You come to realize that flying through the fog is impossible, that you've landed yourself in some sort of death trap. Where are you? Your compass spins in an endless circle as frustrated as your mind, and soon your wings grow tired and you feel yourself begin to falter. The waves below you lap hungrily at the endless fog, the stones and broken bows of long-forgotten vessels decorating a blackened ocean in a demonic gesture. Yes, you've landed at the gates of Hell, the fetus of misery and deception that will soon swallow the entire world.
But then, a cool breeze brushes past your aching wings, soft and warm like a tropical mist. You pick up pace, both out of desperation and pure curiosity, and the farther you fly the sparser the fog becomes. As the fog begins to clear, so does your mind, and you notice how tranquil and calm the seas below you have become, as if in the eye of a hurricane - and then, off in the distance, you see land. But not like any sort of land you'd ever seen - beautiful mountains lace the skies with snow, and down below you see a tropical forest so vast and alive with untouched grandeur.
When you finally reach the sandy beaches of a steep overhang, you practically crash into the warmth. The sun beats down on your scales soothingly, and between the thudding ache of your mind you hear a calming mixture of ocean waves and wild birds of paradise. You then imagine the excitement of mapping out this entire island, returning home with new discoveries and knowledge to share with your family. The loneliness is blissful; you can recollect here, nap in peace with your wings spread out and nothing but the warm sand to guide you into a deep slumber.
Your relaxation does not last long, however. You hear the subtle crack of twigs off in the distance. They grow louder, more sophisticated and proud - this is no minor beast foraging for food, you realize. You scramble upwards with what strength you have left, but as panic sets in once again you understand that there's no way you'll be able to fight back - the footsteps are one too many, maybe ten of them, and you quickly swallow your blissful foolishness. This island was just too good to be true.
A spear lands in your back, right below your collarbone, and you crash into the ground in agony. Your mind wavers, but eventually all you feel is a helpless pain, and you wonder how merciful the fog would have been compared to this. You scan for your attackers, but what you see is dozens of masked dragons - like barbarians, they carry twisted spears and shields, but their golden and silver armor flickers in the sun as if the gods themselves had blessed their scales.
They do not move in the shadows except for one, one unmasked dragon who approaches you with glistening eyes. They sniff doubtfully, as if your presence has left a vile tang in the air; you try to get a glimpse of their face, but their features are a clear sign of hybridization.
It plants its claws down on the spear that has left a bright red hole in you, and pulls it out quickly and precisely. The attacker surveys you for a moment, and someone in the background mutters a few words, but you do not understand their foreign language. The hybrid snorts, flares its wings, and angles the spear inches away from your tearful eyes. You knew it was too good to be true.
Overview
A group of dragons who originally fled the continent after refusing to join the newly divided tribes, the Sovereign have since dissolved into little more than a legend among their ancestors - a scapegoat for the disappearances of dragons at sea and the allures of those who seek unity among their differences. Voodoo in their traditions, any sightings of these mysterious individuals has yet to be recorded, although many believe that there are incognito members spying on the Pyrrhian dragons and gathering intel from local informants. Rumors indicate that they reside in the southwestern seas below the rainforest and off the coast of the Sand Kingdom, in a range that is now heavily avoided due to heavy fog and the commonality of boats going in and never returning.
Characteristics
Due to their limited contact with outsiders, the Sovereign have a noticeable amount of hybrids, many of which are bred beyond comparison to the original Pyrrhian and Pantalan tribes. There are also individuals who made the mistake of washing up on their shores, or members of conquered villages from lands afar; many of the Sovereign are descendants of such cases, as gaining more members - albeit by force - has become a way to prevent inbreeding and promote genetic diversity among the elusive group. Habitually, Sovereign field workers will sometimes buy eggs off of MudWing females, grab unsuspecting RainWing eggs, and barter for young dragonets in an attempt to continue this desire for biodiversity.
Society
Unlike their mainlander cousins, the Sovereign consider hybrids to be favorable above purebreds, to an extent that almost considers them to be superior. However, social class is generally based on a distinct variety of skills, and dragons who contribute more to society tend to be more rewarded. This creates a strong sense of contribution and cooperation among the Sovereign, who often rely on localized agricultural means to survive. Those who farm and hunt are favored above those who "don't contribute" to society, such as artists and writers, and thus the fine arts have almost been completely blotted from the island society.
Government
Sovereign laws are harsh, and most crimes result in execution. Bribery is not tolerated and every dragon is treated with the same punishment regardless of social status, but severe crimes are rarely committed on the island; few dragons would actually attempt to commit a major crime, as most are afraid of the torture that rises from it. Crimes often result in execution, extreme prison sentences, or death at the hands of the Judge.
The Judge
Most notably is the Sovereign's "final trial", and much like the SkyWings, an accused dragon has the opportunity to fight to the death in order to gain their impartial freedom. If one manages to defeat the current Judge in battle, then the winner will become the new Judge, holding the position until they die. It is far from an actual choice of freedom, and almost all past Judges have been criminally accused murderers or war criminals; the current Judge, Behemoth, has held her title for over fifty years.
History
Beginning of the Sovereign
After the Scorching came to a close and dragons were slowly traversing their new surroundings, borders eventually rose up between the tribes, who, after mapping out Pyrrhia, divided themselves based on their individual traits and environmental habits.
At first, dragons rarely noticed these boundaries. Trading was prosperous as they began to rebuild, and much like the times before the Scorching, intertribal marriages were common. However, tensions eventually rose up from territorial disputes — trade became difficult due to the wild conditions of the wasteland, and dragons began to hoard en mass what little supplies and food they could find. Life soon became a matter of picking sides, and in the case of the dragons, one's side was naturally their tribe of origin — your family, your friends, your neighbors.
wip
Discovery of Early Pantala
Spies Sent to the Mainland
LeafWing Exodus
Members
Current Ruler
The Judge
Behemoth