RusticReign's Clan

I see you have found my home, here amongst what I am told is my clan. I have come to find each of these dragons, cold and alone, abandoned by fate, much like myself. Each of these reverent beasts are unmatched in beauty and in virtue, as I have come to know them. Tread softly and with respect here, for this is the glorious living collection of I, the distant and far-traveled Lux Duskseer.


3-21-18: The earth shakes with arcane power. I must record this, The Arcanist will want to know my observations... when he returns to take me back with him to the Observatory, of course. I found two eggs in a new crevasse behind a fallen bookshelf today. This must also be recorded.

6-22-18: Things grow quiet, I have settled in with this... menagerie of dragons, they accept me almost as one of them. Odd, I am far from dragonlike. Perhaps that is why the Arcanist fails to return- he must prefer the company of dragons over goblins anymore, how... silly of me to think he isn't coming back, of course!

8-9-18: Nothing. More dragons, more eggs, more research, more tremors, more data, more agitated Plague dragons scratching around the base of the tower, but still, nothing. He left me here for a reason, he wanted to know my research, why doesn't he come collect it... at the least, send an intern?

1-07-19: A sign? A newborn in the lair, pure white like the ice spreading far, far south, with eyes glowing like the Starwood trees at the base of the tower once did. The Arcanist must have sent him, a gift, for such a good worker, right?

1-15-19: Things have been changing around here... I fear The Arcanist may never return, that he has given up on me. The wastes creep closer, the stones have turned gray, and the hatchlings grow sickly... I fear the birth of Archangel may have been some sort of sick farewell present... But is that really so bad?

1-19-19: I grow weary. Has he forgotten us?

1-25-19: I have been a fool. I have been blind. He doesn't need me. He never did. The first hatchling tainted by the infested flesh of the plaguelands was born this morning. We must hurry, now. Hurry, and hope to find solace elsewhere... Funny, I've never left this tower before, you know.

1-25-19 2: Scrambling fast, clawing our way through the plagued sky and the murky clouds, over hill and hollow, a thousand sights I've never even dreamed of seeing... Is this what it's like to be a dragon? To be free? Wither is guiding us now, he says he is sure where we must go, and who we must beg for sanctuary.

1-25-19 3: It is late, and my eyes are dry from tear and wind alike. We have been granted a home, the Lightweaver knows my grief and worry, and she has granted us a new beginning. A new tower, so... open. Sitting here at my old writing desk, dragged so far from home, I can see the sun setting over the water... More brilliant than the Starwood Strand ever was...

2-3-19: Things have settled down, it seems. New tower, new library, Struggle helping me with the more menial and physical tasks that Flurry and Flux were never able to before. I found a statue of the Arcanist in the rubble today. I don't know what it means.

4-7-19: I have fallen ill, but my companions have taken care of me. The dragons have organized an exchange of hatchlings, to bring prosperity to the clan. I trust their decision.

4-30-19: I have grown... very close to Struggle. He is... truly a close friend.