Vec — Roleplayer Guild

Life: Species

if the sky could dream, it would dream of dragons.

Name:Dov racial - Dovah individual, singular/plural
Lifespan: Anywhere between 600 to 1200 years
Dov, or more commonly known as dragons or wyrms, are giant, winged beasts closely resembling reptiles. Their wide arsenal of powerful abilities set them at the top of the food chain, making them some the most potent hunters of the natural world. All dragons have distinct age categories and grow in power and strength as they progress through those categories. Every dragon has both a breath weapon and an array of supernatural abilities, including an aura that induces overwhelming fear. All dragons also have the same basic body structure.
Covered in scales and in possession of four legs and a long, writhing tail, a dragon appears to be a giant reptile at first glance. Nevertheless, dragons are a classification unto themselves, with characteristics of predatory mammals as well as reptiles. In fact, a dragon’s external anatomy — with four legs directly beneath the body rather than splayed to the sides — is more mammalian than reptilian.
At the center of a dragon’s eye is a thin, vertical pupil, like that of a cat. Whereas a cat’s pupil expands to admit more light in dark areas, however, the expansion of a dragon’s pupil allows primal energy flowing in the creature’s bloodstream to emanate from the pupil. This minute absorption of magic grants a dragon night vision.

Dragons do not have external ears. As with snakes, an internal mechanism detects sounds. From the outside, the only evidence of this mechanism is a tiny hole between the scales. Some dragons have frills or fringes of scales along their heads; in such cases, one such set of scales might surround the auditory canal, focusing sound inward in a manner similar to that of a mammal’s external ear. These scales are not, however, a necessary part of the design.

Due to their scales and thick hides, dragons have a poor tactile sense. Hence, a dragon can be comfortable sleeping on jagged and rough surfaces, as long as the pile vaguely conforms to the dragon’s shape. Dragons are, however, sensitive to pain. Anything capable of penetrating their hide and scales receives their full attention.

A dragon’s sense of smell is split between its nostrils and its tongue. The nasal aperture can detect odors from a great distance, but that aperture is less capable than the tongue of differentiating an odor’s components. When a dragon draws near the source of an interesting scent, its flickering tongue identifies and pinpoints various odors, much as a snake’s tongue does. 

The tongue is also a dragon’s organ of taste. Dragons can detect nuances of flavor better than humanoids can. For example, a dragon could describe every ingredient of a stew after ingesting a single large mouthful.
As with the common crocodile, the muscles that close a dragon’s jaw are more powerful than the ones that open it — yet only the mightiest foe could hope to hold a dragon’s jaw shut if a dragon wants to open it. The teeth, also resembling those of a crocodile, include fangs for tearing and puncturing, incisors for severing flesh from bone, and a series of molars for gripping and grinding.

The jaw can also unhinge, stretching a dragon’s maw to massive proportions similar to the way a snake’s jaws unhinge. Dragons rarely display this ability, because they use it only to bite larger foes or to swallow prey too tough to be torn into smaller bits. The throat can stretch wide enough to accommodate anything the unhinged jaws can encompass though swallowing something so large that a dragon must unhinge its jaw is a painful experience.

A dragon’s teeth and fangs consist of a hard substance more closely related to the substance of a dragon’s bones than to the enamel and dentin that comprise the teeth of most creatures. Similarly, the interior of the tooth resembles marrow more than it does pulp. A dragon grows a new set of teeth each time it increases in size. Between these periods, if a dragon loses a tooth, it has to do without unless it has a means of healing magically.
All dragons have some combination of protrusions in the form of spines, claws, horns, or all three. These protrusions are made of a substance similar to that of dragons’ teeth. They are not keratinous, as are the horns of most horned animals, nor have they the same composition as dragon bones though they’re close.

Spines are anchored in muscle, connected to the skeleton by a series of ligaments. Claws and horns connect directly to the skeleton. Horns and spines grow as a dragon grows. Its claws, like its teeth, fall out and regrow when a dragon increases its size.

