Shadowy master of the Vignar
His eyes grown milky and blind with age, Dreargakaduayrte shrouds himself with darkness at all times. He spends much time sleeping, and seems to be preparing to enter his twilight. However, he is a simmering cauldron of anger and resentment, lashing out violently at any living creature that comes too near his lair while he happens to be awake. He has no interest in conversation or negotiation, only in death—other creatures’ first, but he is fascinated with the concept of his own inevitable demise, after having lived so long.
When the Ulhar came to the world of DraGun, Drear was already old beyond measure. He’d watched a millennium pass and bore witness to the wasting of Vorel. Death was so familiar to him, so inescapable, that all the conquests of the Ulhar and their wars against humans seemed empty. Only endings interested him any longer. He withdrew from Ulhar society, grew strange and silent, and his eyesight finally faded. There in his own eternal darkness he turned to the voice of Falazure, the night dragon, and founded a secret order dedicated to ending lives—the Vignar.
His full agenda was unknown, but Dreargak’s spies and technomages found their way deep into every society. Shadow-armored assassins claimed countless lives, subtly directing the course of the war towards maximum casualties. They took special interest in the offspring of dragons, recruiting anyone with a modicum of magical potential and training them in magic and technology.
Falazure’s gaze fell upon John when he entered the dreams of the dragon Acophisinian in search of the Chronepsis Rift. The Night Dragon whispered to his favored servant, for on John’s homeworld, the necromancer Varin sought to regain the shards of Uzhul’s weapons and armor. So the Vignar hunted John throughout DraGun, attacking him at every step.
Though he spent hundreds of years preparing for the end, he didn’t see it coming for him quite this way. John Carmichael found Dreargak’s shadow-haunted cavern, just as the alliance between the Vignar, Throden-Kother, and the local suzerain was making their move. The two faced off, hunting each other across the dark cave, until the dragon leapt from a crevice to devour the mortal. He was not expecting The DraGun. A mass-accelerated bolt pierced his scales and plunged into his heart. Dark energy—the caress of Falazure’s claws—ripped Dreargak’s spirit in half. Ancient curses and abhorrent slime seeped into his flesh, leaving him weak and dying.
Then, even as he heard Death’s footsteps drawing near, John offered him a way out. Ancient, dying, and mighty, the dragon devoured his hoard and fused into the landscape—along with a piece of the accursed armor of Uzhul. The cave is now infused with the powers of shadow and infernal energies. Of any dragon eggs laid there, only one will survive, but it will be bolstered by unholy power. This is Dreargak’s legacy.