Ask Vertigo

The Fatalis Brethren. The oldest line of dragons in the world. For centuries, the Brethren have watched over the world,only interfering in events when they are called and the request suits them. The Three Fatalis- Crimson, Black, and the Ancestor, the White Fatalis- are godlike in their reputation and ability. All their descendants carry part of their powers, those descended from the Ancestor more than the others. Recently, however, the Fatalis tree has been thinning. A spate of murders of ‘Elder Dragons’, as the Brethren were called, have left the Fatalis with far fewer numbers than before. And so, the Three ordered that their surviving descendants search the world for dragons and similar beings who displayed abilities far beyond the norm of their kin, and “adopt” them into the Fatalis Brethren.

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Kushala strode through the hills on all fours, his metallic skin reflecting the autumn sun dully. Crystalline blue eyes darted here and there, not missing anything in sight that moved. He had been searching for several days now, to find a being worthy of bearing the name Fatalis. So far, he had had mixed success. Many creatures who fit the role rejected his offer, one even going so far as to try and attackthe Elder Dragon, to no avail. Kushala’s skin didn’t just look like metal, it was metal. Coupled with his extraordinary wind and ice powers, the fool had no chance. But Kushala had let him live. His goal was to expand the Brethren, not sully their name. He lifted his head, spying the cave set in a cliff wall.  May as well check it out, he thought, spreading his wings and leaping straight up, hovering over the hills before gliding on vast black wings towards the cave.