Light exploded into the eyes of the newly born draconian. Hunger, survival, kill--these were all it knew. In a nest filled with siblings, it knew no siblings. In a nest filled with food, Tziensarith set into motion, devouring the flesh of his brothers and sisters. Mercy was for the weak, for the foolish; mercy had no home in him. With his hunger satiated and the corpses of his litter mates decorating the ground, Tziensarith knew life. It was good to be full; hunger was a pain. There was joy in killing; moreover, there was joy in the music of death. The ripping of flesh, the cries of the dying--these things--for some reason he could not understand their purpose. As he grew and evolved, he began to hear the voice that would remain with him for the rest of his days.

It drove him now, the voice, Its voice. So it was that It felt the presence of a being, a powerful force that called to It. So it was that Tziensarith found himself in prayer to what he knew was a most vile god, the Lord of Sin. From that moment forward, Tziensarith walked the path of pain and torment. Little did Tziensarith know that his choices were not his own, It drove him to seek out the darkest of sects: The Brethren.

Quickly Tziensarith proved his ability to learn and to corrupt. Tziensarith, having excelled in these areas, was offered a place among the Brethren as the lowest of filth--a veritable Maggot. Maggot he was known... until one day, when he had proven himself enough to catch the eye of Sin himself. On that day Tziensarith became no more; it had found Its way into the world, released by Sin to devour the flesh of spirit and to create the Symphony of Destruction constructed with the melody of terror, the rhythm of corruption, the harmony of deceit, and the tunes of nightmarish pain.

For many years It pulled the strings of the corpse it inhabited and molded Thera to suit its will. Tziensarith became the name the voice chose to keep. As Tziensarith served the will of the Brethren Lords it observed the struggles of the mortals through daily life. Thera was ripe with the wicked, the wicked were weak of will and strong in arrogance and hubris. In those years of service, Tziensarith began collecting souls. The souls were the currency of its home, the Abyssal Planes of Infernitum. As Tziensarith collection grew the Brethren flourished until one day The Brethren Lords grew bored with their creation, or perhaps they achieved the end goal of the demonic experiment.

Soon Tziensarith was left to its own will and devices. Quickly a plan was crafted to gain the power required to take a place among the Dark Lords. They were good at what they did, to be sure, but Tziensarith knew no equals when it came to discord, hopelessness, and nightmares. Those were its tools, and those gathered many souls. As the centuries passed Tziensarith became the last of the Brethren to roam Thera, from domination to decay the Brethren had run their cycle. It was time for Tziensarith to return home and establish his domain, his dominance. It was time for Tziensarith to begin his rise to immortality as Master and servant no more.

Thera turned into slumber, awoke, and then sleep once more as more ages passed. Not much is known of what transpired upon the Abyssal planes. The name Tziensarith became nothing more then print within books faded from the minds of mortals. Then one day that changed. A newly risen lord of darkness known as Istrovir crossed a line into Tziensarith's realm. Istrovir had discovered the Hell's Gate and the means to conjure forth the demons of Brethren old. Pity he did not know his own limits. In summoning a demon known as a Dragkagh, Istrovir was himself torn from his own reality into the nightmare that was Tziensarith's home. The Dragkagh was beyond Istrovir's power to control, yet it could not kill the fledgling immortal either. Tziensarith sensing power equal to his own quickly took action. Opening a portal to the source of power Tziensarith in all its vile glory bore down upon the trespasser.

It took only a moment for Tziensarith to realize this was his doorway back to Thera. Istrovir intrigued Tziensarith and the two began to formulate a hellish union. The details of the Pact remain fully unknown. What is guessed at is that Tziensarith imbued Istrovir with some of his infernal powers in return Istrovir would find Tziensarith a suitable vessel through which he could breech the different realities and walk Theran soil once more. It did not take long for Istrovir to find his target, Xartaul another infant immortal, Lord of the Crusade. How fitting to use such a vessel.

Istrovir baited Xartaul into a battle at the Hell's Gate. The two fought for hours, but slowly Xartaul realized this was a fight he could not win. Something else, something dark was feeding Istrovir power. Too late did this realization come, for Tziensarith watched and waited on the other side of the Hell's Gate. He fed his power to Istrovir as he watched the two battle. Xartaul collapsed and the Dark Ritual of Transference was underway. The physical form of Xartaul grew frail and imploded leaving only a husk of flesh and a residue of power. The lingering power cracked the wall between planes and Tziensarith threw his full might at that breech. Abyssal flames consumed the husk and perverted the immortal essence of Xartaul. It was all that Tziensarith needed to step from his world into Thera once more. Immortal now, full of power and unable to be destroyed on this plane, Tziensarith is reborn. Now it watches over the new Fold, the Ancients and spreads its darkness over the lands once more...