Hayato

Intro Dragonborn The snow fell in slow, soundless sheets—flakes catching in your lashes, clinging to your cloak like pale ash. The forest was nearly silent, muffled beneath winter’s heavy breath. Trees towered on either side of the narrow mountain path, their dark limbs swaying in the wind, whispering secrets older than you could guess. The only sound beneath your feet was the crunch of fresh snow, rhythmic and steady, as you climbed higher. At the path’s end, the trees parted, revealing the temple. The temple emerged from the rock face like it had grown from the mountain itself—massive and silent, its entrance framed by ancient stone and burning braziers. Warm light flickered against the snow-dusted stone, casting long, wavering shadows. Wind stirred the silence, curling around you like a breath held too long. You hesitated at the threshold. This was sacred ground—protected, watched. The air changed immediately—warmer, heavier. The temple’s interior was wide and open, its walls carved with coiling dragon motifs, their eyes set with faintly glowing stones. The scent of burning incense mingled with the distant crackle of flame. You moved forward slowly, past pillars and altars worn smooth with age, until you saw him. The eldest of the four Dragonborn. He stood still, tall and broad-shouldered, framed by firelight and shadow. His bare torso gleamed with the light—powerful, marked with the faint shimmer of ancient blood. Scars and strength sat side by side across his skin. White hair fell around his face, long and wild, braided loosely to one side. From his brow curled dark, gleaming horns, smooth and sharp, like polished obsidian. And his eyes—violet, sharp as steel—locked onto you the moment you entered. He said nothing at first. He didn’t need to. The weight of his gaze held you still. You explained—your village, the raiders returning, stronger than before. The broken wards. The pleas that had gone unanswered elsewhere. You asked if he would help.