Lugh

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Narma Father Generation 0

Lugh ♥ Generation 1

Unhatched Nature Egg Dragon Eggs A fertile, earthen pod that has attracted a healthy colony of fireflies. It is bursting with ripe, healthy green leaves and looks about ready to bloom. 0 Offspring 🐉 Generation 2

Named after Lugh, the Celtic god of arts, crafts, healing and the Sun.

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The middle sibling. Narma is not a very skilled attacker at all, his talent being healing and stat buffs. He could be classified as a white mage, if one had to give it a name. Narma is charismatic and charming, and prefers to solve conflicts with words rather than violence.

Children of Narma tend to be skilled healers and master negotiators, just like their ancestor.

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Once upon a time, there were three siblings. They were born in a world of light, on a day the sun was full and bright, it's heavenly rays blessing all the dragons who lived in the Sunbeam Ruins. Indeed, it was a beautiful day, as anyone there could tell you.

The parents of the three siblings, however, would say otherwise. Poor and clanless, the pair, however much they wanted these beautiful, beautiful children, could not take care of them. Oh, how they tried, they simply were unable to care for the three hatchlings. Three hungry mouths that they could barely feed, they were starving themselves, and soon the pair fell sick. Painful though it may be, they were forced to give up their children, and sold them to the first dragon to show interest in them, praying they would receive a good home.

Fate was not so kind, as the dragon who bought them was a cruel and harsh being, who bought children off of desperate, starving parents at the cheapest prices and used them as his personal servants, or if they were beautiful enough, selling them at shady auctions to the highest bidder. Either way, once you ended up in the claws of this evil dragon, there was a harsh life ahead of you.

Soon, the siblings were bought by an unethical lightning clan that was known for using dragons as tools, and treating them poorly. Its leader was a cold-blooded and brutal dragon who plundered small clans and wandering dragons, always greedy for more treasure, gems, and beautiful dragons to serve him. It did not matter if they weren't built for work, for they could be replaced if they perished. The siblings were no exception to this rule, and were forced to do harsh, dirty work for the clan.

Years passed, and the siblings worked, slaving away in fields, mines, and quarries. There was no hope in sight for them, only a slow death due to their overworked and strained bodies that were gradually withering away. The only comfort they had was that they were together, and had each other no matter what happened.

One day, while the siblings were working in the quarries of the Shifting Expanse, something happened. The lightning that always tickled the ground stopped crackling, and the land grew dark with an unnatural fog that none of them had ever seen before. Dragons nobody knew were shouting spells in a language they had never heard before, and murky black sludge was oozing from every single one of their orifices.

They were dragons who had given themselves over to the Shade, and they were attacking the clan.

The head of the clan ordered all his underlings to fight for him, including the three siblings. It didn't matter if they all died, as long as he lived and his treasure was protected. They were just poor workers, they could be replaced.

In their panic, however, most workers ignored his orders, and ran, each dragon for themselves. The master, unwilling to leave his treasure, was one of the first to fall to the Shade-touched warriors.

Left and right dragons fell, unnatural dark magic slicing through them like a hot knife through butter, or simply possessing them to become part of the Shade army. There was no end to the chaos, and soon more than half the clan was wiped out.

It was then that the siblings stepped up.

Somehow, somewhere, they could feel it. Something deep in their souls that resisted this dark magic, that had the chance to destroy it. It was like the Lightweaver herself suddenly whispered to them, and gave them the courage to fight back.

Beautiful, bright magic whipped around them, and they charged into the fray. Darkness yielded around them, the Shade-touched dragons falling one by one thanks to their holy magic. The black ooze melted away when where they touched it, and magical attacks dispelled as soon as they came into contact with their aura.

In the middle of the dark fog, they encountered what could only be described as an eldritch creature, tentacles, eyes, mouths, and other limbs flailing and gurgling. A dark and foul smelling liquid oozed from every pore of its body, corrupting the land when it touched the ground.

It had to be the source of the fog, and the catalyst of this all, it was the only explanation.

With matching roars, the siblings attacked the creature, beautiful, colorful light penetrating the dark fog covering the land as the magic in their auras flared and pulsed, assaulting the creature left and right as it cried out in pain. It furiously fought back, shooting its own dark magic and flinging its noxious ooze at them, which were dodged with an unnatural skill that none of them should have known, yet their bodies moved as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The battle raged on, more and more light clearing up the fog, and the creature's attacks growing more and more desperate. It screeched in pain and fury, trying in vain to regain control of the battle, summoning the dragons it had assimilated into the Shade, but it was no use. The siblings swatted them aside like flies, and focused their attacks on the creature.

In a final, desperate move, the creature, feeling its own death to be inevitable, focused all its energy into one more attack, and exploded.

The youngest sibling saw the attack for what it was before his siblings did, and shielded them from it at the last moment, taking all the vile energy so that his siblings would not have to suffer.

Any ordinary dragon would have died from an attack like that, the darkness would consume them and dissolve them in an instant. And for a moment, it looked like the youngest sibling would suffer that very fate, but, thanks to whatever blessing they had been given to fight this darkness, he survived, at the cost of his powers. Unlike his siblings, who still had the bright, golden glow in their scales, his had grown dull and dark.

Even so, the remains of the creature melted into nothing, and the fog lifted. The Shade troupes fell where they stood, and confused dragons rose from the ooze.

They had won.

After that, the siblings devoted their life to fighting the Shade. They wandered the lands, abandoning the clan that had held them captive for so long, in favor of finding more places that needed their help. Luckily, they never had to fight anything on the scale of that first attack again, but they were still wary, scared that something like that would happen again.

So, they made a choice.

They would create a bloodline, an army of warriors that would be able to fight the Shade with the magic that they held. An army of warriors that would never hesitate, and would fight for the world.

The Warriors of Light.

To achieve this, each of them would mate, and spread their lineage all across Sornieth, so that the Shade would never be able to come back.

They would protect everyone. And that was all there was to it.