Lenore

So you're truly interested in our story? Delightful, we don't get many history buffs around these parts. Here, start with the basics, it'll give you the just of the story. You can ask me or Artica if you have anymore questions. Oh, and do mind some of the older books, they tear easily.

THE HISTORY OF THE GRAND BAZAAR:

It began in the lands of Shadow. Two Guardians of the names Secret and Otherworld sought to start their own clan. Secret and Otherworld had been friends since childhood, and they loved each other deeply. When they were old enough to leave their former clan they did so, with the intent of starting their own clan. They gathered the few dragons they could find, and settled in the Wisp Willow Grove. It was like this for many moons, and it was peaceful.

This changed when a small pink nocturne by the name of Powerful appeared at the clan. He was a useless brute, headstrong but dumb as a doorknob. He declared himself the leader of the clan, seeing as the clan had no ‘real’ leader. This was true, as the ‘clan’ was more of a peaceful gathering of dragons who tolerated one another rather than a fully fledged clan. Thus Dark Clan began. It was during this very beginning of many moons ago that a small Guardian hatchling appeared at Dark Clan alongside his Tundra uncle. The dragon was of the name Singed, his uncle named Conjure. The two had travelled from where they had been staying in ice territories, a long ways away from the Wisp Willow Grove, in search of a safer home. They had been travelling with two others, the siblings of Conjure, Tombstone and Soul, who had been lost in an arctic storm. It was not known then, but the young Singed would be of the utmost importance to the clan’s future. Things stayed still for a long while, and Dark Clan thrived, growing steadily. During this time of growth, tragedy struck. Powerful grew deathly ill with a sickness nobody could quite define. It was likely, looking back at things, that it was not that nobody could identify the illness but instead that nobody wanted to. Powerful, for all his boasting, was a rather incompetent leader, and the clan had been waiting for his demise for a while now. And so, Powerful slowly rotted away until finally his soul left him. With that Dark Clan was no more, and instead had gone back to its roots becoming a nomadic group of dragons with no leader.

This once again lasted a long while. Once and a while a dragon would take a position of leadership, make a decision of who to invite in or what direction to fly, but it was only for a moment. Then, whoever had made the decisive choice faded into the background and life went on. During this time is when Secret, the founder of the clan, began ‘the great change’. It’s not known what great magic induced it, but day by day she shrank, eventually shifting into the body of a nocturne. It is widely believed it was a curse from Powerful, some last spiteful fist shake at the clan he had once ruled. Secret didn’t mind the change however, and went on with her life quite normally. As time progressed, the group found themselves beginning to struggle. With such large numbers, it was hard to find enough food, space, and other such amenities, especially when travelling. There were more than a few deaths, and even more dragons abandoning the clan. It was a point of utter despair, and the remaining dragons fell at the border of Plague and Shadow lands. Here, the clan found something they had never expected. A strange group of heroes, with elemental powers beyond any comprehension. Led by a trio of powerful leaders, and divided among three caves, this group of heroes gladly accepted the shreds of the fallen clan.

The leaders, Barry, Rip, and Oliver accepted the injured and sickly shadow clan with open wings, and soon the remnants of our dragons were getting back on their feet. Thus on a border leaning just slightly towards Plague The Clan CentralStarWave was born. This was the most plentiful time for our dragons. Singed, who had for a very long time been in a deep depression following the death of his best friend as well as his mate, awoke. He set off on a journey to rescue any hatchlings of notable elemental ability so that they could reach The Clan CentralStarWave and learn to use their abilities.
It was also during this time he learned of his daughter, Shiveer. Singed had many children, spread far and wide across the lands but there were three who were of note. Kindra and Groona were the firstbornes, reincarnations of Singed’s siblings who had been brutally killed by his own parents. That however, is a story for another day. Shiveer is important not because she was Singed’s daughter but rather because she was part of a clan of Wind dragons. Here, Singed found not only his daughter but several other dragons who had fled the clan during the famine, and his Aunt and Uncle who he once thought had been lost. The clan of Darkened Winds was introduced to The Clan CentralStarWave and the rest is history. Now with strengthened bonds in other elements the clan had surpassed its former size and was steadily becoming one of the largest clans in the area. Its reputation for taking in abandoned and unwanted hatchlings, and for saving dragons in dire need became widespread. The Clan CentralStarWave was a paradise. However, nothing good ever lasts, and so the downfall of The Clan CentralStarWave began.

