Dungeons and Dragons Original PC Character

Backstory:

Ash settled quietly upon the shroud of stone that covered the likeness of the Lady of the Flame. In days past her hands reached out to grasp an everburning flame; but now as the city smolders her flame burns no more. Her kind scaled face looked ever downward and appeared to contemplate her lonely reflection in the shallow pool that surrounded her.

Abruptly a large clawed hand smashed the image, and in a flurry of white foam a young fiery colored dragonborn crawled from the water. Coughing violently he collapsed in exhaustion at the dragoness’ feet. The young drake unaware of, or possibly not caring, payed no attention to the destruction that raged in the city around the sanctuary.

Still dripping water, he brushed his roughened hand across his scaled forehead. His stomach lurched and a cold sweat added to his already damp skin as he felt sturdy rough horns branching from his scalp. “No, No, No,” he stammered as he whirled about and gazed into the pool. A look of horror crossed over the jagged sharp features that form his draconic face. His striking green eyes narrowed as horror twisted into disgust. Turning away he sunk down against the cold stone rim of the pool. His mind wandered back to the events of the previous evening.

---

The so called “Inheritors of the Flame” led a revolt in the northern territories and established a rebel government in the city of Darkscale. After months of battle the Heironeous Coalition of Human Nations had finally breached their outer defences and were laying siege to the inner city. Though he was not an assassin by trade, Razak was tasked with the duty of removing the dragonborn separatist who functioned as the defacto leader of the rebellion.

Fire rained down upon the residences as he snuck between them through darkened alleys. The vile drake had hid himself away within the confines of a shrine at the very heart of the city. It was reported he had proclaimed himself a god. The creature had a true serpentine tongue that could twist the minds of the masses with but a single spoken word.

Just outside the shrine he paused. The structure was of simple design; plain pillars lined the rectangular space and its center was open to the heavens. Oddly it was left unguarded but he could make out his target within. The drake was dressed in a simple grey cloak and his large form was hunched over before the statue as if in prayer.

Confident Razak drew out his short sword and charged up the steps into the sacred space. Without hesitation he rammed his sword toward the dragonborn’s back. Before contact a blinding light burst from the creature's body and he suddenly found himself struggling against the might of this powerful serpent, whose clawed hands now clasped the cutting blade and piercing yellow eyes stared into him.

“Ah, my Lady informed me of your coming,” the dragonborn calmly spoke in a rough aged voice. The old drake released Razak’s blade and stepped back, “I surrender to your custody wise apeling.”

“Before we go, our benevolent Lady has a mess,” but the old voice sputtered in a cough of blood. Unsure of what power the old serpent’s words held Razak had plunged his blade deep into the creature’s emerald chest. The drake stumbled and blood poured onto the stone floor. Though his body spasmed the drake’s eyes never left Razak. They burned with a yellow flame.

“Humans! Dragonborn! Don’t you understand we are the same in the Lady’s eyes!,” the drake croaked with his fading breath. “You and I are the same!”

Seeing the look of disdain in Razak’s eyes the drake’s words vibrated with a magical energy. “Ignorant fool. You understand nothing. I am your mirror and will show you your reflection!”

Time seemed to slow as the yellow gaze peered into Razak’s soul. He shuddered as the creature internal fire stilled. He turned to depart but his breath caught and a terrible pain raged within. Gasping he choked blood and saw a gaping wound growing in his chest, just where he had struck the creature. The world spun and everything went white.

The pain receded and he held his arm up to shield his eyes from the blinding light that now engulfed him. Before him a figure appeared, a silver dragoness clothed in a finely woven grey shroud. Her blue eyes burned brighter than even the surrounding light and raged with anger.

“Do you think you are a hero?,” she asked in a steely voice as she paced agitatedly before him. “You are not a hero, you are a murderer.”

Razak took in a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak but she sharply cut him off.

“Reason - why do mortals forego reason so easily? Do you not see!? There are evil forces brewing the darkness. I see now that I was mistaken in believing your kind can listen. You murdered my last Speaker, my last voice in the Mortal plane. I should erase you from existence.”

The flame behind her eyes brightened. “Actually, I have another idea. Do to your abhorrent actions I have no means through which I can enact my will upon the Mortal realm. I cannot sit idly by while this darkness threatens the living and neither shall you.”

The goddess ignited a blue flame in the palm of her hand and gently pressed it into Razak’s chest.

“Razak Fyrstorm, I do hereby bind you to me! A Cleric of the Lady of the Flame you shall hereafter be!”

Then with a malicious smile she added, “I am your mirror and will show you your reflection.”

The blue flame violently expanded consuming Razak’s entire body. His skin burst as spines and horns protruded from his back and head. He felt his bones and muscles vibrate and groan as they expanded in size. The flames grew hotter and his remaining skin burned away leaving bright red scales in their wake. As his face expanded and grew more angled, his eyes brightened from a common hazel to a brilliant green, behind which burned an internal flame.

---

Razak started from his contemplation as a nearby explosion echoed through the dying city. Awkward in his larger more muscular body he claws his way up to his feet. A quick glance told him he was still wearing the rags of his former uniform; blood crusting where he had been stabbed in the chest by the reflection of his own blade.

Feeling a sick compulsion he stumbled his way to the corpse of the cleric. While attempting to avoid making contact with the dead drake’s glazed eyes he quickly searched the body and found a pendant with the engraving of a blue flame. He ripped it from the corpse’s neck just in time to hear shouts of men from the shrine's entrance. “We have another serpent in here! Ready up men?!”

Razak froze. Should he try and confront them? He had recognized the voice. Would they understand? Then he thought, would he have understood if he was in their position? No. With a heavy heart and great trepidation Razak snuck out the back of the shrine and disappeared into the burning city streets.