A dragon’s feet have both reptilian and avian characteristics. A foot normally has three forward-facing claws plus a single claw near the rear of the foot, though a significant minority of dragons has four forward-facing claws. The rear claw normally faces backward when a dragon is walking or running, but it can twist forward to serve as something akin to an opposable thumb. Although the rear claw is not fully prehensile or as dexterous as a human hand, it does allow a dragon to grip objects and even to use tools or writing styluses if they’re properly sized and designed for draconic use.
The texture of a dragon’s hide depends, in part, on a dragon’s variety. Some dragon's outer layer of scales may feel rough and leathery, like that of an alligator, whereas other's scales might generally feel smoother, like hardened snakeskin. These tendencies are not absolute. Dragons of different bloodlines might have markedly different textures.

In any case, individual scales are more or less the same. The way they fit together determines the skin’s texture. Larger scales, such as those that cover the head, neck, and back, connect to the skin at one end and overlap neighboring scales at the other. This arrangement creates a layer that resembles scale armor or shingles on a roof. Smaller scales, such as those that cover a dragon’s underside, rest side by side rather than overlapping.

Dragon scales are slightly more flexible than steel and substantially stronger, making them perfect armor. Unfortunately for those who desire to make armor from dragon scales, harvesting scales is difficult, and armor constructed from such scales lasts only a few weeks after it is taken from a living dragon. Although it's possible to magically enhance dragon scales in order to create unique sets of magic armor; it's virtually impossible to construct a long-lasting, plain armor from harvested scales with common blacksmithing techniques.

A dragon never sheds its skin, since its scales grow slowly throughout the course of its life. It occasionally loses individual scales through injury or illness or as a result of natural molting. These patches remain bare for a few months at most before replacement scales grow large enough to fill the gap.
A dragon’s wings are simple in structure. Each consisting of a membrane of thin hide stretched across a structure of lightweight bones, like a bat’s wing.

Each wing is large enough that nothing short of numerous large tears can threaten a membrane’s integrity. As a result, it’s difficult to injure a dragon so severely that it cannot fly. Such tears heal relatively quickly.
Many details that differentiate dragons from other creatures are internal. Although a dragon’s scales and flesh somewhat resemble those of reptiles, a different story unfolds underneath...
A dragon’s brain is large both in absolute terms and as a proportion of body mass. A significant part of the brain is dedicated to memory and reasoning, and other parts control two functions unique to dragons: the mystical power of the eyes and the channeling of learned behaviors into the instinctive, “reptilian” brain.

Directly above the sensory centers of the cerebral cortex, a dragon has an extra growth — a miniature lobe — that has a direct synaptic connection to the optic nerves. It is this growth that generates a dragon’s frightful aura. Although not a true gaze attack, the effect emanates from the eyes, which might be why beings of inferior intelligence may find the gaze of a dragon hypnotic. This miniature lobe draws mystical power from blood that flows through the brain. After a dragon expends that power, it must concentrate for a few moments to reinvigorate the lobe and thus ready the ability for another use.

The second major factor that sets a dragon’s brain apart from those of other creatures is the connection of the learning and memory portions of the brain with the so-called reptilian brain, which is responsible for rage, the fight-or-flight mechanism, and other instinctive behaviors. Thick clusters of synapses form this connection, incorporating anything a dragon learns into its instinctive behavior. Learned techniques such as effective combat and hunting tactics become an innate part of the wyrm’s automatic responses. Knowledge even passes to offspring. Young dragons inherit all their parents’ instincts and reactive behavior, including those traits that the parents have developed from their own memories and experiences.
The larynx contains an array of vocal cords capable of producing a wide array of sounds. Although most dragons prefer to speak in a narrow range of tones, a dragon can produce any sound from a dull rumble to a shriek so high-pitched that's borderline undetectable. The trachea, as in most creatures, is the passage for a dragon’s respiration.
The lungs take up an enormous portion of a dragon’s chest cavity, given that they must oxygenate the blood for such a massive creature. They more closely resemble avian lungs than those of reptiles or mammals. They extract oxygen on both inhalation and exhalation.
A dragon’s heart is the source of its dragon’s power. This huge, four-chambered organ pumps strongly enough to send blood flowing throughout the enormous beast. If a dragon’s heart could be filled with granite, the strength of the heart’s constriction would crush the stone to powder.

