Seventy-five tribes fell, yet the 'beast' remains unfulfilled. It yearns for more land; it yearns for more subjects; and above all it yearns to prove itself even more.
One day, a message was delivered to its doorsteps, detailing of a tribe hiding in the east, so once more the beast along with its armies embarked to conquer.
Thirty-six days they walked across inhospitable lands, battling heavy snowfall and dwindling supplies before inevitably reaching their intended destination.
There, on the base of a mountain an ancient stronghold stood, and on-top its dilapidated mossy keep, a tattered white flag bearing the symbol of a golden sun soared, a relic of a bygone era... of a time where dragons reign.
The fortress in question belonging to the last remaining Kamlodon tribe, the Kokobods, and the folks living there were more than aware of the impending threat; a stockpile had been gathered, the surrounding grounds made further uneven to deter their siege machinery and perched above the many stone towers were balistas set in place.
These measures proven futile, for when the trumpets of war were called upon, the attackers rendered the obstacles useless with the use of a few simple tricks; thick smokes from bonfires engulfed the battlefield thwarting effective use of their balistas, and when machines couldn't be brought to the walls it was decided men will do — a dozen soldiera packed with explosives were commanded to blow themselves up alongside a section of the olden defenses.
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Amidst dusk, the fortress was subjugated, and retribution was swiftly delivered.
They rounded up the surviving men and placed them inside cages, there-after, disemboweling them alive one-by-one. Their victims did not go quietly– many tried resist when they realize their soon-to-be fates, in turn, it was decreed their legs and hands were to be chopped off to prevent escape. None was spared, their innards were used as nooses to dangle their lifeless corpses from the merlons of the ancient battlements.
In the ensuing occupation, mass ransacking and ruination ensued.
The conquerors seized any valuables they could unvover: provisions, weaponry and tomes, before committing untamed destruction upon the relics which littered the grounds, destroying all sorts of antiquities big or small, from statues to tapestries in a platoral of means.
In a blink, centuries of history was lost forever.
Most notable of these demolished relics was the Kokobod's symbol itself which was set ablazed and replaced with a different white flag, one bearing the mark of a black star — a declaration informing the defeated that from here on out no longer were they the architect of their own destiny... a conquered tribe amongst conquered tribes, they were now subjects of the Twilight Regime, a fledgling state stretching from the western banks of the Great Korrodium River to the eastern bases of the Kobodi Mountain Range, an entity with aspirations derived from its founder that is still yet... unfulfilled.
