Crowthorne

Battered, bruised, wings torn to shreds, a lone wildclaw pulled herself out of the wreckage of a destroyed clan. Her claws were shattered, her eye torn out of its socket, and yet she had lived through the end of her world. With nothing left to live for, but nevertheless possessing nothing but a refusal to die, she stumbled her way out of the destruction and never looked back.

Possibly hoping that something would make the final decision for her, she travelled west, directly across the Abiding Boneyard. And yet, despite the scavenger birds circling overhead, nothing struck her down. Perhaps she was too emaciated to be worth eating, or the fact she somehow still lived frightened away the would-be predators, but sometime after she'd lost track of the days, her one good eye saw the twisted birches of the Starwood Strand.

She continued onwards, too close to death to even be aware of where she was. As the trees blended into a solid wall, as her fevered mind became incapable of anything but putting one claw in front of the other, a purple blob approached her. She reached towards it, but then everything else went black. Then the blob did too.

When she woke up everything was wrong. The wildclaw wasn't strong enough to stand, but she could still look around. She was in a chamber of some sort, but instead of grey stone, the walls were bright pink. Her wounds were healed, her wings regrown. But her eye was still missing, her solitary reminder that her nightmare was as real as her mistakes.

After what could have been minutes or hours, a snapper approached from one of the surrounding passageways. A question. Her name. Crowthorne was her reply. A lie; her first of many. For if the wildclaw knew anything, it was how to survive. And if she was to do that, she couldn't trust anybody. Never again.

---

Incredibly solitary, Crowthone is the clan's first and only dedicated hunter, much to the relief of the clan's meat-eaters. She spends very little time in the clan itself, preferring to take week long hunting trips, where she takes savage pleasure in her work. She usually returns in the dead of night, few dragons bearing witness to the impressive amount of food she deposits in the storerooms before she skulks off to wherever her den is.

Not that she'd want to spend time in the clan; as far as she's concerned, the clan wastes its time on frivolous pursuits, and is just asking for disaster to visit it. And yet she's stuck around. Some might think that deep down she cares about the clan, and doesn't want to repeat her mistakes again. Others may think that she has no capacity to care about others left, and just wants to watch the clan come to ruination. A third group might suggest that it's because Kaito cooks really good dinners, and she doesn't want to leave those behind.

That third group mostly consists of just Kaito, and honestly should just be ignored.

Those that question her on her past are told that she once worked for a mercenary guild, and are then promptly told to shove off. Those that offer to regrow her eye are also told to get lost, although she would actually like to have two eyes again. But only two, and preferably located in her eye sockets. That's generally too much to ask from an arcane dragon.

The one thing Crowthorne can respect is strength. It doesn't lie. The one truth in the world is that the strong feed on the weak. Crowthorne wasn't strong enough before, but she will be strong enough in the future. Even with just one eye, she will have her vengeance. But she does understand that she might not be able to seize it alone. Levant is the most likely candidate. Strong and straightforward, and the one thing he respects is coin. Crowthorne can respect that too. Sirene is also mighty, but wastes her time protecting the clan's vault for some Eleven-forsaken reason. Crowthorne just can't work with a dragon who has such worthless priorities.

(The ones who destroyed her original clan were the same mafia that Levant's parents run, but she doesn't know that.)

Of course, not even Crowthorne can think about vengeance all day every day. (But she sure does try.) When it eventually takes a toll of her, she calms her mind by carving. Small trinkets mostly, but occasionally jewellery. All from bone, in the traditional plague style. Perhaps doing so is the only thing remaining from her old life. It's unlikely anyone will ever know, however, just as it's unlikely anyone will ever see any of the finished crafts she keeps inside her den.

About the only time Crowthorne ever willingly interacted with any of her clanmates was when the small boat she uses to travel to and from her hunting grounds was damaged and she needed to get it repaired. And she immediately proved her unfamiliarity with Clan _______ by repeatedly asking the least qualified dragons for assistance instead of anyone useful. Of course, being this clan most of those dragons tried to help anyways, and performed all sorts of unethical operations on Crowthorne's innocent boat. After all that, she may never try talking to another member of the clan again.

(It was Belanoir who revealed a surprising amount of skill as a shipwright and fixed her boat, and also undid all the damage the rest of the clan had done to it.)