- Dragon Blossom
- The Sphere explodes sending shards of pottery exploding outward in all directions.
|Level 1||Level 2||Level 3|
|Number of Shards||12||12||12|
- Wudengs Mantal
- While this spell is active you spend mana but take considerably less damage.
|Level 1||Level 2||Level 3|
|Damage Absorbed (%)||50||70||90|
|Mana Cost / tick||25||30||35|
Lochu, had been the youngest First Right Hand of the Rain Blossom clan before his exile, but the very impetuous nature that had driven the young man to the top of the warrior caste so rapidly would also be his undoing. When First Right Hand Lochu eloped with the daughter of their rivals, Yinfang of the Seamoon clan, the wars that ensued would devastate both families before the couple were found hiding among the peasants, and the truth was made clear. Lochu and his new wife were made to leave the lowlands, on pain of death.
The next years were a long history of toil and travel, but while Lochu and Yinfang struggled, their love remained strong. As children of the lowland clans, they both knew animals well, and thus were often given husbandry work. As the two moved from job to job, seeking a place to call home, they traveled further into the mountains with each passing year, and saw many new animals. Yinfang became restless after a time, and said to Lochu, "See how the animals do not struggle, but just live?" This would become a topic of conversation that the couple would often return to as they traveled. After that day Yinfang led the two of them in long contemplations of the creatures of the world around them.
One bright day, high above the smallest village they had yet seen, the pair came upon an old man with a wide, round hat of hammered brass. He sat upon a rocky cairn and watched as they approached. When they reached him at last he asked them where they were going, and the two had no answer but "We follow the path." To this the wrinkled old man laughed, and turned away from them, revealing that there was no path beyond him at all, though instead they stood at the brink of a verdant crater valley. "Which path is that?" asked the man, and the two knew that they had found their home.
The mysterious old man told them that his name was Master Wudeng, and that he had been waiting for someone to find him, and to help him build his monastery here in the mountains' highest valley. As he walked with them, he spoke to them about his own travels and the lessons he had learned while upon them. He spoke of how he had learned from all of the creatures of the mountains, and that the mountain itself had bid him in a vision to teach these ways. "Now," he said to the two of them, "it was time to begin."
They stopped at the edge of the spreading crater, in the shadow of the high peaks, and there they built their home. They spent the next decade in contemplation of unity with nature. Together, Lochu and Yinfang settled into a life of meditation in the tutelage of Wudeng and with his guidance, they slowly gained a mastery of calligraphy, poetry, medicine and martial arts, but it was master Wudeng's way to teach his students all of this through his skill with the native clay of the crater, his pottery. The old volcanic soil made a smooth red clay that the old man worked into wondrous figures large and small, all the while teaching his students the lessons of the creatures of the land around them.
Their teacher told them the lessons of the great eagle that soared above, of the mountain tigers, the clever monkey, and the doughty bear. Finally, when they had mastered all of those, he told them of the dragon, the spirit that sleeps beneath them in the heart of the mountain. "The dragon," said Master Wudeng, "gave us the clay to show us our own potential. The dragon flows from the mountain and through us, and with the clay, we may influence its shape, even as it influences our lives." And with this the Master spun a sphere of clay into the air with the very forces he spoke of, and the dragon worked within him. Wudeng then looked to his students, and he spoke once more as if from far away. "The dragon comes for me now, I have taught you all that I can. Live in unity with the dragon, and you will prevail." An azure glow surrounded the old master, and he floated slowly upward, shimmering into nothing but a sparkling glitter on the wind. Upon the silk cushion where their teacher sat only moments before, Lochu and Yinfang lay their master's pottery sphere.
Saddened by their master's passing, the couple nonetheless continued to practice his ways. The pottery orb became a subject of long meditations, yet neither of them were yet so in tune with the clay nor what their master had called the dragon. Still they worked daily to achieve the mastery that Wudeng had been so sure that they were capable of. The couple came to many more truths, and the location of their humble monastery spread from the mountain as if carried by the wind. There came a day when Lochu found three pilgrim children on his doorstep when he went out to greet the morning, and after Yinfang and he agreed to teach them, there only came more. Soon the monastery was a thriving community. Yinfang and Lochu taught the ways of Wudeng, the teachings that would later form the backbone of the now famous Golden Frame Scroll. They had children, and the couple grew old. Yet still, the secrets of Wudeng's Sphere eluded them.
One day, word came up the mountain that a terrible warlord upon a celestial wyrm had enslaved the clans of the plains below. Worse, the slaver was leading his army of conquered slaves up the mountain to claim the spoils of the storied monastery in the crater above. Lochu and Yinfang, now long considered masters themselves, told their students what was to come, urging them to flee if they wished. But the students of the monastery did not run. Instead they began to prepare with such great efficiency and union, that Lochu began to see something he had not before.
Perhaps there was something of the dragon here, in the unity of his family, his students, and the harmony in which they lived with the mountain. In their single spirit, and their yearning for understanding. He looked to Yinfang, and saw that she too understood what he was seeing. A blue glow rose behind them and they turned to see their master's pottery sphere floating in the air behind them, awash in the energies of the dragon, the character of Wudeng's name showing brightly in the clay. Their master had come to guide them one last time.
Over the ridge at the horizon, an unholy dark light broke, fleeting star like bolts of magic flew across the wide lands of the monastery and where they landed fires burned. These were the harbingers of the celestial wyrm, the novastar. Lochu and Yinfang stood fast. The monks and students moved quickly to suppress the fires and to brace themselves for the coming army.
Master Lochu knew that that army was made of the people that had once been kin to himself and his wife, and he was resolved to free them from the warlord's dark possession without harming them. Yinfang pointed to the yard and old Lochu knew what they could do, understanding now why their master had chosen a sphere.
The legends say that the masters of the temple then stepped out to greet the warlord, each of them drawing up orbs of their own from the churned earth. Surrounded by the glowing blue magic of the dragon the two masters and the Sphere of Wudeng parted the approaching army as though surrounded by a wall of impenetrable force. When they reached the great wyrm itself, the warlord barely had time to look them in the eye before each sphere exploded in a blinding flash of blue light.
When all had calmed, the masters were gone, and the people of the clans were free once more. The monastery soon became a city, and the eldest daughter of Lochu and Yinfeng ruled peacefully for many decades after. Her son would lead after her death, and the Coral Blossom line would continue thus for centuries, each generation passing on the secrets of the dragon, and the Spheres of the Masters. The verdant crater was soon filled with farms and villages, and many goods were exported, though none as exquisite as the region's red pottery.
At the hundred-year celebration, the people erected a massive golden arch at the head of the pass, where the legendary masters Lochu and Yinfeng met Master Wudeng so long ago. Red clay statues of the three were erected below, marking the spot for the pilgrims that continue to arrive every day. Thus was born the Sovereign City, home of the Golden Gate, and seat of the wisdom of the dragon.