Azett

Life is not a love song that we like
We're all broken pieces floating by
Life is not a love song we can try
To fix our broken pieces one at a time

FAMILY

Zinnia
Mate

Aster
Eldest Daughter

Zephyr
Only Son

Linaria
Youngest Daughter






Super edgy backstory ahoooooyyyyyyyyyyy

Azett's childhood was a tense one, with many nights spent hiding in makeshift dens with the other hatchlings or fleeing bloodshed under the cover of starlight. He didn't understand why the world was so dangerous, or why his parents and their clan could never just stay in one place; but he also didn't want to die. So he did what he was told, and left his questions unspoken with each 'home' they abandoned.

As time went on, however, he began to piece together more and more information. His clan was locked in a centuries-old feud with another, the grudge having spanned for so many lifetimes that the true cause of it had been lost to the ages. They had been a singular massive clan once upon a time; deserters from the Viridian Labyrinth and the Scarred Wasteland who'd found unity in their weariness of war. They had fled Sornieth's continent and found a set of islands in the east to make their new home.

But the peace didn't last, and whatever had happened all those eons ago had caused a rift between the once-united people-- splitting them permanently onto two rigid sides. For a long time, this had manifested into nothing more than stiff interactions and the occasional squabble over territory borders... but this uneasy peace was destroyed when one such encounter ended with a rival dragon getting killed.

With both clans emboldened by this death and enraged by accusations from opposing sides, the new goal for each of them was to drive out the other and take their land, once and for all. And thus, life as they knew it had crumbled for both shortly before Azett had hatched from his egg.

In his adolescence he was expected to take part in this war, and so he did his best, but the more he saw of it, the stronger his distaste grew for the unnecessary carnage. Neither side carried a code of honor; young and old alike suffered from every clash. Each clan had grown to rely so much on guerilla warfare that neither of them even had true territories anymore. The fighting, no doubt, had scared off countless prey and had contributed to the constant rationing they had to do to survive. He voiced his concerns for the clan's wellbeing and even tried to suggest establishing a truce with their rivals, but few of his family wanted to hear it-- and many of the older dragons, his parents included, were furious with these supposed words of 'cowardice.' Being sorely outnumbered, Azett was forced to bite his tongue. He knew what needed to be done, and the few dragons who'd been listening to him with eager ears hadn't gone unnoticed, but it still wasn't enough. He would have to leave things as they were... for now.

Then came the day that his desire for peace was put to the test.

He was out on an evening hunting party with a handful of other dragons when the group was attacked by a patrol from the rival clan. It couldn't have been a worse scenario; Azett's company was largely made up of elders who could no longer battle and those whose injuries made combat too difficult. Azett was the only one here who was fit for a fight, having been assigned on hunting duties because the clan didn't trust his pacifism.

The battle was a short but brutal one-- Azett fought hard against the attackers in vain. He was pinned down, snarled at to warn his family that there would be more where this came from, and was taken out of commission with a blow to the head.

When his eyes finally opened again, it was to the sight of his mother treating his wounds at their latest rendition of 'home.' It was she who told him that he was the sole survivor of the attack.

Azett was distraught. He'd had plenty of disagreements with his family, but that didn't mean he didn't care for them. There had been people he loved on that patrol, and to know that he'd failed to protect them was a bitter revelation. Breathing in deeply, he asked his mother where their graves were, so that he could at least pay them his respects.

He would never forget the icy look in her eyes as she rose to lead him to their final resting places. Or the sinking dread he felt in his stomach when he realized that three were missing.

When asked where his grandparents and uncle were, Azett's mother informed him that they would not be resting. Their clan had taken their fallen brethren to the old borderlines, the eastern river. They were going to avenge their deaths by enacting the unthinkable. By making them an emperor.

Azett's blood ran cold. Weary from his injuries and still reeling from the tragedy, he didn't bother hiding his terror or his anger. His mother, however, had her mind set. If their own clan could not have this land in peace, then neither could the other; the clan leaders had agreed. They would leave the islands and their enemy to their doom and flee to Sornieth as soon as their plan was set in motion. Preparations had already been made.

When he argued against her, his mother grew furious. Did Azett refuse loyalty to his family, even now? As though he held any power in this decision?

