Flay

Flamence, Flay, the Plaguetouched
"I've been gullible; I've been too-... Too passive. I won't allow you to hurt my children again, Vulture."

Her scales were once as soft, and as pale, as blossoms. Although plagueborn by nature, her appearance deviated drastically from what was considered the norm amongst the contagion; she was too delicate, too benevolent.

And Vulture knew this.

She found the wildclaw, battered, beaten and bloodied. She nursed him to health and was soon regaled by his tales of distant lands-- of the Gladekeeper's lush forests, of the Icewarden's frigid peaks. His requests for a home did not fall on deaf ears; Flamence allowed him to share her cave. After all, he had to recover from his heinous injuries.

This was a decision she soon regretted.

Dragons joined their clan, seeking refuge amongst the Plaguebringer's hostile lands. She was happy to oblige-- until things grew entirely out of hand. Vulture sought domination; both prisoner and traveler alike were dragged into their home, all mercilessly forced to serve beneath Mother's banner. Some were tortured, some were executed.

Powerless to prevent her former mate's conquest, she was physically thrust aside, left to rot within the pustulent craters of the Wyrmwound. Confused and scorned by the abrupt change in her former mate, she languished-- she fled. She thought, long and hard, about her wretched plight-- was she weak? Did she even deserve to follow their glorious Plaguebringer?

Her thoughts eventually resulted in her rueful return. The delicate skydancer's scales, now marred by her self-imposed exile within the wandering contagion, left her virtually unrecognizable to all she knew.

A new name, a new body, a new identity, she seeks to regain her place by Vulture's rotten side. She'll save the clan, one way or another.