Remous

Part of the Pearl Cerdae subspecies
Vined variant

ignore that his site parents are also pearl cerdae, I had a lore idea and had to follow through with it, so just roll with me here

"Dragons were made to fly. Made to soar through the skies. Confining ourselves to the earth is a crime against the deities that made us. A cardinal sin, the likes of which can never be reversed. Us Cerdae have renounced our own roots, our very nature as dragons, and instead taken to the roots of the soils. We have doomed ourselves."

Remous made the decision to become a Pearl Cerdae under duress; he never wanted to be one. He speaks not of the incidents which led to his transformation, and spends his days split between his clan and the Viridian Labyrinth. When he does not reside with the Seiran Clan, he lives nomadically, deep within the Shrieking Wilds. When he moves to and from the Scarred Wasteland, members of the clan meet him at the edge of the Abiding Boneyard, near the line of Foxfire Bramble that borders the Tangled Wood. They don't mind ensuring their clanmate's safety, especially as it's too dangerous for a Cerdae to travel alone in the wasteland...

Once, many years ago, Remous was a Wildclaw. He lived among a large group of Wildclaw that resided among the Wandering Contagion. One day when he was still just a young adult, he awoke to an uprising. A coup. Some dragons of the clan had grown unhappy with their state of being, and staged an upheaval of the clan's hierarchy. He hadn't been warned, or told of anything. He was no longer safe there.

Mind then filled with the sight of slain clanmates and fresh blood, Remous became a refugee, running from his old home. He knew that there were other populations of Wildclaw in the Shrieking Wilds, and made his way in the direction. When he made it to the Foxfire Bramble, he hadn't slept at all, not since the uprising. He had been up for days. Too exhausted too fly, he had no choice but to claw his way through the mess of bramble, damaging his wings as he tore himself a path through.

It was dawn by the time he came out on the other side, though no hint of sun was visible to him in the Tangled Wood. The exhaustion of his body finally outweighed the frantic thoughts in his mind, and as the brambles closed behind him, growing back into their places, he collapsed.



When he awoke, he thought of nothing else besides making it to his cousins in the Viridian Labyrinth. Despite never having been there himself, he remained desperately hopeful that they might take him in, after what happened to him. Forgoing thoughts of food, and barely stopping for water, he made his way through the wood and on towards the labyrinth, unsure of how long the journey took him. It was timeless in the Tangled Wood, with no rising or setting of a seasoned sun to guide his thoughts.

He was more than relieved when he came to its end, but when he made it to the Shrieking Wilds, it became almost every bit as dark and dense as the Tangled Wood had been. But this place was better. It was the right one. It was where he needed to be. And all he needed to do was find one of his own kind. His species had originated from the wild after all; it wouldn't be that hard to find one.

He was right... And he wished he hadn't been.



He was young. It hadn't been his fault. But no one had told him yet, about the long-held hatred that the plague and nature clans of Wildclaw harbored for each other. The moment the clan he encountered saw the color of his eyes, the relief inside them mattered little to them.

That glimpse of red was all it had taken.

Remous, still injured, still exhausted, still half-starved and almost delirious from his journey, had cried out in pain at each attack, using his already-torn wings to shield himself from the volley of attacks that continued to rend his flesh. The nature Wildclaws hadn't spared a thought for his confusion or desperation, and simply continued to attack until Remous retreated into the Shrieking Wilds, somehow escaping them despite their pursuit.

He didn't know how he had managed to survive. But adrenaline would only carry him so far this time. He made it farther into the wilds, far away from any dragon, where he finally collapsed. He simply couldn't move anymore. His wings were useless; he couldn't lift claw nor tail. All he could do was whisper one last desperate plea to the only thing that watched: the forest itself.

"Nature help me..."