Okora the Devourer

When Praetoria rose against the Chaos Empire, Commander Okora led a legion against the rebellion in the Alazangeis kalamenty. While other commanders fled their posts, she held. She turned impossible battles into victories through sheer force of will.

Then Barashkukor, Lord of Darkness of the Belurocian Empire, betrayed the Chaos Empire. The rebellion, which had been failing in Alazangeis, ultimately succeeded. The empire lost Praetoria and its kalamenties. The legions retreated to Tovingor.

While the Ascendency deliberated their next move, Okora descended into the fortress-city's deepest vaults. There, mounted on an obsidian pedestal, sat the preserved heart of a chaos dragon, one of the Host's greatest. The beast had burned entire armies before the rebels brought it down. The Ascendency kept its heart as a trophy.

Okora stared at it. Then she lifted the organ in one hand, opened her massive jaws, and devoured it.

Dragon magic flooded her body. Her ulund physiology rejected it, fought it, tried to expel it. Okora refused to let go.

When the transformation was complete, she walked to the Ascendency's war room. The guards moved to block her. Dragon magic flared and they were hurled aside. She pushed open the doors.

"I ate the chaos dragon's heart. The dragon's power is mine now. I shall lead the fight against the Conclave Arcana."

A kalament rose from his seat. "You dare interrupt the Ascendency? Remove yourself before—"

"Let her speak." Mantaroth, second only to Silus himself, waved the kalament silent. His eyes glittered with amusement. "An ulund ate a dragon's heart?"

"Yes."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"And yet." Okora raised her hands, and dragon magic flickered around them.

Mantaroth's smile faded. He glanced at Silus.

"She held Alazangeis," Silus said. "When the others fled, she held. Alvar Veralyn is dead. The legions need a general who will not break."

Now General Okora the Devourer stands where Alvar once stood, surrounded by maps of Praetoria. Legions eight-hundred thousand strong wait in Tovingor, survivors from seven kalamenties, retreated, reformed, regrouped.

Her eyes trace the map. Mount Praetorous where Uul festers, markers showing the Conclave's expeditions, Praetoria's defensive positions. Everyone looking the wrong direction. The Conclave hunts for secrets while Praetoria fights the Conclave. No one's watching Tovingor.

Her massive hand rests on the map, spanning the entire continent.

Let them bleed each other. She and her legions will devour what remains.