Soft Claws

Nefagar stared at the small creature before him, babbling and cooing on its back as it lay on the forest floor. Its skin was so soft and pink, with such weak little limbs flailing in the air and a bit of drool dribbling down from its tiny mouth. In comparison to his own immense, majestic form, the thing was truly and utterly pathetic. No claws, no scales, no wings, no tail, and certainly no fangs in that gummy orifice it was wailing from. Nefagar sneered at such disgusting weakness as he got a whiff of its scent and knew for certain what this puny gremlin was: a human. Even when hunting outside of human encampments, in the depths of untamed wilderness, he still had to deal with the little menaces. Their kind truly seemed to infest this world in abundance over the last several thousand years, claiming ownership to territories populated by dragons long before the apes began making tools and shedding their fur. This one, however, seemed to be one of their offspring, a mewling babe left on its own.

Nefagar sniffed the air and scanned the horizon with his amber eyes, but found no sign of any parents or clan to claim the child. He clutched his fresh kill, a formerly ferocious bear, in one talon as he raised another to scratch his chin in thought. It would take no effort to kill the little thing, and little consequence if this thing has truly been abandoned by its people. But what would that even accomplish for his own benefit? A brief bit of personal satisfaction in revenge for all the dragons slain by mankind in their pursuit of their treasures? No, with the lack of repercussion comes a lack of knowledge for such a deed, no evil act to lord over the primitive creatures that think themselves warriors of justice. A snack to go along with his bear meat? No, the child was so small in comparison to his larger meal that it would hardly add any value to the experience.

It was then that Nefagar felt the smallest tapping on his crimson-scaled hindquarters, making a momentary lapse in his concentration as he turned to look to the source. It was here that he found three of his devoted servants that had helped him scout out the hunt in the first place, his ever faithful and loyal kobolds. The goblin-sized reptilians, with their bulging eyes and smiles full of mismatched fangs, were always capable companions for any self-respecting dragon. Though small in stature and rarely the sharpest tool in the shed, there was a strange wisdom they carried in service to their masters, putting together all kinds of unique gadgets and traps to protect their lair from all kinds of invaders. Once they had his attention, they smiled and scurried over to the toddler, crowding around it and whispering among themselves.

“Something you wish to share, tiny ones?” Nefagar bellowed, the force of his voice shaking the miniature minions. One of them picked up the baby and raised it up above his head, as if it would provide a substantially better view for their master.

“Master, master! Baby loot!” One said, as another kobold exclaimed, “Yessss, the baby is a human! Knows the most about human loot! We should interrogate him to tell us where all the best human loot is!”

Nefagar raised a spiny eyebrow at their particular conversational style. While he understood there was some wisdom in the words of kobolds, such insight was easily hidden by the... simplicity of their speech. After a moment of thought and mental deciphering, he came upon his own interpretation of such a suggestion: if he were to take this child into his domain, perhaps raise it to follow his will, he would have a potent tool to use against humans, one that they would trust enough to give him the opportunity to stab them in the back. Now this would be some good, proper revenge, if not a means to taunt and torment mankind with their failure to prevent the “corruption” of one of their own. Nefagar enjoyed this idea thoroughly, a sinister smirk growing on his face as this plan took form. He stuck a claw into a piece of bear meat and flicked it towards the trio.

“Excellent... As per usual, your kobold intuition caught onto my plans before I even had to share them,” he fibbed, making sure to maintain the image of a dragon’s perfection in the minds of his faithful followers, “Now, chew up this meat and feed this child. We shall exploit this opportunity to its fullest!”

The kobolds cheered at their master’s genius and the babe giggled as they went to work, chomping up the flesh in their jaws with boundless fervor. Nefagar chuckled to himself as he tore off his own hunk of bear to chomp on in his massive fangs. He could easily picture the future in his mind: a feral warrior, equipped with choice armor and weaponry from his own hoard of loot from fallen adventurers, leaping into the fray, tearing other humans asunder for daring to threaten his lord and master, for daring to even think of having ill-will towards dragons. The citizens of all kingdoms in all the lands would cry out in agony and despair, suffering in fear of the blood red dragon Nefagar and his dragonkin warrior in human skin.

His imagined tyranny was interrupted by the sound of the child’s cries. Confused at the sudden tantrum, he looked down to find that his kobolds may have misunderstood his instructions on some level. Rather than chewing up the food provided to soften it and feed the child, they were acting on some combination of either getting too caught up and eating the meat themselves or spitting the meal onto the child itself before it was fully softened. Nefagar groaned, as he was reminded of the creatures’ lack of common sense that accompanied their odd insights. He pushed aside his minions and lifted up a glob of pre-chewed meat that had bounced off the child with one claw, gently moving it towards the little one.

“Here, like this.” He grumbled, gesturing to the child with his free talon, trying to get across the idea of eating to something that would find most ideas foreign. It looked up at him curiously, then back at the meal hanging off of the dragon’s claw. After a few seconds of primitive consideration, it put its tiny hands on the nail, moving its mouth to finally start eating up what was presented to it. Nefagar sighed in relief as the kobolds cheered once more. It seemed, for once, that he couldn’t rely on the skills of his minions for what he deemed a simple task. Taking care of loot and killing trespassers was one thing, but taking care of a life? Especially one so small and fragile? The only reason he had so many kobolds to begin with wasn’t their ability to take care of themselves, it was their rabbit-like reproductive capabilities; these creatures had a ridiculous lack of understanding when it came to the idea of self-preservation.

This would mark the start of a long trend of action and reaction between Nefagar and his henchmonsters in raising this child (who, as it turned out in their attempt to deal with changing diapers, was a girl). Nefagar would delegate the more disgusting or annoying parts of taking care of an infant to the kobolds, they would make some kind of over-the-top mistake or misunderstanding of the task at hand, and he would get so frustrated he’d push them aside and attempt to take care of things himself. Little did the big, bad dragon comprehend, however, that in the process he would end up bonding with this disgusting, scaleless creature. He did raise a warrior just like he had planned, certainly, but in the process he had also raised a daughter. As a dragon he never thought much of finding a mate and producing offspring of his own, he was contented with his hoard, his minions, and the most amusing pastime of terrorizing humans foolish enough to invade his domain.

Through his time helping this girl grow into a woman, he would soon learn to understand humanity in ways he never could have imagined had he continued living alone in his lair with naught but kobolds for company. This girl was not just another tool for him to wield against the world, she came to be the closest thing to an equal he had known for quite some time. This human, who was so small, so fragile, and so alien to a dragon like Nefagar, was one of the greatest companions, friends, and offspring he could ever have hoped to raise and cherish.

This warrior, a woman with the heart of a human and the pride of a dragon, would come to forge her own legend throughout the lands, known through all the kingdoms not as a weapon of terror, but a symbol of hope for a future where dragon and man could live together in peace. Thus began the adventurous life of Softclaw Nefagar, child of the crimson scale!