Sinderion

""Everything dies. Except the Rot. We exist as an extant form of death; We are unending, all consuming, and pervasive.""

LORE Sinderion hatched alone. For the most part. As alone as one like her could be. The sprite cared for her egg, the malformed, lumpy thing that it was. The eggshell was thick and thin intermittently, scabbed over with the Wyrmwound's ooze or raw to the membrane. That same slime seeped into the abandoned egg; It changed the dragon slumbering within. When she hatched, the sprite hugged her twin necks, and combed little hands through her wet mane and ruff. Her two heads were separate beings bound to one body. One head, with two eyes, speaks ceaselessly, endlessly offering her thoughts and observations to even the smallest grub that wanders by the slowly growing lair. The other speaks only with body, with posture, not with tongue. Her words are silent, her three eyes the only expression.

She carves her home close the boiling cauldron. Festering land surrounding the Wyrmwound gives way, bone and sinew part and reveal space for a small lair. A gift from the Mother herself. She is fiercely protective of her space, or the grounds she claims as hers.

But still she welcomes others so long as they submit to her rule, and carves them holes into homes. Sinderion is protective and compassionate, watching over the space and dragons she claims as Hers. The Aberration claims only the broken, the forgotten, those like her in spirit if not in twisted body. These are her family now, her chosen lineage.

Mate

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Vanavioore While not a member of her clan, Sinderion considers this duo someone she would come to the aid of if the request ever arrived. Otherwise, trade and travel are facilitated between the two clans to the betterment of both!

Ally

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Relation

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Relation

Somber Spirit Familiar A bundle of mismatched parts, levitating in tandem through a musty cloud of dark energy. 2750 Familiar

Ikthin Ikthin was a gift, of sorts. When her egg hatched and the Sprite caring for it decided she was able to fend for herself, it gave her the somber little spirit. Ikthin doesn't speak, and functions mostly like a gently glowing torch for the Aberration. Sinderion loves him dearly though, and secretly pampers the tiny ghost as much as she can. He's as close to proper family as she has, and has been with her from before she can remember.

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