The heart also generates the elemental energy that grants dragons their breath weapons and other powers. It is a dragon’s most magical aspect. Without the mystical energy distributed by their hearts, dragons might be merely intelligent lizards. This energy suffuses the entire body through the blood. For parts of the body that require more focused power, the fundamentum is a more direct conduit.

A dragon’s blood is somewhat thinner than regular blood and is darker, appearing black in dim lighting. The blood’s temperature depends on the variety of dragon. Some dragon's blood might give off steam while other's might be barely above freezing, and so forth.
The fundamentum is an organ unique to dragons. Once thought to be the source of a dragon’s breath weapon, the fundamentum is an enormous blood vessel, like an extremely large, complex artery. The fundamentum channels the energy-rich blood from the heart directly into the upper stomach of a dragon’s gizzard.

When examined outside a dragon, the fundamentum looks something like a rubbery hose, with a muscular outer layer capable of pumping blood similar to the way the heart does. This outer layer allows the fundamentum to constrict and open rapidly from one end to the other, propelling a wash of blood into the upper stomach.
The gizzard of a dragon contains two hollows: a smaller “upper stomach” and the gizzard chamber. Elemental energy, transferred from the heart through the fundamentum, remains in the upper stomach until needed. This energy either aids in digestion — in which case it flows into the gizzard whenever food arrives from the esophagus — or it comprises a dragon’s breath weapon.

In truth, “breath weapon” is a misnomer, since the fire, poison, acid, or other substance discharges not from the lungs but from the upper stomach. The stream of energy is more accurately vomited than exhaled.

Traces of this energy might leak from a dragon’s upper stomach into the esophagus, mouth, and nostrils, from which they might emerge as puffs of smoke or wisps of poison — another reason the uninformed might believe that the breath weapon is part of the respiratory system. This leaking energy also causes the damage dealt by most dragons’ bite attacks.

After food reaches the gizzard, the hard plates inside the organ, similar in composition to the horns and teeth, grind it up. The upper stomach bathes the swallowed food in energy from its pool.
The musculature of a dragon somewhat resembles that of a great hunting cat from neck to rump and that of a constrictor serpent along the neck and tail. The area that defies comparison is the area at the wing-base and along the chest.

Wing and chest muscles are dense and larger than any other muscle group in dovah anatomy. Despite their great power, however, they could not provide lift to such a massive beast without magical assistance. It is the elemental energy coursing through a dragon's cardiovascular system contributes to the beast's ability to fly. According to this theory, magic in the wings grants a dragon strength beyond that provided by the muscles.

The alar pectoral (1) is the main flight muscle, used on the wing’s downstroke. The alar latissimus dorsi (2) draws the wing up and back, and the alar deltoid (3) and alar cleidomastoid (4) draw them up and forward.

The muscles of the wings themselves serve primarily to control the wings’ shape, aiding a dragon’s aerial maneuverability. The alar tricep (5) and alar bicep (6) fold and unfold the wings, and the alar carpi ulnaris (7) and alar carpi radialus (8) allow the wings to wrap and twist.

In addition to being the strongest muscle group in a dragon’s body, the pectoral muscles are also the most enduring. Enormous quantities of blood flow in and out of the muscles regularly, sweeping away — or even destroying, thanks to the blood’s innate energy — toxins that cause fatigue. A dragon can fly for many minutes at full speed, for hours at a reasonable pace, and for days on end if it relies substantially on gliding and updrafts. Dragons maintain their average overland flight speeds by switching back and forth between true flight and periods of gliding.
A dragon’s skeletal system consists of more than five hundred separate bones. As with the muscular system, the skeleton between a dragon’s neck and rump — the bones of its legs and torso — somewhat resembles the skeleton of a great feline, although the neck and tail bones more closely resemble those of serpents. The bones in and around the wings, like the muscles thereof, defy comparison.

Dragon bone is strong. In fact, it is stronger than any known non-magical material other than adamantine, in terms of the amount of pressure it can withstand. As with scales, when bone is removed from a dragon’s body, it becomes relatively brittle. If a person were to consider dragon bone as a building material, good quality stone or heavy wood would ultimately make better choices because of their comparable durability and wider availability.

