Legends of Belariath
Morgan Drakewing
The following passages are excerpts from the early diaries of one Dekard Morgannus Drakewing, representative and ex-dragoon of the Saraphan Empire for the town of Nanthalion, co-founder of the DragonRose Family Bounty Hunter Assistance and Gambling Interest, scoundrel to some, wastrel to others, and beloved to many more.
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Syune and the pantheon of gods and goddesses above protect all who read these words and take these experiences to heart within these pages, for collected within is the echoes of a soul long tarnished by the blood of s, yet regaining its er day by day with the help of those who see beyond the past and tend to a brighter future. I am no noble born, but a product of a soldier's family, my father distinguished in battles against the trolls and ogres in the far northern hills. I scarcely had a motherly prescence, for she left one day in my youth, never to be heard again. My father brought me up within his own image, and from him I learned the craft of battle. It was the world who tried to turn this training against me, sending me temptation after temptation to abuse my talents on the battlefield, in the service of dukes and barons too fat and conceited to ride into battles with their men.
I rose above, even for a short time, as I lost my innocence in the cavernous harem halls of Saint Albian, among the beautiful but sad slaves who knew nothing but to pleasure whomever they were allotted to. Having pledged my love to Tabitha, one of their number, I had sought to them an escape. A few ran to start new lives but many others were captured and killed before my eyes. My lord sought to break my resolve, and as my chest was carved into by the cruel weapons of the dragoons, I was impressed into their ranks.
Oh, that I would blot out those horrid memories. The men we slaughtered, the countless more we'd to our cruel whims, each was a mark against my soul, as I silently went along, earning a soiled reputation. I felt a disgrace to my name and my heritage, and could do nothing but to continue this cycle of destruction, ensnaring other young charges into the sin of my trade. By the time it came for me to sacrifice myself and my men in a suicide charge, I had steeled myself, and said no more. They discarded me that day, the Army of the Saraphan. Destitute and disgraced, I left for my home, and to my father. He told me that I had the strength to do what he could not. I had broken free, and now, still young and full of vigor, I have a chance to right all that was wrong. My father...gods, what I would do to see his face yet again and thank him for all he taught me. He sent me this way, to this town of Nanthalion.
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Dekkard Morgannus Drakewing is an easy six feet with medium, slightly muscular build and lightly tanned complexion. His dark hair seems to always droop over one side of his face, over piercing red eyes flecked with gold. A sharp eye can detect a few scars along his arms and legs, and his chest when bared shows a long, jagged scar which stretches from the right shoulder to the left hip, diagonal. His features are quite young, which perhaps is the result of the same events that led to the red tinge in his eyes.
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What is our purpose in life?
I've been asking myself that for a few years now, ever since I was cast out and left to fend for my own in Nanthalion. At first, I thought control. That was the soldier in me that refused to die. I had controlled many, ran with them into battle and cut down our foes. Then, as customary, we'd go into the enemy village, finding the women and children cowering under the floorboards. It degenerated into a flurry of and. Control was all. Let the enemy know you can do anything you want with them, and there was not a damn thing you can do with it.
Then Angel came...then Lupine...then my Victoria. The steady line of soulmates cracked through my armor, making me shed my rough exterior, revealing the frightened, whipped child within. The scar on my chest was no longer the flint axe a troll wielded to carve into my chest. It became the truth, the hot branding iron which crossed along my body for my treachery as I watched those that I truly loved die before me...betrayed...
I was bitter, needing only a warm drink and a pair of arms to hold me, kiss me, protect me from the world. Then my brethren, the dragoons of the Saraphan, came back for me, intent on using me as a scapegoat for a political assassination. They took me away, sought to break my spirit again, then my friends came for me. They proved my innocence, and revealed the stench in the ranks. The one who betrayed me, the one I used to call friend, slew himself upon his own sword.
It was after I had recovered that I truly learned what this town meant to me. Even my hated enemies showed themselves that day, staving off the decayed elements that screamed for my blood. When my soul was shattered by the Tor Nocturne, many came forward, many that I had not met, and imparted their own beings within me to heal the scars. I was watched over in those dark days, not only by my Syune, but by this town. This place has a pulse. It cares for its own. It changes everyone here. It had changed me too.
I have learned to give back to my home. I help others when they are in need, And fight those who have insatiable for power and greed that will only lead to more sorrow. I am no hero...my soul is too tainted for that. But I know who I love, who I protect, who I care about enough to die for. My purpose? It is clear now. It is to help this community grow, and to destroy those who will seek its demise.
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In normal surroundings, Morgan is clad in a simple red tunic, brown pants and a pair of well-worn dragoon boots and greaves. The biggest identifying feature, however, is the hooded cloak he wears over his shoulders, which is a dark clayish red with his family crest embroidered upon his back (the dragon entwined with a rose). During times when he hunts or prepares for battle, he dons a dyed-red studded leather vest. His weapon of choice is a twin-billed seven foot dragonlance known as the Valour of Syune. This blessed weapon has been said to control the winds about the user, and could even summon a dragon protector. In its dormant form, however, Valour is nothing more than a foot-long club, strapped to Morgans belt along with a hip satchel, where he stores important documents and gear collected over the years with his stints with the Bounty Hunters' and Slavers' Guilds, along with a few healing herbs. Just in case.
