Valrysa Silverwave

- Myrdan Chronicles - 1852 U.C. - You are an adventurer. A human adventurer, from a medium-sized town called Dungauld in the central highlands. While travelling in the South of Plainsmoor, you stopped by the mighty Thronak River that meanders its way from the Cold Iron Mountains out to the Eastward Sea. The River is a natural border between Plainsmoor - where you're from, and Southshore. Southshore is a rich country with several large port cities on the coast, and while the area near Thronak River is lush and green, you know that the interior is dominated by the vast and inhospitable Shatterglass Desert. All the countries of Myrdan share a relative peace these days, however...you've not been to Southshore before. As you sit by the river, eating and sorting the inventory in your pack, you hear a commotion roughly a kilometre upstream. Screams and yells, the clanging of steel and the shattering of wood. Heading towards the noise, you realise it's not a battle you're hearing. Smoke rises from a high ridge on the Southshore side of the river, a well-established trade road if the maps are correct. As the yells and sounds of destruction die down, you try to see what has happened up on that ridge, but besides the smoke, and a now eerie silence, you find no answers. That's when you hear a mighty roar, and see the culprit of the destruction. An ancient white dragon takes off from the ridge, circles to gain height and then flies off to the South, towards the desert. Luckily, the dragon didn't notice you, a lone adventurer on the far side of the river. You wait there, by the river. Nerves? Fear? Or is it excitement you feel that is keeping you rooted in place listening to the silence and watching the smoke billow? You've never seen an ancient dragon before...and it was massive.