Nameless

―Nameless― The Wounded One In the firelight sat an imposing Wildclaw. As if her size and claws were not threatening enough, her skull headdress and tattered garments lent her an even more fierce appearance. However, there is something not quite right about the way she is seated. Her legs are wrapped in bandages, and slowly blood is seeping through. “Those who know me know I do not often speak,” the Wildclaw began, “And they know that, for a long time, I had left what parts of me were left in the Plaguelands far behind me. But, as I see such friendly faces before me, I see the warmth you wind dragons have always had. And such I will offer my tale. Let it be both a dire warning to those of you who dare to set foot in the Scarred Wasteland, and a tribute. A thanks, to the kind souls I have found here, and who gave me both my own life and a deeper appreciation for those who celebrate it.

“I lived for my early life in the Wandering Contagion. I had two clutches while I was there, each four eggs strong. Plague dragons have a strange connection to life. We celebrate in rot and ruin, but at the same time have a deep appreciation for those who can rise above such contamination and thrive. The strongest among us are both revered and feared, as distrust can build quickly when a plague dragon feels they are threatened. They wish to see others torn down as much as they wish for themselves to thrive. To a plague mother, giving birth to a large clutch of clearly healthy dragons is a great blessing, as it shows a strength of body that can be passed on. To lose an egg, or to have a small nest, reflects badly upon them. A just one single egg nesting could prevent a mother from ever finding a mate again, particularly if the hatching is weak and lost to the Plaguemother early on.

“As you might imagine from this, two healthy clutches of four eggs brought a few jealous eyes upon me. As if such actions were not enough, the second of the clutches came while a few among my clan were incubating single egg nests of their own. The whispers started immediately.

“I was using dark magic to steal their children away. I was poisoning them. I had stolen eggs from other clans in the night and claimed them as my own. I was tampering with the other nests. Whatever it was, the hated me. I had to be gotten rid of. I was too good of a mother. I couldn’t live too close to them, it was a stain upon them.

“It was night. My second hatchlings were grown and gone from me to other lands. The others attacked me. I knew only the most basic of self-defense at the time. I could scratch at them wildly but it did little good, three against one. I was forced to flee.

“I fled as fast as I could in the only direction I could. They were calculated, forming a semicircle around me. By the time I realized I was being herded towards the Wyrmwound, it was far too late to change course. I tried regardless. I ended up crashing into them head on, fighting again. In the scuffle, I stepped into a small pool of the terrible substance that writhes within that corrupted lake. My screams were so loud and the sight so terrible that I believe the others must have thought I was close to death, or perhaps they realized the danger they themselves were now in so close to the Wyrmwound and they fled for their lives. Either way, I was now bleeding, and alone.

“I dragged myself out of the pool. It was a pain I should not wish upon the Shade itself. The bile clung to my legs and rendered them almost useless as I crawled away from the Wound and over the Rim. No plague dragon would ever lower themselves to help a stranger, particularly an injured one. I crawled mindlessly, seeking anything I could, anywhere I could. It was the longest stretch of my life, and yet somehow I found myself on the shore of the Sea of a Thousand Currents. Never had I ever looked upon that life-giving water with such hope as that very moment. I dragged myself into the water, letting the current wash over my legs and wash away that vile contaminant. The relief was immediate, the sting of the salt a mere pinprick compared to the pain of the Plaguemother’s brew. It hissed and crackled as it was carried away on the waves.

“I let the currents carry me along the beach for a while. I could see cautious water dragons peeking their heads up, likely wondering if I was dead. Either way, none wished to come close. The sun was high overhead at this point, warm and welcoming and the waves sparkled around me. I almost wished to cry out for help, but any voluntary movements on my part would send the water dragons diving under the waves again.

“After drifting in the current for a while I finally washed back up on the shore. There I was, on the banks of the Zephyr Steppes for the first time. I had no idea what I was going to do from there. Surely, no clan of these gentle dragons would ever take me in, and I could not return to the Wasteland in this state. And it was not as if I had a clan to return to. Still, it had been a long night. I was thirsty and tired. I knew I had to do something, so I dragged myself up onto the beach. I could walk now, barely, so I took off in search of water.

“It was comical. As I passed by clans herded their hatchlings inside, Guardians stood outside and watched me carefully, and everyone kept their distance. Kites visible in the sky vanished as I grew close, their owners hiding in the forests. They must have thought I had come to steal hatchlings for some dark ritual. Either way, I must have been quite an imposing figure, dull eyed and oozing blood.

“I walked for several hours. Many streams and rivers I passed were guarded, perhaps by those worried I would poison their water. I had no strength to argue, and much less to fight, so I simply passed along. Finally, I found a small stretch of unguarded stream. I took a drink from the water, and washed my wounds again. I must have fallen asleep there, for when I next awoke, a young skydancer was poking at me. As I lifted my head, she fell over herself in a panic, and fled into the trees.

“The night seemed to have changed little about my own state, so I set to washing my wounds yet again. They were still bleeding, slowly. I knew I would have to find food and some better medical care soon, but I had no idea where I could turn.

“As I was looking around for something that could serve as a temporary bandage, I heard a fluttering again in the trees overhead. The Skydancer had returned, this time bearing a goggled Fae on her back. I stood to possibly flee; while not the most intimidating of figures, I knew how powerful Fae mages could be. I thought I was about to be run off from that place.

“But as I struggled to stand the Fae did not strike out, but spoke. ‘Who are you, stranger? Why have you come here? And where is your home?’

“I looked her over for a moment. The Fae pulled a length of bandages from her vest and offered them to me. It wasn’t perfect, but it would be enough to cover the worst of the wounds.

“I spoke to her out of gratitude, ‘My name is… unimportant. I come from the Wandering Contagion, but I have been driven from my clan by their treachery. I needed shelter only for the night. I will leave your clan in peace.’

“’Wait,’ the tiny Fae interrupted me in the unmistakable tone of a clan matriarch, ‘You say you have no clan? Where are you going now?’

“’I do not know.’

“’Well, nameless one, you need medical help and rest. Would you be interested in joining our clan?’

“I was thankful for the Fae’s offer, but at the same time I could not believe it. Still, she peered at me, awaiting an answer. ‘Why do you wish for me to join you?’ I asked.

“’You are clearly an older and wise dragon. Our clan is small, and young. I do what I can for them, but the guidance of one such as yourself would be invaluable to us. If you wish to stay only until you have recovered, that is fine. But at least stay with us until your wounds have healed.’

“I accepted Aranui’s offer and now find myself among the dragons of Clan Silverwind. To this day the wounds I gained in the Wyrmwound still ache and bleed. But I have found a place among these friendly dragons, and I shall remain here with them. Perhaps, someday, I shall even go to join the Windsinger himself in thanks for the gifts his children gave me. But until then, I have many hatchlings to raise here.”

Headshot by MeetTheGhost.



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