The Dragonborns Claws

The Dream And The Mage

 You look up at your mothers face, covered in fear and breathing hard, she runs with you through the castle, shouting and the clashing of weapons and armor behind you.  Behind you is a huge beast, wearing rough armor and a mouthful of enormous snarling teeth. He chases you down, knocking down everything in his path.

A few days ago you only just gained consciousness, you dont understand words, but can remember feelings. She passes you to a guard decorated in shining golden armor, and he runs out of the castle. You open your eyes and the dream floats away, leaving only fleeting memories. Youve had this dream before, it always leaves you with the same feeling...

(Pov change)

Freya gets out of her small cot, stretching her scaly arms and legs until the stiffness of sleep goes away. She goes to the mirror in her small room and inspects herself, rubbing of the dirt from her beautiful golden scales until theyre at an acceptable glimmer. Freya is a four year old dragonborn, which by human standards, would be the same as an eleven or twelve year old, and a proud one too. For most of her life she lived in a medium sized cottage with her elven parents, in secret.

She goes to greet her mother, Griftla, who is busy in the kitchen preparing breakfast. "Mum, can I go into the woods and eat breakfast there today? I promise I'll study when I get back." Her mother sighed "I guess, but remember not to go any farther than the creek. I don't-" "yeah yeah I know, Dragonborns aren't exactly welcome here. Ill be careful." Before Griftla could scold her, Freya was out the door and in the woods.

Despite being a fire-breathing dragonborn, Freya loved nothing more than nature, and spent most of her time in the nearby woods isolated from others. Here she began to notice her gifts, communicating with the the small creatures was always more interesting than being with the other elven children that she used to watch. She met a cat who called himself North, and though he was snotty at times, he was Freyas's best friend.

After a small breakfast of goodberries, she and North decide to go explore. in the distance they hear the sound of crackling and ringing. "Hey North do you hear that?" "Of course I do, it's obnoxious. Let's go check it out." As they crept closer through the bushes, there was a crash behind them. "AHH!" Freya screamed, getting the attention whoever made the sounds. A dark Shadow is cast over her, and the beast stumbles closer, startled and angered by Freyas scream.

 The creature is almost humanoid, but with gray skin and oversized fangs, it can hardly be called human. "Gash will kill stowaway." His thundering voice echos in the forest, knocking Freya to the ground and scaring away North. Just as he raises his pitch black mace, a beam of light shoots at him right at the chest, pushing him back and burning his leathery skin. Freya watches, frozen in fear, as a mage jumps out of the bushes, firing blast after blast at the monsterous creature.

Each of his movements are as graceful as dancer, he is an elf, and it shows. His hands move as quick and fluidly as his mouth while he whispers his spells. Freya had always been slightly jealous of elven grace, and she achingly remembers this as she makes futile attempts to hide herself in a hollowed tree... The mage lands a blast of light right in the creatures eye, and he lets out roar so loud it shakes the earth. As he stomps away, he knocks down and crushes anything in his path. The elven man stands there, still in a ready stance for another round. He breathes, then relaxes each of his muscles one by one...

He turns to Freya with an icy glare.