Pestilenza's Clan

The earth gets crisp beneath you as you approach, the smell of death starts to fill your nose and makes your eyes water and burn. The air is strangely still, not a single bird chirping or even a breeze to combat the deathly sick and stale heat.
Not many can stand to push further past but you trek on, the ground crunching with every step you make. In the distance you can hear a faint clinking of metal on metal, a weapon being beaten into shape to get its perfect sharpness.
In this wasteland is a small settlement of dragons, comforted by the silence of death. Their group is small and forming, but they seem to have a mission.
You are not welcomed with open arms here. You're either with us, or you're against us.
You can go home, where it's safe and cozy, or feel the wrath of the pestilence of the land. No one said this would be easy.