CRACK! The sound of a hatching egg. Some say it was because the moon was full or the stars and the planets aligned a certain way that the creature within this particular egg would immerge a monster. Others speculate that the sun could have been shining brightly on a beautiful, cloudless, sapphire day and that it would have made naught a difference; it was destined to be for it was the nature of evil. Whatever the case may have been, the egg continued to crack and pieces of the shell fell to the ground and shattered like fragile shingles.
     The darkness within spread across the ground like a mist of death and from the tattered shell emerged a shiny, onyx dragon with golden stripes and leathery, jet-black wings. His eyes were like molten stone and his tongue was wicked like blue lightning. And thus, Blaze Xanatos Darkarma, the grandchild of Dyarr was born; some of the stars grew brighter that night as if Tallus had plans for this one.

     Blaze was conceived and born in the shadow of a night club referred to as Dusk Till Dawn. The only people that entered this place were those of an unaligned or evil nature. The type of folk who would enslave children and murder their parents to make money off the parts. And with these people came egos and it wasn't long after the bar would open that egos were bruised and blood hit the floor.
     Blaze would often feast upon the fallen corpses and as he grew stronger and more bold, he would soon test himself against weakened victims. It wasn't long before simple bar fights turned into feeding time for the young dragon. Whenever a fallen foe would get too close to the dark corners of the club, Blaze would lash out and kill his prey, growing stronger and larger still, and as he did, the darkness spread and consumed half of the bar.
     When the dragon had become a juvenile, he grew curious about the lives that he had taken and whenever a snack would fall into his darkness, he would claim it and bound it. Soon, experiments would follow involving sexual deviance or even pre-death autopsies. Blaze found much delight in watching his prey's heart beat and would often sink his teeth into it and ingest it while his victim watched in horror, still alive. And into adulthood, Blaze would trade sexual favors to spare his victim's lives, but rather than make good on his agreements, he would merely swallow them whole and savor the feeling of them squirming down his esophagus.

     Life was swell for Blaze and he could have gone on living as he did and the world would have been much better off with him happily residing in a place no one good went, devouring the evil that was laden there. But The Dark Primes did not approve, specifically, Taglinn Tigh who devoted much time and effort into raising his own children. When he saw that Dyarr's grandchild was left unattended to become a garbage disposal of the damned, he felt it was time to step in and give Blaze some proper parental guidance.
     It was Taglinn who taught Blaze the history of his people and the great conflict that arose after his father attempted to trick The Primes into recreating his favored race. Blaze was naturally angered and felt it was not right for The Dragon to punish Dyarr for the acts of his brothers and sisters, allowing the Wyrmmes' corpses to rot under hardened molten lava and dirt. If The Primes were now The Dragon's favored children, then they should too suffer, and Blaze vowed that if capable, he would kill any one of their children that crossed his path. Blaze wanted to lash out and cut The Dragon himself, but knew he'd have to wait until his kin were ready. Sure, The Dragon eventually recreated the Wyrmmes, but they are lesser and wouldn't recreate them at the time which led to the whole conflict. This just proves that The Dragon doesn't know what's best and should be forced back into an eternal rest and his favored children dealt with.
     Taglinn spent many hours with his immortal great grandson, teaching him the dark arts and also martial combat. He also provided Blaze with access to grand libraries where the dragon studied furres, cultures, and the world. There was so much more Taglinn could teach Blaze of his history and experience, but it would take many life times to bestow that volume of information; therefore, Blaze took his leave from Taglinn's personal realm and rematerialized back in The Dragonlands.

