[The Oracle of It was a time of change. The descendants of the Atlantean had fallen before the New Praesidium, and the wolves were baying at the door. An oppressive new faith was encroaching the east, and the sylvan liege had locked the gates of his arboreal realm. And so it was that towards the end of the Age of Mystery, the last of Albion's great Lords did gather for what be their final battle...
[The War-song of the Lords:] Dragon-phalanx rend the sky, Albion our prize, Sentinels of and sea, guardians of destiny. (Prowling amongst the pecseatan; Draconis Bipedes, swift and beast of battle!)
[The Dragon King's (Dragon-Runes by the firey tongues of the IX Legio Draconis into the primordial stone of the great Logres Cromlech): The foes of this sceptred isle shall be back into the sea! An oath sworn in battle, a vow by steel, I by the dragon's blood in my veins... and the dragon's heart that pumps it!
[The War-song of the Lords:] Dragonfyre in the fray, faith and shall win the day, A god to serf and king alike, the Hammer strikes! (Devouring the infidel outlanders; Draconis Nematoda, winged worm of war!)
[The Dragon Vow:] To victory eternal... this world be our empire! Dragon Imperium, throne of the Gods, behold the axiom, Wyruld-Cyninga! It is time! We shall rule, and upon our dominion the sun shall set!
[12 October: I must this to the pages of my journal, while it is still vivid in my recollection... not that such a vision could possibly soon be blissfully forgotten. Just dawn,