AvatarMars' Clan

A large clan of warrior dragons in the Wandering Contagion were as content as they could be. They had a large territory to house all of their dragons, plenty of food and water, strong willed hatchlings, happy families, protection... Everything they could ask for.

But all of that changed one day when a grave threat came in the form of a rival clan of dragons. The lead dragon of the unruly clan demanded the warriors to give up their territory and to never return. The large clan refused to back down; they would not just hand over their home to this ignorant fool!

“Then this means war,” the rival leader snarled in reply when the clan of warriors refused to do what he asked.

A huge battle broke out among the two clans. Insults and yelling assaulted their ears as teeth and claws latched onto anything they could get a grip on in hopes of taking down their opponent. Blood was shed, bones were broken, throats were ripped out, lifeless bodies were dropping to the ground like flies and the land reeked of death; it was utter chaos.

By the time the ground had almost disappeared in a sea of red and corpses, the opposing clan had the upper claw. The clan of warriors had lost over two thirds of their members and the number of remaining warriors was still dropping at an alarming rate. They would either have to turn tail and run or die trying to protect their home.

Just as the lead dragon was about to call a retreat, a member of the warriors clan managed to snag their claws on the rival leader’s throat rip it open. The opposing dragon looked at the warrior in shock and disbelief as he gurgled and coked on his own blood. All of the dragons paused mid-fight to watch in stunned horror or shocked amazement as the rival leader took in his last painful breaths before collapsing to the ground.

The rival clan fled as fast as they could like cowards when they saw that their leader had perished. What remained of the original clan of warriors didn’t even bother to chase them out; they knew they had won. But as they looked over the devastation that had befallen their clan, they also knew that this was not a victory to be celebratory about.

There was only a hand full of them left. Their home had been destroyed, their food had been taken, and their families had been ripped apart. As the courage and confidence of the warriors seemed to die even more, one lone dragon With a frill like iron, and wings like the abyss, stepped forward and said,

“We are the great and terrible warriors of the Plague Flight. We will endure.”

And they did. They pulled their territory together again, and have since then gathered enough food to feed their slowly growing clan. They were few in number, but they were strong and would fight until the very end.