     Blaze had matured since being with his great uncle. Sure, he was still the same person within, but now he had desires and the newfound means to take whatever he wanted: a land to rule as Emperor. He was adorned in plate armor, bearing a large shield in the shape of the wing of a dragon, and armed with a longsword and magic. His attire was finely crafted out of obsidian as well as his scalpel-sharp weapon. He set out into Kasuria for the first time and it wasn't long before he found what he was looking for: a fight.
     A dragon unlike any he had ever seen was laying waste to a small village. Normally, such a sight would only make Blaze grin, but this was the perfect opportunity to assault the malevolent and test his training. The dragon was a quadruped with great, leathery wings and red in color. The reptile was at least 30ft long and half as tall while Blaze was only 7ft on two legs. Blaze walked past fleeing women and children, and stepped over the bodies of their respective husbands and fathers, finally making it into the dragon's threshold. The beast attempted to intimidate Blaze, but it was futile, for Blaze did not fear death and merely instigated the situation by yawning quite audibly. A terrible skirmish commenced and was over just as quick as it had started with Blaze unscathed and the dragon dead at his feet. A shiny, golden amulet dropped from the dragon's clutches and Blaze took a knee to investigate. As he did, Scarhawk riders filled the sky with their clan leader upon the ground just feet before Blaze, followed by angry villagers armed with pitchforks and other farming equipment. Blaze was excited by the gathering, knowing that in mere moments, he'd have more living dummies to practice on.
     Blaze picked the amulet up and stood, looking across its ancient design. The symbol of time was engraved upon it and the octagonal rock gleamed with colorful strands of light. He sniffed the stone, nudging it with his snout, and as he did, it exploded with white light and sent a magnificent energy through Blaze. For a moment, Blaze had a moment of clarity and understood the passages of time and understood what only Thelcoda could, but his Dark Prime blood growled angrily and rejected the magic of the stone; however, not fast enough to reverse the effects upon his wings. His leathery pair was replaced by white, feathery wings with an iridescent gloss that reflected shifting colors of the rainbow.

     The clan leader of these Scarhawks dismounted and bowed before Blaze with respect and soon what was left of the villagers disarmed and followed suit. For some reason, Blaze couldn't find it within himself necessary to senselessly kill these people. It was if some form of order overrode his chaos, though he was still certainly evil. The leader thanked Blaze for saving their people from the jaws of this terrible creature, for as prophesied, Blaze was The Dragon of Light and Hope to their people. At that moment, Blaze decided that he would forever spare their civilization in his own mind and when the leader offered his services as payment, Blaze accepted and instructed these people to build him a great castle of onyx and obsidian in Drakoria near the edge of Kasuria; and so it was done.

     The castle was finely crafted with curved roofs and solid walls upon a rocky foundation that sat in the middle of a large lake. Only a stone bridge connected the castle to the land. All that was left now was to accept followers. Blaze thanked the clean leader and his people for their aid and then returned to their homes in Kasuria, quite a trek away.
     Blaze summoned from across the lands shapeshifters, undead, and those of tainted blood to come live in his new empire - The Dragon Realm Empire. And as far as Blaze was concerned, his empire extended as far as his eye could see, which was a sizable length. Soon, the empire was prosperous and thriving, though faces changed often and crime was through the roof. Satisfied with himself, Blaze spent his days feasting, fornicating, and sleeping. But a life of luxury could only last so long.

     It would seem that someone did not have respect for Blaze and built a castle within his sight and thus in his territory. Sure, the castle was not located in Drakoria nor in a contested territory, but in Kasuria; however, Blaze did not limit his vision to such imaginary lines. If someone was to build a kingdom upon his land, then they shall pay taxes and acknowledge him as emperor. However, King Gregory Ward did not see it fit to pay such homage to Blaze, but instead sent scouts followed by heavily armed knights and siege weapons to force Blaze's militia from the contested area and back into Drakoria.
    Blaze was outraged and ordered a return fire, sending waves of undead magi and soldiers to reclaim the contested area, but the two forces were evenly matched and losses were heavy. Ultimately, King Ward and Blaze fortified their borders, both officially leaving the land between contested, though secretly, Blaze sent more and more troops into the contested area every day, biding his time to build strength for when he will swarm upon the King and his men and claim King Ward's castle and city-state for his very own.