It was not so much a downfall as it was a total abandonment. The heroes who had so graciously taken our injured dragons in realized things were better. They had no more need to take care of these dragons, they had gotten back up on their feet just fine, and so it was time to move on. The heroes reassured the remainder of the clan that they would come back if they were needed, but other clans were sure to be needing help and they had to go. There was one final thing they had to do, however, and that was elect a leader who would take over in their absence. There was one clear candidate, the one had stuck with the clan through thick and thin, the one whom every dragon trusted with their life. Singed was not prepared to be elected, but if it was what had to be done, then he would accept his fate.

However, it was not to be. On the eve of the great heroes’ departure, the day Singed was to take over, a strange Imperial appeared. Travelling from far within the plague lands, covered in scars and embodying a terrifyingly powerful aura, Midori arrived. It was a sign from the deities, they cried. A King from far abroad here to take care of the clan. Rejoice, for a saviour has arrived.

Rejoice

Rejoice

All was well for the first few months. Nobody batted an eye when the reforms began, a new leader meant new rules, plans, layouts, ideas, a whole new clan. It was nice to see change, to see a leader with real initiative. The clan became a tradingpost home to many merchants using their special abilities to create goods. It was wonderful, at least on the surface. But beneath the clan, even beyond the depth of the three caves in which housed the underground village our dragons resided in, a darkness brewed. It was not a darkness of ancient power threatening to overthrow the clan, no it was more of a metaphorical darkness. A twisting worm in the heart of their leader, a strange wicked thing that threatened to destroy him and the clan he ruled over. Yes indeed, Midori was not the pure saviour everyone had rejoiced for. He was not any kind of loving, caring creature but instead a dragon full of hatred and deep seated rage. His past clan abandoned him, refused to fight for him, kicked him out to die, and he wanted revenge. Wanted to show everyone what he was capable of. And now, he had an entire clan of super-powerful dragons that he could bend at his will. And if they didn’t obey his every word, well it was easy enough to take them out, for Midori had a power of his own. With a flick of his talon, a grab of the arm, a simple nudge, Midori could drain the life force from any dragon. The power is said to have been granted to him by Plaguebringer herself. After she heard his prayers for power and witnessed his will to survive, she chose to fulfill his wishes.

The name of The Clan CentralStarWave faded into obscurity, and from its ashes a new name arose. Thus, The Clan Killing Sword came into being. With Midori at the helm of the clan, nobody could leave. Those who attempted to escape were slaughtered enmasse, and often in public. Those who ‘knew too much’ were killed as well, alongside any dragons who dared speak a word against Midori’s reign. To the average outsider the clan was a marketplace, a grand place to shop and waste their money on a day trip. To those who lived there it was hell. Nobody could leave without permission, and only eight dragons could be outside the clan at a time so that Midori could keep tabs on them. The only exceptions were the newly appointed flight ambassadors who would stay in their respective flight to foster good relations with The Clan Killingsword at Midori’s behest. Shiveer, recently appointed leader of The Clan of Darkened Winds recognised the takeover, but also knew there was nothing she could do but offer her support, and so she did. There was nobody to turn to, nowhere to go. New dragons became more and more common as Midori used his incredible persuasion skills to convince dragons to stay. Midori’s army was amassing, his greed growing, and his hunger for blood growing with it. All the gold and trades made from the marketplace were sent to a ‘private fund’, in other words a vault run by Midori so that he could revel in his riches. Any dragon caught hiding funds from Midori was killed, as per protocol of course. A sense of utter despair settled over the clan, and they begged for their heroes to return to no avail. They were alone in a hellscape and nobody could save them.

Or so they thought.

