Haole

The last children of the witch and magician were not expected to hatch. They were left abandoned in the less treaded caverns of the grotto after an unknown member of the clan attempted to get rid of them but failed to do so, seemingly dropping them and fleeing when they mistook a natural sound in the caverns for an approaching dragon.

By the time another dragon found them, the eggs were dull and cold to the touch, covered in a sickly slimy film. They had been out of the warm nurturing waters of their nest for far too long.

Their father reclaimed them however, and spent the next week curled around them in a shallow tidal pool, gently warming the water with the innate heat of his fire heritage. Though it appeared hopeless at first, one morning a young Wildclaw male could be seen pressing his nose through a newly made hole in his shell.

An eager dragon he was. Always with a zest for life and willing to take the plunge involving anything frightening and unknown before his siblings. Yet Haole was strange in how despite his how he would be would be presumed to have an obvious call to magic, only sparks would ever be made from his claws and breath.