Aim's Clan

With the rise of hatred toward Orpheus and his tyrannical ruling party that had merged with Aato's fire clan, an uprising was staged by the Wildclaw's younger half brother Verel. In order to protect the merged clan's inhabitants from its cruel leader's whims, Orpheus, Aato and their trusted subordinates were killed in the revolution, their evil-tainted bodies offered in tribute to the Plaguebringer and the Firecaller respectively. Upon the liberation of the clan that Shaw had built long before he died, a pair of Guardians appeared to the merged clans with their heads held high. Zol and Kiyane were their "new names", they had claimed, but the souls of these new bodies clearly belonged to the beloved Shaw and Eigra. It was time to rebuild the clans.

...

You approach a lair that seems like it's being renovated. There is a familiar mound of bones at the mouth of the cavernous space that is befitting to seat a king, but no one sits atop it. Clearly, you can see the bustling of the clan inside as dragons of all shapes and sizes come and go, but it seems that no leader is here to greet you.

Suddenly, a golden yellow Wildclaw paces up to you, dipping his head in a gentle greeting, his orange eyes a bit weary behind the half-skull he uses for a mask. 'Welcome. You'll have to excuse us our distractions that prevent us from giving you a proper greeting,' He nods a little toward a rainbow-maned Imperial that was using his length in order to help erect and steady a massive stone pillar. 'Reconstruction is nearly finished, but we're still working on some things, as you can see. My name is Mahzarin. If you need anything, feel free to ask any one of us when we have our claws free.'

You honestly can't believe how busy it all looks, with the members of two clans working hard to make a lair big enough for all of them. You wonder vaguely if it had been destroyed at some point. Mahzarin had said something about reconstruction, hadn't he? The low voice of the Wildclaw brings your thoughts back front and center again.

'If you're looking for the Wasteland's funerary director Nagoto, he's out working a job right now, but you can leave a message and schedule something with his daughter Raith-- Ah. You're not here for that, are you?' He chuckles. The speech sounds familiar, somehow.

'Well, if you're looking for a place to stay, you're welcome here as long as you do your fair share in helping out. I'm sure everyone will be glad to see a new face around.' Mahzarin turns his back on you and begins to return to the lair before he stops, peeking over his winged shoulder to give you one last glance.

'We may look like a motley crew... But these dragons... They are all our family. Welcome home, friend.'



The clan's recent history...
The old clan is long dead, and only few who still remember the thriving days remain... Under the command of the violent Wildclaw that was born into a clan still mourning the loss of their leader. Orpheus cranes his neck at you, dully surprised that you had enough courage (or stupidity) to approach his stolen throne of bones, so he decides it's well and fine to give you a greeting. ...And a warning.

'You've wandered far into an unforgiving realm,' he snorts, his ruby eyes flickering with danger. 'If you're a visitor here, state your business. Kolyo will escort you. If, by chance, you are here by mistake...' The brute stands from his pile, stalking closer to you with his eyes locked on your vital spots. The smoke on his white skin seems to shift like a mist, but you swear you're just seeing things. In the background, you hear the snicker of a dark Imperial that slinks off into the old, massive lair. To either side of the mouth of the cavern, a pair of terrifyingly attentive Wildclaws stare you down; One, the color of blood with eyes like gold and the other, black as the night whose eyes pierce you like the ice land he was born from. You can feel your skin crawling with dread. You wonder if you'll make it out alive.

Suddenly, Orpheus is inches from you, his teeth barred in a low snarl, his voice sharp enough to cut your very being in half. 'If you are... An intruder... I will destroy you here and now, and let my clan feast on your pathetic flesh. So who are you, stranger? Friend..? Or feast?'

You somehow get the impression that you desperately need to make the right decision.

---

Older lore...
From atop his throne of sun-bleached bones, Shaw raises his head from its resting position, those garnet eyes looking you over slowly.

'What is it that you could possibly need? If you want to ask about funerary celebrations, you'll have to schedule something with Nagoto--' He pauses when he sees that he's lost you.

'Ah. You're not here for that, then.' The old giant rumbles, rising from his mountain of dried marrow, appearing to be merely an extension of the ivory hill. The bird skulls around his neck clatter as he turns his head in the direction of the entrance to his rather massive lair, his voice lowering to a more casual tone that hints vaguely at his love for his clan.

'You'll find the others in there.'