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“One day, you muster the courage and let go of the fear. In a brief moment of insanity, you do everything ever wanted to do. In that instant, something about you changes. It is addictive. You discover yourself. You are alive. You are powerful.”
Once upon a time, a dragon trekked to the heart of the Plaguelands, braving the horrors, the disease, the shadows that prowl in the darkness, just to prove it could be done.

Now, generations later, we have the Plague Flight. A place I call home, and a land I call Mother. A land that is always freshly bathed in brutal conquests as we campaign the constant expansion of our dominion over the pale, lustless world around us, transforming it in our image... A vision in blossoming tendrils of violent and vigorous life.

But why do we keep waging war? We have land aplenty, surely? Deities are always welcoming of converts to serve their cause, no matter which flight they were born. There is place enough for everyone.

If you ask Nature, you'll get an easy consensus that we conquer simply because we are the devil incarnate. But understand, the Contagion in itself is neither good nor evil. It is simply powerful. The dragons in it choose every day how they will use that power.

It is great indeed, to be powerful. And no matter how strong I am, I can always get stronger. I can amass more territory, more numbers, more materials, more gold, more everything.

Oh progenitor who had first set foot here, if only you could see us now, sharing in the thirst of the Contagion itself. Would you be proud, of the glorious species you have created? Of every generation who had dared to go a little further, push a little more?

Though my ancient ancestor might not have been of the Contagion, they were stronger in spirit than any of the frail, fearful creatures today polluting the world beyond our borders. My ancestor saw death and confronted it, made a home in it. Is it any wonder then, that we strike such terror into those who chose to hide behind their deities? As if their gods will protect them from the dangers that skulk in their nights and in their nightmares.

I do not hide. Even with the power of the gods against me, I survive because Iam the danger, the nightmare. I defy the death and virulent disease surrounding my home every day. Survival is suffering and struggle. Only the harshness of life breeds resilience in the living. And so I fight. I wage war and conquest. I set armies against each other and stain the world with violence. It is their own folly, if they did not amass the strength to defeat me.

From the first outsider who looked upon the Plaguelands and found it beautiful, every generation after them adapted, changed, evolved. Our land is now a part of us as much as we are a part of it. We grew powerful. The Contagion runs so strongly within my blood, that even a single touch will gift a wealth of misery to those who have lived under only fair plains and high suns.

Warfare has never been so easy.

"Glanders lives a life of passion. His blood is plague-born, and runs hot. His world is no more permanent than smoke rising from a flame. Whatever his struggles and triumphs, however he may suffer them, all too soon they bleed away, just like an ember in the rain. Tomorrow is a new day, unencumbered with old nonsense. It's a pure and perfect way of life, freeing, to remember nothing and want for everything." - War
"Glanders is a living example of why dreams can be such dangerous things. They so easily go out of control. Scaling walls and jumping over trenches. Sparks leap like fleas and a breeze could carry embers for miles. Better to tend that spark and pass it from one generation to the next, like a torch. Carefully controlled. But Glanders is a conflagration. Doing anything and everything on a whim. It has consumed him completely; he burns in it, and he'll die in it some day." - Aegis

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