Metteo's Clan

(In progress - I do this through my phone when I find a few spare minutes)

The sun rested on the western horizon, its rays falling on many of the small islands that made up the Crystalspine Reaches. Just as the great ball of light and life began to touch the edge of the distant sea, a stirring occurred on one of the crystal beaches that lay in the shadow of the great observatory and the Focal Point that supprted it. The stirring intensified, until the soft crack of an egg cracking open filled the cool, salt-filled air. Thus, the first sight to great the emerging Tundra hatchling, was of the silhouette of the Arcanist's lair, ringed by the oranges, golds and violets of the sunset.

The hatchling never had the opportunity to learn from her parents; her nest and the single egg it had contained seemed somehow forgotten. This had little effect on the hatchling at first, there was an abundance of seaweed to chew on when the tide receded, and plenty of crystal and stone to explore when the tide was high. It was only once she'd grown enough to venture off her small outcropping that she truly learned of what she was, and what her expected place in the world would be.

In her adulthood Gaabrirl, as the Tundra now called herself, set out to find her own place in the world. Unwilling to stray far from the safety of the familiar, her journey ended on another secluded island of the Crystalspine. This one, though larger than the one she had hatched upon, seemed newer, and a strange sense of contentment washed over her as she set her feet upon its surface.

There was little food there at first, and she made do with scrounging for washed up detris from the sea, as she worked away at the hard crystal, digging her way into a small crevice, widening it to allow passage. Her perseverance was rewarded with the discovery of several interconnected chambers, and it was in one of those chambers that she found the Whispering Stones; a trio of magenta geodes, cracked open prior to the cave being uncovered, that thrummed with the ebb and flow of the magic within the island itself. As they glowed and hummed, the changes of pitch created a susurus quality, as if somehow the stones themselves were attempting to communicate with the curious intruder.

After her initial surprise, Gaabrirl carefully secluded the whispering cave, out of a mixture of caution and awe. She continued her work on the remainder of the chambers, getting them more properly set up for draconic habitation. It was in the latter stages of this that a storm blew in, and battered her new home for several days, the fierce winds whipping the surf all the way to her doorstep, and forcing the Tundra deeper into the caverns. While she waited for the weather to calm, she contented herself with studying the stones once more, gradually piecing together their connection to the nearby magical field.

It had been almost a day since she last took a break from her studying, when an unfamiliar smell brought her attention back to the remainder of the world. Trundling back to the entrance of her home, she found a bedraggled little fae, barely clinging to life, huddled just inside the entrance to her lair. Compassion won over distrust, and she carefully nursed the tiny dragon back to health. Once recovered, he made the decision to stay on with his savior. Thus did the solitary loner become the founder of a clan.