Name: Vala'keer
Age: Unknown
Race: Draconian
Abilities: Tank, Swimmer, Hunter, Melee, Packmule, Metalworker, Blades-master
Personality: Quick to judge, but also quick to reconsider. Stays loyal to those who saves his life, or does a good deed out of goodwill. Fierce and seemingly blunt and brutish, but can also be surprisingly clever, kind and gentle.
Appearance: http://img4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20110707225734/thetomeoflegends/images/e/e9/Male_Draconian.jpg
Short bio: Vala'keer is a Bladesmaster- the only one of his clan. The Draconians never truly went along with advanced technology, or rather, as other races would say, they were too primitive for it. They cared little for true innovation and advancing of the species- they were, in comparison to all the other races, the most content, satisfied, ecologically balanced race. They kept the balance in their lands, they hunted and they died sometimes, taken down by their enemies, be it predator or rival tribe. There way of life may have been 'barbaric' when someone observed, but it was balanced- there were always children running about, even in times of clanwar, and there were always stable numbers. Farms were few, though they aren't uncommon. Vala'keer was the Baldesmaster, as said before, who both worked and trained with steel and iron. He could make any armor, any weapon, and use it, too. Living in the marshy Dragon Swamps of a remote section of the world, the Draconians fought with each other, monstrous crocodiles, and other creatures equally as dangerous. One would call them insane for continuing to live in such condition- they would call it the best life ever. They were always fed, and yet they were always just on the edge of struggling. The Bladesmaster ensured that they didn't tip over the edge. He ordered the hunting parties, sent out the battlegroups, and even led them.

When the humans finally came to wipe them out, they laid waste to two tribes before word got out to the rest of them. Vala'keer was not like his peers- be like them he may, think like them he won't. He saw an enemy that they could not beat, and so he rallied the ones who he deemed unnecessary to fight. He brought together the tribes, into a powerful army. Armed with steel and iron, they were battlehungry and ready for war. While they may face machines of titanium and carbon, they will take what they can. Draconian archers were fearsome- a Draconian arrow could shoot clean through a human, and impale the next in line. Their bows were too powerful to be pulled by even the strongest of human archers.

But the people, the vast majority of them, all of whom knew each other by grudge or kinship, voted that he didn't lead the charges against the encroaching human forces. This conflicted him greatly, and so he convinced them to let him fight.

They were surrounded, and so he ordered his people to disperse, swim through the swamp and jump at any opportunity. The humans, not expecting for their targets to seemingly dissolve into the swamp, searched throughout, spreading out. Through an unspoken moment of vast togetherness and unity, the Draconians rose up from the swampy waters, and fell upon human soldiers and vehicles alike.

The battle that followed resulted in all humans being close to Draconian troops being torn apart, but all that were some distance away mowing down all the Draconians. Leaving the Bladesmaster bruised and bleeding in the swamp, he hid, hoping not to be found by the followers of Kraal, the Demongod. He prayed up to Straal, the Havengod, for strength and assistance in his revenge against his kinslayers. Instead, he found another option- escape. He took it, fled out to sea, and swam, swam farther than anyone in his history ever had. With him carried his race's legacy, everything. He meant to preserve it, in the form of a single egg, the Stone Egg. Simply, he would find a place to bury it, and some time long into the future, Straal will rise, and bring forth the beginnings of the new age of Draconians from the Stone Egg. 

And so he swam, armed with his hammers, his weapons of war, clad in the leadership leathers, and ready to start again, somehow.