GuyFromLoathing's Clan

Nobody is quite sure of what happened the night the mountains sank.

What is known can be counted on a foot. Several clans were involved in... something. The mountain crystal, ordinarily a constant glowing magenta, turned black and inky, and the mountains drew under the waves, as if an enormous hand had drawn away from the surface. Perhaps that is what happened. Perhaps that isn't.

The aftermath, too, was fierce. Storms embroiled the Arcane lands, and many clans vanished off the face of Sornieth. When the rain of oil ceased, magisters from the Astrolodome investigated the wreckage.

The floating islands that had once been known as the Hoverview Vale were gone. Only one island remained, slowly drifting to the lands below. It was investigated.

There was a lair there. It showed no signs of any dragon life, and yet it was fresh and rough. A recent construction. Its hoard was neat shelving, all empty, except for a few boxes.

The boxes were opened.

Within were piles of codices. Each of them, written about dragons who had lived in this lair. And there were many.

So, then, magister. Are you going to read them or not?