You see, one sunny summer morn, a clutch of eggs hatched. These were no normal eggs, no they belonged to Midori, he was a proud father. This was not his first clutch, his daughter Mio lived in the clan presently, and many more of his children were spread across the land. This clutch of eggs was different however, because it held Midori’s firstborn son.

The heir to the empire.

Mirai.

There will be one tasked to set us free
He can see the things nobody else can see
Although young, he has been chosen
To thaw, a heart once thought to be frozen
And we must trust him with all our might
For he is the one who will return us to the light
~ The New Leader Prophecy

Mirai was the polar opposite of his father. Where Midori roared Mirai squeaked. Mirai was small, quiet, soft spoken, anxious, pale, and weak. Essentially everything his father was not. He had no real power of note, his ability being that he could see the souls of dragons, and divine whether they were of ‘good’ or ‘evil’ intent. Not a very intimidating power, but rather a more empathetic one. However, the prophet decreed, in secret of course, that Mirai would be the one to defeat Midori. Mirai, alongside his mentor Abraham, the prophet Moon, Singed, and a duo of journalists named Enoch and Thresher, began to scheme. They distributed flyers, created meetings, and told as many non-clan dragons as possible about their plight. The revolution had begun. However it would be many many years before it came to fruition. Mirai was of very little bravery, and even less brute. He was, by all means, a walking stick of licorice. So the clan waited, breath bated, for their chance to revolt. Escape was near, if only they waited a little longer.

And then it happened. On a cool, inconspicuous spring day, Mirai rose. Something felt different, a crackle in the air, a distant cry that wailed the time had come. Mirai felt a drive he had never felt before, a will to fight back that had always been a dull throb was now an excruciating scream. This was not some miracle from above but rather something more simple. Mirai had had enough. Enough of the slaughter, enough of the expectations, enough of everything he had lived for the past twenty eight years. He was done with it all. The clan seemed to know it too. The whole market was alight with a buzz of chatter that was electric, an energy that flowed through the clan’s very core. The confrontation began as it usually did, Mirai imploring his father to change his ways, Midori brushing him off and telling him he'd understand one day. Mirai didn’t stop there like he usually did, he did not shrink into the shadows. Instead, he planted a wide-mouthed bite right round his father’s bony neck. From there chaos erupted. Around the clan dragons began to fight, supporters of Midori rushing to battle the resistance. The main fight between the two imperials was long and brutal, but in time, Midori came out on top. He was faced with the decision of what to do about his traitorous son. He could kill him, like he had so many others, but for some reason he hesitated. Perhaps it was a sliver of kindness in the cruel dragon’s heart, or perhaps it was simply the worry that he was killing his only heir. Either way, he left a moment of indecision. That moment was a moment too long, and so the rebel dragons pounced, incapacitating Midori. It was by no means Mirai’s choice what happened next, but rather a safety precaution taken by the rebel dragons. Midori had both his front talons hacked off, in order to prevent him from using his life-draining abilities. With that, Midori’s reign of terror was no more.

The question then became one of what to do next. Midori was not dead, and he was still powerful, and very angry. Several clan members were dead, and many others had fled in the chaos. Everyone turned to Singed for guidance, he was unsure and so he turned to the dragon he trusted could lead in his indecision. Mirai never wanted to lead, he never wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps and yet here he was. The good news was, he did have a plan. Had all else failed in the revolution there was a place to flee to. An Earth dragon by the name of Mudlet who lived in the clan had found a place in Earth territories, a grand abandoned jailhouse that was in the center of a marketplace. Somewhere far from here, where the clan could start anew, while keeping their market thriving. It was originally a backup plan, but with all that had happened Mirai felt it best the clan packed up and moved. The land they stood on still held on to a piece of that dark thrumming energy that everyone so desperately wished to abandon. So, they packed up and headed out, a long journey ahead. There was one problem, and that was that of Mirai’s father. The former leader was in the clan’s underground dungeon, alongside a few other unpredictable and violent dragons. The other dragons had been tied down onto stretchers and blindfolded for easy transport, but Midori was still a threat, still plotting. But he was also still Mirai’s father. So, he was packed up just like the other criminals and flown to the new home.

