Today was a bright day for Belliste, upon these lands, there were five distinct regions, the Southern Shores, ruled by Warking Alisart Cleavster and his knights cloaked in white, with access to the ocean, they braved its dangers to furnish a steady stream of food to the population, with also many fertile lands, here, strong martial warriors could be cultivated, and upon it, as rare as was an upside down tree, calm and peace reigned.
The same, incredibly strange and unusual spectacle was happening throughout all of the regions.
In the Northern Swamp, ruled by Warking Irlke Combuscrus, the people enjoyed a few, extremely fertile areas, but they were small, and thus, the people here did not eat as much as they should, leading to the leading way of power becoming, magic, and more precisely pyromancy.
The warriors of Combuscrus might not be the strongest physically, but the practice of flame magic was ingrained deep within them, and not simply figuratively, with it, they could weave in disastrous hail of fire, within their swampy territory, facing them was a challenge.
Yet, not even sparks were to be seen throughout the swamp.
As for the Eastern Peaks, most dangerous region of Belliste, it was ruled by Warqueen Derdlim Maulerd, often called the man eater, she had found a most vile way of cultivating power, in her territory, feasting and eating were a sacred rite, one did not simply consumed to recover energy, devouring formerly living beings was like gnawing upon their very essence, and flesh from brethren was the most efficient in this regard, there were no graveyards or tomb in the Eastern Peaks.
All that were killed, that died in whatever manner, would be butchered and devoured, cuisine was taken seriously, and no scraps were to be left behind, each organ, even the bones and teeths were to be consumed alongside the rest, and it worked, the Warqueen and her warriors were all freakishly powerful, and could even inherit aspects of what they devoured.
In spite of this, even the people of this region were calm, a clear absence of bloodlust and conflict, all awaited something.
Warking Jaral Cribler appeared as a typical ruler at first, governing the Western Cliffs, a treacherous region where one wrong step would drag someone to their brutal demise, battered and crushed as they impacted jagged rocks on their way down, using this dangerous terrain to his advantage, the lord and his men were master archers, always taking the high ground or striking from far away, it was said that the best of the sharpshooters could strike a diving falcon from kilometers away.
And even then, taking advantage of the terrain once again, the archers would willfully pluck out their left eye and replaced it with another, taken from an unknown source, the yellow eyes allowed them so aim from further away, and most importantly, see through the eyes of birds, they didn't even to have a true line of sight with whoever, or whatever they were shooting at.
Those four regions were the big players of Belliste, ruling over a wide span of lands respectively, but none could truly overcome the other, invading the territory of another was a death sentence, and yet, they all kept on trying anyway.
Those of the south were the most well trained, truest of knights that could not be easily toppled, the south was also especially numerous, fighting as a group, they were a wall.
Those of the north were settled in a swamp that only them knew how to properly manoeuvre, armed with their pyromancy, few could hope to match their power output, those who attempted to invade them were always burnt to a crisp.
Those of the east lived amidst the mountains, and were akin to predators, the rugged ground and verticality called for a lack of cohesive formations when progressing through the peaks, allowing for the cannibals to ambush their enemies when in small groups.
Those of the west reigned completely upon the cliffs, arrows would rain with utmost precision, their projectiles seemingly defying common sense, and all the while rarely ever showing themselves.
As such, neither of them could truly challenge one another on enemy ground, leading to a stalemate, each and every one of them holding their regions with an iron fist.
Then, there was the fifth region, the central plains, where the great majority of the fighting occurred, there, countless warlords were constantly wagging bloody battles,dying and being replaced in an endless cycle, the topography was as the name suggested, rather flat and thus, not exactly conductive or advantageous for anyone.
Today, even that region was calm, for all of the kings and queens were listening attentively to the words of a majestic, powerful three-headed dragon, flanked by two other regal dragons, the feasters of the east salivated before such glorious meals.
But even they knew to sit out of unwinnable odds.
All had agreed to settle down and assemble to listen to the words of a mighty dragon, Solast shone upon them nearly as brightly as the sun above them, his three heads staring intently at each of them, clearly sensing the lingering killing intent from each and every person present, making certain that all were attentive before speaking, there was no need for him to put on a threatening facade when dealing with them, certainly a breath of fresh air as many of his own peers tended to not take him seriously.
But it was not like the humans, elves, demons and beastfolks here could read the expressions of a dragon.
"I assume that the majority present has not taken notice of the dark storm approaching?" he spoke, only using one head to do so, speaking in a low tone, still the people were visibly rattled by how loud he sounded to them.
Alisart Cleavster did not say anything but immediately felt the need to pump his fist into the air, the dragon repeating the same words in different languages, the four main lords were well-versed enough in a few of them at least, but when it came to their people and the lords of the central plains, they could only speak a single one.
"To put it in simple terms, that storm is no storm at all, it is a massive cloud of pustulent fog that seeks nothing but to ravage life, it is death, quite literally, and as my lord does not dis continent, I have come to warn you of its approach" Solast did not beat around the bush, but it still took time to get the point across to everyone.
"Aherm, so… We should stop all conflicts and prepare to face this… Death, right?" the southern warking took this occasion to make it even more obvious what was being advised to them.
"Precisely, even I and my two companions would rather not linger on too close to this fog, it appears rather more organised that one might expect, this force can build, and thus, I believe that they have something leading them in some capacity, its forces outnumbers all of you, as such, you must prepare immediately"
Speaking a bit more on what exactly they should do, as Solast had gathered a fair bit of intel throughout his numerous incursions, the dragon soon left, not truly knowing if the people of Belliste would believe a dragon that showed up out of nowhere.
But they had to, for their own survival.