HypoTheBognapper » Clan | Lair | Nesting Grounds

HypoTheBognapper's Clan

I'd sell you to the Gladekeeper for one corn chip.

Ancient Lair

sunken in the

Worldedge Wetlands

Clan Info

(Still a WIP but hey it's a start.)

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NOTE TO STAFF: I use a VPN so my IP address may change at random. I promise the only person using my account is me, though.

Hypo/Froggy 🐸 Adult 🐸 (FR+3)

Other Sites: =Here!=
Wishlist/Project List: =Here! (NOTE: CURRENTLY OUT OF DATE)=
Art/Lore Shop: (Coming Soon!)
Hatchery: (Coming Soon!)

Hi there, my name is Froggy, but you can also call me Hypo or Hypodermic. I came back to FR after a long hiatus at the behest of my friends and it's owned my soul ever since.

I'm an ancient crone living in a swampy hellscape. This imagery is not improved by the fact that I have two black cats I love more than life itself. Also frogs/toads, Wes Bentley, and my Australian waifu (who doesn't play anymore but I still ramble about dragons all the time at her).

My hobbies include smashing my face on a keyboard and calling that gaming and being creative.

Also, I hoard frogs/toads and frog and toad-related stuff. Feel free to add on to my collecton! 🐸

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= CLAN CARGO CULT =
"The clan that lives in the heap."

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You had your maps drawn
You had other plans to hang your hopes on
Every road they led you down felt so wrong
So you found another way...

Although the profession of the courier is a noble one, no dragon is perfect. Mistakes happen. Sometimes packages are sent to the wrong recipient; sometimes they get damaged in transit; sometimes they just get plain lost.

Deep within the Viridian Labyrinth, a curious site can be found nestled on a peninsula of the Worldedge Wetlands - what can only be described as a scattered sprawl of parcels, discarded loot, and miscellaneous junk from all time periods and regions of Sornieth. Haphazardly collected in piles massive enough to entangle with the branches above; at first glance, the place seems to be merely an abandoned shrine to the failures of the postal service...until one looks closer, and sees life teeming among the clutter. Vibrant displays of magic and mayhem, the chemical-and-spice scent of bubbling alchemy brews, and the constant chatter and growls of familiars running loose, turn the place from vacant dumpsite to lively bartertown.

A motley bunch of dragons call this hoard home, surviving on what they find within it and whatever they scavenge from the nearby jungles. Though they claim no real community ties or name, outsiders refer to them as the "Cargo Cult", the clan that "lives in the heap." Those that come here - and the clan boasts members from all walks of life - rarely do so willingly; rather, like the misplaced goods they use for shelter, they too got lost somewhere on their original journey and ended up here instead.

Every now and then, something new is found in the surrounding wilds, or drifts in from one of the many rivers and coasts to be collected and added to the mess. Sometimes it's even a new resident.

Mostly self-governed and with few real authority figures among their number, the dragons here don't even acknowledge they're a clan, really. In fact, plenty of them claim they'll leave any day now...go back to the real civilization and life they left behind. That whatever ties they have to each other are only temporary until then.

Yet curiously, no one who joins the clan ever seems to leave, despite the claims otherwise.

Some say family is what you make of it.

...you'll be hard-pressed to get them to admit that, though.

If you're lost out where the lights are blinding
Caught in all, the stars are hiding
That's when something wild calls you home...

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