Gregg

Gregg
The Leader

It’s hard, knowing you’ll never meet your Clan’s expectations.

Growing up in Arcane was difficult for a magicless dragon. No matter how hard Gregg tried, he was never able to follow along in spell lessons and even his hardest attempts at magic resulted in nothing but wasted time and frustration on every dragon’s part. Gregg hated every minute of it. He pushed himself to try only because it was what was expected of him; but he knew deep down that no matter how hard he tried, he would only continue to fail.

His parents frowned. They had not been born in Arcane, and yet they still possessed enough magic to survive. And in Plague, where they were from, survival was all that mattered. How would Gregg survive without magic? They never said anything about this to him, but he knew. He could read their energy well enough to know how they felt - this wasn’t magic but a Skydancer’s innate abilities.

His parents and their treatment of him was what truly motivated Gregg to turn to other methods of survival. If magic would not cut it, then physical strength would have to be enough. He began training, little by little each day, until he grew strong enough to care for himself. He would not depend on anyone else, he swore to himself. Shutting out his Clanmates, whom he felt were only looking down at him anyway, Gregg became a silent, independent dragon.

When he felt he was strong enough, he left his birthplace to seek a more suitable home. One where he would not feel left out; he was determined to find where he belonged in this world.

His travels did not take him far across Sorneith before he reached the Windswept Plateaus. Dragons here were friendly and welcoming, eager to take him in. He enjoyed his time among the Wind Clans. It wasn’t until he was flying over a secluded island that he found his true home. It was here where he met Rusher and Kendall, and they invited him to join Clan Rush. He settled in slowly, but over time felt that this was the right choice. Nobody questioned him here, or wondered about his lack of magic. And they were quite impressed with his strength and daily work-out routine. Many of his new Clanmates asked him if he could train them, as well. Well, why not? He might as well share what little he had with the dragons who were kind enough to let him in. He took pride in his work, and knew that if his parents would not be pleased with him, the Windsinger would.

(Bio written by clarax)

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Contunued by Cresant (edited by Enako):

It was when he met a beautiful young Arcane Skydancer living in Plague that he found himself second-guessing the idea of staying in the wonderful home he'd had for so long. Galena; vicious and brutal in the battlefield, wielding not magic, but a filigree blade, with deadly precision. His friends in the Windswept Plateau urged him to follow his heart. They had learned much from him in his time there, and assured him that they would be alright without him. After all, if he ever missed them, he could always come back to visit.

The sweet honey-moon, however, was short-lived. Several months after he met his beloved, Gregg was out on a scouting mission to gather important resources for the clan. While hunting for insects in the underbrush, covered head-to-toe in the thick, green-and-orange slime characteristic to Plague flora, he heard a deafening crash coming from the direction of Scarlet and Light--his new home. Rushing back, he barely caught a glimpse of a fellow clan-mate, Ruse, zipping around in a panic. And when Gregg arrived home, he was greeted by a mysterious, yet dreadful, sight: where the lair once stood was now an empty space.

Fearing the worst, the fighter began searching for his mate right away. He traversed the area that had been the clan's grounds, looking into every nook and cranny; he flew high above the ground, scanning the surroundings, shouting Galena's name. As he searched, he could feel his body and wings get heavier, his vision blurry; under the dimming light of the setting sun, the long shadows of the rocks and trees seemed to move, slinking and swaying in a hypnotizing rhythm. Wispy arms reached out from their darkest depths, grasping at his lithe form, their sharp claws raking gashes along his body. Voices whispered in his head, speaking of things so foul, they struck a deep, primal fear into his heart. This place, his home, was cursed; and he was not strong enough to fight whatever it was that haunted it.

His instincts taking over, Gregg beat his wings as fast as he could, turning and twisting and diving among the outstretched claws. He called for his lover once more, as the darkness chased him; he received no answer. It took him no more than a few minutes to escape his pursuer, yet to him, it felt like an eternity. Leaving the cursed lair behind, he breathed in deeply, letting the night air fill his lungs; it was the first time he appreciated such a simple thing so deeply.

After wandering aimlessly for a few days, Gregg encountered Charon, the clan's weapon master. When he saw the other dragon, a glimmer of hope lit up in the skydancer's heart; maybe this one had seen Galena; perhaps he could even tell her where to find her. Yet, his hopes were dashed soon, for his companion was just as lost and alone as he was.

They traveled together for some time, and joined up with more survivors on the way. Yet even among good company, Gregg still felt alone. Every night, he saw his beloved's face in his dreams: her radiant smile and kind gaze. She danced along the edges of his vision during the day, every flash of light seeming like an elegant swing of her sword. As the days turned into weeks, Gregg became lost in his despair and grief. Eventually, the skydancer left Charon's group, the sorrow in his heart and the memory of his lover as his sole companions.

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Continued by Enako:

For a few long years, Gregg traveled Sornieth, wandering from clan to clan, never staying in one place for long. Wherever he went, he did what he knew best; training others for battle. Often, his pupils left their homes to serve the gods; occasionally, they stayed behind, completing their training, and becoming teachers themselves.

