aearinn » Clan | Lair | Nesting Grounds

aearinn's Clan

its time.. time to get shredded

Ancient Lair

carved into the

Parched Canyonwalks

Clan Info

.
yo man
idk whats goingo n

accents | fr tumblr

finland | fr + 10 | 23 | cowboy at heart

"she was standing over me with a cigarette,
the moon behind her,
yelling at me about how in dance and music
it's all mathematical"

this neighbourhood was the center of something new and wild; something disreputable; a part of the city where the sound of guitars drifted all night out of bars and coffeehouses; where the stores that sold books and clothing smelled the way she imagined arab bazaars must smell: incense and rich, dung-y dust, some sort of wood (cedar? camphor?), something fruitily, fertilely rotting; and where it all seemed possible, quite possible, that if you passed through the wrong door or down the wrong alley you would meet a fate: not just the familiar threat of robbery and physical harm but something more perverse and transforming, more permanent.
- michael cunningham, the hours

:)))

On a peak on the dusty wastelands near the Cairnstone Rest is a lair filled with laughter and soft sunlight. It's high enough to face even the smallest shifts in the weather and just enough to the west so that the salty winds from the Sunswallow Sea can reach it. Crumbling pieces of the walls and pillars of ancient cavern-cities have been gathered to form an arch on the cliffside. On top of the arch a huge beacon is lit to guide travellers in the night and to welcome the clan members home from far away. All travelling dragons consider it a landmark and navigate by it on their way to the wastelands.

The Ridge is a widely known center for trade, of both honest and the shiftier kind. It has formed many alliances all around Sornieth and is a flourishing smelting pot of cultures. The clan considers itself a safe haven for all journeying dragons, and from time to time the feeling of kinship is so strong the lone dragon decides to stay.

A single fell standing between a dusty plain and a treacherous highland, the Ridge is a prominent landmark in the barren landscape of the Cairnstone Rest. What little vegetation the earth can support is located near the southernmost cliffs. The land to the east is barren and it is told that the dust storms sweeping over the dunes there lead travellers astray into pits full of quicksand and salt. The air above the wastelands is always ominously heavy and from time to time the clouds roll over to the east over the Ridge and turn the skies above it completely dark. The condensing water from the clouds is a blessing, though, and the little stream running down the side of the Ridge into the western valley is the Clan's main source of freshwater.

To the north lie the highlands of the Cairnstone Rest. Rich with sandstone, clay, and various species of grass, they are considered an oasis in the wastelands. The Clan's harpy allies patrol these lands with keen eyes for any approaching beings and the grasslands provide a favourable source for food.

Occasionally the eastbound winds bring with them a salty sea breeze from the west. Beyond a little hike lies the Gold Cove trading port, where the trees yield sweet fruit all year round and the cobblestone streets smoothed by hundreds of years of use now host a lively market of foreign goods, and the sea, where sharp cliffs dive into the ocean and the shores below are chipped away piece by piece by relentless waves. The summer sunsets dye the water blood red, quite appropriately, actually, as it's on these cliffs that many dragons have also ended their lives.

Down where the Ridge meets the western valley is a doorway carved out of stone. It leads inside the fell where a cavernous city spans almost the entirety of its volume. Masterfully carved out of living stone and decorated with intricate carvings, gold, and luxurious fabrics, the city is a wonder many come to see from far away. In the northeastern wing are the chambers of the Circle where the Clan's diplomatic affairs are settled. The conference halls open to terraces overlooking the eastern wasteland and on clear days it is possible to make out the Pillar of the World in the horizon. Many of the Clan's members take residence inside the City, as well, in caverns located along wide hallways lit by daylight from windows piercing the stone on all sides of the Ridge. The vaults are located a few imperial's lengths below, and somewhere in the uncharted hallways in between lies the Dustdevil Den, a black market known for its notorious criminal activity and wide range of goods.

Outside, in the sunlit western valley lies an ever-shifting city of tents. The Great Market of the Ridge is located at a crossroads and is an important center of trade. The tent city spans ninety imperials in length and another ninety in width and is always full of life and excitement. Whether it is world-famous goods, hand-made trinkets, magical items, foreign produce, weapons, spice, books, or fabric, the Market is always full of merchants ready to oblige. The crowded and bohemian lifestyle has led to some not-so pleasant attributes as well, and not long passes without a violent incident or theft. The tent city bordering the Market is also a home to many a brothel and illegal business. Generally, however, the Market is considered the beating heart and the breathing lungs of the Ridge, always bringing in the latest news from the world. At night, the light of the lanterns and bonfires and the laughter and chatter of thousands of dragons is almost enough to rival the stars and the yells of the coyotes and other, more unspeakable things from the wastelands.