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THE LAST TESTAMENT OF KRAKA-TUR

Here are the last my last words.  I am in hiding, shunned by the world because of my unbridled power, hunted because they fear what they cannot understand.

For ten years Arcanum has cowered at the mere mention of my name.  As well they should.  Were I given another ten years or a thousand, I would rain down death and terror until my dying breath.

I would do this because of the torment I was subjected to my whole life.  Torment because I was smaller, and weaker.  And, yes, sometimes I was cowardly, and often I was petty, disloyal, and perjurious.  Every once in a while...infrequently, mind you!...I would refuse to pay my debts, and I must admit that I was rarely courteous.  Oh, and there were those strange odors...BUT!  Are these reasons to make someone an outcast?  I say not!

And so...I went on a journey to exact my revenge on this cruel world.  And I found the means to do so.  While travelling in northern mountains, I found an old magickal scroll.  This scroll described a spell of such obvious power, that it would not surprise me if it had been hidden away purposely.  Arcanum was not ready for such magick.  She would be forced to adjust.

The spell changed a man into dragon form, giving him all the gifts and powers of that evil beast.  But, the scroll also required the blood of a dragon.  There was only one dragon left in all of Arcanum...the great Dragon Belerogrim...and I was fairly sure he wouldn't be very happy about making me a gift of some of his blood.

So, I stole away to the secret temple of the Derian Ka, and had them make for me the most terrible poison.  Yes, the price was high...the damnation of seven generations of my family...but it was worth it!  I had something with which to kill Belerogrim.  Now, I had only make him eat it.

In the end , it was a fairly simple task.  I killed a crippled old farmer, and stole his prize bull, which I fed well for a month, and then coated with the poison.  I led the poor creature to the lair of Belerogrim, set it loose just outside the cave mouth, and waited.

Dragons, when they are hungry, think of little else.  Believe me, I know the truth of these things, now.  The bull was eaten, Belerogrim returned to his lair for a morning nap, and died quite suddenly.

I drew his blood, and became Kraka-tur...the most feared and terrible creature in all of the land.  And now, I am tormented again.  Nasrudin and the Elven Council have found me, cornered me here in the lair of Belerogrim.  It smells terrible, as the dragon is still returning to dust, even after ten years.  Why must they attack me?  I am outnumbered!  This is such an unfair set of circumstances!  I have done nothing!

Perhaps I can slip out during the night...

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