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There was a feud of clans that spanned for centuries; pitting two types against each other. The white dragons: shining scales as bright as fresh snow adorned these large bodied creatures. Their brilliant blue eyes glimmering and giving them the appearance of pure regality. Legends told of their flight patterns to be of utmost beauty and grace, it was believed that for one to witness one of the dragons in flight they would be granted a blessing. These adept creatures were known for their nobility and became praised and worshiped for their purity. And the black dragons: a midnight shade coats the large plates that veil over the slender skeleton-esque bodies of these creatures. The piercing red eyes they possess give them a domineering attitude and an intimidation factor unmatched by other dragons. According to lore, they stalk the skies within the cover of darkness, blending in with their surroundings they can only be seen in flight or lurking the grounds in the shine of the moon streaking their jet black shells. It was believed that to see one was a bad omen and certainly meant an ill fate. These dark dragons were demonized and feared for ages. The origins of the feuding clans were misconstrued as the years became decades, and so on.

For years the war waged on, for majority of the time the opposing forces met at a stale mate; occasionally there were fluctuations in which one side would take the upperhand, otherwise the normal loss on both sides. The war would end in a tragic event that no monster could have imagined, both sides lost a great percentage of their numbers; leaving few surviving and those who did were weakened. As the years passed the two diminished but not deceased clans slowly tried to regain their numbers. The black dragons found more luck in doing so compared to the white dragons; due to their nocturnal activity and nests in seclusion they had more opportunities to produce offspring. The white dragons were forced into hiding and were considered extremely rare due to their low numbers.

In recent times the black dragon clan (despite being no where near their original numbers, although still much better off than the white dragon clan) went on the search for the remaining numbers of Blue eyes white dragons. The rare dragons over time became so valuable that monsters would fight to obtain them. Two sides formed in the search. The Protectors and the Captors. The protectors wished to keep the dragons in safety for the ultimate goal of regaining their numbers, the captors on the other hand wished to keep the dragons for their value; both sides had a handful of radicals that posed risks to the dragons themselves, making the search even more difficult. Radical protectors, being so overbearing would not allow the dragons to socialize with others and were forced to breed with dragons of the opposite sex to produce growth in their numbers. Radical captors, being cruel hearted would sometimes kill the dragons to increase the value of the others. As the common belief was, the red eyes black dragons favored the role of captors.

As of the general gossip spreading through the valley, the Blue eyes numbered to an estimated total of under one hundred. The Red eyes clan had risen to barely five hundred. Within the clan they possessed twelve of the white dragons, seven of them were mid adolescents, four were fully mature, and the last was an elder. The net worth of these creatures surpassed high valued spells, traps and even monsters more than ten times as strong as them.

A Black dragon Lord by the name of Kra'zzerix laid in his large den. He had recently became a Lord and did not have much to his name. There were other lords within the clan, some with followers and castles, as well as much talk of claiming more white dragons and some side gossip of black dragons keeping them for themselves. Kra'zzerix thought to himself in the den. "If I were to get my hands on a white dragon...I wouldn't even know what I'd do." He looked up for a moment and sighed heavily before raising to his hind legs. "Might as well go out and go take a look, it is nearing the midnight hour." His large leathery black wings spread wide as he padded towards the mouth of his den, flapping twice he took to the air ascending into the shroud of darkness.

The luminous moon in the sky brought a serenity unto the valley. The dragon lord scanned the floor and open layout under him finding little activity, the occasional nocturnal creature lurking about or the gentle shifting of foliage the only signs of movement. There was a calm breeze that wafted over the valley. Kra'zzerix released a gentle sigh drifting around, the lord would only be out for an hour or two; ensuring that his den does not wind up with a new owner.

The black dragon pondered his life as he glided. He was of the second generation post-war clutch, which was a fairly stable period to grow up in. In his youth he was an obstreperous whelp, always the one to play too rough and pick fights. Growing up proved to be difficult for him, he was slightly bigger than the rest of the whelps his age and by far matured faster. His independence made him a candid for becoming a great fighter, should he have chosen to go down that path. In adolescence he found himself incommunicado, only making actions he deemed necessary. His encounters with others were best described as lackluster; the others admired his collective demeanor and intolerance for anything that didn't meet his prerequisite, yet no one was able to get close enough to really know him. As mating season washed in he was listed as one of the ideal males that most females and some males had a preference for; having that knowledge in mind (along with a few unsavory encounters with assertive dragonesses) he settled in a sequestered location within the mid-regions of the mountain. He never found a suitable mate for himself: not that he had any quarrel about it, but over the years he did find that his seclusion would eventually get the best of him.

As Kra'zzerix's thoughts began to distract him, unconsciously he started flying out of the valley borders. He was only snapped back into reality by the sound of a monster setting off a spell.

"Hm, it seems I've strayed off course."

The dark Lord dipped his left wing down and banked, upon his return to the borderlines a glimmer from below caught his eye making him look down; had the moon not been as bright he would have missed it. Slowly Kra'zzerix descended towards the ground, as he lowered the glimmer became brighter. There was a particular brilliance about the white light that gently radiated in the moon's luminescence that he couldn't put a claw on, by the time his altitude dropped to 100 feet he made out the glimmer to be a dragon. His eyes widened seeing the rare creature.

"A blue eyes white dragon!"

The dragon's red eyes narrowed focusing in as he continued his slow descent to reveal there was not one, but three. A wide grin spread across his face seeing the three.

"And not just one..."