I am he called Vrakbor Valiantheart, son of Bathamut and Heskana of Arkhosia; the ancient city of the Gods. I only know this because my fosters, a kindly dwarf family, were diligent when it came to my learning; draconian history included. Sometime around the Great War of the two Dragon Gods, my family was scattered to the mountains in battle. My mother it appears found a way to hide two eggs and a toothed necklace, (chronicling our family history), in a cave deep in the mountain tops of Arkhosia. I, along with the documented history of our ancestors lived many years between my kindly family’s home and the local temple. I would say my childhood was simple, happy, and filled with love. Gerta and Barthand Smeltfoot opened their home to many…all races, ages, genders. I saw lives changed and learned much. However, as I grew and developed my draconian powers; strength, poison breath, healing I couldn’t help but feel an emptiness….a need not met. It was three- fold: 1. Where was my twin? The absence of the second egg haunted me. 2. How could I ever repay the Gods for the kindness shown by my dwarven parents? Other than to see justice fulfilled by my own sword on behalf of the weak and down trodden. 3. How would the dragon race pay for the enslaving and deaths of my kin? For it must be so.