Acidic-Faith

// Dang, I'm getting really obsessed over my trauma baby at this point

Acidic-Faith

// For now he has a hot temper. Though his mannerisms would be closer to that of a beast afraid of being caged. He also dissmises insults nearly instantly, already strong in the belief it's just what is to be expected of something lesser like him. He had never understood love, whether familial, romantic or even friendship.
          
          He loves the cold, sweet foods, campfires and he has a strange fondness for music. He also enjoys his own pain to an extent.
          
          He dislikes lacking feeling in his body, being physically harassed, hot and humid climates and confrontations.
          
          Hope this clears some things up, might add more as I think of it.

Acidic-Faith

// Lemme break it down for you
          
          Arðinn Ættardauði is a dragonborn of few words. His scales are black. Older scales out of his sight have gotten golden flecks in between them and some even grew out to be more gold than black. His scales are mostly broken, chipped, split or even missing in places. He is scarred from what looks to be fatal tuffles with wild animals. He is very young, being concidered someone who had just entered adulthood, though the caverns on his skin would tell you he had lived a long life already.
          
          He isn't really the smartest. He doesn't know how to write in common and sticks to his people's dialect of Draconic mostly. He also had a little of trouble distinguishing between right and wrong since he came from a clan of violent raiders that worshipped the god of death by killing, raiding and dying gloriously. All for the chance to be a guardian of the underworld.
          
          He keeps some of those traditions alive, but he would rather not be associated from the place he came from. They made sure his life was hell before he was removed from their holds. He then wandered the world, seeking peace and a new path in his life. A new page.
          
          He kept following visions and whispers of a great silvery dragon. He hoped it was the one that saved him and told him he could become so much more than just the death of his clan.
          
          He currently still walks that path, being on it for two or so years now. He has a long path ahead filled with lessons in kindness, patients and temperament. Ao he wanders with nothing more than the furs that barely classify as clothing, a shield and spear. And of course, a trusty handaxe.