Here in the Colonnades of Antiquity things are better. Midori is kept in the basement cells, alongside the other unruly dragons. Mirai is a fair leader, and he is not alone in his leadership. Singed works alongside him, and together they run a joint leadership that can be rivalled by next to nobody. Singed is trusted by the clan, and knows their best interests while Mirai brings new ideas, and new hope to the clan. For the matters they cannot handle, they have hired a council to help make the most important decisions. All three floors of the jailhouse are filled to the brim with shops and stalls, and many new clanmates have come to join the bustling community. And so for now we have our final chapter. A resting place for years to come, where dragons can rest their weary wings. How long it will last nobody quite knows, but it’s important to remember that in this clan good things rarely last long. For now however, we welcome you to The Grand Bazaar.


FORMER CLAN BIO
Sing another song for the lost ones
We're the ones who need it the most

Tensions are rising. The revolution is near.

You're walking the line between Shadow and Plague territories, searching desperately for a place to stay. The wind howls wickedly as it lashes at the treetops above. As you stumble through an area of thick forest, you notice a wooden sign faded with time, and knocked over on the ground almost certainly deliberately judging on the claw marks along it. You squint to read it in the growing dark and manage to make out the words 'Welcome to the Clan CentralStarWave!' With the following inscription beneath far too faded to make sense of. As you look up from your reading, the bushes shudder around you, and before you can react, a Tundra along with quite a number of wolves have surrounded you. Shaking yourself you try to explain, but the Tundra simply growls and the wolves bite at your heels, implying you should get moving. So you do.

It's now gotten so dark that you can barely see ahead, but you're forced to keep moving. Suddenly, you're shoved through an arch of tangled trees, dead on one side and flourishing with strange purple leaves on the other. Through the arch lies a huge clearing, a massive fountain marking the center. Behind it, three large holes gape into the earth, with rocks carved eloquently to form entrances. Along the right side lays a variety of huts and shops, and on the left what appears to be a huge stone stage looms in the night. You trip a little, startled by the sudden imagery, and then proceed to realize you can see! Lanterns hang the purple trees around you, except for around the stage where the dead trees creep over. Stunned, you begin to walk, excited to look around when a hulking figure steps out from behind the fountain.

You're not sure why you didn't spot the Imperial before, but now he's stepping forward almost gracefully, and as you look at his face, his glowing red eyes bore into you through the skull-like markings swirling on his face. He wears a wreath around his head and is clearly not in a good mood. You take a step back as the massive dragon looms over you, but he keeps advancing until he's staring down straight at you. "What're you doing here?" He states simply, looking around to see if there are others with you. You swiftly explain the whole Tundra-and-wolves situation and the giant Imperial seems to immediately understand. "Ah yes, of course. Blackwolf is in charge of such things. I'm surprised he didn't do more... damage to you before he brought you here, actually." The Imperial laughs. You, on the other hand only look nervously over your shoulder. When you look back, the Imperial is giving you a once-over and then nods. "I'm Midori WickedBones. If you couldn't tell already, I'm the leader here." He says snarkily, seemingly holding his head just a bit higher than before. "You're welcome to stay in our clan, come along I'll show you around." Yet something about his words doesn't feel quite right. He said you're welcome to stay but nothing about for how long.
You get the vague feeling you wont be leaving any time soon.
....Or ever, for that matter.


Yes, welcome to the Clan Killing Sword. We're forever loyal to our leader, Midori Wickedbones. (At least, most of us are.) He saved us in a time of need, when our former leaders left us without a place to stay. He saved us when we were surely to be doomed. Here in Clan Killing Sword, we rescue and raise the 'Lost Ones'. These are dragons with mysterious powers who are unfortunately, turned away in most other clans due to their odd abilities. Dragons that come in are often hurt, both emotionally and physically, and so we help them to the best of our abilities. We train them how to use their powers safely, and provide them a safe, reliable home. We are the saviours of the Lost Ones.

Nothing that you fear is forgotten
It follows you around like ghosts...