Dragon bones are hollow like those of birds, making them remarkably light for their size and strength. The marrow within is yet another repository of the elemental energy that flows through the bloodstream.

The sternum (1) serves as an anchor for a dragon’s flight muscles, and the scapula draconis (2) supports the wing. The metacarpis draconis (3) and alar phalanges (4) in each wing support the wing’s flight surface.
People assume that dragons are cold-blooded due to their apparently reptilian nature. In truth, a dragon does not depend upon the environment for warmth, but rather maintains a consistent internal temperature. By broad definition, that makes dragons warm-blooded, but true warm-blooded creatures maintain their body temperature by increasing their metabolic rate when the environment grows cold and by slowing their metabolism and shedding heat — through sweating, panting, or similar methods — when the environment warms.

The elemental energy flowing through a dragon's bloodstream, on the other hand, maintains the wyrm's proper range of internal temperatures, regardless of external environment. Even dragons whose breath weapons have no intrinsic temperature requirements — such as breath weapons of poison or acid — use that energy to maintain internal heat. Naturally, dragons that have fire or heat-based attacks maintain the highest body temperatures while those that use frost or cold-based attacks maintain low body temperatures.

A dragon can enter a long sleep similar to a state of hibernation. Such a sleep allows the creature to pass decades or even centuries without waking. Dragons might enter this sleep as a way of surviving periods of famine without having to find a new lair, grieving the loss of a loved one, or withdrawing from the world out of sheer boredom.
Because dragons make use of supernatural energy as part of their digestive process, they can consume and digest all sorts of food. They can also consume substances that wouldn't qualify as food to other living creatures.

Dragons are predators — instinctive hunters at the top of the food chain. They find meat and other organic material the easiest fare to digest. When meat is unavailable, dragons resort to eating large plants such as trees and large bushes.

In emergencies, when the alternative is starvation, dragons might eat anything they can swallow: dead wood, rock, and other inorganic materials are all fair game. However, dragons find these substances distasteful. Furthermore, since rock, for instance, holds little nutritional value, a dragon must eat a lot more of such a substance than it needs of organic material — at least as much as its own body weight per day to maintain health. Dragons consider such measures humiliating, to the extent that some dragons prefer to starve for a time rather than depend on food they weren't meant to eat.

The elemental aspect of a dragon’s digestive system, in addition to allowing the creature to eat substances others cannot, also makes it hyper-efficient at digesting meats and other normal foods. Although a dragon can consume more than half its body weight in such food over the course of a day — and many do just that, with sufficient prey a dragon needs to eat only about 15 to 20 percent of its body weight in organic food on a daily basis. At the other end of the scale, a dragon must eat an obscene amount of food to gain weight.

Dragons might make use of their breath weapons even when hunting prey that could not possibly survive a melee encounter. Some dragons breathe on prey that is already dead. Since dragons use the same energy in digestion that they use for their breath weapons, they find it easier to digest prey that they have already bathed in their particular form of energy.
More so those that of other creatures, a dragon’s life cycle and life span shape its capabilities and even its personality. Barring violence or disease, even the shortest-lived dragon can expect to see a score of centuries. A dragon's life cycle is divided into four main age groups: young, adult, elder, and ancient. In truth, dragons must first pass through an earlier stage that few adventurers see: wyrmling. They also pass through a final stage called twilight.
Although the specifics of mating rites and relationships vary from one kind of dragon to another, several commonalities exist. Young dragons can mate, and might do so out of sheer biological urge — or even, at times, for love—but they are rarely prepared to rear young. They might abandon clutches of eggs wherever the eggs will have a decent chance of survival. Few eggs left in this way survive — and dragons that hatch from them might not learn to fend for themselves well enough before becoming prey.

By the time they reach adulthood, even evil or selfish dragons have developed a measure of parenting instinct. They keep their eggs in their lairs, watching over them to ensure safe incubation. Most mated pairs remain together until the eggs hatch, though at other times a single parent — often the female but sometimes the male — cares for the eggs alone. Sometimes the adults stay together even after eggs hatch, staying together until the hatchlings can fend for themselves, at which point the pair splits up.

