[b]Sauranath[/b]

Sauranath looked around the world. . . Oh. . . couriers and messengers were sent from around the world to receive word of or invite Ialu to the Brightwoods. The Serpent Men allied with the Brightwoods to prevent the incursion from the West. Serpent Men and Brightwood's folk armored in Mithril, Dragon scales and Dragon bones, now that Mithril could finally be used to hone bones and not just scales into weapons and armor. Sauranath himself was now a Dragon Disciple. No longer just a mere man, he was not like Ialu, or a great hero, but he was nonetheless one of the folk of the world whom mortals considered intelligent, resourceful, aware with his wits about him and capable of strong and powerful magic. He was unable to master Immortality from Dragon Discipleship, however. . . but he was content in that the second phase of the final Ceremony was successful. His mind would clear and grow more powerful, along with his magical abilities and potency, even if his body would crumble into ashes. 

Sauranath did not understand, but he finally had an intellectual grasp on what Fate and Invictus were saying. Either he would age for one hundred and sixty years and head back to his star and be renewed as the Arch Dragon Lord, or he would die and return as Sauranath. Either way, both things were acceptable to him. Sauranath was happy to wear the Masterwork Mithril gear, between dragon scales and dragon bone, perfectly light and hardy at the same moment. Though he could not transform into a dragon he could speak with some dragons, as arrogant as they are, as equals. Some of them, they didn't know, no one knew he was a deity, but they KNEW. Somehow, they knew he was one of them. Sauranath sent word for Ialu. Diplomatic exchanges. . . began with Sauranath immediately sending messengers who knew how to use Dragon Adept powers and most importantly, teach them enormously well. Anywho were loyal to Ialu would learn such things. A large contingent of Brithwood's folk stayed in their stronghold, and thousands, not hundreds, but twelve thousand furious dragons of MANY Broods stomped or soared their way to the South West to do battle with the rising hordes of creatures. This time, they sent word to the Humans, Cimas and Dyu, Serpent Men and no matter the race, that their enemies were mutually the undead monsters of the West.

They would gather their time and strategize. Mirtagn was gone, but they had many strategists and tacticians. Sauranath, now by the name of [b]Sarokh[/b], was a one hundred year old man. He had undoubtedly aged, at least forty years, to the age of sixty, clinically speaking. Well, um. . . another eighty years to go? He had hoped he could stall his inevitable climb into venerable, almost crippled old age for as long as possible.