Manstren

Clan Leader
Manstren was on his search for many a moon, not finding any thing worthy of his support. Under beings would often flock to him, begging for his assistance, but still he continued. It was not until he ventured into the shadow lands that something caught his gaze. Or rather, his nose.

Following the strange scent he arrived upon Falcera, a mirror dragon with a septic wound in her tail. The magnificent creature had forgone her roving pack and was unable to find a new one due to her injuries. This was to be it, he decided. His ward.

Since then, Falcera and Manstren have founded a their own pack growing quickly in number and diversity. They can even be found having their own clutches together, rarely mating with any other dragons.
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Manstren looked upon the destruction and his stomach sank. He stood over his ward, her wings torn and her body broken. He was not able to protect her. He had done all he could, and had taken heavy blows himself, it took all he could to stand, his hind leg still bleeding profusely. In the end, it had been a hatchling that had saved his mate, the leader of all he held dear. The tiniest dragon he had ever seen had saved what was left of them, and all he could do was watch in shock.

He and Falcera named her DarkDagger. The pair had never been sentimental with any being except each other, but for the Noctourne they made an exception. She was their daughter, blood was irrelevant.

Not all were so lucky as Manstren. All had taken heavy damage, and those that were left had lost their mates or were dying themselves. He looked over his family as they marched away from what was once their home. His closest friend, Dalamar, was broken. He struggled to move his mate, the life leaving her eyes. His face was stern but Manstren saw his heart breaking.

Silence and Death worked on moving and disposing of the dead. SeaKnight had been one of the first to fall, he was the clans messenger and Manstren dealt with him often. He had tried to contact their allies for help, but was struck down swiftly. So many bodies littered the path, and more were dropping from the sickness, though it seemed that not all were susceptible to it.

Manstren swore to stand vigilant. He agreed with Falcera that not all would belong in their family, and that they must become stronger. He has turned harsh, as she has, but it is needed, and they both do what they do out of care for those that survived. Manstren works on a memorial for their lost friends in their new home, determined not to let the list grow further.