Elder dragons lay eggs less often than adults do but treat them with the same care. Ancient dragons almost never produce offspring, but those that do are highly protective—more so even than adults.

A few dragon varieties are monogamous, mating with the same partner every cycle while others have multiple partners throughout their lives and retain little emotional attachment to former mates.

Both male and female dragons become fertile roughly halfway through the young stage of life and remain so until well into their ancient years. The urge to mate emerges at roughly the same time that fertility takes hold, grows to its height during the early adult stage, and fades — sometimes slightly, sometimes to nothing — at the late elder or early ancient stage.
Dragons lay eggs in small clutches, the exact number varying according to the kind of dragon. Females can lay eggs as often as once per year but rarely do so that frequently. Dragons have a greater degree of influence over their own reproductive systems than humanoids do. Although a female dragon cannot completely control whether or not mating produces fertile eggs, the chance of fertilization falls dramatically if the dragon does not wish to reproduce.

One of the parents — usually the female — typically locates the nest deep in the lair. The nest consists of a mound or pit where the parent gathers the eggs and buries them in sand, dirt, snow, leaves, or whatever medium is best suited to the dragon and to the environment.

The average dragon egg is about the size of a small rain barrel. Eggs normally have the same color as the dragon variety, though somewhat duller in hue. They are roughly ovoid and have a texture somewhere between dragon scale and stone.

When first laid, a dragon egg has resistance to the energy type of its parents' breath weapon (Mixed breed dragon eggs have resistance to one parent’s damage type, and don’t survive if the other parent is incautious with his or her breath.) As the egg nears hatching, the shell grows harder but more brittle, and that resistance diminishes. By the time the wyrmling is ready to hatch, the egg has no resistance at all.

Incubation time varies according to the variety of dragon. In all cases, the eggs are fertilized inside the female and are ready for laying roughly one-quarter of the way through the incubation period.
Hatchling
When a wyrmling is ready to hatch, it begins feeding on the inside of the egg’s shell, absorbing the remaining nutrients. This activity strengthens the young dragon and weakens the shell. The wyrmling then breaks free by clawing at the sides, pressing against and cracking the shell with brute strength, and blasting the shell occasionally with its own already developed breath weapon.
Wyrmling
A newly hatched dragon has a full array of abilities. Although inferior to those of a young dragon, these abilities are sufficient for the wyrmling to take care of itself, at least against relatively weak threats and predators. Although an emerging wyrmling is sodden and somewhat awkward, it can run within hours of hatching and can fly within a day or two. A wyrmling’s senses are fully acute, and—due to the interweaving of a dragon’s centers of memory and instinct—it is born with a substantial amount of its parents’ knowledge imprinted in its mind.

Even so, a dragon is not born with the full memories of prior generations. Rather, a wyrmling has a grasp of the generalities of the world and of its own identity. It knows how to move, how to use its innate abilities, who and what its parents are, and — perhaps the most important — how to view the world around it. This awareness is one reason that even the youngest dragons are capable of surviving to adulthood.

Parents might accompany a wyrmling on its earliest hunts, to protect it and to make certain it knows how to hunt efficiently. Wyrmlings left to fend for themselves and wyrmlings that don’t have protective parents still must leave the nest within a few days of hatching to find food. By the third or fourth foray, even solicitous dragon parents let wyrmlings hunt on their own, lest the wyrmlings grow too dependent on parental assistance.

Wyrmlings spend a few years dwelling with one or both of their parents. Some parents welcome this time as an opportunity to teach their offspring lessons beyond its inherited knowledge: the best areas to hunt, what to look for in a lair, and other knowledge a growing dragon needs to gain. Other parents look on wyrmlings as necessary evils: competitors for resources and for space in the lair that must nevertheless be tolerated for a brief time. Only evil dragons that lack any parenting instinct, although extremely rare, consider forcing a wyrmling to leave the nest early.

A wyrmling whose parents abandoned it before it hatched or could not care for it after it hatched takes longer to hone its abilities. It still has the advantage of its inherited instincts, but the lack of a teacher makes perfecting its abilities an arduous task. Some wyrmlings manage to do so on their own, through trial and error. Others seek out mentors of their own kind. Even an evil dragon might willingly take on a short-term apprentice if the younger dragon shows adequate respect, such as material gifts. These relationships rarely last more than a few months, because the older dragon inevitably begins to view the younger one as a rival. The younger dragon either departs or ends up on the menu.

