Nah'f Rockscale

Nah'f Rockscale, born Nah'f Bluescale, was a dragonborn warrior that carried the Esperedge called the Great Red One and eventually inhabited it as a spirit.

## History

### Early Life

Nah'f spent his adolescence plagued by the politics of the Dragonborn in their grand city of Seosaidh. Born of the Blue Scale, Nah'f and his kin were never safe from the scorn of the Metal Scales. Reinforced with their superiority amongst the Council of Wyrms the Metal Scales harassed and ridiculed any "low born" Chromatic Scales, and this included Nah'f. Nah'f' looked up to his older brother Thru'un, who was a great warrior and who followed directly in their father's footsteps joining the forefront of politics in Seosaidh. The Chromatic dragons that sat on the Council did not always follow the rules of their society and often used intimidation and death threats to get what they wanted, more often resorting to silent acts of violence against the Metallic families.

At the age of 10, Nah'f Bluehide gathered as many provisions as he could stuff into a traveler's satchel and fled North into the wilds, fleeing the grim fate of politics and violence and never bidding farewell to his kin.

For the first few days, the wild was a paradise. No conflict. No pressure. But soon, Nah'f realized, no food! When the provisions began to run low, Nah'f struggled with hunting for the first few weeks, surviving mainly from wild fruits and berries. With patience, Nah'f was soon able to hunt boars and squirrels. Finding refuge within a hollowed tree, Nah'f was again living life exactly how he wanted - in peace and free.

A few months into his hermitage, Nah'f began to realize he was not alone in the wild. Learning to hide from orcs and goblin-kin, growing arrogant in his own skill, Nah'f was ambushed in his tree-home one evening by a scouting party of orcs who captured and took Nah'f as a slave. Many years passed with Nah'f bound by the orc tribe where he spent most of his days digging and hauling at the tribe's will. At first he often thought of the home back in Seosaidh, longing for it's protection. After much contemplation, Nah'f knew his fate thus far would have been the same. A slave for the Orcs, or a slave to his own people. He could sometimes recall the feeling of freedom he briefly had on his own, relishing in those precious moments and longing for the day to be free to run wild again.

The war drums awoke Nah'f from his slumber within the slave pens. Like thunder from all directions, the drums echoed through the night growing louder... closer. Confused, Nah'f watched as the orcs babbled orders for arms and defense and attempted to organize their war camp. The war drums ceased, and a grim silence swept across the night for a few seconds. An unmistakable Dragonborn warcry pierced the silence, followed by what seemed to be a thousand more. As if they rose from the earth itself, dragonborn warriors descended upon the Orc Warcamp from every direction. What Nah'f noticed first was the tribesmen all adorned the same color battlegear, but these were Chromatic and Metallic dragonborn fighting along-side each other. Atleast one of every different variation of scale color was present in the tribe. The battle was over in minutes, and the entire orc tribe was eradicated. After gathering what useful resources the orcs had in the camp, the Dragonborn warriors began to depart. The leader of the warriors was a Dragonborn wielding the biggest Greataxe Nah'f had ever seen in his life. The axe was firey red like the scales of the Dragonborn who wielded it. Before departing, the leader free'd Nah'f and the other slaves from their shackles. The leader heard Nah'f's tale of Seosaidh, fleeing into the wilds, and his time enslaved by the orcs as they travelled back to their village. Never once did the leader offer sympathies or compassion to Nah'f, only listened.

Upon their return to the village, and without any warning at all, the Leader picked Nah'f up from where he stood and threw him what must have been twenty feet away. Confused and shocked, Nah'f lie there gasping for air while the Leader spoke. "I am Kronus Rockscale, and this is the home of the Rockscale tribe. The Rockscale are first and foremost warriors sworn to defend each other and our way of life from all evils of the world. The weak orcish tribe you served, they were evil. And the Seosaidh politics that run so thick in your blood, they are evil."

With every word, Nah'f cringed. These are not the things that he would choose to define himself. He only wished to be free, to live like the tribe before him. "You are no warrior, allowing yourself to serve such lesser creatures for so long." Nah'f could feel his blood starting to boil. This life. This is all he wanted, why does Kronus not see that?

"You are weak, and we have-" before the great red Dragonborn could utter another word, Nah'f found himself lunging at him with reckless abandon. Taking the red by surprise, Nah'f's clenched fist connected with the Leader's jawbone.

Kronus began to chuckle. "There it is, young one. That burning flame that burns on inside of us, children of Saland. However, you will need a lot more..." Kronus kicked Nah'f in the chest, flattening him to the ground "..if you ever wish to challenge me."

HOLY SHIT THIS IS GETTING OUT OF HAND

-Nah'f joins the tribe, fights with, lives alongside, loves, starts a family over the course of ten peaceful years. Nah'f becomes the best warrior in the tribe, with only the exception of Kronus - who whoops Nah'f's ass every time.

-Black dragon attacks the tribe and kills everyone. The entire tribe is decimated in front of Nah'f. At the end of the battle, only Kronus and Nah'f were left to combat the mighty black dragon. The dragon kills Kronus and the dragon leaves Nah'f gasping for air and choking on his own blood.

-The next thing Nah'f remembers is slipping in and out of conciousness at the Healer Hut in Stasi. After a few weeks of recovery, Nah'f is well enough to leave the Healer and offered to pay for the services. The healer declines Nah'f's offer saying that the debt was already paid. When Nah'f inquired how he arrived in Stasi, the healer simply told him he was dropped on the doorstep with a bag of gold and an obnoxious red axe and that she did not see anyone in particular.

-The healer shows Nah'f outside where he was left on the ground, and points to the giant red greataxe that still lie there. "No one around here can even pick that thing up, let alone steal it." (Kronus' Greataxe)

-Nah'f is tormented constantly with images and nightmares of the slaughter of his tribe and family. His heart weighs heavy with regret, he believes he was meant to die along-side his brothers in the tribe