Nowhere felt like home to the skydancer. His heart still heavy with grief, Gregg became distant. His travels were peppered with shallow friendships and opportunistic relationships. No matter how many times he sparred with eager training partners, or shared his bed with other companions, nobody could fill the void that Galena had left behind.

And yet, with the passing of time, the image of his lover slowly faded from his memory. Her features, her elegant form, her bright, beautiful eyes, they all blurred together in his mind's eye. Her voice now sounded muffled whenever he attempted to recall it, its tone muddled by the voices of so many others. Night after night, Gregg stayed awake, desperate, struggling to piece together the fragments of his memories of her. And every morning, yet another piece had slipped his mind.

He was in this state of mind when he arrived at the little Nature clan called Roreville, on the edges of the Viridian Forest; at least, the clusters of tents of varying sizes and colors seemed like a clan. Yet, it also looked like a camp; should the denizens wish so, they could pack up and leave at that very moment. The leaders, a colorful guardian named Reche, and a scholarly tundra called Rose, welcomed him with open arms. All were accepted in their little village, no matter their past deeds or affiliations, Reche informed him; as long as they followed the rules and order was upheld.

Intrigued by the odd gathering, the skydancer decided to stay for a while. His arrival was a pleasant coincidence, he soon found out; three of the clan's seasoned warriors had recently left to travel the world; the village had little to protect it against the beasts of the Labyrinth, and nobody to train its youth for battle. Thus, Gregg took on the mantle of instructor once more, steadily transforming the graceless, clumsy, and sometimes rowdy teenagers of his new home into competent fighters that could protect themselves and their families, should the need arise.

At first, Gregg had planned to stay only for a few weeks. He was still looking for Galena, after all; they had been separated for a long time, but something told him that she was still out there, somewhere. However, there was something in the kind nature of the clan's leaders, in the colorful crowd that flooded the makeshift streets among the tents each morning, and the way his trainees struggled with swords and spears and bows, ambition and hope in their eyes, even as their limited skills failed them, that bade him stay.

Thus, stay he did. Weeks turned into months, and then into years. His initial observation of the similarity the village bore to a temporary camp soon proved to be true; the clan would often move from one location to another, although the reasons for this were unclear. About a year after his arrival, it was decided they would relocate to the Focal Point of the Starfall Isles.

The fighter was not looking forward to returning to the place of his birth. He did not wish to be reminded of his parents and his old clanmates, of their coldness and scorn. However, the look of surprise and sorrow on the faces of his new friends when he told them he was leaving changed his mind. He could not abandon them; they needed him the most now, with a long, arduous journey before them.

The relocation was as difficult and drawn out as he had imagined. Some could not take it, and left the clan forever, seeking a quieter life in neighboring clans. Few, most of them elderly or ill, perished along the way. The clan's numbers were greatly diminished when their journey was finally over.

Gregg had truly proven himself to his companions during their travels. From fighting opportunistic beastclan that sought to take advantage of their weakened state, to defending them against draconic raiders, to organizing them so they could survive harsh weather conditions, the quiet skydancer was coming out of his shell and turning into a competent leader. When they had finally set up their new camp, the fighter had earned the respect of all, and was rightfully considered Reche and Rose's right hand man.

Thus, it was of no surprise to anybody when, once the guardian and tundra decided to leave to serve the Arcanist, they appointed Gregg as their heir.

The skydancer was crowned on the day of their exaltation; the ceremony was a modest thing, made bittersweet by the departure of the clan's beloved founders. His companions smiled and laughed and made toasts to him and Reche and Rose and each other; the paths between the tents filled with noise and chatter and music. The celebration lasted until dawn, and once everyone was asleep, the founders took their leave.

It did not take Gregg long to get accustomed to the official duties of the clan's leadership; after all, it was similar to what he had been doing for a while now. The clan flourished under his rule, attracting visitors and new denizens from all walks of life. While there was never a need for an organized militia, since the number of permanent residents remained small, a handful of seasoned warriors stuck around. Together with Gregg, they were more than capable of protecting their clanmates.

His new life and duties helped Gregg move on from his past. Galena's memory still lingered on the back of his mind, faded and blurred, like an old photograph. But his sorrow, his longing was gone, replaced by a quiet acceptance of the pleasant memories they had made together.

Gregg had a few romantic relationships over the time he's been living in Roreville. The longest-lasting one was with Voidbane, the clan healer. During one of their exploration expeditions, however, they were ambushed by a powerful Shade entity. Voidbane shielded Gregg from its attack; she was exposed to its toxic energy and was rendered unconscious. The skydancer then rushed back to Roreville, carrying the pearlcatcher all the way. Despite the best efforts of the clan's other healers and mages, however, Voidbane could not awaken; she was stuck in a mysterious coma.

Nobody knows when or if Voidbane will ever return to the waking world. However, a faint hope lingers in Gregg's heart. Maybe, just maybe, Lamia, the bogsneak witch, can find a way to lift the curse that afflicted Voidbane. Maybe, one day, Gregg can have her by his side once more.