Many believe that Watcher is ancient. The oldest living imperial left on the face of the planet. Watcher, older than a thousand suns and moons has lived for longer than any dragon ever should. Gifted with a long life, Watcher has enjoyed the brief moments of happiness and contentment that life offers, but is also scarred and maimed by the war, horror and tragedies that life brings on it’s black and white wings. Watcher has watched family and friends live and die, seen the world through everyone’s eyes but his own.
Watcher’s life began in the Sunbeam Ruins, back when it was still a glistening and golden city, the epitome of the world’s glory and light. But like all things, it too came to an end. A terrible war, battles between the elements, one such battle found it’s way to the Sunbeam, at the very moment that Watcher’s nest hatched. Protecting his nest and mate, Watcher’s father valiantly fought off any intruders, driving them from his home and family. But as fate would have it, Watcher’s father was grievously wounded in the battle, and soon succumbed to his injuries before seeing his children for the first time.
At the loss of Watcher’s father, his mother became despondent and silent, unable to speak from the grief of losing her mate to the clutches of war. From the sadness and loneliness in her heart, Watcher’s mother pledged herself to the Lightweaver in an attempt to avenge her mate and children. Thus Watcher’s family began a cruel journey across the Scarred Wasteland to join with the remainder of the Lightweaver’s forces. For many blistering days and freezing nights Watcher’s family roamed the wastes, hoping to reach the other side. A futile hope. Within weeks Watcher realized that their quest was doomed from the beginning. The wastelands were much larger than expected, and filled with enemy dragons. Soon Watcher’s siblings began to die, from starvation, thirst, wounds, infection, everything. Soon even Watcher’s mother, the bravest warrior in the Sunbeam died too, leaving Watcher alone in the world.
By some miracle Watcher managed to escape the grasp of the Scarred Wastelands, only to fall into the talons of a much worse danger. A dragon named after the fallout of wars and battles, Aftermath. A dangerous and smooth warrior, Aftermath saw the potential in Watcher’s desperate and confused state. Watcher was offered a home, food, warmth, only for the simple cost of his loyalty. Watcher easily accepted. Slowly Aftermath began to manipulate Watcher, influencing him into seeing the world only as an imperfect and horrid place, a dangerous and dark space that had claimed his entire family.
Watcher was transformed into Aftermath’s personal assassin, secret from even Aftermath’s own armies, when Watcher was sent out to kill, nobody was left alive. Friend or foe, all died under Watcher’s talons. Aftermath’s influenced seeped into the very life of Watcher, he forgot his family, his past, the only thing he knew was to kill. Aftermath personally trained Watcher in many arts of the plague, tied his own life to Watcher’s. But the price of such a prized monstrosity came at a cost. A cost for Watcher.
For every kill, every dragon, every hatchling, every village killed entirely by Watcher, he grew deformed and horrifying. Watcher became an abomination in every way, in his body, his mind, his life. Watcher’s once magnificent and strong wings tore and shredded, destroyed from years of fighting. Strange growths sprouted from Watcher’s skin, bone and flesh seemed to boil and melt as protrusions rose from Watcher’s skin. His teeth became so long and sharp they did not even fit in his mouth, leaving a deep hole where it embedded itself in Watcher’s gums, causing Watcher to literally leak blood from his mouth.
One year, Watcher was tasked with destroying a village, suspected of supplying the enemy with shelter and food. Watcher approached the village and killed every dragon inside. The townhouse, schools, dens, everyone was slaughtered. As Watcher prepared to leave, a faint crying was carried with the wind. Coming from a nearby clove of brush and tree, Watcher tore down everything to reveal a small nest, in which was a single pastel white dragon. It was so helpless and pitiful Watcher thought. Faintly he remember killing two dragons that could have been this hatchling’s parents. Watcher frowned. He was not supposed to think such ways. Watcher brought a talon to the hatchling’s neck, next to the life giving artery when a cry came from behind him. The dragon he thought he’d killed was alive, crawling towards him. The crumpled and mangled clump of flesh and bone behind him cried out, pleading for Watcher to spare the hatchling. Watcher hesitated. What was happening to him? He shook out the feeling, punishing himself for even thinking of remorse. The dragon continued to plead for mercy for her child, but there was no mercy that day. Watcher left the village, leaving a dead hatchling and the crushed skull of the dragon that had thrown Watcher’s entire life into question.
Upon returning to his Aftermath, Watcher reported his success and was given a fortnight to rest before he was to move onto another target. Watcher believed that the moment at the village was a temporary blip in his persona, an anomaly. But as he twisted and turned in his cave, his mind was filled with horrors. The feeling of his claw sliding against the hatchling’s throat, leaving a sickly dark red smile behind. The sound of the mother’s scream of despair as her only child was murdered in front of her. The grisly sound of a skull cracking underfoot. Watcher began to question his life, how be came to care so little while other dragons would give up their own life for another dragon they did not even know.
When Aftermath came to retrieve Watcher, Watcher croaked out the question to him. It sounded strange, to question who had been his only ally and supporter throughout his entire life. Until now. Aftermath turned on Watcher, a mix of anger and fear in his eyes. Aftermath dismissed Watcher’s question, but Watcher pressed on. Aftermath yelled back at him, reminding Watcher that he was nothing, nothing but a monstrosity that would be best if controlled by Aftermath himself. Watcher snapped.
Watcher never remembered what happened next, either that or he did not want to remember what he did to Aftermath that day. After that day Aftermath’s army became no more, the world was free of Aftermath. But Watcher wasn’t. The magic and curses placed on him by Aftermath took their toll after Watcher killed him, left Watcher more maimed and grisly than before.
An embittered and vengeful Watcher stormed from the camp that day. Though his body was virtually no more than a mangle of limb and bone, Watcher’s mind was free from Aftermath, free to roam the world and rediscover what life had to offer. No dragon tried to stop him, no dragon dared after seeing Aftermath’s corpse, left in the middle of the camp after Watcher was done.
Since then Watcher has found peace in himself, retired to a life of peace and nonviolence, the memory of the atrocities and horrors he had committed enough to pacify even the most dangerous and bloodthirsty of dragons, which is had. A clan in the glades, surrounded by peace and kindness. Nobody knew of Watcher’s past, if they knew they would never see him the same again. But nevertheless, Watcher was content with his sleepy life, knowing that his past will not haunt him anymore.
