Directed Archeology Portland Sector
Story of Sir Astille Verminguard
The last words spoken by the spirit of Sir Astille Verminguard:
I don’t know where the Bastille came from, but it saved us. It saved this whole land. The Dragon Gods were once the guardians of our race. They nurtured and protected us while we served and revered them in return. I was just a fledgling knight when Gamalelle the Green first went berserk. It was in the distant west, the former home of the Halflings where communications were scarce. It wasn’t until a few of the survivors escaped, that the dragon madness spread. Next went Phlesham the Black; as the once tranquil Moorefield Swamp became acrid and foul. Helio the Red and Sarevos the Blue descended to madness at nearly the same time. The Yggdranor Mountain, greatest achievement and center of the Dwarven Kingdom erupted in a spire of crimson death. In a moment, the might of the dwarves crumbled. Sarevos, once the wisest and most compassionate of the dragons, descended on the capital and brought war to her followers. Torn by loyalty and fear, I’m afraid the city presented little challenge to the Blue Dragon God.
That was when the Bastille arrived. A lone warrior journeyed to Draz’Rannor and confronted Sarevos with the staff. Somehow, he was able to prevail and contained the Dragon God within the Palace Hot Spring. The battle was not without a cost… Using the staff to ensnare a Dragon God requires the life-force of the wielder. The Knights of Bahamut took it upon themselves to defeat the remaining three mad dragons. We travelled north to the Moorefield Swamp where Phlesham was laid low by the Bastille wielded by my brother and senior knight, Asvard. Gamalelle the Green was easily ambushed as she continued to hunt the scattered Halfling tribes by Sir Wexter Firfrost. Tracking Helio the Red, was the hardest part… His power and rage extended far beyond the ranges of his dragonkin and it required joining forces with both dwarven and Halfling allies. Finally, at the gravesite of Yggdranor, the remaining knights encountered a fully prepared Mad Dragon God at the height of its power. It was a slaughter; the land erupted in gouts of flame and magma. Scores of knights were engulfed by a fiery oblivion before any kind of effective response could be assembled. It was then, when our Lord Commander, Drickson Von Gulhurst took the Bastille from the hands of a fallen comrade and gave his life to stop the mad reign.
Only a handful of us remained after the battle. As I picked up the Bastille, it trembled and it fell into three pieces. Our dwarven allies took the staff base and the Halflings kept the amulet, leaving the dragon knights in possession of the staff body. The five of us wearily travelled back to a devastate Draz’Rannor. This was when we learned of our terrible mistake. By sealing Sarevos in the springs, we dedicated the entire city’s water supply to contain the dragon. The plants, animals, and even the dirt itself started to die; fertile soil crumbled to sand. We returned to our sanctuary to gather strength in order to correct our mistake when we were beset by hoards of the undead. My brothers fell in valiant battle until only I stood at the inner sanctum. I sacrificed myself to Bahamut to protect our monastery and have stood my vigil here uninterrupted for over a hundred years; until now.