Dek

Frantic screams erupted all around the clan. Cries for lost family and friends who would never be seen again. And laughter. Laughter that sounded like a maniacs, high and rushed. Smoke appeared in the sky as if it were rushing water, quick and relentless. Trees fell as he walked around, flames becoming strong enough to melt scales and flesh. Charred bodies of his old clan surrounded him, few able to leave the territory before they met their end. Talons scraped against stone as he walked into a large den that used to house the leaders of his clan. Their bodies laid where they slept, motionless and soon to be forgotten. His laughter grew louder and more crazed as he walked through the flames surrounding the den and out of the territory.

The one memory that made him grin when it came to the front of his mind. The scent of burnt flesh and smoke would cloud his head until he was shaken from his thoughts. He would always remember that day, it was his favorite day.

Dek was a dragon that made others uncomfortable by just existing. His grin when he thought of cruel and evil things would make others shiver and turn away, his crazed eyes when you stared long enough made others want to crawl into a hole and hide. Everything about him set off alarms in other dragons nerves.
Flames would always trail him, hot enough to feel from four feet away. The same flames he used to murder his old clan. He was a messed up dragon, he knew it, his old clan knew it, everyone knew it. Dek also knew that he just sounds and looks like a crazed dragon, and that his new clan doesn't know his past. Yet...


The runes on Dek's body are something he wasn't born with. They had appeared a day after he burned his clan down. He ignored it and went on with his strange life, he could still use his flames so he didn't care. The runes are a mark from Loreweaver, a sort of apology for not being able to stop him in time and as a reminder of her failure.