Legend: Legacy of the Dragons Forum

From the Desk of Master Globius
To the Radiant Leolina,
My gears are spinning, yet my mind refuses to focus on the calibration of my latest steam-engine. Every time I look at the copper pipes, I see the shimmer of your wings; every time a pressure valve whistles, I hear your laughter echoing through the thickets of the Hive.
I have spent my life trying to quantify the world through mathematics and mechanics, but you are a variable I cannot solve for. You represent a magic that no battery can store. I’ve tucked a small clockwork butterfly into this parcel—I built it myself. It doesn’t need Eldorian crystals to fly; it runs purely on the kinetic energy of my thoughts of you.
Stay safe among those fiery Magmar peaks. If the war grows too loud, remember that there is a quiet workshop in O'Delvays where the tea is always warm and the inventor is always waiting.
With mechanical precision and organic devotion,
Globius

My Dearest Bludiara,
They say you can see all futures in your crystal palantir — every battle's outcome, every kingdom's rise and fall. Then surely you must already know what I am about to write. Yet I write it still, for some truths deserve to be spoken aloud, not merely foreseen.
I am a man of war. My hands know the weight of steel, and my ears are tuned to the thunder of hooves and the clash of shields. I have defended Waltreia against every enemy who dared to march upon her soil. But I confess to you now — I am utterly defenseless against the storm you have stirred within my heart.
The first time I came to your chamber seeking counsel before battle, I expected cold prophecy. Instead, I found warmth — a fire in your violet eyes that no darkness could extinguish. You told me I would return victorious. I did. But my greatest victory was not upon the battlefield. It was the courage I found, weeks later, to return to your door — not as a commander seeking strategy, but as a man seeking your presence.
They call me "the Brave," Bludiara. But bravery on the field is simple — you fight or you fall. The true test of courage is this: laying one's heart bare before a woman who already knows every secret it holds.
You have given strength to the weak and warned the world of dangers unseen. But who warns you, my lady? Who gives strength to you? Let it be me. I offer you no crystal visions of the future — only a sword, a shield, and a heart that beats for you alone.
Yours, in this life and whatever lies beyond, Bratwill the Brave


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My Brave Bratwill,
You are right — I did foresee your letter. I saw the ink upon your fingers before you ever touched the quill. I felt the words forming in your chest like the distant rumble of a coming storm. And yet, when I unfolded the parchment and read them with my own eyes... the vision had not prepared me. Nothing could have.
You ask who warns me, who gives me strength. Oh, Bratwill — if only you knew. For years, I have carried the burden of sight. I have seen lovers betray one another, I have seen kingdoms crumble before they were even built. I learned long ago to guard my heart with walls thicker than any fortress you have ever defended. I told myself: a woman who sees the end of all things must never allow herself a beginning.
But then you came. And for the first time, my palantir showed me something I had never seen before — not a kingdom, not a war, not a tragedy. It showed me your face, looking at me the way you do, as if I were not a sorceress to be feared but a woman to be cherished. And in that vision, Bratwill... I was smiling. Truly smiling. Not the careful, knowing smile I wear for those who seek my counsel, but the unguarded smile of a woman who has allowed herself to hope.
They say nobody knows what is inside the heart of the seer. You, my commander, are the exception. For my heart holds only this: a love I did not predict, could not prevent, and would not trade for all the foresight in the world.
I have prophesied many fates. But I never dared to prophesy my own happiness — until you.
Come to me when the moon is high. Leave your armor at the door. I have already seen that you will, but I want to hear you choose it freely.
Forever yours, beyond all prophecy, Bludiara the Fortuneteller

Meine geliebte Blou,

ich weiß nicht, ob dieser Brief dich erreicht. Morgen marschiere ich wieder unter Erafarius’ Banner. Man sagt, wir kämpfen, um die Kontinente der Menschen zu schützen. Man sagt, die Magmaren seien die Gefahr. Ich habe diese Worte lange geglaubt.
Seit ich dich kenne, zweifle ich.
Es ist leicht, von Feinden zu sprechen, solange man kein Gesicht vor Augen hat. Doch ich sehe deines. Wenn ich mein Schwert anlege, denke ich daran, dass irgendwo jenseits unserer Linien dein Herz schlägt und dass ich geschworen habe, genau gegen dieses Herz in den Krieg zu ziehen.
Ich habe Angst. Nicht vor Striagorn. Nicht vor dem Feuer. Sondern davor, dich eines Tages im Rauch zu erkennen. Davor, dass Pflicht und Liebe im selben Augenblick aufeinandertreffen.
Wenn ich zurückkehre, dann mit dem Wissen, dass ich etwas Verbotenes geliebt habe. Und wenn ich nicht zurückkehre, dann sollst du wissen, dass mein letzter Gedanke nicht dem Krieg gehörte.
Er gehörte dir.
Ich liebe dich, Blou.
Dein Shodu.


Mein geliebter Shodu,

man sagt mir, dass ich kämpfen muss. Dass Menschen und Magmaren niemals Freunde sein können, niemals sich lieben dürfen. Und doch finde ich mich in Gedanken bei dir. Bei deinem Gesicht, deinem Blick, der mir mehr Wärme schenkt, als das Feuer meiner Heimat je könnte.
Ich weiß, dass wir beide Pflichten haben, die wir nicht wählen konnten. Doch ich bete, dass wir trotz allem nicht gezwungen werden, uns selbst zu verraten. Dass wir uns irgendwo zwischen den Linien sehen und nur die Liebe spüren, nicht den Hass, den unsere Welten uns lehren.
Wenn ich kämpfen muss, wird mein Herz bei dir sein, Shodu. Wenn alles um uns in Flammen steht, soll wenigstens eines wahr bleiben: Dass eine Magmar dich geliebt hat, ohne Angst, ohne Reue. Dass unsere Liebe stärker war als Drachen, Krieg und Regeln.
Ich liebe dich, Shodu. Und das werde ich immer tun.
Deine Blou.


Hier zum Bild >> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1QxJcwED…iew?usp=sharing

From Nadilarie to Stavros;-
Ohhhh, for the feel, for the feel, of a ragman's chuuuuff!

From Stavros to Nadilarie;-
Ohhhh, for the hammer, the hammer, of half-round baaaar!

(family joke, sorry but it means a great deal to us )