"… Beyond the forsaken planes, inside the great Makesha forest, stands the tallest mountain in the world, Mt. Thal the father of all mountains. Inside Mt. Thal lives an ancient clan of Dragonborn, the Io'Jalein's Clan, a secret that only a select few of the Svartha continent know of. For those who don't know what a Dragonborn is, let’s shed some light on this rare and peculiar race:

Dragonborns resemble what their name suggests: humanoid dragons.

Standing on average around 1.88–2.03 meters, Dragonborn are impressively tall with a huge weight to match, commonly possessing a mass of 100–145 kilograms thanks to their muscular physique. Dragonborn feet end with three strong talon-like claws with a fourth claw in the back, while their hands are similar with three claws with a thumb replacing the rear claw. A Dragonborn head features a blunt snout, a strong brow, and reptilian frills on the cheeks and ears. On the back of the head, a crest of hornlike scales forms what resemble a mess of ropy hair. Their eyes are usually red or gold in hue.

The scales a Dragonborn wears are scarlet, gold, rust, ocher, bronze, or brown in hue, although they bore little correlation to a Dragonborn's Draconic heritage and the scale colors of true dragons. The scales are typically in their greatest concentration around forearms, lower legs, feet, shoulders, and thighs, with a fine leathery covering over the rest of the body…"

Fragment Extracted from the book "Io'Jalein's Clan: A short introduction."

-------------------------

It was a hot day, a young Dragonborn was swinging a huge axe in a small courtyard outside of his room. Each swing of his axe was savage, making the air buzz from the incredible power behind it.

The young man was 2.2 meters, quite tall for a Dragonborn, his scales were bronze colored. They faintly reflected the sunlight when it shone on them from his perspiration.

His brows deeply frowning from his concentration towards the task he was carrying out.

His sapphire blue colored eyes had a smart and perceptive look, making one think there was something more to this man than what meets the eye.

"Marrhosh my son, you are still training. Come now, we must leave for the ceremony"

A tall Dragonborn that resembled the young man in training appeared in the courtyard, carrying a large package in his hands.

"I’ll be ready in a second, old man."

The package in his father's hand caught his attention when he glanced over, Marrhosh couldn’t help but ask:

"What is it you got there?"

The tall Dragonborn came closer to him, shoving the package into his hands as he grabbed his son's shoulders.

"This is my present for you, son, for today you become the youngest warlord in our clan's history. Therefore, I got permission from the elders to give you this weapon." He said while looking at him.

At that moment, he uncovered the package, revealing a big black axe made of an unknown material.

The axe had a dragon carved into it. The dragon's tail wrapped around the handle and the open wings were the axe's blades. The dragon's head, located right between the blades of the axe, had a spike coming out of its mouth. The dragon looked alive and the axe felt warm to the touch.

"This is the Jennu Ariiogarurt, the oldest and most mysterious weapon in our clan. I hope it can protect you and that you will be the one to fulfill our clan's mission."

Marrhosh looked into his father's eyes, thanking him for the axe. He went to his room to get himself ready.

Marrhosh's room was large, but it was decorated plainly. His bed took up a large portion of space in the room, partially covering a circular rug located in the middle of the room. The only window in the room was next to the door, under that was a small desk full of notes and drawings.

Most of the walls were covered in tapestries, the room felt more like a general’s campaign tent than belonging to a young man. There was a small bookshelf in a corner filled to the brim with books about strategies and plans.

When Marr came out, he was wearing chainmail with the crest of a dragon standing majestically over the world. He had two throwing axes on his lower back and a hand crossbow holstered on his right leg. His new great axe was on his back and there was a bone dagger in his boot.

Seeing the dagger, his father's eyes showed a complicated expression.

"Marr, I'm sorry, if I had been stronger at the time… this dagger wouldn't be the only memory you have of your mother."

Marr grabbed the bone dagger that he always carried with him, looked at it for a while and a warm smile appeared on his face as he remembered his mother. he put it back in his boot and said to his father.

"Don't say that father, she sacrificed herself for all of us. Mom was a strong woman and a powerful cleric. We must keep living, it's what she would have wanted."

Daardeth’s eyes teared up, as he looked proudly at his son.

[You gave birth to a good boy my dear.]

"You are right, my son."

.

"Let's go, the ceremony will start soon."

The two of them walked to the main hall of the clan's estate where the ceremony for Marr's nomination as a warlord would be.

The ceremony consisted of the patriarch of the clan, His father, naming the reasons for his nomination. Then, each elder would accept the request and congratulate the boy on the matter. To finish the ceremony, the great ancestor would give the new warlord his blessing.

The clan's estate was about 500 square kilometers, housing nearly a million members. Half of them being soldiers.

This being a military clan, most of the facilities in it were for training different soldiers. There were magic and sword training facilities, as well as many other specialized training areas.

There were also research and study facilities inside the clan. They were responsible for the technology and, of course, educating the youngsters.

In the main hall of the clan lives the great ancestor, that has been alive since the times when the ancient gods ruled these lands.

The ceremony lasted only an hour and went on without a problem after it ended a great banquet was made to celebrate this special occasion.

While they were drinking and celebrating, a strange wind blew. In the beginning, no one paid attention to it, but after a few minutes, the wind became strong enough to raise the chairs and tables off the ground.

Suddenly, a huge explosion was heard, and the clan's ancient gate was blown to smithereens.

As the dust settled, a tall and beautiful woman with pointy ears and strange and long, multicolored hair could be seen standing where the gate used to be. She had long legs and cold, violet eyes that showed her disdain for all living things.

She slowly walked into the clan followed by 5 colossal Dragons of different colors. As she walked a frightening aura was let out of her body, and the power of that woman was impossible to estimate.

“Are we in the right place?”

The red dragon behind the woman came close to her as he answered.

“Yes, your majesty this is the Io’jalein Clan.”