#osireion

Having grown up surrounded by the high ideals and scholarly pursuits of the Clan of the Hidden Sanctum, Osireion found himself a little out of depth in his new clan. Connected by humour and good-natured grousing rather than any apparent divine devising, he didn't understand how such different individuals could hope to do anything efficiently. Born of the Hidden Sanctum's Clan Guard and Beserker Knight, each chosen by the 'Aether' as the strongest and most reliable, Osireion naturally assumed he would be assigned to the Clan Guard but had some difficulty finding it's leader. How could a Guard function without a central point, a general to control and foresee the twists of battle? How could this damp, watery lair ever hope to defend itself against a realenemy, if all its warriors fought isolated scraps? He mourned the loss of his birthclan. He wished he could have stayed, done anything to earn his keep, but the Aether had determined he must go. There was no place in the Hidden Sanctum for dragons not chosen by the Aether. But it seemed there was no real place in Ista for those trained for greatness, either. Only Kraka agreed with him. Together, he and the great Ridgeback were helping in the tunnels, hauling and heaving at the rock, expanding the lair further into the granite it was hewn from. They talked at length about the failings of Ista, of how it might be changed for the better, with one of them at the helm. "The trouble with all of them," Kraka told him, in confidence, "is that they can't see what's wrong. They're too set in their ways, disorganised, to see that some real structure would improve their lives." At first, Osireion agreed. Half the clan, after all, seemed to constantly be travelling; it was more a waypoint than a permanent home. But some part of him clung, stubbornly, to the idea of the ineffable; that divine providence was still, somehow, guiding him, even if he wasn't Chosen. Adhara was far from divine, however distant she seemed, but Osireion decided to trust her, just a little longer. The first time he saw the full strength of the clan together, in the midst of battle, he knew he'd been right. Adhara, Cap, even quiet Lafiris were furies given draconic form, fighting the rival clan tooth and claw and wing. Von - gentle, softspoken Von - took the helm, stepping so neatly into the role of general that Osireion wondered how he'd missed it before, with the empathetic Inesha and the seers Tiakima and Kandofri as his eyes and ears on the field. And above them all, magnificent and terrible, rose the mages. After seeing his new clan in battle, united by their fury and rage, Osireion understands why fate drew him here. Ista, though seemingly divided and separated into so many different sects, has it's own ebb and flow, and though he still misses the HIdden Sanctum, he finds himself joining in with his new clanmates banter. They are a friendly bunch, when not on the battlefield, and they treat all newcomers with careful regard and welcoming smiles. He serves the clan with joy.