He was once a gifted scholar and healer, a dragon of boundless kindness, a mage with a heart of gold and a passion for helping those in need. He used to go by a different name - Valor - and was well known in his home clan. Eventually, though, he had left to live in the Viridian Labyrinth, seeking a better understanding of the art of healing.

It was there that a friend of his, Hewn, convinced him to go on a quest for the entire Nature flight: the building of an alliance with the Plague flight. Eager to meet new dragons and learn more magic, Valor willingly packed all of his belongings and hurried to his new home in the Scarred Wasteland, a place he had never been before. Once there, he and Hewn quickly became friends with the other Nature dragons that worked there. Valor made many trips outside of his new home, tracking down the clans of Plague to offer his skills as a healer and to teach apprentice mages.

Disaster struck the same day he returned from one of these trips. He barely remembers that day, but he remembers holding onto Hewn's arms, begging her to hold on, to not let go - he remembered something dragging his old friend back, the look on her face, pure terror. But her fear had not been for her, but for him.

For Valor was her charge, and her only love. If she had to die, so he could live, she would do so and gladly. It was what any guardian would do.

So Hewn has whispered her goodbye - a hushed word that was forever burned into his mind - and let go, falling back into her own death. Her last, dying scream still haunts him, and he still has nightmares about that night.

The first clear, vivid memory he has after losing her was him waking to lungs full of ash and water. Whatever had happened had flung him into a river of sorts, and at first, a relief had washed over him, thoughts of going back for Hewn; then he saw his reflection in the water. Whatever had happened...whatever magic had been wrought, has changed him.

His skin bore the markings of disease, pulsating a sickly green and red over once vibrant wings, lines of bones softly glowing upon marbled brown scales, and even his eyes seemed to have become pale and sickly.

Disease had overtaken his body, and yet the arcane magic he'd been born with still lived within him, giving him the strength to still live despite his illness. The nature magic that had been gifted to him by his clan still ebbed and flowed through his body, fighting against whatever evil had been done to him. And the charms given to him by Hewn, charms of light and nature, still lay heavy against his feverish skin.

The imperial could only collapse against the sandy shore, wailing his grief for his friend, and his anger over what he'd become...

---

Eventually, he had to go on. Hewn had given her life so he could live, and he would not make her sacrifice be for nothing.

But he was not Valor anymore. His grief was too heavy, his anger was too hot; he could no longer afford to be as kind and generous as he had been before. With his mutations and disease in mind, he chose a new name for himself - Pestilence. It was only fitting. Most plants died at his feet, and only the hardiest thrived wherever he chose to live.

And he chose to live far from the Seedscar, the place his friend had died and where he had been struck down; it gave him nightmares to be so close.

Somehow, others like him found his small, humble hiding place. They begged him for a place to stay, and so Pestilence helped them all. Some died from their injuries and mutations, some simply faded away, their hearts and souls unable to support them.

By the time a Plague clan had expanded into his home, only Pestilence and a few others remained; these ones were strong, with a mix of nature and plague magic flowing through them. They were also hostile, and threatened harm to this clan. The imperial was able to contain his companions, and let the clan grow around them. Him and his "Ghouls" were allowed to stay, but Halliwell had made sure that they knew they were not truly a part of their clan.

The only dragons that have been willing to put their dens near the proclaimed "Dead Zone" were the undead of the clan; those that lived with Cancer and it's Reapers.

Pestilence doesn't mind them too much, and his clanmates seem accepting of them. He just wishes that Wrath would understand that he has no wish to become a part of the Misfortune Clan, nor does he ever want to leave the Scarred Wasteland.

He knows what would happen. He knows that whatever affliction had attached itself to his body and his clanmates would destroy every living thing if they were to ever leave. He keeps them here, contained within the Plaguebringer's borders, and always swears that he does this for the Gladekeeper, for the Arcanist, and even for the Plaguebringer - he knows that what he carries is deadly, and may even be a threat to the land it was born in.

---

Lore notes:

• Usually keeps to himself, rarely goes out of his way to be a part of any conversations. Sometimes, on days when business is slow, he'll make the trip over to visit Joy's teashop or Sweeps's library. They're part of the few dragons that don't become hostile to his presence - although Sweeps does require him to wear gloves when handling older books, and Joy has a table set further away from the others simply for his visits, due to his innate ability to cause illness through touch, but that's just common sense.
• Pestilence avoids physical contact because of the strongest ability of the Afflicted is to bring illness and death through bare touch; when he travels outside of the clan, he wears gloves and requires the other Afflicted to do the same. He's even hesitant to interact with Plague flight dragons, simply because he doesn't wish to do them any more harm after the Seedscar tragedy.
• His familiar is less of a pet and more of a guard. She alerts him whenever an Afflicted tries to leave the Scarred Wasteland, and keeps outsiders from wandering into their dens or workshops. Even so, he has found that she rarely shies away from him, and resists his sickly touch. He still wears his gloves whenever he grooms her mane, but ultimately he gives her much affection in exchange for the feeling of safety she may bring him....for this, he named her after an old friend.

Planned outfit:




Relationships:

• Corrin - denmate (hostile)
• Weyr - healer & friend (affectionately hostile, he calls her miss grumpy to rile her up)