Namtar: Mesopotamian god of death and disease.


Bought at auction for 2kg as Nocturne w/ Python/basic/basic.

Steal a Gen One: 3


Clan Seer

Introverted, quiet, self-conscious, serious, aloof.


Upon emerging from his egg, Namtar's first memories were of his birth clan peering upon him in disgust and fear. Afraid of retribution, no one stepped forth to claim the child and thus he was alone, surrounded by a circle of disturbed adults. After a long moment of horrified silence, the leader stepped forth.

"He bears the cursed eyes of the Wasteland. We must leave this place and him along with it, and take ourselves to the Wyrmwound to pray to our Mother."

Voices sounded up in agreement and with haste, the clan abandoned the tiny Wildclaw. Namtar tumbled from his partially destroyed egg and looked around, unable to fully comprehend the world around him or why he was suddenly on his own, but instinctually knowing he was in danger. With difficulty, he spent hours working on being able to stand, only managing a pathetic crawl when walking proved too advanced for his early age. By sheer luck and happenstance, his shuffling and bawling caught the attention of a wandering clan.

Where his birth clan looked upon him as a monster, his new clan gazed at him with reverence. His eyes were a gift, they assured. In their belief, dragons who bore the festering eyes were direct children of the Plaguebringer, gifted with abilities that would bring fortune to the clans that raised them. Finally safe, Namtar grew into a quiet, but playful child who was popular among the other hatchlings for his level-headedness and poise. However, when he reached adolescence, his quiet nights began twisting into strange dreams.

At first, the dreams seemed harmless. Playing in the field with friends, eating a meal with adults, pouncing on an unsuspecting rabbit. He paid little mind to them initially, but as time passed it became clear that whatever he dreamed seemed to follow in the real world.

"The Broodmother has decided you are to be a Seer." The clan leader offered wisely, noting that the dreams were premonitions or situations that would come to pass in the future. Then, one night, Namtar dreamed of corpses, a wasteland more barren than normal, and dragons collapsing with thirst. Scared of this nightmare, he refused to mention it to his friends or family.

A great drought overtook the land, strangling resources so the clan was struggling to survive. In the ensuing misery of the disaster, Namtar admitted to the elders that he had witnessed this in a dream months prior. As their brethren, including their leader, succumbed to the drought, the remaining members turned to him in bitterness and cast him away.

"The leader was wrong about you. Your eyes have cursed us all!" One shouted as he ran, chased off by those he thought of as family.

Fearful that their accusations of him being cursed were correct, Namtar kept to himself and refused to acknowledge any passing clans. Months of living on his own, hunting minimally in a land recovering from the drought, weakened and humbled him. As he sat in the middle of the desert, staring blankly at the horizon, a shadow fell over him. Tired eyes looked up at the figure of a hulking Ridgeback, who bore down upon him with a startling smirk.

"Why is a being as special as you alone and dying in the Wastes?" He bemused, tongue curling.

"I'm cursed." Namtar replied, waiting for the individual to move on, but the Ridgeback just laughed.

"You are still alive where others die around you. You breathe despite living alone in the harshest land on the planet." His form moved closer as the Wildclaw began to stand, confused.

"But my eyes. The Mother has cursed me, surely." He tried again, but the Ridgeback only sneered.

"If the Mother had cursed you, child, you'd be dead. Follow me and be treated with the respect you deserve, survivor." And despite all he had been told to tear him down, Namtar followed, wanting desperately for it to be true.

In the Ruin Clan, Namtar found his gifts appreciated. Scythe, an old individual thought to be a child of the Plaguebringer herself, scoffed at petty superstitions and listened aptly whenever the Wildclaw came forth with a vision. Having been betrayed by those he thought were his kin, with the help of his new home Namtar is slowly learning the value of himself.