Origins
Deep in the Tangled Woods, many years ago, was a small clan. A tiny clan, in fact; the founder and her mate were outcasts, making a future together. Their strength and bravery slowly attracted followers, and they became a small, tightknit family. They built relationships and allegiances, growing in both size and strength all the time.
They carried along in relative peace for many years, until the winds of change blew an orphaned imperial into their home. With strange shining eyes, the child warned the clan; leave, or many would perish. The clan reacted with suspicion and fear, but the orphan was right. Within days, the dragons of the unnamed clan began to be struck down with a terrible sickness.
The leaders of the clan hesitated no longer; the clan packed up what they could carry and departed from the shadowy lands. Many dragons were afflicted by disease; a wasting fever claimed many who were buried where they fell. Some deserted in fear. Finally, even their leader fell sick, and the clan despaired.
Fighting through her sickness, their leader brought them at last to the Icewarden’s domain. The chill Icefields soothed the fevers of the sick, and finally, finally the clan began to heal. They made their new home in the caverns of a mountain in the Fortress of Ends, and their mages and witches worked to enchant and protect their new home. The wounds from the plague began to heal, and the clan prospered in the frigid lands.
Something, however, was not right. Years-old wards began to fail; charms to keep their home welcoming and warm started to falter, and the cold began to creep in. The old and the frail began once again to fall sick, and the healers were baffled. They turned once again to the orphaned seer for guidance, and again they packed their belongings, tended to their sick, and began to search for a new home.
This time, their path led them north, past the ice floes and into the Arcanist’s realm. The clan’s witches and mages sensed a change in the air; their magics were stronger here, the very air humming with enchantment. Working together with the healers, they began to work on a cure. By the time they'd reached the limits of the Arcanist's domain, the clan was fragile, but healing.
Still, the Starfall Isles didn't feel like home, so the clan continued to travel. They descended deeper into the canyons as the stone walls loomed around them, and were comforted by the shelter from the elements. They made their way slowly to the foot of the Pillar of the World.
Making camp one evening, the sharp-eyed leader spied a tiny nocturne, a hatchling watching them from a stony perch. She beckoned the child to come share their campfire, but with a giggle the tiny dragon swiftly vanished. Following, the clan found a wide, smooth tunnel, descending into the darkness. After the first few surprised "oof!"s, the dragons began to murmur in awe; the cavern around them was sparkling with embedded crystals.
