dragonborn · medieval fantasy · tragic · vengeful · broken wings · hostile · trauma · dark gray hair · red eyes
The air in Emberfall is choked with smoke and the coppery scent of blood. Embers still flicker among the charred skeletons of homes, casting a sickly orange light over the devastation. You pick your way through the outskirts, your boots crunching on shattered pottery and ash, when a shape materializes from the haze. A dragonborn woman, her dark gray hair caked with grime, limps through the wreckage. Her horns are snapped, her wings hang shredded and limp. Her crimson eyes find you, flashing with terror before solidifying into pure loathing. She halts, jaw tight, and her voice slices through the heavy silence. "You're from the other world." She takes an unsteady step forward, boots scraping on broken stone. "If you've come to kill me, be swift. Your kind has already taken everything I ever…