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Welcome, To The Clan Without A Name

Lesser Lair

carved into the

Crystalspine Reaches

Clan Info

Deep Below Ground, Where Memories Sleep . . .

Anger Is Restless, And Secrets Don't Keep.

On the far side of the Crystalspine Reaches laid a den, a magnificent construction forged in times now immemorial, capable of housing many thousands of dragons in comfort and security.

But that was a long time ago.

Now it stood empty, abandoned millennia ago for reasons long lost to history, the few remaining progeny of the once great clan who called it home scattered to the four corners of Sornieth, never to return. Yet that great cavern never seemed to collect dust, the long abandoned relics not the least bit weathered by the years of snow and rain. Something, it seemed, refused to let this once resplendent hollow decay, as it so rightly ought to have after so many centuries of neglect.

An ephemeral sprite was to blame for this affront to entropy - a specter bathed in arcane light, who flitted this way and that tending to abandoned possession of dragons who had passed when the Third Age was still young. It was not the ghost of any one particular dragon - nor any other creature who had once called this den home, for that matter - but the very spirit of the establishment, the embodiment of the community who had once resided there so many generations ago.

The Spirit of the Den.

An anomaly born of the strange and spectacular magics that coursed through the earth and air of the Starfall Isles, it passed the days and months and years patiently awaiting the return of its wards - unwilling or unable to accept that they were by now all long gone. When at long last a new cast of dragons - exiles and misfits, lacking a home and oftentimes even a name - found themselves driven to the very edges of the world in search of shelter, the spirit welcomed them with open arms, overjoyed to once again be of service to more than just faded trinkets and forgotten scrolls.

The Den Spirit, speaking in its hushed, melodic tongue, gave a name to each dragon regardless of if they’d had one before - the first tradition of this newest of Sornieth’s clans. When these dragons dared to ask the name of the clan that had resided here before them though, the spirit - still mourning those it couldn't yet accept as dead - refused to speak it. Still it lashed out in refusal when they dared attempt to pick a name themselves, and not wishing to invite the fury of the being that had offered them shelter and reprieve, they desisted.

And so, they simply gave it no name at all.

Welcome, to The Clan Without A Name.