Deniere

The Volatile Guardian

Enter, the Belching Abyss.

Much like the rest of the blighted lands, it too would contort and twist the natural beauty of Sorineth. Fuming flesh-like geysers would pollute the air with toxic green fumes. It polluted the air and choked out the weak. Many a dragon's snouts cringe in even faded remembrance of the smell.
Deniere was among the first to take advantage of the energies that the blight provided. Oh how he love the slime that covered his body and twisted his eyesight. His anarchist ways and how they blended with the plague flight he found it to be home. Still, by the terms and conditions of the Scarred Wastes, it is considered the tamest. It's considered the tamest in terms of fauna and wildlife. All the while, violence and crimes were abundant. Fires fueled the sky as vicious infected brutes roamed across the scar. They ran rampant day and night breathing the fumes and reveling in the boils and fungi across their bodies.

Those not accustomed to the Plaguebringer's domain can consider the infection fatal. Even the adaptive few must be wary to the evolving virus. Bodies and minds aren't meant for the ever-changing cauldron of the plagued scar, not forever. Eventually, they will cease to be anything other than apart of the plague.

His revelry in the plague and chaos would not come without consequences. He became a wanted fugitive among many small clans in different territories. His constant use of refuge on the Plaguelands started to affect his body and cause him ailments.

He couldn't go on like that. He almost didn't. One fateful day of dragging himself to the borders of the plague land he collapsed. A creeping ooze-like affliction crept along his body. Healers being rejected in the Plaguelands made them hard to be found. Of course, that wasn't the end for him.