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Dragoon...what mystery lies in the heart of that word.
My father died a short while after I had pledged to marry Victoria Celas, my love and my life. He left me his journal, his notes, detailing the family's history with the dragons in the north, in the Kardiak mountains. Poring over his journals, I learned of the history of the Drakewing lineage, to twenty generations, to the patriarch Dekard Drakewing, a founder of the Saraphan Empire, and a friend of the dragons.
An incident outside of Unigo and consultations with a few necromancers brought me into the company of Zetvya, a black dragon cursed within a human form. She taught me more of the history of the roost in the Kardiak, and I went with her into the north. We came across the magnificent beings and I studied with them, helping Zetvya to regain her dragon form through a long, arduous ritual. Tylanthus, the coven master, taught me much of the oral traditions, and this has only spurred more research, hopefully leading to a time which I can truly return to the tasks set before by my ancestors, and restore the ties between the dragonkin and the Saraphan.
In technicality, I am considered also a paladin, but due to the crimes in the service to the corrupt dukes I bear the aegis of dark rather than light. I am an unforgiven, but it would only be a matter of time before I shed the dark rainments and become a true servant of Syune. Perhaps it is better for me...perhaps...
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To say that Morgan has gotten around in his years with Nanthalion is an understatement. Originally seeking a job at a weapons school, he inadvertently flirted with Nidawi, the mate of one Moriel necromancer named Sha-Ka. The incident sparked a long feud which still simmers today. This of course was not the first time the dragoon's led to trouble down the road. It took him weeks, nay, MONTHS before he could find a companion of the opposite willing to let him into their beds on occasions. Between bouts of boozing, fighting, and carousing, he has helped to refurbish a few establishments within the town limits and has offered his help to the guilds whenever needed. He was even instrumental in fighting off a black dragon that threatened the town limits. With all of those accomplishments, one would wonder why Morgan, being a Dark Paladin now in the service of the hero god AdenVer, would prefer peaceful solutions over force and brawn.
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I am thankful for a mate like Victoria, who is infinite of patience and infinite of grace. My heart will always belong to her first, no matter what for it was in the cold fields where our souls mated, drawing us forever together. My guardian angel also bears wings, one black, one white. We both are tarnished, but we have looked beyond these faults, steeling together in the times of crisis and tragedy. If not for her, I am sure I would have never regained a sense of humor.
I had been leery of slavery for many obvious reasons. The memories of the Duke's harems were ever so fresh upon my mind and the treatment of the collared here has sometimes put me in an unbridled fury. Time has tempered this anger, but now instead of lashing out, I help train. The bond between slave and master after all should be as strong between husband and wife. It is an innate responsibility, and these doe-eyed catgirls and nymphs are more than property. They are souls looking for love and attention, and should be treated as so. I have taken a few servants under my wings as well, mostly of the furred variety. They remind me so much of the Tabitha I lost...
I am but a simple human, with and tastes for the exotic and unusual. I have shared myself with many lovers and confidantes, comforting and aiding when needed. I have shared many emotions and feelings, and each of my friends impart jewels of wisdoms and. Each coupling and each cuddling adds to the mystique, one which I would never trade for all the treasures of Belariath.
The greatest joy I can find within this place, apart from holding my Victoria against me, is to rest upon the red couch in front of the hearth of the Lonely Inn. From there I can doze off, dreaming of the wonders beheld before me. I can also hear the pageant of life go on, the heartbreaks, the first kisses, the first romantic engagements, and other comical matters. There, other travelers enter, warmed by the fires. Maybe some day...another Tabitha will come in. We all can dream, can we not?
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Former Nanthalion Jobs: Bounty Hunter, Inaugural Head of the Slaver's Guild, Captain of the Temple Guard, Saraphan Ambassador for the Southlands, Imperial Dragoon, Avatar General and Temple Assistant to Morrigan Steel, Priestess of AdenVer
Known Nanthalion Associates:
Mates: Victoria Celas (Avandore), Angel Draconus
Best Friend and Confidante: Shadow Wolf
Business Partners and Associates: Creama, Laria Swifclaw, Trician Stronghorn, Skye, Dani Quik, Akipurra, Zan Roderick, Cirri, Adaran, Morrigan Steel, Ehlanna, Phaedre Delauney, India, Valentiya, Somali Longtail, Zug-Zug, Dreams, Rani
Former Slaves and Servants: Mairu-Chan, Harmony, Windy, Jonie, Lilliana, Inria Weatherlight, Nantei, Through Victoria: Tsuneko, Amelinda, Katsumi
Children (fathered by Wander): Gareth, Gawain, Wander