Oceanbreeze's Clan

The terrain of the Windswept Plateau is wide, flat, and open. Steppes of grass and summer sun are caressed with an ever-warm zephyr. Dragons soar among kites and balloons, grass swings in time with the gentle inhales and exhales of the playful green deity. The pleasant weather betrays the invisible danger swirling in the southwest corner of the Windsinger’s land, but you know better than to stray too close to the greedy gusts that pull at your wings.

As you traverse the sweet-smelling fields and head north towards the Sea of a Thousand Currents, or perhaps the Scarred Wasteland, you reach a craggy outcrop of broken land punctuated with sprigs of healthy bamboo. Foreign dragons like yourself have a hard time navigating the maze of sprouts and uneven cliffs, but before you can test your luck, you’re stopped by the piercing scent of metal. Sheer instinct is the only thing that saves you from being crushed under the powerful hind legs of a dragon that glistens in the light.

Mechanical gears grind to a slow churn as a massive metal Ridgeback spreads its wings, arms crossed impressively as it throws its shadow upon your cowering form. Two electric blue eyes glow appraisingly, an air of intimidation surrounding the inorganic guardian. Pneumatics fire with soft squeaks as the dragon-esque robot opens its maw to speak, but its voice is one that is practiced in the tongue of the land.

“Halt,” it says first, its words a hollow ring that seems to echo from its belly. Its voice demands you listen. Being wise, you do. “Announce yourself, traveller. You seek passage through the Reedcleft Ascent, home to the Windfall Crevasse and the Alliance of Misplaced Winds. Be you friend, you are welcome. Be you foe...” Its eyes flash red, and it’s clear you don’t have much time.

If you announce yourself, the mechadragon will relax, offering to guide and shield you as you traverse their precarious domain.

If you do not, it will make short work of driving you away.

If you are alone, however-- abandoned and scared for your life, the dragon will notice. It will clink-clink-clink as it ratchets itself to the ground, laying its broad stomach and chest on the grass to level gazes with you. A bout of steam will puff out its nose-shaped exhaust pipe, blue eyes softening to an impossible but ever-present sympathy that shows through its frozen steel features. It will stare down the length of its nose until you are comfortable addressing it, and only then will it speak again.

“Have no fear, wanderer.” It will say in a soft and muted tone. “We have no troubles with the clanless. A single dragon cannot hurt us,” it will murmur wisely, “But a single dragon can make us strong.

“You are strong for making it this far, you know. If you choose, you can join us. All of us Misplaced Winds are orphaned, one way or another. But our matriarch unites us, protects us. Her name is Sin. Would you like to meet her?”

If you say no, it will wish you well on your way. If you say yes, however, the mechanoid will smile with artificial yet genuine warmth.

“Come along then, sibling. I am Xayron.

“Welcome home.”

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Clan intro by Saphelle