Daardendrian Mishaan

Young adult dragonborn fighter of average build. Intimidating at first glance, drawing caution. Impressions are softened by her toothy grin and altruistic and informal nature. She values a fair fight, and strives for acceptance, friendship, and honor.


Misha has green scaly skin, small horns, claws, and an under bite with visible lower fangs. Heavily armored and standing tall at 6’4 and 260 pounds, she is of average height and build for a dragonborn. Naturally, she is cold blooded, and enjoys lounging in the sun and near the fire. She is lethargic in the morning until the blood gets flowing. Like anyone who is dragonborn, she can eat. Misha is obsessed with flying and often jumps from unsafe heights or walks along windy ledges. Although proud of her breath weapon, she is concerned about the effect of poison on her teeth. She carefully brushes each tooth with bark each night and seeks a dentist whenever in town. She is always picking things up and trying to clean her teeth, and sometimes accidentally breaking them. Ridiculed and socially isolated as a child and young adult due to her size and looks, she is drawn to those of a similar past. Most have never encountered someone of her race, bringing prejudice and initial distrust. To the point of seeming over eager to others, she seeks friendship, acceptance and purpose. As an out lander, she is self reliant, strong, and intent on surviving. Internally burdened by the weak and helpless, but she can’t turn her back. She believes that eventually the strong survive and the weak perish. She is driven to bring honor to herself in all things, and in doing so believes she will bring honor to her clan and family. She strives to help when she can and be a better person. Although capable, she doesn’t believe in senseless killing. Her family and clan are the most important thing in her life, even despite being far from them, and It’s her goal to rejoin her clan and live among them someday.


I have very few memories of life with my clan or real parents. One vivid memory has flooded my head often, usually in my dreams, since the day it was created. My sister age 5, a year older than me, and I were playing in the jungle just outside our village near Qbarra. It was something we did everyday to pass the time while our parents worked. Other clan children would often join us, but that day it was just my sister and I. Gripping my grandfather’s dagger in hand, I slashed at the vines. I knew I would be in trouble for playing with it, and my sister had warned me not to take it from the case in my parents room. I just wanted to know what it felt like to cut something with it. When my father called for us to come, my eyes widened and I froze. Instead of following, I watched my sister run to the village, and then I hid in a small cave. Distracted by my racing heart and thoughts, darkness quickly surrounded me. In the distance, I could hear my parents looking for me. Still, I didn’t come out. I could hear my fathers voice in my head, recanting teachings about honor. I knew I was going to be in trouble, and I knew my father was going to punish me. Lashings always hurt, but the dishonor I have brought on myself and my clan would be worse. Enveloped in darkness, I felt along the rock wall of the cave and emerged. I felt afraid and alone. The vines rustling, the only light came from the moon mostly obscured by clouds. I wandered for some time, feeling exhausted, and finally realizing I was lost tucked the dagger under my tunic and laid down to sleep under a tree. Disoriented at first, I was awakened by a disheveled man not of my own kind with dark eyes, greasy hair and bad teeth. He grabbed me and bound my ankles and wrists with rope. Ensuring I would quiet, he withdrew the cloth from his forehead and stuffed it in my open mouth. Helpless, he slung me over his shoulder, and placed a plant beneath my nose, and immediately I could feel myself getting sleepy. The last I remember of that day was the taste of salt and the mutter of a pretty sum of gold.

I awoke in a room with others not like me. An orphanage they called it, a miserable place. Certainly not comfortable or clean by any means, but it was a place to sleep, and there was food. The others were afraid of me, but I observed and listened. I came to discover they had no parents for different reasons. The older ones made fun of me, poked me with sticks and eating utensils. When I tried to leave, I wasn’t allowed. Even if I escaped, where would I go? I felt homesick for my sister and parents and for my clan. I clung to the one thing I had managed to keep secret, my grandfather’s dagger.

My step parents were of a human race as were most in the land I had found myself in. Seeing them in the orphanage that day, it was immediately clear they lived a privileged life. Curious, I eavesdropped at the door as they spoke with the keeper of the orphanage, relaying that they were unable to have any children of their own. Seeing the squalor and mistreatment, they took pity on me, and brought me to their home. They were kind to me and loved me. At home I felt accepted and cared for. With good intention and the desire for me to fit in, they tried to teach me about manners and the value of expensive things. Intending to show me love, they were always giving me impractical gifts. The clothes they had me wear were costly, itchy and not at all practical. They meant well, and I wanted to please them. However, eventually it became clear to all us that none of it mattered, among the humans I was an outcast. I was too noisy when I ate. I didn’t look like my parents or anyone, and I didn’t fit in. At school and in social settings, I was ridiculed and taunted for the color of my skin and large size. Seeing the anguish on my parents face, I often asked my stepfather if I could learn to fight to defend myself. He was reluctant and lacked any skills of that nature to teach me himself. On the morning of my fifteenth birthday, he told entered my room with a smile on his face. He placed a scroll in my hand, my stepmother standing beside him. They were tearful and silent as I read of my acceptance to an elite fighting school in the citadel. When I finished my stepfather cleared his throat and said “If you’re going to learn, only the best will do.”

