Ruling The Clan of Rot Edit
For many years Yachil had ruled the clan; destroying everyone who dared disobey him. He had found that even though his clan may be suffering, he was not. He always had the first pick for food, first pick for everything. It all changed though, (when the fire nation attacked lmao) when a lone dragon named Dissection tried to join the clan. Yachil could sense the strength radiating from him, could smell the scent of power. He decided to reject him, and desperately tried to banish him, but Dissection fought back. Yachil lost, and with his lost pride was the mixed hatred and shame, motivating him to keep going, to survive. He was wounded gravely, and alone. He knew that if he didn’t find a shelter in another clan or healed himself, he would have to leave the scarred wasteland.
The chance of getting a nasty infection was too high, so Yachil had no choice left but to leave his home. He did not grieve for the loss, instead he was angry, filled with the urge of revenge. He would take back his clan if it was the last thing he ever did. First though, he needed to heal and hatch a plan. Dissection might be stronger, but Yachil knew that he was smarter, more cunning and manipulating. He knew he could take him, but he couldn’t do it alone. He headed into the tangled woods, seeking refuge in the shadows, trying to heal his wounds alone where the chance for infection was lower.
The Travel Edit
Unfortunately for him, he had not left the scarred wasteland quickly enough. His wounds rapidly became infected, leaving him at the brink of death. As if by miracle, a rogue shadow clan took him in, reluctantly healing him until he was able to survive alone. As soon as he was walking they left him, leaving as quietly and quickly as they had arrived. Although he was no longer as weak, he needed allies, so he kept moving, leaving the tangled wood behind, his goal the shattered plains in the domain of the Stormcatcher. He had realized that he wouldn’t be able to manipulate his way into power if they recognized him, and he’d heard rumors of lightning dragons being able to manipulate the appearance of dragons.
With a new look no one would recognize him, letting him climb his way back into power. Once he reached the edge of the sunbeam ruins he stumbled upon a lone mirror hatchling, and judging by the eyes she was from the shattered plains. As soon as she saw him, she started hissing, and not before long she was attacking him, furiously. Unfortunately for her, her claws did little to nothing, and Yachil simply pushed her away. He was impressed by her spirit and took her under his wings, though she was hesitant to say the least.
As he continued travelling he trained her, making her into a sadistic, and forever loyal companion. Though he’d sworn he would never get involved with anyone but himself, he couldn’t help but caring for his savage companion. He saw himself as a mentor to her, and also as a friend. Besides, she could help him overthrow Dissection, the dragon who defeated him.
They continued training while they searched for someone who could help them transform him, make him look different. That part was critical for his plan, and as time progressed he became more and more desperate. His companion, who had taken the name Ontari, too became restless, wanting her training to mean something, wanting to fight. Just as they’d decided to return anyway, to fight their way to the throne, they found what they’d been looking for.
The procedures were slow, and painful, but they worked. As soon as they could they left, moving swiftly back to the scarred wasteland, back to his home, with hatred pulsating in his veins. He would have his revenge.