Ripcooperchick's Clan

Kindred of the Forgotten Forest


*Warning: VERY long origin story below (Written by SkyLark)

Regarding the founding of the Kindred of the Forgotten Forest, a historian wrote
Three dragons wandered through the underbrush, their sense of direction long muddled by the days spent in the thick, heady scents of pollen. This part of the forest, the one closer to the heart of the Labyrinth, was nearly overwhelming, with trees that soared kilometres higher than the height of any emperor. It was dense with the heat of lush, living things and heavy with the smell of decay as the leaf litter underfoot was broken down.

Seeds from all over Sornieth blew here, taking root wherever they could find purchase and releasing their own scents to further confuse the weary travellers. The forest dragged at their heels, throwing up dense sprays of thicket to further slow their progress. Yachini forged ahead, his massive body floundering as he tried to find a path through the trees.

This was a forest so old it seemed to breath, exhaling through the canopy of leaves so crowded that the ground was held in a perpetual state of dimness. There was no telling how many days had passed, how long it had been since they had seen the vast, stretching plains of the Dragonhome.

There were stories about this place. Stories that the trees could rearrange themselves, disorienting even a master navigator. Even Aether, who had seemed to doubt the old tales, was beginning to believe them. They had been in the forest for what seemed like days, struggling through the dense trees.

Yachini’s vision had led them here, convincing him that this was the place he was meant to settle. The vision now seemed to mean little, as this forest clearly did not want any dragons within its reaches. It was centuries old, towering above the dragons by countless generations. Aether tried to say as much, but Yachini would not be dissuaded. Anahera, who had long since given up on walking, lay perfectly still across her leader’s back, trying not to open any of her old injuries. They were months old, but many were still very tender and prone to opening again.

All three had agreed that the Dragonhome no longer felt safe, with the threat of the beastclans looming like the great mountain ranges in the distance. They didn’t wish to fight any more, didn’t wish to lose any more of their own. So they had left, a pitifully small, ragtag group of survivors that were the only ones left of a force that had once numbered in the thousands.

Hundreds had been slaughtered in the great battle. More had died from their injuries, from infection, from the aftermath of raids. More yet had deserted, their minds too clouded with the deaths of their squadmates to continue holding a part in the clan. Somewhere out there were some of Yachini’s dragons. A dragon with a missing ear, one with a permanently kinked tail, one with wings that hung in tatters. He wished them the best.

There were so few left. Thymara was among that number, though she had never served in his army. She had left her dancing job to follow Yachini out of the Dragonhome, and now waited with the rest on the shores of the great river that separated the earth lands from the nature lands. It was a quiet place, filled with caves and the cries of seabirds. They would be safe there until refuge could be found here, in the forest. Yachini tried not to doubt.

They settled in for the night, and he listened to the creak of the trees. He tried not to think that they were moving around, trying to confuse him more. Anahera kicked lightly in her sleep, pushing the thoughts from his mind. He took one last look at Aether, who was crouched over the ground and scrabbling his claws in the dirt before settling down to rest. It wasn’t long before he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

The forest was different when they awoke, a single, slanting beam of sunlight piercing through the canopy to touch Yachini’s eyes. He took only a moment to recognize how out of place it was in the world of darkness. It seemed to have transformed, leaving small shafts of light to play over the dense leaf litter. Excited, he woke his companions, pointing out the sunshine. Anahera nodded with a weary smile, and he knelt for her to climb up onto his back. Even though Aether didn’t appear to hopeful, he would have given just about anything to be out of the godsforsaken land.

They didn’t walk far, perhaps an hour from the position of the sun -- and what joy it was to have some concept of time again. Yachini’s heart quickened as the trees opened up for the first time in what could have been weeks or months. It wasn’t a large clearing, but it was more than enough to house an entire clan of imperials. The trees formed a ring around a lake, their branches dappling the water beneath. Small streams trickled out of the larger body of water, murmuring as they tumbled over loose stones.

This. This was the place.

Yachini knew it instinctively. Anahera clambered down, bending down to see if the paradise was truly real. Two small smudges appeared in Yachini’s vision, and he frowned as he blinked to clear his eyes. But they didn’t dissipate, instead gaining clarity to become vaguely draconic shapes, one a perfect blue and the other a vivid green. His mane stood on end as the spirits drifted closer.

The voice was like a quiet whisper within his mind, echoing softly into his consciousness. He didn’t believe it was happening until he saw Anahera sitting raptly, staring at the two figures with wide open eyes. The green one welcomed them, and though the blue one said nothing, the other spirit filled in the greeting for it. She -- for her voice was the rich, calm one of a mother -- told them that they could settle here. Provided that they did not damage the forest of the spirits, they would be welcome to make their home there.

Yachini sagged with relief. They would find their clanmates, bringing them to this paradise. The green spirit’s form did not change, but Yachini was given the impression that she was smiling. As he thought, he wondered with despair how they would ever find this forest again. The green spirit laughed kindly, offering to accompany them to find their clanmates. She would then lead them back so they could settle in this new place. The other spirit would guard this place until they returned.

Satisfied, Yachini turned back to Aether, noticing that he was looking at him very strangely. Yachini slowly realized that his brother had not seen them, even though Anahera had. He frowned slightly, thinking that to be quite odd, though the green spirit told him nothing. Instead, she began to rise up, her form translucent and quivering in the bright sunlight. Yachini shook out his wings, preparing to take off and Anahera did the same. Though Aether did not appear completely convinced, he took wing as well.

Below, the blue spirit wove its way around the lake, pacing fluidly as his companion left to join the dragons. Aether flicked his tail in agitation, perhaps eager to be off. Yachini looked back, drinking in the soaring, moss-blanketed trees and glinting water. Little did he know that though he would return, he would never lay eyes on this sanctuary again.