I grabbed my crown and threw it on the ground, for I was no king anymore...I was but a man, just like everyone else. Then I raised my sword and brought the dragon's storm down one last time.

- King Valerian, 495 S.E. It was over. My kingdom was lost. The flames of chaos had ignited and scorched it to ashes. As I sat atop my throne, I watched the city beneath me fall. Around the city walls, hordes of monsters gathered around, waiting for the gates to fall so that they could stamp down the final bastion of hope. I could remain in my throne while my knights gave their lives to protect me, and ultimately fail, but I refused. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight, and if I would be the first to die, then so be it, but I would never die a coward’s death, desperately crawling on my throne. No, I would fight to the end. I put on my armor, and got on my horse, ready to go out for one last charge. For one last battle. For one last time.

I rode out to meet the tidal wave of mindless chaos. I rode through familiar cities, and familiar faces, most of which I would probably never see again. I would probably never see these calm and peaceful streets again, or even walk through my kingdom ever again. But that didn’t matter, for if I could, I would give my life tenfold for this land. If I ever became a cowardly king, I’d hope that someone would strike me down, and take my place. I had risked my life before, but this was truly the end. There was no turning back, and there was nowhere to turn back to.

I reached the gates and heard the monsters on the other side desperately clawing and screeching at the steel gates, trying to get in and break through to face us. They would face us soon enough. Chaos had arrived, but before it would engulf the world, there would be a storm. A storm of hooves and steel. A storm of honor and valor. One final storm. With my crown sitting on my head and my armor donned, I commanded the gate to open. As soon as it opened, a flood of monstrous creatures poured in. I unsheathed my sword, and pointed it at the dark storm of chaos. I uttered no words, for sometimes silence spoke more than volumes. I grabbed my crown and threw it on the ground, for I was no king anymore….I was but a man, just like everyone else. Then I raised my sword and brought the dragon’s storm down one last time.

Summary When Lionsgate, the capital city of the kingdom of Essaryn--the greatest kingdom on the face of Terras--was besieged by the hordes of chaos straight from Orrun, the entire world believed the city would simply fall with a sigh, just like all the others. But Lionsgate fell not with a sigh. It fell with a great and mighty roar. King Valerian I of Essaryn gathered up all his bravest knights and warriors out in the mighty front gates, guarded by those two towering statues of lions--the same gates that had withstood every single attack and siege that the world had thrown its way for centuries. Both King and knight readied themselves for one final charge together at the monsters of shadow lying in wait outside the gates. King Valerian ordered the gates to be opened, and as the creatures of shadow madly rushed forward, King Valerian raised his mighty sword and, uttering not a single word, cast the dragon's storm for one final time. They say that when that powerful and arcane spell was cast, you could hear the ground itself groan and shake from the great storm of dragonfire and thunder for miles and miles. The havoc cast from the spell rode out ahead of the knights and caused such destruction that the ground still has not recovered to this day. As heroic as the charge was, it was but a final flicker of light in an ever-darkening world. The King is now dead--his sword buried, and his crown forgotten, and where the great city of Lionsgate stood, only rubble remains.

-Exerpt from The Honor Saga

Historical Basis The legend is the event, and the event is the legend. The fated battle that took place in 495 S.E. outside the great gates of Lionsgate was the actual historical event the legend comes from, but the legend itself is focused more on the last king of Essaryn, king Valerian, who, as the legend says, rode out with his men one last time to fight back the horde of corrupt and infected shadow creatures. These creatures of shadow had poured out from Orrun through the Gates of Doom and ravaged Essaryn, and threatened to spread and snuff out the light of civilization everywhere, not just in the Kingdoms of Man. The Battle of Lionsgate arguably saved all of Terras from being overrun by causing such heavy casualties to the hordes of chaos and shadow. Although now, over a decade later, those same hordes that brought down that once-mighty kingdom threaten the lands once more. Is it natural that such a legend might surface back up again?

Cultural Reception This legend is widely known, and, thanks to many a bar and tavern song, it has become a tale of heroic and long-gone valor. The legend has helped inspire hope and breathe valor into people and give them the determination to fight the horde of shadows just like King Valerian did during the Battle of Lionsgate.

Spread & Variation

In Literature & Art

Every living soul under the Kingdoms of Man and even beyond has heard of the story. The legend is known by both the wise and foolish, the young and the old, the rich and the poor. What isn't so widely spread is what exactly happened that day. While some argue and have come up with many different ideas, none of these can be proven since survivors aren't common, and records from those who witnessed the battle itself may differ drastically. But among scholars, one account sounds more plausible than the others: it is said that king Valerian rode out with his knights and cast some ancient and long-forgotten spell which routed and terrorized the hordes of chaos. What happened after is unknown, but it is believed that after the initial rout, the creatures returned and King Valerian died fighting them.While some have written poems about it, many more have written books or translated songs down from speech to pen. A few brave souls have attempted to tell his legend through the brush, but, as stated previously, most have done it through songs sung on cold nights in bright and lively taverns, telling of deeds both terrible and heroic.