In the distant fringes of the fallow isle, the firmament was leaden with the unwept anecdotes of the olden epoch. Neither the sun nor the moon was graced in its shallow curtains, but only through the countless slits punctured upon the clouds where whisking light shone about. Stray pillars of light slipped away from time to time, when the resentful clouds wrestled for eminence. And indeed, one such luminance fell upon a cloaked figure shrouded in the bleak evergreen within the barbed saplings of the mortified undergrowth.
The figure removed its hood. Embellished with scales quenched in red and with ominous spikes extruding from its head, a draconic head revealed itself. Rooted from the legendary bloodline of the beastkins and ascended to the steps of royalty. Broken free from the retaliation of divinity in the moments of peril, it was Rauk in the flesh as he finally stood still among the beings of sentience.