Identities/Avatars: The Dragon of Purity, The All-Dragon
Alignment: Unaligned
Worship by Race:
Dragonborn: 99%
Kobolds: 1%
-race 3-
Lay Practices/Rituals:
Cleric Rites/Rituals:


The Story of Dragons

The sand was still warm from the day's relentless sun. The days of the Desert of the New Moon were brutal, but the nights were harsh and relentless in their own way. The winds whipped across the desert at night and brought chills to the bone. It was now, in the twilight, when work to build camp was done.

The adults in the caravan were busy preparing the wagons for the night. The first watch quietly walked the perimeter with weapons in hand. Predators came out at night to warm their bellies on the black sand and to pick off unsuspecting travelers. The adults who were veterans of the trade route each had stories of coming across the bleached bones of a campsite, picked clean by beasts and bleached by the blowing sands.

The children sat huddled in blankets. Two Eladrin boys with silver hair. A stout dwarf girl with her dark hair in elaborate braids. A young Tiefling whose horns barely jutted out of his forehead. A human brother and sister alternately laughing and roughhousing with each other. They filled the air with giggling, shouts, and short conversations in the common tongue. The larger the caravan the more likely it would survive.

The children could not take their eyes of the hooded figure near the center of the camp. He circled the fire pit, mumbling and whispering to himself. His robes marked him as a master of arcana, but they were not the clean robes the wizards of Vizeris nor the hooded cloak of the Warlocks of the Ebony Tower. He was a Dragonborn, born with the form of a human but the makings of a dragon, an old one with leathery scales and a watery right eye. He had been hired as a guide for the caravan to ensure safe passage to The First Oasis. He was the first of his kind the children had ever seen.

The urgings of the silver-haired boys pushed the Dwarf girl forward. He tugged at the bottom of his robes.

"Can you tell us a story?"

The Dragonborn's chanting stopped. For a moment, the icy fear that they had angered the mysterious sorcerer gripped the children.

"In the beginning, there was only darkness," he said in the common tongue with the exotic hint of an accent.

The sorcerer spun suddenly, sending an arc of fire from his mouth over the heads of the children. The reaction ranged from terror to glee.

"Then came Sazar," he said, smoke billowing between his teeth. "It was he, First Dragon, who lit the sun ablaze and brought light to this world. He was the first to swoop low over the Neverlight Forest, when the sun still crept through the branches. It was he whose might bellow first echoed past the peaks of the Stonefrost Mountains, long before the Dwarves built the City of the Air. It was he who burned the very ground with his first steps. Those footprints were the beginning of this very desert in which you will sleep tonight."

The children sat in awestruck silence. The sorcerer adjusted the grip on his staff.

"Though he was unrivaled in power, Sazar was alone. His solitude weight upon him like a mountain. In time, he created children. Seven children. A number of good omen. The soon grew and were nearly as majestic as he. Seven. May you all be blessed with seven children."

"What were there names?" asked one of the Eladrin boys, his silvery eyes wide.

"Only one of the those dragons names are known. Ba'ha'm*t," the sorcerer said, using his draconic name.

"You mean Bahamut?" asked the other boy.

"So he has come to me known," said the sorcerer with a warm smile. The young Eladrin gave his brother a satisfied look.

"Bahamut," continued the sorcerer, " was the eldest and most wise. He was gifted with his father's wisdom and fairness. He would solve the disputes of the other dragons, and Sazar showered him with treasures beyond description."

"Like a silver castle?" asked the human girl. Her brother was trying to poke her into a reaction again, but the story's grip was strong.

"Castles of all kinds. Wherever Bahamut landed he was sought for his justice. Soon those of the other races turned to him as well."

"I was blessed by a cleric of Bahamut on my birthday," said the human girl. The dragonborn bowed his head. But when he looked at her, his head remained bowed and his voice dropped low.

"The other dragons grew jealous of Bahamut's position at the side of Sazar. They scoured the world looking for a way to bring their brother low. Their hatred grew and grew until the decided to do the unthinkable. They would combine their powers and destroy their father and their brother."

The sorceror turned to look at the young Tiefling boy, who looked ready to bolt to his family's tent.

"It was a night where there was no moon. The ritual was to be the next day. One of the children had a change of heart. She could not go through with the murder of those of her blood. She came to Bahamut in the night and told him of the plan. Five dragons. A bad omen. The five dragons would combine their essences - forms, powers, spirits. They would overpower anything in their way."

"Tiamat," said the other Eladrin boy, returning the satisfied look to his brother. The sorcerer let loose a blast of steam that started the boys back into silence.

"You would speak that name to me, child? Be careful when you say it, as it has five sets of ears to hear, five sets of claws to grasp, and five mouths to feed. The battle was joined. Bahamut and Sazar faced the five-headed beast. In the heat of battle, Sazar found that he could not harm his children even as they tore his skin and burned his creations. He could only watch as Bahamut fought five of his brothers and was cast down by their power. Sazar, overcome with grief, fled to seclusion to Thul'Sazar. The Mourning Mountain."

The dragonborn's finger crooked slowly toward the horizon, where a dark mountain silently poured ashes from its top. The sky was a bloody red.

"And yet," said the sorcerer, "this is a tale of triumph."

The children looked confused.

"Bahamut lives."

The children gasped.

"He lives in my heart. So long as the dragonborn live, his blood still flows. We were the plan hatched the night before Tiamat was born. We protect Thul'Sazar until the First Dragon awakens. We tell this tale to inspire you to take up swords against the kobolds, the orcs, and the other creations of evil that plague your lands. Someday you will tell this tale to children like yourselves, after you have become great heroes."

The dwarf girl smiled, as she had begun her warhammer lessons two days ago.

"Most importantly," said the dragonborn, "we also wait. Because we know, someday…"

He leaned in closely, his voice a whisper.

"Bahamut will return."

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