Azett had already stopped listening to her. Barely managing to fight her off, he fled in the direction of the others, praying that he wouldn't be too late.

He found them all right where his mother had said they would be; Azett's clan had gathered at the old border they once shared with the other. Every member, save his mother, was present-- guarding the bodies of the fallen as something unseen, but cold and sinister, seemed to weave around them, beckoning the corpses to one another. Various faces of the rival clan watched helplessly from the other side, being menaced and pushed back by Azett's own clan whenever they tried to intervene.

For one horrible moment, he wondered which of them had killed his friends and family. He wondered if everything that had happened in the years before truly was their fault alone. If they deserved the ravenous, unsatable vengeance that only an Emperor could wreak.

But in the end, Azett was not his family.

Moving quickly, he dove through the encircled crowd and grabbed one of the dead, dragging them into the sky with him. Through the strain of his wings and arms he roared out in protest, breaking the trance of his family and commanding the attention of their old enemies. It was there that he voiced, once and for all, his denouncement of all this hunger for blood. Where he called for everyone, anyone, who had tired of this endless war to help him take the remaining dead and to follow him away from here, away from the madness that had taken their families.

... More rose to meet him than he had expected. From both sides of the river. There were shouts of confused protest, but no one fought the newly united deserters as they took the fallen imperials. And no one followed them as they left. Perhaps it was shame that kept them rooted to the forest floor. Azett could only hope.

The deserters did not return to their respective clans that night. In fact they vanished for nearly an entire moon's cycle, having left the area entirely. When they did return, it was with a treaty that Azett and his supporters had drafted together. They had unanimously agreed to all the conditions stated within it, and now expected their families to do the same. Ultimately, this came to pass.

The blood feud met an uneasy end, the fallen had all been given separate graves-- unmarked to maintain safety-- and the 'deserters' took up new mantles as peacekeepers and diplomats between their war-torn clans. Azett stayed just long enough to ensure that the new agreements would be upheld... and on the next moonless night, flew off without so much as a goodbye. He never did try to identify the dragons who had attacked him, to see if any of them had been one of those who had stood with him in the end. Nor did he ever fully reconcile with his parents or the elders who had condemned him.

He left the islands, and he never looked back.




He belonged to no one. No clan, no family, no gods of any flight. And it would remain this way for many, many years. But nothing truly lasts forever. Not even grudges, or oaths of willful loneliness.

There is a saying that time heals all wounds. Azett wouldn't necessarily agree with this way of thinking, as the demons of his childhood and youth can still sometimes haunt him, even now. But time can make you stronger, and wiser. It can give you steadier wingbeats in stormy winds and tougher claws on uneven ground. It can change you into someone who can withstand pain rather than crumble beneath its weight, and if your heart is open to it... time can find others to patch the cracks in one's soul.

For Azett, this first came in a tense, but gradual return of faith. Once enough seasons had passed for him to stop blaming them for everything, he began to rebuild some semblance of trust in the gods again, although his goodwill was-- and largely remains-- reserved for the Windsinger. Couldn't argue with a deity who appreciated a free spirit.

But it also came in the companionship of his familiar, a Blight Nymph whom he met years later on his aimless travels. How a Nature Imperial could ever befriend a fey of the Plaguebringer is a good question-- one that would probably deserve its own long-winded tale-- but Az tends to keep this to the short but warm sentiment that you can find friends in the strangest of places.

However, she was not the last. The years have made Azett a softer, kinder, and less bitter dragon than he had always assumed he'd be. This has allowed him to find connections with others on his travels, most of them being wanderers like him. Out of them, one grew to be a very good friend-- and later, a lifelong love.

Neither of them were keen on joining a clan, having both suffered from hardships that remain their own, but they found solace-- fulfillment-- in each other's company. It was here that life seemed to begin anew for Az, allowing the old chapters of his life to finally close.

Azett is now a partner and a father; two things he had never dreamed he'd become, but wouldn't give up for anything on Sornieth. He is eternally thankful for his mate and their children, determined to treasure them always and to give his hatchlings a life free of the troubles that had plagued their parents. He knows better than to think he can protect them from every pain that the world has to offer, but if anything is for certain... he won't let them take part in another dragon's war.