Tasoshi Drakamoto

Bren Palesworn and his delegation of Riftwatcher emissaries came to Oasis seeking the Gloridax Empire’s aid. The Conclave Arcana had begun its hunt for the secret of Praetoria—an ancient power buried beneath the land—and the Riftwatchers could not stop them alone.

But the suam emperor turned Bren away.

The rebellion had left the Dragonsguard broken. Cities bore the scars of war, their streets lined with rubble and their homes gutted by fire. The Chaos Empire still festered beyond the southern horizon. No ronach would be spared. There was no appetite for distant crusades. The Gloridax Empire had more immediate concerns.

The consequences came swiftly.

Ore shipments from the Great Lowlands, vital to the empire’s reconstruction, began arriving late or not at all. And in the Pristine Northwest, scouts, surveyors, merchants, and caravan masters all reported that imperial maps no longer matched the terrain. Hills had shifted. Forests had moved. Rivers had changed course.

At first, the Grand Consul dismissed the reports. Anomalies. Exaggerations. The ramblings of simpletons who couldn’t read a map. Delays were blamed on poor planning, bad weather, or unrest in the borderlands.

But soon, the disruptions grew too widespread to ignore. Too late, Imperial Councilor Skarn and Commandant Councilor Songale realized they should have heeded Bren Palesworn and the Riftwatchers. But they couldn’t bring the matter back before the emperor. Not yet. Not without answers.

So they sent the one who could get them just that. They sent Tasoshi Drakamoto.

Some say she once trained with the Dragonsguard. Others claim she is a descendant of Shiimya Khapri, the first suam emperor, or that she is not Gloridax at all. No one knows for certain—not her lineage, her age, nor even if Tasoshi Drakamoto is her real name. Her past is a shadow, her face rarely seen, and her methods impossible to trace.

Tasoshi went alone, without escort or fanfare, with only a sealed directive and a course charted for the Wild Northeast, where storms raged endlessly and tides rose to reshape the land. Her orders were simple: learn what the empire had chosen to ignore.

She moved like a wraith across the land, navigating the floods and conjured storms unleashed by Jicarilla the Rime. She watched the orcs fight from the highlands, trying to slow the Conclave Arcana’s advance. Mostly, she watched them die.

As always, she used her magic swiftly and deliberately, eliminating outpost scouts or caravan guards. Clearing a path. Silencing those who might reveal her. Sometimes finishing what the orcs couldn’t.

As she watched Jicarilla tear the land apart in her search, Tasoshi realized the situation was far more dire than the Grand Consul could have imagined. Nothing she did would help the orcs turn the tide.

But before she reports back to the Grand Consul, she might as well blast a few more foes with her fireballs.

That part never gets old.