The Fukai's Drakonxos, Weapons of a Forgotten Age

There was a time—so ancient that even the Fukai retains only faint echoes of it—when the Saurians ruled over Damocles. Their empire was a forge of flesh and stone, a world shaped according to their whims. It was in those cyclopean laboratories, beneath the greenish glow of vats and the screams of experimental creatures, that they forged what would become their greatest mistake: the Drakonxos.

They were never meant to be a people, much less heirs. They were weapons, nothing more. Artificial predators, born of recomposed DNA in the laboratories of Wanyue. The Saurians hurled them against the beast-men who, after driving the Saurians from their citadels, swarmed across Damocles. And the Drakonxos did exactly what they had been created to do: they exterminated, purified, devoured. As their enemies fell, they grew, metamorphosed, climbing the steps of a mutation cycle that even their masters no longer truly controlled.

Then, without warning, came what the saurian inscriptions still call “The Reversal.” The Drakonxos turned. No one knows whether it was an evolutionary accident, a magical corruption, or simply the unavoidable logic of a weapon grown too perfect. What is known is that they massacred their own creators with icy method, then demanded sacrifices from the vanquished to fuel their growth. Their reign was short, but unimaginably brutal.

The Call of Alya

It was then that they heard the call of Keldar Alya, a half-elf, half-Kentorian entity of immense supernatural power. Her dreams vibrated through earth and spore alike. She spoke to the Drakonxos of a future where Damocles would not belong to the Saurians, but to the refugees of Kentaurus—the future elven arrivals fleeing annihilation.

Moved by her vision, the Drakonxos swore loyalty to her. Their task would be to preserve Damocles, to prepare a pure world for these heirs wreathed in light. But thousands of years passed, and the elves who finally arrived bore little resemblance to Alya’s pure dream. Castes, orcs bred to die, hybrid Eldrakars—nothing matched the promised destiny. And so the ancient oath became a curse.

Who are the true heirs now? Elves? Half-elves? Humans altered by the Fukai? The celestial Peacekeepers? No answer can be given while Alya sleeps, her prophecies swallowed by millennia of silence.

Rebirth in the Heart of the Fukai

In the depths of the Fukai, the Drakonxos hatched anew after the atomic bombardments of the invasion. The forest—once pushed back by Greanans and forgotten weapons—proved to be the last living vestige of saurian creation. The Fukai knows them. It has recognized them. And with a slow, deep voice foreign to human ears, it still speaks to them.

There, in toxic clearings and gnarled roots, the Drakonxos built their nests. The larvae slept in the sap until the nuclear trauma awakened them. Born into a broken world, they found shelter in the forest. Even now, mutation shapes their lives. The weakest may become the strongest. A warrior may be reborn ten times over.

If no Agron rises to lead them, a council of Brogons—colossal, half-petrified beings with eyes like molten stone—presides. They guard the pact, interpret Alya’s dreams, and judge the newborn mutations.

Relations with Humanity and the Bug Army

The Drakonxos are not loved, nor do they seek to be. To the humans of the Bug Army, they are shadows—shapes of bone and wood whose presence alone makes respirators tremble. The Brogons accept infected humans as auxiliaries, but view them with contempt: fragile, unstable, dangerous. Their role in Alya’s prophecy is unclear, and that makes them suspect.

For this reason, the Drakonxos watch the Bug Army closely, tolerating its raids and experiments but never allowing humans near the sacred clearings where primordial eggs rest. On Wanyue, their kin once slaughtered humans by the thousands, turning orcs against elves and men whenever it suited them. Whether this served Alya’s will or simple bloodlust remains unknown.

For now, the Drakonxos assist the elves in their war, ready to sacrifice themselves to fulfill an ancient promise. But if Alya were to decree that even the elves must die… they would carry out her will without hesitation. They are weapons, and they love to kill.

The Patient Shadows of Alya

Today, the Drakonxos watch, judge, and strike when necessary. They do not consider themselves enemies of humanity—merely guardians of a truth greater than mortals. But their guardianship is cold, sharp, and implacable. If the Bug Army grows too ambitious, they will prune it like a diseased branch. If the elves attempt to control the Fukai, they will be reminded that their debt is ancient, but not infinite. If the Greanans rise, the Drakonxos will be the first to howl for war.

And when the ice of Wanyue finally cracks, when Keldar Alya awakens, the Drakonxos will abandon the Fukai to answer her call.

For their loyalty has never wavered: the planet belongs to Alya. They are merely her arms, her fangs, her patient shadows. They are weapons, and they love to kill.