Aristocles — Roleplayer Guild

Name: Ophion
Species: Dracon
Sex: Male
Height: 7'0 (a few inches shorter if the horns aren't counted)
Weight: 305 pounds
Age: 35 (this is a bit younger for a dracon)
Appearance: 

Abilities: Skilled in spell and sword alike, Ophion is a capable melee fighter and combat caster. He can throw around lightning bolts and fireballs, but he isn't particularly skilled with ritual or healing magic. He knows how to raise magical shields as well. His only major weakness is his lack of stealth, but when one is as strong as a humanoid bull dragon, stealth is rarely necessary.

Personality: Quiet and reserved on the surface, Ophion is actually quite warm and friendly once he comes to trust someone. He is usually stoic and rarely complains about much, although he will reluctantly admit to being somewhat whiny as a teenager. While he enjoys time spent with females, he rarely goes out of his way to go on a date, as he is quite busy practicing his twin skill sets.

Items/Clothing: Ophion uses plate mail armor which covers his chest, arms, and legs. He keeps his hands uncovered for easier spell casting and like all dracons, he goes barefoot all the time. He wields a greatsword as his primary weapon, and has a dagger as a backup. He casts spells barehanded, without use of a staff or wand.

Backstory: Born far down in the hatching order, Ophion was set to inherit very little of his father's estate one day, far behind his several older brothers. Not long after finishing his training, he left his desert homeland in search of opportunity and a way to make a name for himself.

@Searat@Blackmist16@Zillanilla@BigPapaBelial

"We don't have lizard people around here. It sometimes gets too cold in the winter." Breden quickly interjected. "But I have seen some slimes from time to time. Alchemists sometimes use their ooze for potions, but we don't have any use for that stuff in the tribe. I've heard tell that the slimes come out of the bog when enough magic gets inside of it. Nasty things. Not very long-lived either. Most of them tend to die before they get big enough to split in two. They can't get very far from the bog without drying out and dying. They can't reach the village walls."

He turned to Griz. "The orcs are... beyond us. We can't win without superior numbers. Without an alliance with another tribe or maybe the humans, we'd be doomed. Of course, if something has weaken the orcs and made them desperate, that could change things. That owlbear was desperate for food. If it came from the direction the orcs came from... well, let's just say we would have more to worry about than the Bluefoot tribe. Or Bluefeet. Whatever." 

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