Yoinking this personal lore bit from
my nuzlocke that I promise I will return to sometime I swear --
The Banescale breed is cursed with a hereditary magical affliction, which is dormant in every modern-day individual. This disease of sorts was cast by the Icewarden himself, and is called the
Permafrost Blight. It is a curse that was lain on one of the last generations of adult Banescales before their supposed 'extinction' in ancient times, and it was a 'strategic descision' that has many modern dragons from outside the Icefields squinting suspiciously at the Icewarden's moral compass
none of the deities are innocent of committing war crimes but who likes admitting their own dragon god is flawed?.
The Permafrost Blight struck mostly the strongest of Banescales. While Gaolers are mighty in their own right, the ancient times' Banescales were beyond ferocious soldiers for their Mother of Flame. With armor and tool-crafting on their side, and a solid elemental edge against their icy nemeses, they beat back Icewarden's first children in most of their attempts to gain ground against the Flamecaller for more land to scour for corruption.
The Blight deliberately targeted the most capable warriors, teachers, smiths and leaders of Banescale-kind, in order to pull the rug out from under the efficient chain of command their society had created. The disease started as a light ache in the leg or wing muscles, causing a feeling akin to a pulled muscle or bruise. This would last for a few days, after which it would progress to muscle stiffness and a pervasive chill in the affected area. As Fire dragons (in my HC at least) inherently run a fair bit hotter than all other elements, this chilling sensation would disturb them.
From then on, the stiffness and cold would grow, and once it reached the extremities, these would begin to gather icing (a thin ice coating) that could not be melted. It was possible to break this surface ice off, but this was painful (causing the belief that the ice was a part of the dragon's body, a revolting notion to a child of Fire), and did little to help as the stiffness remained and the icing would accumulate again. As the Blight progressed so did the icing creep upwards along the tail and legs of the sick, weighing them down and inhibiting movement as swiftly as it destroyed group morale. Unable to find a cure in time, Banescales afflicted would be cherished by loved ones and subordinates in their last weeks and days, thanked for their service and dedication. These were the people's champions, cruelly struck down by a ruthless unfair god they alone stood no chance against. Sometimes the Blight backfired, causing soldiers to rally for their dying commanders and leading to reckless, especially bloody conflict.
But eventually, a limit was reached, and morale began to dwindle as more and more leaders became icy statues, lifeless and insulting to gawk at; without teachers, leaders and spies to back up the soldiers, they became outmatched and had to face more and more defeats at the clawtips of an ever-strong Gaoler Seeker force. In a desperate bid to survive, those Banescales not mighty or learned enough to be struck down by the Blight buried their eggs in the ancestral homeland, sending prayers like volcanic plumes up to their Mother, and hoping that their children will be free.
Unfortunately, curses of this magnitude are not easily broken...
