[The Oracle of It was a time of change. The descendants of the mages had fallen before the New Praesidium, and the were baying at the Empire's door. An oppressive new faith was encroaching the east, and the sylvan liege had locked tight the gates of his arboreal realm. And so it was that the end of the Age of Mystery, the last of Albion's great Dragon did gather for what would be their battle...
[The War-song of the Lords:] rend the sky, Albion our gleaming prize, Sentinels of and sea, guardians of destiny. (Prowling amongst the pecseatan; Draconis Bipedes, and furious beast of battle!)
Dragon King's Vow:] (Dragon-Runes etched by the firey tongues of the IX Legio Draconis the primordial stone of the great Logres Cromlech): The foes of this sceptred isle shall be driven into the sea! An oath in battle, a vow blessed by steel, I swear by the dragon's blood in my veins... and the dragon's heart that it!
War-song of the Dragon Lords:] Dragonfyre in the fray, faith and shall win the day, A god to serf and alike, the Adamantine Hammer strikes! (Devouring the outlanders; Draconis Nematoda, great winged worm of war!)
[The Dragon Vow:] To victory eternal... this world be our empire! Imperium, throne of the Ancient Gods, behold the axiom, Wyruld-Cyninga! It is time! We rule, and upon our dominion the sun shall never set!
[12 October: I must this to the pages of my journal, while it is still vivid in my recollection... not that such a macabre vision could possibly be forgotten. Just before dawn,