their own, and their species’,
mortality than another Variant – which is why they devote their lives to the peaceful gathering of
intelligence. It is not uncommon for many people to see an Oracle, as they have affectionately come
to be known, in their lifetime. They are often seen placidly flying over human cities, simply watching.

Scales of Emerald Green are the Avatars of Nature.

The Forest dwelling Dragons have no desire to be close to the sky, instead, they place
themselves at the heart of the natural world. Surrounding themselves with greenery, they are capable
of manifesting great woodlands in their wake, terraforming the land to their vision. They are perfectly
camouflaged when residing deep within their domain, the stealthiest of the Ehecatl hunters. Many a
wandering traveller has unknowingly stumbled into a Dragonwrought thicket never to be seen again.
One only hopes the embrace of death they found was quick.
My son, these are the frantic final thoughts of a dying man.

I only hope they serve you well in the battles to come.

Never forget the power of our families’ ancestors.

Erakor Skyslayer may have been the First to defeat our mortal enemy, but you have his blood.

I know you will make us proud.

Long live the Dragonborn, and may the light of our lives burn brighter than…

(Unfinished extract, written by Grand Master Karlos Karrasco before he died)