"You're a foolish whelp. A disappointment." Elder Argan said sternly, sitting with his back turned to his son, deep in the caverns where the Elder of the Western Elm Clan kept his archives. Garjan, normally a jolly, jesting dragon, kept his expression blank. These were the sorts of exchanges he'd come to expect from his father. He'd been dreading having this talk, knowing Argan would not give his blessings to Garjan's sudden departure from his clan.

"Fancy that." He replied curtly, as though waiting to be dismissed.

"Do you ever consider anyone but yourself? Do our teachings mean nothing to you? Your clan? Your kin? Your responsibility to them is so easily cast aside so you can inhabit the Southern Ash, and taint its legacy with your slovenly nonchalance?" Argan asked, voice firm but calm as he scolded his son.

"My talents will be put to better use when I can focus my time and energy solely on them. The clans will benefit." Garjan replied in an almost monotone voice. He was tired of trying to explain himself to the elder.

"Yes, the talents you've honed so well. Distilling spirits. Holding midnight revelries. Debauchery. Somehow you've not had your fill and you wish to fill your every waking hour with such nonsense. And so soon after Ollimar had abandoned us and his father, you'd do the same and have the gall to offer others to follow."

"Ollimar knew full well there was nothing but stagnation here." Garjan retorted quickly, causing the elder to turn to face him with the closest thing to a snarl he'd seen Argan wear in some time.

"A notion that I'm certain you stoked the flames of. A puck in his ear, sewing discontent. That seems to be your forte, Garjan. Bringing others down to your level instead of raising others up around you. You hold no small amount of blame for our loss of a shining emblem like Ollimar." Elder Argan all but spat, eyes narrowed at his son. Garjan only arched his brow a bit, maintaining the otherwise blank expression.

"Strange. When multiple of the Argansons abandon their teachings and leave the Western Elm, you have to stop and think about the common denominator. Is it not the Elder's position to take responsibility?" Garjan asked, knowing it would rile his father. A low rumbling growl rolled from the elder forest dragon, disgust plastered across his muzzle as he sized up his progeny.

"You are not worthy to carry my name. A disgrace to our clan, our ways, our kind. I should never have brought you up in the Western Elm. I should have left you to be raised in the Northern Pine." Argan sneered, turning his muzzle up at the young male. Garjan's blank expression slowly softened, a more charatarisitc grin spreading across his muzzle as he lifted himself to a stand.

"But you didn't, father. Yet another mistake you'll need to take responsibillity for." Garjan snickered a bit as he turned, padding out of his father's study on his own terms. "When the first harvest season comes, I'll send the Western Elm a bountiful aid. We'll see, then, if you're too proud to accept it."

Garjan didn't bother to look back, despite knowing the expression on the elder's face was likely to die for. Still, he'd made up his mind, padding out of that cavern and into the sunny forest. The big green inhaled deeply, eyes slipping closed for a moment to appreciate his last moments as a resident of the Western Elm, before he spread his wings and leapt skyward. Garjan flew, the rune-covered young dragon heading south to start his own life. At long last his own dragon, staring his own clan. Finally beholden to no one, the green could only smile. Freedom felt amazing, already.

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Here we have an awesome piece I managed to win from a raffle from the super cool SaucySalmon over on Twitter. Be sure to give em a follow!


Here we have a young Garjan, before putting on some extra weight and before his horn was shattered. I love how this piece turned out and wanted to give a glimpse into the lazy green's relationship with his former clan and its leader, his father Elder Argan.

Garjan goes on to establish the Southern Ash clan as a safe haven for any who seek shelter, no questions asked. Though such a place tends to attract questionable fugitive types, Garjan manages to keep it a true neutral zone, while cultivating his botany, alchemy and medicinal talents, sharing his bounty with his former clan, and others, happily.