Gar'aa, Son of K'or, Returns to the Shattern Horn Wartribe (DR2220+ Week 4)


The K’iorn stood proud and stately on the upper deck of the armored caravan. His golden skin and the highlights in his hair showed he had been long out under the sun. His almond eyes never rested long on any one object. A leftover effect of the traumas he endured during the Border Wars. But despite his hidden pain, the smile never left his face.

Gar’aa, son of K’or had wandered Refuge for thousands of years. Every aeon he would start a new study or a new pursuit hoping it would allow him to step from his father’s shadow and achieve greatness on his own. Yet each time as he would reach mastery, he would find himself feeling homesick, give up his studies and return to the Wartribe to see how it had changed while he was away.

This last time though, he had experienced something he had never witnessed before, and it had shaken him.

As the Mal’ie pulling the caravan were signalled to stop, the vehicle rolled into the stable for the merchants and traders. Gar’aa gave a gracious smile and a wave to the Dra’koonis Guild Caravan Master and took off on foot to the center of the treetop settlement of the Shattered Horn.

The hidden treetop city went on for miles and miles, and Gar’aa just walked and watched. He saw the traditional K’iorn styles of dress and fashion were still in vogue. In fact it seemed only in the Caravan parking area that any real influx of Earther goods had even made headway here.

Most of the K’iorn here were doing things in the traditional way, whether that was making Gru’ie grain bread, or mashing Binber fruit to make wine. But it was one K’iorn, a female dressed in the living Khaz’gha armor, who took actual interest in Gar’aa as he walked by.

She immediately approached him with a harsh smile.

“Gao,” she said using the traditional high falos term for foreigner, “You are far from the Caravan district.”

“I am neither Gao nor Nngao,” replied Gar’aa, “I am Gar’aa, son of K’or. And I have returned home!”

“I do not remember you Gar’aa, son of K’or, but I have heard of your travels. I was elevated to the rank of Dra’koon centuries ago, and I do not know you,” she said suspiciously.

“I have traveled far and wide. And my travels took me to the Court of I’tash in the Northern Kingdoms. Though kept me there less than willingly…”


She stopped for a moment realizing the gravity of that statement, “The PeaceLords made you a slave?”

As he nodded, her harsh look faded and she embraced him genuinely.

As if forcing himself to confront the trauma, Gar’aa didn’t stop himself from speaking. He continued saying, "I was visiting with our cousins in the Forests of Kur’ai, north of the lands of Korpu. I witnessed the wars between the Technomagi of Tal Hanon and the I’tashi Peacebringers. It was brutal and bloody, and I was taken prisoner and eventually enslaved.

While there I suffered as all slaves of the I’tashis do. But I learned as I always do. And eventually I traded my slave collar to be an test subject in a new battle program developed by PeacLord Synfelt Von Groont. There I earned my freedom and my release, during the Border Wars. But the long years a slave kept me from returning home immediately.

And right as I planned my return, my beloved comrades and I were ripped from the timeline. Honored Dra’koon, I have seen horrible timelines. Ones where a Neo K’ias Empire lead the armies of Warmonger to conquer all of known space and countless dimensions. I have faced WarGiants and Broken and Monsters of all types. Before returning home, my comrades and I were forced to right the wrongs on a hidden prison dimension.

Yet I never gave up faith in this moment. That I would finally return home. I have learned so much…"

“While I escort you to Dra’khan Gli’ar Hammerfist, tell me of what you learned,” said the Dra’koon, “It is rare to have a lost family member return home, rarer still to know they have seen the future.”

“It was not our future, or at least not the future of this timeline,” said Gar’aa, "The Ancient Evils were powerful and in charge in that future. In our timeline, they are all gone…

There was a warlike Neo K’ias Empire there with armies of mutants and annihilators, here the K’ias live peaceably at the Ata’ru Asylum.

But the Hidden Dimension was even more impactful. I met ancient artificer Lords and Ladies who used their power to control and manipulate the lives of those living on that dimension."

The Dra’koon said, “Being gone so long, you will be pleased to hear the news.”

“What news?” asked Gar’aa as they approached the Tree-fortress of Dra’kan Gil’ar Hammerfist.

Gil’ar was a K’iou, with her long mutton chops braided with binber flowers and ontor bones. Her dark black hair was pulled back into locks, and tied at the back of her head. She wore living Dra’koon armor, and leaned on a staff carved from Quall bone.

The escort leaned and in right before they greeted Gil’ar and said, “Gar’aa, the grand news is the Falosini have returned to us. Ceroj the Red, Sovereign Lord, is here to select the best and the brightest heroes of the Children of the Falosini.”

Gar’aa kept his thoughts to himself as they were far less cheery than the escort.

Gar’aa bowed low before Dra’khan Gil’ar, and greeted her with respect in the traditional fashion. Gil’ar returned the greeting and said,

"Welcome home Gar’aa, son of K’or. Before the Wartribe of Kur’ai fell to the Legion of Ceroxis and then the Unity, they sent word of your capture. Your mother thought you lost, and began wandering. But you could not have returned at a better time.

It is for a grand new war against the Quall N’drone. Already too many Quall have come to Refuge, and we must drive them from this planet. Ceroj the Red, Sovereign will personally lead our armies. Already he had brought proof of giant Quall mutants, called Quallyyan, that cannot be allowed to increase their population. The Quall N’drone are deadly enough without these Quallyyan to support them.

It has been so long since the Shattered Horn Wartribe has mobilized for war. You come back at a proud moment."

“Unlike when I left,” said Gar’aa, “I do not see war-making as a topic of pride…”

“But Gar’aa we childen of the Falosini are supposed to be the hands and the claws of the Falosini in this world,” said the Dra’khan.

“Yes to be their hands to do good, and their claws to protect those who cannot protect themselves,” said Gar’aa, “But War is not the same as protection.”

“We are wartribes. War against the Quall is our whole purpose in being bred,” said the Dra’khan quoting Falosini tradition.


Gar’aa said, “What of the leaders of our people?”

“There are no leaders higher than a Falosini Sovereign, Gar’aa,” said the Dra’khan Gil’ar, “You would do well to remember that.”


Gar’aa looked out the rear window of the Tree Fortress. There he could see twenty red cloaked Falosini of the House of Ceroj, gathering, training and preparing an army of thousands of K’iorn, Vorin and Baribur. His mouth dropped. An army this size could have ended the Border Wars when it began, but the Falosini had not declared a full scale mobilization like this since the Armies of Krato General Chia’thos threatened Refuge.

He felt a little queasy all of a sudden and didn’t know why.

Gar’aa said, “How long have these preparations been going? When are they ready to march?”

“They will be ready within the week,” said Dra’khan Gil’ar with pride.

“And their first target?” asked Gar’aa.

“Only Lord Ceroj knows…”