Dragon-Touched Orphan

A Dragon-Touched Orphan is not compensated for labor but valued for what they are: rare conduits to draconic power. Their rewards are not coin, but patronage, secrets, and access to forces far beyond mortal reach—often as dangerous as they are priceless.

Some serve as draconic interpreters, intuitively grasping a dragon’s intent or navigating the perilous etiquette of their courts. These few gain titles, land, and positions within elite circles, rewarded in Overlord Plates and influence rather than wages. Others act as ruin-guides or leyline dowsers, risking life in ancient, unstable places where their affinity helps bypass deadly magical hazards. Their compensation is wealth, artifacts, and the thrill of discovery.

A more solitary path leads some to guard the sites that changed them—ancient groves, dragon lairs, or ruined sanctums. They are rarely paid, but the land provides, and the power they protect may slowly bestow trust or subtle gifts. The most tragic are those seen not as people but as relics—captured by cults, hoarded by Overlords, or worshipped by zealots. Whether revered or imprisoned, their "reward" is decided by others, and their only true hope lies in reclaiming their freedom.

A Dragon-Touched Orphan has no profession—only a purpose shaped by powers beyond their control. As living anomalies, they resonate with draconic forces in ways no others can, drawing the attention of societies that struggle to understand them.

They often serve as bridges between mortals and dragons, instinctively grasping meanings and emotions too alien for others to decode. In court or crisis, they avert misunderstandings that could end in catastrophe. Their presence also acts as a warning system; when the world’s magical balance falters, they feel it in body and dream, making them prized—or feared—by institutions like the Drakarchate and Lumenarch Collegium.

Politically and spiritually, they are symbols. To some, they represent harmony between dragon and mortal; to others, they are evidence of subjugation, corruption, or divine omen. Yet more than anything, they are catalysts. Their very nature can trigger upheaval: opening sealed ruins, resisting dragonfire, or becoming the focus of cults and empires alike. Whatever the world demands of them, the Dragon-Touched rarely get to choose their role—they are history’s accelerant, not its observer.

A Dragon-Touched Orphan stands outside the social order of Novendragos, neither noble nor lowborn, but something altogether other. Their presence unsettles every layer of society, provoking superstition from the common folk and strategic suspicion from the powerful.

To most, they are omens—blessed or cursed, depending on the season’s luck. Their subtle abnormalities spark unease, marking them as neither monstrous nor fully mortal. A village may welcome one as a sign of divine favor, then turn on them as the scapegoat for a failed harvest.

To the ruling elite, they are not omens but liabilities. A Dragon-Touched Orphan complicates political narratives and threatens hierarchies. Their powers are valuable, but their allegiance is unknown, making them both tempting and dangerous. Powerful factions may test, manipulate, or monitor them, treating them as assets to claim or threats to neutralize.

In every corner of society, they are perceived less as people and more as paradoxes—miracles wrapped in menace. Their social position is not low; it is nonexistent. They live as anomalies, always seen, never truly accepted.

A Dragon-Touched Orphan has no standard professional equipment. Their tools are not issued by a guild but are the strange, personal artifacts of their unique survival.

Their "kit" is a collection of mementos and curiosities from the place that marked them: a single, shed dragon's scale that is unnaturally warm to the touch, a naturally-formed crystal that hums faintly in the presence of strong magic, or a tattered, unreadable map fragment found clutched in the hand of a long-dead explorer. These are not tools for a trade, but the physical proof of their impossible past.

The life of a Dragon-Touched Orphan is a relentless struggle against a power they never chose. The draconic essence imprinted on their soul stirs alien instincts—greed, aggression, pride—that feel like intrusions on their own identity. They live with the constant threat of losing themselves to something vast and ancient within.

This inner turmoil is matched by external danger. Their presence radiates draconic energy, making them a beacon to creatures and forces attuned to such power. Some are drawn in awe, others in hunger. The orphan walks through life trailed by shadows they cannot always see.

To the world’s most powerful factions, they are not people but coveted objects—tools to exploit, weapons to shape, secrets to unearth. Cults, syndicates, and dragons alike see them as keys to power. Hunted, haunted, and marked by forces beyond their control, they are caught in battles waged in their name but never for their sake.