Legends of Belariath
Asaya
Like most of her kind, the golden dream had no childhood, had no fond or regretful memories of such. Merely awakening, fully grown, in the heated caverns within which her Elder prefered to keep residence. Her scales gleaming gold, like his, she was as close to a child as the older dragon had ever had. And yet she was no child, a servant, created from nothing, simply to serve his lust for knowledge, for the life that he had never lived.
Her first days spent in training, in learning to use the sword that was carried at her side, the shield that normally graced wingless back, discipline. And yet she was a wild thing, constantly sneaking off to explore the deeper, endless, caverns that connected that first, large room. A knight by creation. And yet a free spirit, feral in her nature, in her anger. Exhausting for the larger dragon-ken to keep up with, much less watch.. And soon enough she was sent away. Banished from the heated caverns with the endless treasure, hoarded as such, and dropped into the mountainous terain of the surrounding lands.
It was there that she truly came into her own. The dullard village humans afraid of the golden beauty, like a wild thing living in the woods, coersing them into giving her food and occasionally shelter as she learned more of the lands around them, her thirst for knowledge seeming boundless, as was her thirst for emotion.. From the thrill of her sword cutting into fighting flesh, to the caress of a lovers touch, she simply could not get enough. Eventually moving from that village, from the scared glances, the resentful offerings, into the world at large.
Wandering knight, attached to no one, nothing, except her Elder. Looking to find a place where she could settle, could grow without restraint, by sword, by lust. It was not until she walked from the forests surrounding the town of Belariath, that she knew she had found just the place. Simple farmers filling the street, merchants hocking their wares, and yet among those, were more exotic types. The overbearing barbarian hefting his blade. The slender nymph singing softly by the fountain. The mixture of races nearly overwhelming. A smile curving those green tatted lips as she would nod to herself, knowing she had found just the place she was looking for. Her steps taking her directly to the Lonely Inn..