sansxseraph's Clan

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Clan Malachim began in the Ashfall Wastes. Small and quiet, the clan was content to forge delicate jewelry on the edges of the Emberglow Hearth. They weren't strong, or powerful, but life was pleasant.

Asmodeus came to power still practically a fledgling when the previous leaders fell mysteriously ill-some still whisper rumors of poison and deceit, while others blame it on the touch of the Shade. Either way, the young drake took Abaddon and Naamah as his consorts and queens, and for a short time, all was well.

Then the demands started: work harder, do more, do better.

Not really the sort of thing anyone could complain about, really, but no one was exactly pleased, especially when Abaddon began selecting the best and brightest to become her acolytes. Change came slowly. By the time anyone thought to pay attention the clan had moved to the Molten Scar, and even the youngest of dragons were forced to work from round the clock. Life was harsh and unforgiving, but Malachim was growing in size and strength. It took a terrible accident and the loss of three young dragons to Abaddon's appetites.

Michael led the charge, with Haylel and Gabriel at his side. It was civil war, and no one was spared, save for a handful of fledglings rescued by one young dragon's courage and foresight. The remains of clan took to wing and fled for the furthest thing imaginable from the fire and brimstone of Ashfall-the Cloudscrape Crags of the Southern Icefield. Along the way, they would forge alliances and join with other misfits until the name Malachim no longer meant shame and horror.

Today, members of the clan are petitioning Michael to vacation in other lands with Heylel at the forefront. Michael, for his part, is grateful for the space and protection gained from their icy home. He's loath to leave the mountains for the Starfall Isles or worse-Dragonhome.

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