Scoundrel's Clan

Plans: Pirate Clan. Permanent crew of 10 (5 pairs). Focus on Obsidian, Red/Crimson and White primaries, with matching colours.
XYY: Obsidian / White / Ice primary

The Brethren clan run swiftly before the red banner of their goddess, each dragon within the throng as unforgiving and demanding as their harsh, diseased mistress. No quarter for surrender, shrieks that crimson standard, and it is echoed in the blood-stained sclera of their red-winged matriarch.

The Brethren come from many different corners of Sornieth, but they are bound by a common thread; hunger. What they have is never enough, and what others have is the constant subject of their lust. They take what they can: what is theirs, believing that ownership exists only so far as strength does. Should another clan, another dragon, or a beast, have the strength to deny them, then they shall not put upon them. But should the Brethren clan's might be greater, they will leave nothing in their wake but stripped white bones, gouged by tooth and claw. They expect no less for themselves, within the very clan living by the law of might.

They are not wicked beasts, for they hold fast to their own brand of honour. They do not lie, these dragons; for that is an admission, a concession, a weakness. Neither do they cheat; the rules that they live by are well-defined and immutable. And as for thieving, well, they will not hide their intent from you, and so they do not think the act to be one of theft.

Admins: Ithika is my housemate, sometimes we use the same computer.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.