PoppyCryptid's Clan

Deep in the violet-barked groves of the Arcanist's isle, where gravity doesn't always work like it should and the stars seem to blink out messages in morse that you can never understand, lies one of oldest clans of dragon-kind.

These dragons, reclusive scholar-clerics of the great knower, the Arcanist, live in this grove, counting stars and trying to figure out what makes the world work. However, like most dragons nowadays, they shy away from conflict, especially from the humans- loud, fast-living beasts that seemed to build their nests and colonies quicker than a tree loses its leaves in autumn.

More and more dragons, tired of fleeing farther into the woods when the humans inevitably explore further, decided to become ones, shapeshifting and then slowly blending in to their life. These dragons, as they spend months upon months and years upon years in an untrue shape, eventually forget themselves, forget their thousand-year histories, their clans, and the blink of the stars above the Arcanist's grove.

This is the story of the clan-let of the great smoke- the rescue party sent to find these lost souls.

The city, known to the dragons as the place of the great smoke (named for the dusty grey plumes that sometimes waft from the industrial district, or the thin silver haze that slowly spreads out from the crowded streets,) is home to countless humans that have forgotten the times of magic. Dragon sightings are reported by some but believed by little- the great beasts that once traded with and fought at the side of the humans had now become folklore- local legends believed only by cryptozoologists and conspiracy nuts.