Arieonna Vaelenor’s Conquest

It is said that when the Great Wyrm Ophyxia first dreamt the world of Wyrmdream into being, she dreamt it for herself and for the First Children. For an age, the land lived in harmony, a sacred testament to a slumbering goddess. But a whisper on the wind became a shout, and from a world beyond the Dream's reach, a new will arrived.

Her name was Arieonna Vaelenor, and she saw not a sacred dream, but a world ripe for salvation. She was a being of cold order and unyielding ambition, a scion of a people who believed that civilization was not born of harmony with the land, but of dominion over it. To her, the lush Verdant Cradle was nothing more than a tangled thicket to be cleared, the proud native races were children lost in superstition, and the land itself was an empty canvas awaiting the artist's will. She did not seek to be a part of the dream; she sought to make the dream her own.

Upon the shores of Wyrmgath, she began to build her monument to this will: the city of Aeridoran Vael. It was a place of cold, pale stone and glittering glass, its geometric precision and sterile beauty standing in stark opposition to the wild, organic chaos of the living world around it. Within its walls, a new order was forged, a rigid caste system that placed her own kind—the humanoids—at the very top, with the indigenous anthropomorphic races relegated to the lowest rungs, or cast out entirely. She was a ruler whose power was not built on the sword, but on the cold, rational conviction of her own superiority.

Her ambition was a blade sheathed in righteous certainty, and its keenest edge was her theology. She sought to wipe out The Dreaming Path with all the ruthless efficiency of a surgeon. She viewed the native faith as a dangerous, superstitious folly that kept the people from their true potential, and in its place, she began to instill her own belief in The Sovereign Light, a god of law, order, and judgment. This was a war of belief, a conflict that sought to erase the very soul of the world, to silence the Mother's whispers and replace them with the dictates of a foreign god.

The rise of Arieonna Vaelenor is not a story of a brutish warlord, but of a quiet, composed predator. Her bloodlust is not a thing of rage, but of calculated necessity, a terrible calm that makes her all the more terrifying. In her ambition to forge an empire from the living land, she threatens to create a Great Wound upon Ophyxia’s slumbering mind, risking not just the future of her enemies, but the very existence of Wyrmdream itself, for no one can say what fate awaits a world whose dream has been unwillingly invaded.