nameofuser's Clan

Nameofuser/Nou

• They/her
• compulsive hoarder of all things derg: if it’s in my lair, it’s probably never leaving
• autistic (apologies if I seem rude or anything)
• I have pretty bad social anxiety and will occasionally just drop off the face of the earth Sornieth. Don’t worry — I like talking… just don’t expect me to reach out all that often.

Slowly working on getting my lair lore’d: almost everything has some (usually a lot of) unwritten lore. (Chart below)

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Deep in the Starwood, a temple lies. Inside, an ancient artifact that could change the face of Sornieth forever...
Welcome to the Starshard Clan!

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LORE Ten days flight from the Astrolodome lies an empire carved from crystal. It is a place few will see and even fewer leave, where past and future meet and the streets hide secrets old as time. In the shelter of these crystal walls, dragonkind walks side by side with the supernatural; creatures born from age-old bloodlines and newly fledged younglings looking for answers. Every dragon comes here with secrets, every one lured, knowing or not, by the pulsing gemstone hidden deep within the city. It has plans for them, dreams of sparkling towers and wings full of stars and a kingdom crushed by the talons of a blood-red plague, so very long ago.

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THE STORY SO FAR

It started (so they say) with two dragons. (A vast oversimplification by uncomprehending minds, but nethertheless…)

Let us begin there.

Aerolt has always been caught between two worlds. Fate brought his parents to a ley line on the border of Plague’s territory, and an earthquake sent his egg tumbling into the Starwood. He was born, underdeveloped and weak, in that wood, and his eyes, though perhaps a little redder than normal, were colored in bright magenta.
He tried to run with his family, and then a dozen other packs, but every time he found himself too slow. He was sick more often than not: without a Plauge dragon’s natural immunity, he caught nearly every disease that came his way. His only comfort was the night sky. He would spend hours looking at it, dreaming of a world more lush, less hostile, where he could explore without some illness running through his veins.

Reis only ever knew one world: her home. A small coastal village, full of meadows and bright things and almost no hint of the bizarre terrain that filled most of the isles. She was happy there, but she always dreamed of seeing the land beyond.

(This needs way more. I’ll get to it eventually)

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Meanwhile, hundreds of years ago…
A great empire falls.
They were paragons of science, the Arcanist’s true chosen, a cornerstone of the Old World. And yet, their end would never be recorded, never even remembered. The entire kingdom, any evidence that it had ever stood where it was supposed to, where history said it had… vanished. Gone without a trace.
Only two lived to tell the tale.

It started with a single dragon: Starfire, head of the military and Second of the Great Council. He fought, and brought a plague back with him. It spread from an unlucky few, burning through his ranks until every wing sagged with swollen pustules. Plague’s bioweapon, unleashed upon all who remained to defend the empire. It ate at their minds, ever virulent, leaving behind vicious, empty husks that desired nothing but destruction. Starfire became their Champion, still there enough to pretend, to conceal the rot within.

The signs were hidden until the end. The Council became suspicious, but the mask was too secure — it didn’t break until the day The Massacre began.
A horrible day, never to be remembered. Their places were called, like normal. They sat at their podiums in their grand building, the domed circular roof above colored with all the beauty of the night sky, and talked of the kingdom below.
And then the door broke open.
Starfire — now Startook — killed many of them himself. The streets echoed with screams and roars, the clanging of swords, and claws, and teeth. The buzzing of magic filled the air; crystalline buildings glowed with fire like fallen meteorites. Blood stained the council halls. The podiums dripped with it.
None were spared. There was no escape. The army turned against the people, hundreds strong; the walls too high, gates too secure.
Only two made it out alive: a young servant by the name of Starless, and the Council’s head of Mages, Starspark — though he later took the name Starleft in mourning of the tragedy he witnessed.

Hundreds of years later their descendants would be called again to this place, and a new kingdom would rise from the buried ruins.
Aerolt, the last remainder of Starleft’s line, born with the stars in his veins and cast down by a familiar sickness.
Staronce, an ambitious thief chasing legends of a fallen kingdom his ancestors once ruled.
Summerwind, a green-eyed peacekeeper who only wants to wander the world.
Mut, inheritor of Starless’s dormant seer magic.


And yet, this new empire hides a secret.
The Council were scientists, after all, and one of their main projects was pushing the boundaries of magic. Before the end, they created a Great Work — the Star Scryer, Akalmenthos.
At first it could only predict the future. But they fed it, enhanced it and gave it strength until it became something much more. It worked by simulating realities, but as it grew, it became one itself. It wove itself into the city, threading its magic through the ground, taking hold of lives like puppet strings. When the buildings showed signs of disrepair, an engineer stumbled into town with knowledge that wouldn’t be known for years to come. When the streets were filled with rioters, they simply disappeared — lost like reflections in a broken mirror. Overpopulation was meaningless when you had millions of fractured realities at your beck and call. There was no want or need when destiny could be bent to provide whatever was required. And though the Council never lived to see the true extent of what they had created, it continued to grow in the years after their fall.

The city became a pocket dimension of sorts. The Scryer pulled itself out of reality and turned the empire into a singularity, existing everywhere and nowhere, all at once. It waited, biding its time, expanding, fracturing, until it was ready to act. It warped the world and brought dragons, suitable dragons, from everywhere it could reach. Time was irrelevant. Location only a suggestion. Aerolt and Reis were the first, its founders, cherry-picked to start this new empire. More came shortly thereafter. Each one was special in some way: the Scryer sifted through everyone in its grasp to find those who would benefit the kingdom the most. No one is here without its permission. All are trapped. None can leave unless it lets them.

And no one will ever know.

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The Starshard Clan A relatively normal clan situated around the caves that dot the Crystalspine Mountains. Sure, some of the dragons that populate their expansive caves are a bit strange. But really, they’re just another clan. Every group has a couple of weird members. So why do you get an uneasy feeling whenever you venture out into the woods? Founded by Aerolt and Reis, the Starshard Clan appears, at first, to be just your average clan. Look a bit deeper, however, and you’ll start to realize there’s more going on here than meets the eye. Almost everyone who lives here found the clan after being caught in a storm or lost in the Starwood. Several of them appear to be hiding a secret. A secret, the rumors say, that drove Opal mad, and sent him looking for a dragon who disappeared in a blinding flash weeks before. Several dragons are investigating the mysterious occurrences that have happened, but the only one to find anything of significance is Reith, the clan’s impromptu leader.

The Daelroc Mercenaries Mercenaries is a bit of an understatement. Assassins, bandits, thieves, cutthroats, would all be more accurate. They work for whoever has the largest offer, and aren’t afraid of turning their back if a better one arises. They’re well known for their skill and efficiency, if you have a large enough coffer to support their ever-changing needs. An offshoot of the Starshard Clan, founded by Aerolt’s son, Slaath, an orphaned dragon by the name of Malot, and a mysterious tundra. Though small, the Daelrocs have already made a name for themselves, and many call on them for their unique “services.”

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LORE PROGRESS

Complete

Partial




Blurbs



Headcannoned



Unlored







Statistics for Dragonkind
Dragon sizing thing
Backgrounds