Although wyrmlings are small and weak by dragon standards, a wyrmling is roughly the size of a large wolf or a full-grown human. Even at their youngest, dragons have few natural predators.
Young
By the time a wyrmling becomes a young dragon, it has grown to roughly the size of a horse, and its lairing and territorial instincts are stoked into a raging fire. A young dragon must leave the nest (if it has not already done so) before territoriality and greed transform the parent-child relationship into a bitter rivalry.

The relationship between a dragon and its fullgrown offspring depends on the individuals in question. For the most part, dragon parents and children retain a loving relationship; though they do not share territories, they harbor affection for each other and render assistance if the other is in danger. A rare few go the opposite route, treating their parents or offspring as competitors for resources — highly dangerous competitors at that, since each knows the other so well — and end up violently at odds.

The first task of a young dragon is to find a lair of its own. This task can prove challenging, because the territory the dragon knows belongs to either a parent or a mentor. Thus, a young dragon must depart the region it knows best to find a spot isolated enough to serve as a lair, yet still near enough to viable hunting grounds to make foraging possible.

Young dragons use existing structures (such as abandoned castles or mines) or natural hollows (such as caves) for their lairs. Later in life, when a dragon has more power, knowledge, and confidence, it might build, or find others to build, a better home. At the young stage, though, it just needs to find something viable.
Adult
Adult dragons revel in the fact that they are among the mightiest predators in, particularly if they have had a successful youth. At this age, adult dragons seek to expand their territories dramatically or even to move their lairs, abandoning whatever haphazard sanctuary they might have found as youths in favor of larger, more comfortable, or even custom-built homes. These efforts sometimes pit them against other dragons or territorial creatures. Thus, adult dragons are the most likely to initiate combat with other wyrms.
Elder
By the time it becomes an elder, a dragon has likely found or created its permanent lair and has well and truly established its territory. Although a few elder dragons continue to expand their domains, most are content with their holdings (barring environmental changes or famine) and are more likely to be the defender against encroaching younger dragons than they are to initiate such conflicts.

Elder dragons have lived long enough that they have fully adopted the long view in terms of their goals and efforts. Unless they are acting in immediate defence of their territory or offspring, there is hardly ever a reason to hurry, and it is better to do something right then to rush. To fill the time between, they will entertain their minds with puzzles, whether benign pursuits or malicious scheming as well as the accumulation of knowledge and magical treasures.
Ancient
By the time it becomes ancient, a dragon ranks among the most powerful creatures to walk the earth. Its lair is nigh impregnable. Its name (or at least one of them) is known far and wide among dragons and humanoids both. The dragon has survived longer than most nations.

The truth is, the dragon doesn’t have much left to do. The dragon’s territory is as large as the dragon wants it to be. If the dragon wants to manipulate and control the nearby communities, it does so. Few rivals exist with sufficient power to offer the dragon anything resembling sport. For an ancient dragon, perhaps the greatest challenge is staving off boredom.

Some ancients spend years hibernating for lack of anything better to do. Others ignite conflict, invading other dragons' territories or inspiring humanoid allies to go to war, in hopes of finding a challenge to pass the time. A few revert to behaviors of younger dragons, hunting and raiding at whim. Some devote themselves fanatically to whatever religious beliefs they hold, or seek out new ones.
Twilight
Even dragons eventually succumb to the ravages of age. As death approaches, the wyrm enters a state dubbed as "the twilight." Although the average age of a twilight dragon is within a couple of decades of maximum age, some dragons enter the twilight more than a century earlier. Others enter twilight only in the last few years of life. Some never enter twilight, going overnight from full, ancient health to death of old age.

Twilight is the only time during a dragon's life span when the creature grows weaker rather than stronger. Precisely how this weakening develops differs from dragon to dragon and appears to have no correlation with the dragon's variety.
Death
The mighty dragons, despite all their power, are still mortal. With the exception of those who extend their existence by unnatural means, death eventually comes to them all. Most dragons die in battle — defending their territory from rivals, invading other wyrms' territories, or falling victim to the business ends of humanoid adventuring parties' swords and spells.

