Tron

Tron came upon Tiamat's clan during his Search and believed it worth guarding for the rest of his life. A powerful and loyal dragon, Tron has become one of the clan's greatest assets - he fights alongside Nightspring at the Coliseum to bring home treasure and loot. He bears many scars as a sign of his veteran status in the clan and as a testament to his strength and prowess in combat. Lately he and Nightspring have been devoting their time to training the younger clan members to compete successfully in the Coliseum's many arenas and to be considered worthy of serving under the Bossman, the Stormcatcher. He is particularly protective of Sam but isn't ready to accept Tiamat's suggestion that Sam is his charge, not the clan.

"You think I don't know how it feels to find your charge? The one you will protect for the rest of your life?" Tiamat says, craning her head this way and that to maintain eye contact with Tron. "You will feel much better once you accept the truth."

The hulking Guardian paces in a tight circle at the foot of her perch. "Even if you're right, I'm only a Guardian. To succeed in my Search is enough for me."

"Hmph! Our single-mindedness will ruin us," Tiamat grumbles. Then she leans over the edge of her perch and snakes her head down to Tron's. "Have you ever heard of Wildclaw scrolls?"

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"A Wildclaw scroll," Tiamat says, the slight pitch in her voice betraying her surprise. "Does he know?"

Tron stares down at the scroll in his claws. "Not yet. Eight days, Ti."

The clan matriarch narrows her eyes at the reminder. "Then I say eight days is plenty enough time for you to adapt to your new form, don't you think?"

"Do you know anyone who's used one like this?"

"Not many," Tiamat says. "The clans around us are just as small, and not many dragons had as much cause as you to obtain one."

"So you don't know if I'll lose my charge."

Tiamat snorts. "That's something that remains ingrained in us. Just because you become a different race doesn't mean you forget what you used to be. You're a loyal, faithful dragon, Tron. That won't change just because you do."

He stares at the scroll for a little longer, swaying a bit. Hati circles him nervously, sensing his companion's anxiety.

"Will you help me, then?" Tron asks.

"Of course," she says. "What's a clan for?"