Name: Queen Lamia of Yrdring Species: Dragon masquerading as Human Gender: Female Age: 1500+ Birthplace: The Giant's Dagger, Dragon Valley, north of the continent of Atria. Current Location: Cauldron Keep, Kingdom of Yrdring (North of Wanderneir) Physical Description: Lamia is massive and ancient. Dragons are fierce monsters that never stop growing, and her size demonstrates she is far from young. She can blot out the sun of a small town with her wingspan, and has more than enough physical force to crumble castles with her dragonfire and claws. She is a survivor, as her hide and scales are chipped with chinks and even scars from facing other dragons. However, her sheer scale and weight make her somewhat clumsy and a very big target, even when on the move. Thus, she uses sorcery to change and compress her form, usually taking the appearance of one of her thrall races. Since humans are the most common thralls she usually resemble a woman of striking features, with shiny golden eyes and cascading auburn hair. Mental Description: Dragons are embodiments of pride and greed, and Lamia is no exception. Everything she does, and what she tries to accomplish, is to stoke her own vanity and ego. However, she is a wizened monster, as she has been brought to heel and close to death by the combined might of the unified kingdoms in the past. She knows that as puny as they are, the small races are not to be underestimated, and she changed the usual plunder and terror tactics of the average monster for intrigue, conspiracy and secrecy. Unusual for a dragon, she values blood links with her brood, and is one of the few members of her species to have assembled a semi-stable flock of a couple of young adults and several dragonlings. She is a decent actress, and can feign empathy and concern pretty well when she wants to. She would be a capable ruler if not for her warped morals and greed. Background Information (Optional): Lamia was born in another era. Where the lands had mighty empires, and only a far few reaches were out of place of the men, dwarves and elves. She was born in such place, a backward mountain among Mana spires. She grew tall and proud, and like a lot of young hot-headed dragons, she started a rampage as soon as she realized that a couple of warriors with sticks would not be able to stop her rampage. She was shot out of the sky not a week after, when the different kingdoms showed an unite front. She managed to escape with her life, wounded and crippled, and vowed revenge upon her foes. Over the course of several centuries she avoided being seen or heard, and used that time to slowly but surely plot and hatch schemes to aggravate the fractures between the fighting kingdoms. While she wasn't the only culprit of the entire catastrophe, her touch served to aggravate it. Satisfied and vindicated, she then plundered the now still and dead ruins, and amassed her horde's worth of the treasures of the fallen. She then slept, lazy and proud upon her works. And the world kept spinning. She also raised several clutches of eggs, bringing forth upon the world more of her ilk, which quickly took advantage of the civilization's decline to set their own lairs. But ... a dragon's appetite isn't sated for long. True, she had an horde. True, she was an elder member of her species. But her lair was located in the middle of nowhere. She wanted more. She bullied a few of her brood to do her bidding, and marched south. Appearing before the King of Yrdring, she presented herself as a sorceress of unmatched might who had brought even the proud dragons to heel. She amazed the court with her wonders, and even managed to gain the awe of the weak-willed heir. Some years later, and after a couple of "incidents", she seized the crown for herself, secretly turning all of Yrdring kingdom into unwitting thralls of the dragons, all while she spoke honeyed words to the masses and raised the kingdom's military power significantly with the goal of conquest of other kingdoms. Although there's the matter that one of her children was recently felled...