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- Character Biography
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Chaceledon was in very rare form. He prized himself on beauty, as most dragons did. They were an arrogant and vain breed, from the ugliest tyrant lizard to the kindest wyrm, beauty was a value almost universally prized by dragons. This put blacksmithing low on the list of draconian priorities.
Yet Chaceledon was no ordinary dragon. Like the others he was vain, but he had been forced to forge weaponry for the Volker family. Thousands of years of being forced to do something had made him compromise his vanity for something far more fulfilling.
There was a chilling beauty in weaponry, particularly the rapier he was forging. He had rented a space in a small town just outside of Falwood, and was elegantly folding a piece of steel by hand. He was stripped down, his robes neatly folded about his waist in a frighteningly complex series of tucks and rolls. By undoing these, he could free the sleeves and cover himself. Indeed, one might have expected a blacksmith to shield himself from heat and flecks of steel. Being immune to the drawbacks of heat had its perks.
His hair was pulled up and back, pinned in place by long forks of ruby and brass. The waves of glittering gemstone and shining metal made his copper hair appear aflame. Kohl guarded his eyes from the brightness, though he couldn’t resist decorating his eyelids with gold and red coral dust.
His pieces were as out of place as he was. Fine knives that would balance on a bookleaf’s edge, rapiers light as a feather and strong as his own scales, axes as gifted in flight as their maker. Dragonforged weaponry had been coveted in a past age where his kind had been more common. Now? The stuff of legends hung on grimy walls in a backwoods town.
Humans came to stare at the man working with purple flames that could be felt three doors down. Even the inn extinguished its fireplace when Chaceledon worked. Was he demon, man or Fae? People didn’t quite know. They just knew disturbing him in his rare occurrences earned a tongue lashing no one was eager to walk off.
Chaceledon doused the rapier, his ears listening. Humanfire hissed. Dragonfire sang along the steel as though sirens curled along the edge. He withdrew the blade, and began to grind it.
Yet Chaceledon was no ordinary dragon. Like the others he was vain, but he had been forced to forge weaponry for the Volker family. Thousands of years of being forced to do something had made him compromise his vanity for something far more fulfilling.
There was a chilling beauty in weaponry, particularly the rapier he was forging. He had rented a space in a small town just outside of Falwood, and was elegantly folding a piece of steel by hand. He was stripped down, his robes neatly folded about his waist in a frighteningly complex series of tucks and rolls. By undoing these, he could free the sleeves and cover himself. Indeed, one might have expected a blacksmith to shield himself from heat and flecks of steel. Being immune to the drawbacks of heat had its perks.
His hair was pulled up and back, pinned in place by long forks of ruby and brass. The waves of glittering gemstone and shining metal made his copper hair appear aflame. Kohl guarded his eyes from the brightness, though he couldn’t resist decorating his eyelids with gold and red coral dust.
His pieces were as out of place as he was. Fine knives that would balance on a bookleaf’s edge, rapiers light as a feather and strong as his own scales, axes as gifted in flight as their maker. Dragonforged weaponry had been coveted in a past age where his kind had been more common. Now? The stuff of legends hung on grimy walls in a backwoods town.
Humans came to stare at the man working with purple flames that could be felt three doors down. Even the inn extinguished its fireplace when Chaceledon worked. Was he demon, man or Fae? People didn’t quite know. They just knew disturbing him in his rare occurrences earned a tongue lashing no one was eager to walk off.
Chaceledon doused the rapier, his ears listening. Humanfire hissed. Dragonfire sang along the steel as though sirens curled along the edge. He withdrew the blade, and began to grind it.