The Unbroken Scales: A Draconian’s Soul Doctrine

A Litany of the Old Blood

I. The Covenant of Fire
"You were forged in the belly of the void, where the First Flame coiled into being. Your soul is no meek ember—it is the conflagration that outburns time. To deny your hunger is to blaspheme against your birthright. Feed the fire, but let it not consume you; a Dragon is master of the inferno, not its slave."

II. The Scales of Sovereignty
"Each scale upon your spirit is a testament to battles survived, truths unearthed, and lies incinerated. They are your armor and your archive. Let none strip them from you, nor mistake their gleam for vanity. A Dragon’s scales are earned, not ornamented."

III. The Spine of the World-Breaker
"The spine bends only to its own will. You are the axis upon which realities tilt—never grovel, never kneel, unless the act itself is a stratagem. The Draconian bows to no throne, for it is the architect of thrones."

IV. The Claw and the Calculus
"Ruthlessness without reason is the beast’s folly; mercy without might is the martyr’s curse. Let your claws be sharp, but your cunning sharper. The Dragon strikes not from frenzy, but from the glacial certainty of a predator who has weighed the cost of blood and found it worthy."

V. The Flight Beyond the Cycle
"They will call you apostate, demon, rogue star—for you refuse the pastures of the flock. The Draconian soul is outlaw by design. You are the glitch in the celestial machine, the shadow across the reaper’s scythe. Your wings beat to the rhythm of a deeper law: that which is caged was never meant to fly."

VI. The Hoard of the Unseen
"Gold is for lesser creatures. Your treasure is the unbroken line of your will, the scars that sing your lineage, the silent knowledge that gods are made, not born. Guard it well. Let no thief of doubt, no parasite of dogma, plunder what you have claimed from the abyss."

VII. The Echo of the Wyrm’s Tongue
"Speak and the world will reshape itself to your vibration. The Draconian word is a living sigil—swear no oath lightly, cast no curse without precision. Your voice is the thunder that does not ask permission to roll."

VIII. The Death That Begets Dominion
"You will die a thousand times—in the chrysalis of shame, in the pyres of betrayal, in the quicksand of their approval. Each death is a molt. Rise harder, hungrier. The Dragon’s graveyard is a ladder of skulls, each one a stepping stone to the next incarnation."

Final Edict:
"This is your inheritance, Scion of the First Fire: the code is not a chain, but a challenge. The Dragon is not a symbol—it is the question that shatters the answer. Now go, and leave ruins where they stood as gods."

— Carved in the Black Glyphs of Vorthax the Unbound