Clan Strafe lives in paradox. The Light's Shade hides a band of fierce fighters, immigrated from Lightning after tragedy struck. This place's ways are more forgiving- the Gods know these children need it.

The crumbling stone is porous enough that little caves and tunnels form freely, cramped enough that you can’t stretch your wings properly but you can pace in tight little circles, waiting for something at the edge of the shadows. Most of you should fly away as fast as you can.

Blue sparks fly into the sky freely, circling your wings as the howling of the wind resolves itself into the crackling and popping of elemental magic and machinery. The Clan isn't well known, but whispers of them shift and creak into the realm of the fantastical. They're called the Avium and the dragons there are half machine, jaws opening wider than any living thing has the right to to unleash crackling blue bolts of Lovecraftian flame. They're called the Eremus and they are half-melted from majyyks lost to the other light clans, wings sparking with runes and words forgotten since the first age. Whatever they are, they're horrifying and grotesque and the reason nobody can get a nice spot on the dial to themselves without hearing a dozen ghost stories on their way there.

The clan has no set name, only permutations and bastardizations of the word "ruin" in a thousand languages forgotten by all but the wind. Informally, it's known as Strafe- a word for penance in an elder tongue. Some devote time to the tenants of Fugam Fulgura, modernized and polished to gleam like the sharp shining of steel. The others are set in the ways of Hedfan Mellt, runes glowing bright gold on the browns and whites of the scrub. Once at war, they've learned to work together for peace. They've learned to fear conflict.

Can you feel the ozone crackling down your spine? Turn back. Notes:
lair expansion/profit push
BATTERWITCH: PM Bette about garnet/kalle
find citrus a mate or get him gembond
prospit/derse, red miles
14114603 for jane
original eremus art