Drak

- "Drak Slurp"
The classic. Puréed Algae in coconut water or milk.

- "Glorb Sizzle"
Bubbling mudwater enriched with ginger and a wormy surprise!

- "Sweet Sting"
Banana milk and honey. Topped with a crispy bee snack.

- Coconut Water (plain)
... with a little umbrella!

- Water
Carbonated, you animals!

For SNACKS, we got:
- More worms (alive)
- More crispy baked bees (dead)
- Half-incubated eggs (you be the judge of it)

"What is greed if not a pit to drown in?"

Drak'Dal were away for too long.

All our temples crumble to dust!
Drak'Dal will show Ancients true strength! Will show that Ancients made a mistake with fleshy humans! Drak'Dal won't build in anyone's shadow!

Build a new home! Build for Dalszul! Build, or Broodmother Vesztah will have your head!

Rah Rah!

First, there was nothing. The winds and waters were still, the land lay dormant and unclaimed.

But soon, a breeze arose, and the silence crescendoed into a fanfare. A storm cloud, spouting thunder and lightning, spread across the skies — and from its heart began to pour a waterfall of violet blood.

As the droplets laid siege to the wilds below, they tore down every blossom and vine, marking their fragility. The downpour turned the flatlands into a battlefield first, and later, an ocean.

Once weakness was purged, the storm subsided, but the sea of blood left in its wake became a primordial soup that gave rise to a victor in the chaos. The Broodmother Vesztah was born.

She, the first Drak, reigned over all — but sitting lonely on her throne, she spoke, "What is greed if not a pit to drown in? What is dominance without dominion?" and chose to share her realm and blood.
Our Mother laid 100 eggs under the canopy of stars, and as the first Drakling awoke, she watched them break from their shells... and fed the weakest to the strong, so they may bring forth a storm of blood forevermore.

As the offspring of the Broodmother Vesztah, all of us strive for glory. Only the greatest rise into the land beyond the storm after death: Ark Morgo.

The first to embark on this journey was Merphisz. Hatched on a rocky shore, he was enamored by the waves from the beginning.

"These untamed waters shape the coastline, determine where life may sprout! I will overcome this ever-shifting spectre that haunts us so with its indifference and whim! I will sail to faraway shores and spread our seed, to make all blue synonymous with the mother's embrace!"

Shaped by the sea, he learned its language and began to understand its ebb and swell. Determined to usher his newly formed clan, the Drak'Mer, to fruitful shores, he set out towards the horizon — and found an archipelago nestled behind a fearsome storm.
Raising his trident, he challenged the taiphun to a duel, but lightning struck, and Merphisz's spirit was called to Ark Morgo. His clan reached the archipelago unscathed and holds dominion over the open waters still.

When told about the legend of Merphisz, Fyraszh sprung forth from the crowd of Drakling.

"Why splash in water for eternity? Why adjust to the whims of the waves if you could forge your own path in fire?" He asked, red-hot with rage. Determination to surpass his brother swelled in him, so Fyraszh travelled not far, but deep. He set off to claim the core of the mountain, to forge his glory in molten metal and liquid heat.

When they saw him again, his scales had hardened like coal, and the skin underneath glowed like the sun. Adorned in ash and gold, he yelled from the mountaintop: "See? The mountain rumbles and spouts, it chants our name and that of our clan! Drak' Fyr! Drak'Fyr!"

And as the mountain indeed sputtered and roared, a fountain as bright as the evening sun erupted behind him. The amber glow swallowed his body, but lifted his soul to Ark Morgo where he'd be a leader for all eternity.

The light of the bright, amber fountain coated the night sky as Arisztar hatched. He looked up above, and saw Fyraszh turn from flesh to fire.

"Why be confined to rocks and fiery rage?" Arisztar hushed. "To let yourself be swallowed by flames while so close to the clouds — That coward ought to jump! To fly where others fall is the greatest feat of all!"

So he took off and set his sights on the faraway cliffs. He lived high above the rest for years, hunting the birds, the vultures, and dragons above, until the Broodmother's spirit had blessed him with wings of his own.
He became a leader unbound by the winds and soon commanded the clan of the Drak'Ari - but he would not be satisfied until he had truly soared higher than the rest.

As he took a final leap of faith, he cried out: "Our land stretches as far as the winds blow! My wings will eclipse all below in their shadow!"
With these words, he flew closer to the sun. Silken feathers rained down as he entered Ark Morgo's halls.

The young Dalszul watched as feathers rained from the skies, leaving whispy shadows underneath them as they danced.
He pondered: "What good is conquering the skies? The land is vast and rich with treasure! We ought to thrust towards the mainland and annihilate its core! Let its blood strengthen our soil and our bodies!

And so he sank his claws into the largest mass of land he could find, and formed blocks from clay and stone to build temples to his own glory.
Countless Drak worked and died at his walls, and when his grandest monument was finished with its final brick, he laughed: "Broodmother, hear me now! Every stretch of land, from field to forest, squeals beneath my foot! My spear can point wherever the eye can see, and still spot no edge to my domain!

