Year 363.2
In the northwestern Dragolian Colonies, formerly belonging to the Hrilitian Celestial Empire before the direful war with the Dragons at the end of the first century, life continued to go on in the same quiet fashion. The population was constitued, in mostly the same proportion, of two quite different people, Slugmen and Manaketes, but they appeared to live very well along each other. They were for the most part farmers, fishers or simple crafters, who all shared the same faith in the Gospel of Tiamat, the White Dragon Goddess. Thus, many assembled to celebrate the New Year around the sanctuary of the small Algad Peninsula, that was jutting above the ocean at the south of their territory, wich offered a scenic view that was just as good as that of a drake flying above the sea waves. But except a few monks and priests in pursuit of holy virtue, most of the inhabitants of the Colonies were down-to-earth people who only wished to keep their peaceful existence.
They were governed however by a draconic enclave that was under the firm rule of Haton, a cousin of the infamous black Immortal leading the Elder Council of Dragolia. And if it can be said that the fiery dragon Irahan was sometimes indifferent toward his folks, Haton was far worse, being absolutely apathetic in front of the occasional hardships of his subjects. His only purpose in his undying life was to oversee the smooth running of the activities of the Colonies, such as the proceedings of the harvests, the yields of the fisheries and the commercial undertakings. He was although never really bored, like if a constant bureaucratic life and the fulfillment of his bodily needs was all he soughted for.
The only reason why he had a power position was because his cousin gave one to him and since then, he only acted robotically and impassively. There were even rumors that he was a secret worshiper of the human god of squares Boran Boriborus. So, in the eventuality that a war would break out, he simply would listen to the counsels of his general, dispatch his troups methodically, wait for the next events and restart the same steps. Even if most of his people would get killed, he wouldn't really feel bad for them. Yet, his subjects seemed to submit willingly to his control, letting the fate of their native soil in his claws. At least it was better than being treated like meat pieces as their northern neighbors living in Zoithor's Realm.
Also, since a demographic growth had happened over time in the Dragolian Colonies, accompanied by a natural expansion of the cities and their encompassing fields, the commoners had an increasing difficulty to find work or sufficient space for their children to set up their own homes. They were for that reason frequently forced to send them away and wish them good luck to go earn their living elsewhere. Seeing the situation, Haton didn't ask himself much questions, he only acted the way he considered self-evident: he dispatched his delegates, who were mostly Lesser Dragons, throughout his domain to trigger a general peopling campaign to occupy new territories to the east. He was convinced that all the citizens would listen to his orders as if they were no more than loyal servants. They were actually in need of more lands to settle, but will the events really turn out the way he was expecting, without any irregularities?