Forgotten Realms: Prophecies
In the time before the kingdom of Cormyr, when the land was still known as the Forest Country instead of the Forest Kingdom as it now is, songs tell how the elves ruled and lived in peace under sun and stars for long ages, until the dragons came. Strife filled the land and the forests withered, the jeweled towers became ruins, and the bones of wyrms lay scattered. Hundreds of years the elves’ warred against the dragons, and ever was the greatest of their foes Thauglorimorgorus. A black dragon by birth, Thauglor was indeed known as the Black Doom in his younger centuries, but he lived to an incredibly antiquity, and his scales became as twilight, and Thauglor was known far and wide simply as the Purple Dragon.
Thauglor made himself as a king among dragons and sought unquestioned dominion of all the Forest Country. His raids and ravaging of the elves were apocalyptic, and the folk of the Forest Country dreaded their end was neigh. Yet in this moment of dire need, a hero came forth: Ilifar Nelnueve, Lord of Scepters, called out the Purple Dragon and challenged him to a duel.
Here the songs go into great detail, for it Ilifar in fact challenged Thauglor to an ancient rite of dragon kind which Ilifar himself had no right to: the Feint of Honor. Brasher still, Ilifar demanded no dragon’s breath be allowed in the contest. As much amused as bemused, Thauglor in his pride agreed. Even without his deadly breath he would have been more than a match for the elf, but Ilifar enacted a desperate plan. With sorcery, the Lord of Scepters threw his magic staff into Thauglor’s mouth such that it was lodged vertically and the dragon could not get it out, neither with tongue nor tail nor claw. In rage, Thauglor spewed his acid, and in so doing broke the agreement and lost the Feint of Honor; and he brought down an even greater punishment upon himself for his bad faith. Thauglor’s breath could level groves and turn stone to ooze; it was more than strong enough to destroy the staff stuck in his mouth. Yet magic staves don’t break quietly, and the resulting explosion of arcane power ripped out the Purple Dragon’s throat. Thauglor fled, and Ilifar won, and the elves were unquestioned masters of the Forest Country in peace again. This battle named The Passing of Power in a half-hundred different songs and stories.
But Thauglor did not die. He merely slept and healed, every now and then waking and taking flight over the land. Beneath his rarely-seen wings the Forest Country became the Forest Kingdom, and each time the Purple Dragon saw it there were fewer and fewer elves but more and more humans. These Thauglor held in the lowest contempt. When, after a thousand years, the dragon was sure the elven power had long since died, he decided his pact no longer held since those he had made it with were gone. It was time to ‘reclaim’ his kingdom.
The Purple Dragon made straight for the capitol, Suzail, where he bodily slammed into the royal castle. Nearly a fourth of it was destroyed at once and much of the rest was soon demolished. The King, Duar II Orbarksyr, and most of his court survived. With the War Wizards and Purple Dragon Knights, King Duar set off after Thauglor. In his pride, the dragon fell into an ambush in which archers damaged his wings and, grounded, he was unable to escape an onslaught of spells and charging knights, led by King Duar directly. Thus died the Purple Dragon.
The dragon’s legacy lives on, however, as one of the emblems of the kingdom itself, the name of its chief chivalric order, and in a thousand tales and songs in which the dragon features as villain, hero, and mere force of nature, representing the wild and untamed spirit of the land of Cormyr.