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Day 0 - Twentieth of Flameforge, Nightfall
The lair is quiet, the dragons sleeping. Some have stayed awake, getting final meals, casting a final glance over the lair, or simply up due to restlessness. The lair’s matron, Shaiith, crawls from her bed, scrabbling up and out of the lair, casting a glance up at the stars. Despite the perpetual lightning storms plaguing the skies, a few stars can be made out.
Looking was a mistake.
Sarthor, the strange dragon-not-dragon had spoken, all those months ago, of the first Legacy, and had, inadvertently, warned of how they would be tied to the flight. Shaiith had chastised him that night, told him not to rile up the hatchlings, but now- Now as thunder pealed and the lightning strikes quickened against the dark of night, his words were welling up like ooze, slipping in from every crevice.
.
Mary had come, standing at the edge of the plateau, bright red eyes boring into the coatl. Shaiith turned, tried to scream for help, but the Plague ran strong in Mary, and she was far swifter than the coatl’s voice. The pale coatl fallen, the great guardian padded ever so leisurely forward, stepping forward into the lair, sickness following her every footstep.
Dragons screamed, and fell, some quickly, some not. The rest hid, barricading themselves away in the sleeping area. Toreath and Sikkisyth, the protectors, the defenders, they could only wait, backs against the door, wings spread wide over what remained of the clan- Mary had grown strong in her wanderings, and the elder Imperials knew that if they two fell, the clan would quickly perish.
Thankfully, for all his troubles and rough edges, Dinaer the Clan-Leader has allies, and one worried late in the night. The plague-touched Skydancer flew close, and on smelling the reeking stench of Mary, sent a Cleanser. And so the one called IZZEN was sent, and they chased the plague-Mary away, and brought the remaining dragons to safety. IZZEN then, observing the damage done, could only burn and destroy the lair, in order to prevent the plague-touch from spreading.
Dinaer wept angrily- he had been the one to first let the young guardian into his home- but carried his clan forwards, seeking solace closer to the Main Spires, and took up residence in one of the great Spires themselves.
DRAGONS LOST:
At least 30 dragons were lost that night, of varying breed and gene. Most noticeably of which was Shaiith, clan-matron, caretaker of Dinaer.
But not all was lost.
As dawn breaks, the instrument of their destruction becomes their very saving grace.
A small guardian stumbles from a corner of the new lair, cheeping softly and going up instantly to Jinx, one wounded by Mary’s attack.
He is pained, bright scars crossing his shoulders and limbs, but he accepts the dragon, and welcomes her. Perhaps, with her aid, the clan can begin again...
But not all is well. Jinx, despite a plagued-fae himself, has been attacked and wounded by Mary's wrath. He now carries the plague inside him, and it is only a matter of time until- not if- he is the next to fall. Beyond all that, even, Mary still lurks outside, watching.
Waiting.