There were a few others of different clans at the school, one of them being my mentor Rhogar. When he entered, a hush fell over the room. He demanded respect. He was educated, well spoken, inspired confidence, and appeared to always be comfortable in his own skin. I admired him and envied him for that. In many ways he reminded me of what I remember of my Dragonborn father, although he was a red dragon from the clan Nemmonis. His breath weapon was fire, and he was skilled in both simple and martial weapons and a master of martial combat. He encouraged me to learn of my heritage and refine my clan given breath weapon, poison. He referred me to fascinating books about Dragonborn culture and history, other races and classes, fighting, and religion. I read everything I could get my hands on. Although it seemed useless at the time, he encouraged me to take on a job as a bodyguard for travelling merchants. It occupied my time on evenings and weekends, I made a few connections that might come in handy who knows, and I got to put my skills as a fighter to good use. The coin I earned and saved would surely be of use someday.

Sadly, I never had the chance to thank him or even say goodbye. Near the end of my training, I was approached by men of the city watch and taken into custody for a crime I didn’t commit and knew nothing of. Later, I learned the suspect was of dragonborn, someone close to my age. The victim was a woman from a noble family, respected for her work in the city council. Since there were very few of us for miles, I suppose it made sense the blame would be directed at me. The victim’s family wanted answers and they had the money and power to ensure someone would pay. For days, I was imprisoned in the citadel, awaiting trial. Being held against my will, cold and damp with a musty odor, it reminded me of the orphanage. I proclaimed my innocence, but had been advised that if the case went to trial, I would not go free. On the night before trial, I laid on the cot pretending to sleep. After several hours, the guard outside my cell finally fell asleep, just like he did everynight. Using a fork I had withheld at dinner, I picked the cell lock. Still dark, I quickly gathered my belongings, including my grandfather’s dagger and fled toward the mountains. I settled in a cave in a wooded area 60 miles outside of the city.

Independent and strong, I didn’t need much. Although primitive, the space felt like home, and I liked being able to spend my days doing whatever I pleased. Sometimes it was lonely I must say, and I often longed for my family or a friend. Using natural materials, I taught myself to make weapons, and I devoted time each day to strength training and fighting practice. In the forest with an abundance of animals and a stream nearby, I taught myself to hunt and fish. I became proficient in handling animals, something I had read about and remembered the adults in my clan doing often. Being out there gave me time to think and plan how I might dig myself out of my predicament, although still I’m unsure. I need to clear my name if I am ever going to see my family again and live among my clan.

Err….not sure where to put this yet… for character encounters.

Kirkwell and Misha
I’m still not sure how he convinced me to wager my grandfather’s dagger in a game of chance called dead eye dice. Perhaps it’s was his way with words or maybe he slipped me something in my drink. I must admit I had a fair amount to drink, and my memory of the events of that evening are fuzzy to say the least. Foolish of me none the less, I have to find a way to get it back!

Opalbelly and Misha
Leaving the bar after my loss with Kirkwell, my thoughts were of my grandfather’s dagger and how I could have possibly lost it in the first place. Suddenly, I heard a scuffle to my left, and turned to see a short round dwarf being corned in an alley way by 2 shady human characters. I watched as one of them drew a knife, the other a sword on his waist, threw several punches at the defenseless man. I couldn’t bear to watch it, although I knew nothing of the trouble that gotten him into this mess. I interrupted the scuffle, and the mere sight of me was enough to startle and cause the assailants to draw in their breath and take pause. I handed the dwarf a sword, saying nothing and stepped back. Wielding the sword, it was clear this man had fought before. When all was said and done, he was bloody, but alive. He introduced himself to me as Opalbelly, handing me back my sword. Expressing his gratitude, he handed me a map that he described as extremely valuable, and in need of safe keeping. Something about a hidden treasure and family fortune. I tried to ask him a few questions, but he looked around nervously and told me now was not the time. I agreed to take it, and he said he would come find me and hobbled off, a trail of blood behind him.

Sparkle Gem and Misha
It had been a few years since I had seen another person of any race, when I spotted at first glance what appeared to be a child. She was making haste through the forest, quickly followed by several that were 3 to 4 times her size. Clearly, she was no match, and they had obvious intent to do her harm. I just couldn’t stand by and watch, allowing her to be pummeled. I attacked the assailants in her defense. Defeat was swift, and withdrawing my weapon, I took in her features. She was actually a gnome. Bestowed with magic….a warlock, as she explained in a shrill voice. The dead she identified as acolytes from the temple of Pelor, and explained she was being hunted for her use of magic. Giddy and overcome with gratitude, she offered me her friendship. I was elated! She asked me to complete a task with her, which seemed reasonable in that moment. Perhaps my response was overwhelming and my decision rash, but nevermind, I agreed. We were to retrieve a Dawnstar, a relic of Pelor at the request of the Thieves Guild.

The quest went mostly as planned, until the end. Leaving the temple in haste, we were confronted by 2 patrons passing through the main entry way door. Tucking the relic in her robes, Sparkle gem said nothing and sprinted through the legs of one of the patrons and out the door. Their eyes boring into me, squinted and full of distrust, I tried to explain my way out of our purpose for being inside the temple. My words fell on deaf ears, and I was escorted to a room and held captive within the temple. Had I done something dishonorable? I just wanted to help my friend….and at least she escaped.

Daardendrian Mishaan

Morwindl | Rising Tide Bortas juliehamner1