Some call me Kannoran. Others, Dral’gathach. Others still, Bassant. I don’t belong here.

Deep within the city of Nantambu, in the rain of the greatest school for the magically-inclined, ancient and impressive in its scope and...

The smoke pours from the tower. It’s all your fault. You know it is. You can’t help but bury your head in your hands and cry. Years of work just went down the toilet. Sure, the creature is alive and showing all signs that everything functions just like you wanted, but that does no good when it’s burst out of its cage and set fire to your lab. Your funding just literally went up in flames.