Those who reach the end of old age find themselves in a quandary. Although some dragon varieties can will themselves to die, others do not have that capability. Thus, those powerful or lucky enough to reach old age face the slow decline into twilight, further weakening, and, eventually, death.
Although dragons are very territorial and aggressive towards other dragons they think are invading their area of influence; all dovah have one thing in common and that is respect for seniority and a deep sense of responsibility towards their respective clan. Although most dragons distance themselves from their parents after they leave their protective wings, even the weakest and most insignificant dragon takes pride in its lineage.
Dragon psychology centers on a nature tempered by strong cultural ideals. From a fierce intensity and a well-developed sense of self sprouts a resolve born of an honest desire to be the best one can be and to be worthy of one's heritage.

Tradition focuses the inner ego with principles of personal excellence, honor, and wisdom. Strongly emotional, dragons approach life with a natural enthusiasm. Passion comes easily, and dragons readily invest themselves in the tasks set before them. At its simplest and perhaps basest level, this fervor expresses itself in extremes of feeling — dragons don't hide anger or joy. Such emotion also surfaces as ferocity in battle, especially when dragon feel their resolve faltering. When failure comes into view as a possibility, dragons become more tenacious.

This is partly because a healthy self-image is common among dovah. Few dragons are timid or reserved, except as a matter of showing proper respect to others. Guided by their respective personal morals, dragons look out for themselves, along with those creatures and items they value. They have no trouble asking for/taking by force what they need or taking time to improve their abilities. And they expect others to do the same.
Although most of the time, their overly independent nature gets the best of them and as a result, making living in large groups and the formation of societies very difficult, all dragons from the moment they are born belong to a clan.

Clans, which play an enormous role in the life of dragons, are led by wizened, aged clan-masters, preferably ancient dragons. However, since it's so rare for a dragon to actually stay alive for so long, it's usually elder dragons that are appointed this position. They are chosen for their ability to lead and to provide guidance to the younger generations, should they come looking for it. 

All clans have reputations, for good and ill, that often last for generations. A dragon's actions are expected to bring favor and good will to his or her clan, improving this reputation. For this reason, dragons typically go by their clan names rather than their family names, hoping to bring honor and glory to their clan.

This pressure to either right the wrongs of the past or continue a clan's glory can define a dragon's life. Some dragonborn flee from the imposing responsibilities their clan puts on them, choosing infamy over such a burden. Others accept the responsibility or even turn it into an additional drive for their ambition, hoping to one day become the clan-master.


So here is the finished CS for dragons. Heavily influenced by D&D/Skyrim. Especially the physiology/lifespan parts, they are mostly taken from D&D as I thought that their design was already detailed enough and since I am not really bringing in an "original" race but a staple race that is found in most fantasy settings, I kept true to the original as much as possible.

As for the social thing, after thinking things through, I went with clans. These clans are loose families where each dragon belongs to from the time they are born. Although the dragons might be spread out and the clan might not have a headquarters where everyone lives at, there is a head figure and, in times of crisis, they are brought together and fight for the good of the clan.

I purposely haven't detailed the different dragon types that exist and there's a very good reason for that. I plan on making a "base" dragon race in the start and unleash them upon the land of my plane. Now, these "base" dragons will have the ability to adapt to their surroundings and, through the passage of time, absorb inside them the energies of their surroundings to become that type of dragons. Say for example, a base dragon decides to make his home on a volcano, right? Well, as time passes, the dragon would absorb the energies of the volcano and evolve to a red/fire dragon. Likewise, a base dragon that makes his home in the frigid tundra would absorb the essence of frost and become a white/frost dragon. etc etc.

These base dragons would find it very easy to adapt to their surroundings or to a god's modifications but after they settle on a type, they lose their ability to adapt and are permanently stuck with that type. I make it so because I want to eventually establish the different types of D&D dragons (chromatic, metallic, etc) in this setting as fluidly as possible.


All feedback is appreciated.
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