Drajag Silverheart

Backstory

  "I was born into the Wildfang, a clan that embraces the old ways—the ways of the hunt, the ways of survival. We shifters of Wildfang live by our primal instincts, moving through the forests, letting the trees and the wind tell us where to camp and hunt. My parents were respected, and as their only son, I was meant to live up to their legacy. They raised me to be strong, to respect our way of life, and I did. I became everything they wanted me to be."   "Yet… something in me was never quite satisfied."   "You see, most of my kin lose their sense of wonder, their curiosity, as they grow, replaced by a sharper instinct honed through the ways of the hunt. But I never lost mine. Even as I took my place among the warriors of the Wildfang, my curiosity lingered like a thorn in my mind. Why did things happen as they did? Why did iron, found only on our enemies, shine and cut so well? Why was the world beyond our forests veiled in mystery? My questions only grew with each fight, with each tool I saw, each object our clan took as trophies from the dead or the defeated. I needed answers, and they were not in the forest."   "When I told my clan of my decision to leave, the leader’s face fell to shadow. To leave was to abandon our ways, to become an outsider. My choice was a betrayal, and for that, I was forbidden to return. It was painful to walk away from my clan, my family, my life. But I was too stubborn to turn back. My path was to be mine alone, and though it led southward and away from all I knew, it felt right. As I walked, I wondered what I would find, and what it would cost to find it."   "After many weeks, I found myself in the Uzzia Ashen Lands, a place where mountains belched smoke and rivers of fire crept like veins through rock. I’d heard tales of the valuable metals held within these lands, metals forged in the heart of mountains. So, I followed my instincts into a narrow cave, with only the crude pickaxe I’d bought along the way and a pouch for whatever treasures I might unearth. For weeks I dug, living off the land around the cave, determined to see my search through. But as the days passed, my hope began to waver."   "Then, one night, as I worked my pickaxe against the rock, a voice echoed through my thoughts, distant yet burning, a whisper that felt like fire against my skin. ‘Why do you dig here alone?’ it asked. I’d heard tales of gods, but I’d never believed I’d meet one. This voice felt different, deeper, almost like it was forged from fire itself. I knew, without knowing how, that it was Uzzias, a god of fire and the forge. He asked me why I labored alone in that dark mountain. My reasons spilled forth—my hunger to understand, to learn to shape metal and stone, to create something of my own, something beyond what my clan had ever imagined."   "Uzzias listened, and he answered my hunger with an offer. To wield fire as his cleric, to shape the world with flame and forge, to learn the arts of heat and metal. His terms were… demanding, but I accepted. In that moment, I felt my bond with Uzzias ignite, a brand on my spirit, a path forged in fire."   "Under his guidance, I learned to smelt ores, finding iron in the very walls of my cave. I worked tirelessly, crafting the first pieces of my armor. The backplate I forged was rough, jagged at first, but as I traveled, I worked it smooth, refining it with every step, much like I was refining myself."   "I drifted from place to place, following Uzzias’ whispers. He taught me to make do with what I had, to pin my anvil onto tree stumps or logs, to make campfire forges capable of softening the metal for me to shape. He promised that one day, I would learn to craft greater things, but I would have to find better means of heat and mastery over metal to achieve it."   "It was then I heard tales of weapons and armor imbued with magic, capable of transcending the limits of any ordinary steel. These stories consumed me, and I set my sights on uncovering these secrets, to learn to craft items of power beyond imagining. My journey led me to a small town called Phandalin, where I hoped to find the tools, the knowledge, and perhaps the allies I would need to begin that journey in earnest."  

Description

Drajag is a wandering blacksmith, skilled in both his craft and in surviving the rough roads he travels. He’s clever, quick-thinking, and knows how to handle himself in a fight. He’s also tough as nails, proud of his strength and his ability to take hits that would drop most others. Drajag always steps up to protect his allies, putting himself between them and any enemy they face. He first joined the party when they set out to confront a young green dragon named Venomfang. During the fight, Drajag took a near-fatal wound that nearly ended his journey right there. Yet, instead of scaring him off, the experience only made him more determined to help the group and keep them safe.   Outside of battle, Drajag has a curious mind. He loves building things and is always working on small tools or gadgets he thinks might be useful. Whether it’s repairing equipment, creating new items, or offering a smart way around a problem, he’s always looking to put his skills to good use for the team.    

Drajag's Spirit Guardian

  One of his signature moves is invoking his spirit guardian in the heat of battle. Channelling the power granted by Uzzias, he manifests a spirit wreathed in fire, wearing intriciately forged armor to strike down his enemies.