Post by Vak'Rom on Nov 22, 2009 22:15:22 GMT -5
Name: Nabel
Age: Est. 20’s, unknown dragon years (He doesn’t keep track of his birthdays, or even the current date)
Gender: male
Race: Predominantly Blue Dragon (Desert-dwelling variety), Shapeshifts to Elf
Alliance: East
Appearance: Elven: Light brown skin and long white hair. Usually sticks to desert-like attire even while in town.
((Draconian)): Average-looking blue dragon, a bit small for his age. In the darkness, it would appear his scales were lightly glowing blue from the static electric currents across them.
Personality: Overall, good-natured. Extremely laid back and generally tends to do whatever he pleases. In town, he tends to flirt with the ladies and chat with the men over a pint of grog. On the battlefield, one could not wish for a more loyal soldier.
Weapons: Halberd, Scimitar, Lightning breath and claws in dragon form.
Powers/Abilities: Dragon Shapeshift (15’ in length, weak build and small for a dragon his age. This form is generally used for other utilities such as flying. Has an average strength lightning breath attack.)
History:
Nabel was born and raised for a short time as a dragon in the desert. As the runt of the litter, he would have been abandoned or rejected by the mother. But his disability proved to be a strength being raised by an inexperienced mother making care mistakes here and there, like building a nest far from prey so hunting trips took a bit of time. Six draklings suddenly became three. Predators too often made their way into the nest, but the surviving draklings grew stronger with each encounter. All but Nabel, who developed wit while the others developed brawn. First, the runt figured out how to hide in crevices the other draklings couldn’t fit in. Then, he developed a sense of scheming; how to fake an injury to grab a hawk’s attention, then wait for the opportune moment to slash at the throat or leap on its back where its defenses are useless. The little whelp was almost self-sufficient… Only, he couldn’t yet digest food on his own.
The largest care mistake their poor inexperienced mother made was that when she couldn’t find a meal, she’d steal domestic camels from the stables drawing the attention of furious travelers. Trackers raided the nest one night, separating the mother from her offspring, which scattered in the confusion. For the next four days, Nabel wandered, feeding on small prey and favored cactus- not only was it refreshing, but he could hide in it when a predator came too close.
The end of the fourth day was approaching and he had to seek shelter from nocturnal predators and the biting cold. He found adequate shelter in some ancient ruins along a mountain range. Being the rambunctious little dragon he was, he playfully headbutted a pedestal to knock over the curiously glowing pot that sat upon it. The pot leaned dangerously back. Then wobbled forward- crash! The backfired plan ended up with an unconscious drakling sprawled on the ground, surrounded by the shards of a magical artifact.
Nabel woke to voices outside the ruins. Scrambling in a panic, he quickly found that running on all fours no longer worked efficiently. His soft flesh was sliced open by the shards of broken pottery. The voices belonged to a group of explorers inspecting the ruins, shocked to discover an elven child in the middle of the desert. He couldn’t speak their language, but it was assumed he was lost. They took him to an orphanage in Silvabayne City, where he remained until he was- or at least looked- of age. There, he learned to speak Common and trained constantly to become a skilled fighter. He keeps his true origin a secret; to most he simply tells he was separated from his family by raiders- He wouldn’t exactly be lying.
Occupation: Warrior
Age: Est. 20’s, unknown dragon years (He doesn’t keep track of his birthdays, or even the current date)
Gender: male
Race: Predominantly Blue Dragon (Desert-dwelling variety), Shapeshifts to Elf
Alliance: East
Appearance: Elven: Light brown skin and long white hair. Usually sticks to desert-like attire even while in town.
((Draconian)): Average-looking blue dragon, a bit small for his age. In the darkness, it would appear his scales were lightly glowing blue from the static electric currents across them.
Personality: Overall, good-natured. Extremely laid back and generally tends to do whatever he pleases. In town, he tends to flirt with the ladies and chat with the men over a pint of grog. On the battlefield, one could not wish for a more loyal soldier.
Weapons: Halberd, Scimitar, Lightning breath and claws in dragon form.
Powers/Abilities: Dragon Shapeshift (15’ in length, weak build and small for a dragon his age. This form is generally used for other utilities such as flying. Has an average strength lightning breath attack.)
History:
Nabel was born and raised for a short time as a dragon in the desert. As the runt of the litter, he would have been abandoned or rejected by the mother. But his disability proved to be a strength being raised by an inexperienced mother making care mistakes here and there, like building a nest far from prey so hunting trips took a bit of time. Six draklings suddenly became three. Predators too often made their way into the nest, but the surviving draklings grew stronger with each encounter. All but Nabel, who developed wit while the others developed brawn. First, the runt figured out how to hide in crevices the other draklings couldn’t fit in. Then, he developed a sense of scheming; how to fake an injury to grab a hawk’s attention, then wait for the opportune moment to slash at the throat or leap on its back where its defenses are useless. The little whelp was almost self-sufficient… Only, he couldn’t yet digest food on his own.
The largest care mistake their poor inexperienced mother made was that when she couldn’t find a meal, she’d steal domestic camels from the stables drawing the attention of furious travelers. Trackers raided the nest one night, separating the mother from her offspring, which scattered in the confusion. For the next four days, Nabel wandered, feeding on small prey and favored cactus- not only was it refreshing, but he could hide in it when a predator came too close.
The end of the fourth day was approaching and he had to seek shelter from nocturnal predators and the biting cold. He found adequate shelter in some ancient ruins along a mountain range. Being the rambunctious little dragon he was, he playfully headbutted a pedestal to knock over the curiously glowing pot that sat upon it. The pot leaned dangerously back. Then wobbled forward- crash! The backfired plan ended up with an unconscious drakling sprawled on the ground, surrounded by the shards of a magical artifact.
Nabel woke to voices outside the ruins. Scrambling in a panic, he quickly found that running on all fours no longer worked efficiently. His soft flesh was sliced open by the shards of broken pottery. The voices belonged to a group of explorers inspecting the ruins, shocked to discover an elven child in the middle of the desert. He couldn’t speak their language, but it was assumed he was lost. They took him to an orphanage in Silvabayne City, where he remained until he was- or at least looked- of age. There, he learned to speak Common and trained constantly to become a skilled fighter. He keeps his true origin a secret; to most he simply tells he was separated from his family by raiders- He wouldn’t exactly be lying.
Occupation: Warrior