Janumor
Rogue > Ranger > Feral
Rogue > Ranger > Feral
The parents of Chosen nests had markedly duller senses than their offspring. An egg being stolen from the nest of vacationing parents wasn't impossible, though it was unheard-of until Janumor's was taken. His parents scoured spacetime with a fine-toothed comb, but ultimately wrote him off as a loss. After all, what were the chances that egg would even survive? Better than 90% of Project Chosen eggs were DOA.
A wizened old dryad by the name Dangal found the only fertile egg of the bunch with barely any effort whatsoever. Janumor was an opportunity. A Chosen One, especially in dragon form, was at once a pool of power and a living weapon. She might've been able to gain access to that power if she'd opted to raise him, rather than subject him to training that even the most rabidly survivalist Plagueling would consider excessively brutal. Young Janumor bore the weight of Dangal's centuries-long hatred of dragons, and she took it out on his hide and heart and soul at every possible opportunity.
It is possible to strangle a dryad, even an ancient one, in the same way that it is possible for honeysuckle to strangle the trees that dryads call home.
It took him three days. He knew, even then, that he probably could have just torn her to pieces. But he wanted her to know what she'd done, and he wanted her sisters in the grove to have to live with her tree's dead husk-- a monument to what they'd allowed her to do to him. Far from remorseful, Janumor only felt freedom from the endless pain and torment that Dangal put him through just for being who and what he was. He spent a week resting inside the dying tree, gathering what he could use and breaking or burning what he could not, before setting out to find his own way in the world. It didn't take him long to find the rifts; his took the form of walking the World Tree. Janumor doesn't particularly like traveling spacetime, but he very much likes dropping enemies into the void between.
Without someone siphoning off all his magic and using his blood for spellcasting ingredients, Janumor found himself more potent than he thought he was by an extreme margin. He never learned control growing up, and feels disinclined to now. If you're very careful, you may be able to make a deal with the beast of the woods, but his temperament is fickle and his sadism runs deep.