Calla

"Well, isn't this exciting?"




It's well known that if you see a little flicker of pink and orange at the corner of your vision in this part of Sornieth, you run. You run and don't look back. If it turns out it was just a scrap of fabric or a mushroom, you can laugh at yourself and breathe a sigh of relief. You may feel a bit silly for fleeing from a mushroom, but you find that it hadn't been a mushroom? If it had been something- someone- else?

Oh. Well.

Well, yes, I suppose it could have been a normal dragon. That's certainly a possibility. There are plenty of dragons with pink and orange coloring.

There are, however, very few dragons with that sort of coloring in this area.

And it's well known that there's something far more dangerous out there than a normal dragon.




Once upon a time, there lived a relatively calm clan in one of the quarantined areas of plague territory. While several smaller groups had formed within it, it was more cohesive than one might expect.

One of these groups was more estranged from the main body of the clan than the rest. They were incredibly zealous in their devotion to the Plaguebringer, so much so that they would throw their own children into the Wyrmwound if they proved to be too weak.

One of these hatchlings was named Calla, though a portion of the main clan had given her the affectionate nickname of Wasteland Lily due to her sweet, energetic personality.

When Calla had reached maturity, she was deemed too feeble to be allowed to stay with the group, so one of its leaders, a snapper, took her to be thrown out.

When he hadn't returned after two weeks, the rest of the clan started to get worried. Had he fallen into the Wyrmwound? Been attacked? Devoured? His mate left to search for him, but she didn't come back either.

As it turned out, it was a hunting party from the main body of the clan that found them both. One was stuck in a tree, his eyes gouged out and his not-quite-useful-for-flying wings torn to bits. The other was halfway in an acidic pool that had stripped away a large portion of her right side. However, something... else had happened to her. Strange antlers had sprouted from her head, and needle-sharp fangs had taken the place of flat herbivore teeth.

They didn't find Calla, so they assumed that the snapper had dumped her into the Wyrmwound and come most of the way back before being attacked and killed. The mutated dragon was examined and found to have changed due to a strain of bacteria in the pool she was found in. Everything went on as normal.


The killings started unexpectedly. Several small dragons, three fae and two guardian hatchlings, were found with their throats ripped out over the course of a fortnight. They had been eating at the time, so it was assumed that someone (or something) had attacked them and taken their meal.

The next week, a fully-grown spiral was found killed in the same manner, but with small bite marks taken out of her.

Two days later, a mirror and another fae had died as well. The clan was beginning to worry.