Nathor

Nathor stood on the ridge as dusk fell around him, watchful for anything amiss among the shrines. He was motionless as the light dimmed, his stark white markings glimmering in the purple-green of an Abiding Boneyard sundown. The shrines flickered and glowed with their offerings, their ever-widening circular configuration more evident from this angle as smoke streamed tirelessly from each altar.

Sighing happily as he watched the array of jeweled lights burning into the darkness, he settled with a heavy thump, his forelegs dangling over the rock. Lowering his head, he gazed at the burning offerings with the rapt joy of a hatchling.

Nathor is a gentle sort. For all that he can display might and muscle, he seldom injures those he protects his charge from. His height and size insinuate the threat, as does his intimidating demeanor and a voice that can be felt beneath the paws of the dragon finding themselves in his shadow. While he's a bit slower on the uptake than some, he is by no means a simpleton. In addition to guarding the shrines of Tva'Kadith, he also has an extensive collection of insect exoskeletons. He likes putting things in order, though order for Nathor is a bit different than order for other dragons. The methodical Bael, Tva'Kadith's courier, despairs of Nathor's sense of order which usually involves sorting things from prettiest to most unfortunate looking.


Nathor and his twin sister Nethua's father is a clan leader named Apocalypticon, a dragon rumored to have been fashioned by the Plaguebringer herself. A great warrior, he seldom bestowed his regard on his children as he had grander aspects to contend with, being sought by many. This did not trouble the twins any, for already their instincts urged them forward in search of their charges. By fate or by the Plague Mother's providence, both were drawn to the same location.

For his part, Nathor was captivated by the offerings that burned at the stone altars of the shrines at all times. It was more than an initial fascination with the grotesque arrangements, though. The very idea of any part of any of the shrines coming to harm filled Nathor with a sort of sick dread. He needed to keep them safe, to encircle them all and prowl among them to keep other dragons from despoiling them. This, he told Cadelus upon meeting the leader, was what the Plague Mother had asked him, called him to do. This was his task, his purpose. Cadelus, immensely pleased with this idea, readily agreed to Nathor's presence and has admitted the guardian into his favored circle, ranking him and his sister quite high among Tva'Kadith's faithful.

Unlike the rest of Tva'Kadith's faithful, Nathor lives on a ridge overlooking the shrines to better watch them all. He rarely leaves the vicinity and guards only the shrines and the ground upon which they stand. He has no regard for the Pit, for captives, or the fate of those destined to serve the Plague Mother. She has already given Nathor his task, and he means to perform it.