confident » Clan | Lair | Nesting Grounds

confident's Clan

we are all plaguebringers spawn and she left us in a hot car

Mighty Lair

near the

Blight Sanctum

Clan Info

nihil || 22 || he || FR+3

The Forum
A cold shiver runs through your scales as you disembark, the carriage driver practically pealing out of the road as soon as it's safe to do so. The air reeks of rot and bile, and you can't help but grimace at the remains of some unfortunate beastie lying sprawled across the cracked earth, desiccated and bone-dry like the rest of the landscape. You'd been promised audience with the leaders of the clan, however, and you weren't going to make any hasty judgments- no matter how tempting just leaving the place altogether may have seemed. The sounds of hustle and bustle in the distance keep you from planting yourself down and making camp. It's barely midday, and you fear just what might await you across the stretch of twisted, leafless trees and strange, pulsating forms amongst the rocks, but you press onwards. Your effort pays off.

Like a mirage from the lifeless landscape, the main hub of the Forum stands lively and shining with all manner of dragons. A pair of young Banescales snap at each other with both tongues and teeth, ignorant to the directions of the Coatl overseeing them. A Mirror with scales like pitch hobbles awkwardly around the frantic skittering of his companion, dodging her every glance as he moves forward with the determination (and pace) of a glacier. A Gaoler with heavy-lidded eyes oversees the chaos, grumbling something under her breath to the uncomfortable surprise of the Nocturne perched upon her back. It's a violent clashing of color and movement and form, and you don't realize how long you've been staring until someone clears her throat rather pointedly at you. She's far closer than you feel comfortable with, but she doesn't seem to be moving.

"Clot," she says, as if it's a suitable introduction. "I assume you're the ambassador. The rest of the council will be pleased to hear of your arrival." A screeching laughter erupts from behind a corner, and before you can even swivel your head to look, Clot's wing is clamped down rather firmly on your shoulder. "Don't bother with the rabble. You are here for a reason. Just keep your head low and follow closely."

Suddenly, you're having second thoughts.

Lore
Not so much a clan as it is a cobbled-together city, The Forum is the Abiding Boneyard's own little hub of technological innovation. Home to dragons of all walks of life, its residents come and go as they please, with the only constants being the presence of the High Council and the smell of hot metal. For its seemingly tumultuous nature, the infrastructure of The Forum itself is rather well-maintained, with solar-powered public transportation in the form of monorails and trolleys, elaborate apartment complexes with more than enough room for the clan's entire population (and more), and street vendors peddling freshly-made foodstuffs on almost every corner. Above all else, it seems... clean, almost sterile, and for a clan smack-dab in the middle of Plague territory, it gives off the definite feeling that something isn't quite right.