Nauraki's page

Naura first saw a dragon at age seven. Working the fields with her family, as she had day after day since she could walk. The shadow passed over her in a moment, and looking up, saw the sun glinting off its majestic copper form, wings seeming to stretch from horizon to horizon. Elevhemior, her father called it, and went on ploughing. Protector of the hills of northern Andoran. A friend to humans, even. No orc horde or evil demon would dare set foot in Elevhemior’s demesne, he said.

Naura first spoke to a dragon at age eleven. By then, her power had begun to manifest. At the harvest festival, she had slapped Olthar, Meggin’s son, for lifting up her skirt, and by some strange magic had torn a chunk of flesh from his cheek. Olthar kept his distance after that, but so did all the other children. Playing alone in the woods behind the farm, a woman with lustrous copper hair came upon her. The woman touched her cheek, called her beautiful, and promised to look after her. After the woman was gone, Naura was, for the briefest moment, convinced the skin on her cheek felt just like a scale.

Naura first mourned a dragon at age fifteen. Long before word made it to her village from the larger holdfasts and townships, she felt her body grow cold and a shadow settle on her soul. She knew then that the great Elevhemior had passed from this world. Had somehow been slain. And that the connection to the copper dragon she had felt all her life had fatefully and finally been severed.

Naura first dreamed of a dragon at age sixteen. When she woke, screaming, she remembered nothing more than the feeling of flames consuming her body. The dreams came often thereafter. Always fire. Always pain. And beneath it, a dark, winged presence, like an evil reflection of Elevhemior.

A poor farmer’s daughter, cursed with powers she could not explain and visions she feared with each night’s sleep, had little chance of finding answers in the hinterlands of Andoran. Leaving home, she sought answers in the cities, in the temples, in the quiet of the wilds. She learned to harness her powers, to seek solace in the light of Shelyn, to control her fear. And she learned a name that might hold the answers she sought - Dahak.

But her latest dream was filled not with the visage of Dahak, but of a village in Isger, burning in the same flames she knew oh so well....

Naura first saw a dragon at age seven. Working the fields with her family, as she had day after day since she could walk. The shadow passed over her in a moment, and looking up, saw the sun glinting off its majestic copper form, wings seeming to stretch from horizon to horizon. Elevhemior, her father called it, and went on ploughing. Protector of the hills of northern Andoran. A friend to humans, even. No orc horde or evil demon would dare set foot in Elevhemior’s demesne, he said.

Naura first spoke to a dragon at age eleven. By then, her power had begun to manifest. At the harvest festival, she had slapped Olthar, Meggin’s son, for lifting up her skirt, and by some strange magic had torn a chunk of flesh from his cheek. Olthar kept his distance after that, but so did all the other children. Playing alone in the woods behind the farm, a woman with lustrous copper hair came upon her. The woman touched her cheek, called her beautiful, and promised to look after her. After the woman was gone, Naura was, for the briefest moment, convinced the skin on her cheek felt just like a scale.

Naura first mourned a dragon at age fifteen. Long before word made it to her village from the larger holdfasts and townships, she felt her body grow cold and a shadow settle on her soul. She knew then that the great Elevhemior had passed from this world. Had somehow been slain. And that the connection to the copper dragon she had felt all her life had fatefully and finally been severed.

Naura first dreamed of a dragon at age sixteen. When she woke, screaming, she remembered nothing more than the feeling of flames consuming her body. The dreams came often thereafter. Always fire. Always pain. And beneath it, a dark, winged presence, like an evil reflection of Elevhemior.

A poor farmer’s daughter, cursed with powers she could not explain and visions she feared with each night’s sleep, had little chance of finding answers in the hinterlands of Andoran. Leaving home, she sought answers in the cities, in the temples, in the quiet of the wilds. She learned to harness her powers, to seek solace in the light of Shelyn, to control her fear. And she learned a name that might hold the answers she sought - Dahak.

But her latest dream was filled not with the visage of Dahak, but of a village in Isger, burning in the same flames she knew oh so well....