FIRE AND "BRYMSTONE"

He had not been born to these lands. No, he had come here, alone, dropped off by parents that saw his mutilated visage as a curse for their people. They despaired bringing hardships to any of their own and so caring more about the collective than their own child he wad dumped off here. To live or to die. The only reason he survived at all was because of the former King who had taken him in. Called him his son and raised him. But the Ironfolk were hard to impressed and hard even to gain their trust. They treated him like the monster he seemed to represent, called him a monster and much much worse. He lived with their torment, often picked to have fights in the Pit. Forced to show his worth despite the fact that the King had shown him favor and changed his situation to one of life instead of death. Now though he was their Dragon King. They whispered behind his back, he felt it in the wind. He thought he had heard words before. An outsider ruling over them just because the late king said so. It was preposterous to them, something that should have never happened and he sighed as he walked toward the Hall of Kings, jaws hanging slightly open.

He moved across the hall, eyes gleaming as he looked up at one of the statues, one that was close to completion. But his eyes caught the shape of the dragon and he tilted his head a bit as he looked at him. Curious, he knew of the dragon but he did not know him personally. Brilliant red were his scales, sharp and defining his features. He breathed in slowly before he sat down and looked back to the statue curling his scorpion tail around himself. Hearing the vertebra shift and pop as he clamped his bone jaws shut, though after a moment he spoke up. "Sometimes I wonder what my father was thinking. Was he off his ass or did he really think I could be a great Dragon King. Hmmm, whichever I'm definitely along for the ride and pretty excited. What say you, Renlys?''