As he continued his tirade, unstoppable like a boulder rolling downhill, the Drak'Dal of his clan slowly backed away. They felt a rumble in the ground, and before they knew it, a large fracture before them ripped the Earth in two.
The monument beneath their leader's feet crumbled, and Dalszul was buried beneath the rubble and dust, his blood forever marking the heart of his territory.
Ark Morgo had taken him.

Ancients. Yes. From Ark Morgo, they descend. Sent as messengers from gods. Vesztah! Merphisz! Fyraszh! Arisztar! Dalszul! To choose new gods, yes. The strongest among us!

But fools! Fools!
They choose humans! Weak Skulls, break easily! Squishy bellies, soft and flabby! Tiny fire-makers. Pah! Fire is weak.
We stomp out spark, we swallow flame, we bring rise with storm of violet blood!

But humans tricked us. Beat us in battle — with machines and devilry! Not fair!

We bathed in shame and shadow for too long! Human flame is weak now! Should not burn near Ark Morgo! Their bodies are rotting. Bones soft, flesh spoiled — Time comes. Drak rise. Drak'Dal take chance in pitiful basin. Throne waits. Ark Morgo ours again!

Such big building! Tall spire! Bright light!

Can only be made by Descendants of Ark Morgo, yes — Ancients must be messengers! Connect to Ark Morgo above! Beam to the sky beyond the clouds! A pathway for the worthy!

But glowy platform don't work right! Rah!
Drak'Dal will prove themselves anyway! Will enter! Squish Flame in battle! Win favor of gods!

Large ship stranded on our shores.

Spoiled food, rotten wood. Merphisz would laugh at the state of it.

Clouds swirling around, misty blue like fog on the horizon, but murky. Humans inside, or something once human. Mushy and soft, rip open to reveal glowing hearts still beating in an unfamiliar rhythm.

Weaklings! Ancients chose the wrong champions! Now is the time of the Drak! Drak'Dal will cross the open waters and squish the puny fleshlings! Rebuild the empire!

For Dalszul!

Rah! Hunt over, many spoils!
Had Capybara snack. Bristles too tough. No like mouth feel.

Chief Gna'Rash gets to eat supple, tiny one. Bristles soft. Fits well in mouth, one gulp. Squeaks when touched. Likes pets. But no time for pets! Time for feast!

I challenge Gna'Rash: Eat squeaky baby whole. Maybe it makes Gna'Rash heavy and slow. Then Gruul can fight Gna'Rash! Become new chieftain! New elite! Later, become Hydrak! Eat all the squeaky babies myself! Claim better mouth feel!
Rah Rah!

Gna'Rash's clutch grows well. Many strong Drakling. Only few need culling, but hide still strong. Tough for other Drakling to eat, but good nutrition. Makes scales twice as hard! Hail the Broodmother!

But why only Gna'Rash get to be with pretty Drak'Dal ladies? Gruul said chief even have girlfriends in Archipelago, outside tribe. Kriss'Kah wonder: How is breeding with Drak'Mer female?
Why no pretty Drak ladies for Kriss'Kah? No fair!

We need more daylilies for Drakling hatchery lamps.
Only fiery glow makes Drakling want to come out of egg.

Tha'Riel told me Drakling think it's sun on the horizon.
I hope they all hatch soon, before Kra'Thul comes and breaks eggs.

Awful bloodshed — so much cleaning.

Dra'Nak die with honor.
So his claws, his scales, his blood — they go into totem.
Old way of Drak. Always been.
We keep the strong ones close — even when breath is gone. He stand with us, watch guard.
Drak proud to become totem. Drak'Dal Chieftain will be Wood Totem, Hydrak'Dal Stone.
Means they will join Dalszul in afterlife.
But if die with shame.. no gold, no name.. no afterlife... just forget.

Mushy humans found a way through barrier. They think they better than us. Not again. We went in just behind them.
We dig. We mine. Every chunk of metal we tear from this rock is a blade, a shield, a dent in a mushy skull.
We take what should be ours.

They were first at the gate,
we will be first at the top!

Our gods have risen. They chose lava earth for their kingdom and lifted their temples into the sky.
Would be easier for Drak'Fyr on volcanic ground. Easy for Drak'Ari drifting through sky. But we are Drak'Dal. We come from the ground.
There has to be reason this great challenge is ours. The final trial has begun.
We are worthy. We will succeed. Human demise is settled.

Stupid, stupid fishies!

Always flee Kra'Tau's arrows! Rah!
Think they can outsmart Kra'Tau? Think again!

Kra'Tau throw bow into pond. Useless! No one need coward weapon like that! Kra'Tau catch fishies with claws, then stomp with feet. Make fish soup the old-fashioned way!

Then silly fishies no laugh at Kra'Tau missing shots! Fishies won't laugh at all no more — fishies stomped dead!!

Rah rah!