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Mist the Ice-Dragon

Mist the Ice-Dragon

Once part of a proud and powerful race of dragons, Mist's original name has been lost to history.
Only known nowadays as the Corpse-King or the Ultimate Savior by his people, he is remembered as a once wise and just ruler, beloved by his subjects, determined to bring peace and prosperity to his kingdom.

But one day, an ancient cult of dark ice mages, the Pale Order, came from the depths of the earth and threatened to destroy all of the known world, planning to enslave every living being and plunge the lands into an eternal ice age for their dark god.

Mist rallied several armies of different kingdoms and races, managing to make them stop their intestine wars through a great feat of diplomacy until the Pale Order was destroyed.

Leading them into battle, he used his sword skills with devastating efficiency, demonstrating to everyone how he earned his title of king in the past, as the crown of the dragon kingdom is warranted with strength and honor.

The battle was long, brutal and grueling.
Allied and necromancers bodies alike littered the battleground as far as the eye could see, but the cult was almost vanquished.

Almost, for only the archmage, head of the Pale Order, remained at the top of his ice fortress.

Against the advice of his counselors, he ordered his generals and guards to stay back, as he would engage him in single combat.
Enough brave men died today, he wouldn't risk any more lives.

Expecting a fierce resistance, Mist was surprised to see the fortress empty, with only the archmage sat on an ice throne, laughing uproariously.

"It is over, Ô brave king!" the archmage snarked at him.
"Our dark god is coming, he heard our massive blood offering, and will plunge this world into the eternal winter until the end of time. He will take possession of my mortal body any moment now, and He will be able to carry his will on this world."

"Not if I outbid your blood offering." said the dragon-king, calmly.
Before the arch-mage could say anything, Mist decapitated him, his blade instantly freezing upon touching the curse-ridden blood.
As the pitch-black blood started to pour on the ice floor and bubbled ominously, the king grabbed the severed head and held it high in the air, towards the menacing mass of gray clouds descending from the skies with great turmoil.

"Accept my offering, Dark One, and take my body as a vessel." declared Mist on a solemn tone.
"But as long as I breathe, you will not take a single step outside of this fortress, for my will is stone and my heart is steel."

Thus was born the legend of the dragon-king who made the ultimate sacrifice to stop a dark god from spreading his destruction on this world.
His body became blessed with immortal life, but condemned to sit silently on an ice throne until the end of time itself, constantly battling the dark god inside him and preventing him to take control of his body with an outstanding amount of willpower.

From that day on, an annual festival is held in his honor by several kingdoms to honor his sacrifice.

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