Villager: The Narrator
Name: The Narrator
Location: Tigereye Peak
Born 1 year, 9 months ago
House: FurCash House
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The Narrator looks stunning!
The Narrator's very special treasures!
"Hey Tor!" Azrael popped out of the shadow of a nearby tree, making the black dragon jump, accidentally ripping out a growing plant. "Did you hear, did you hear???" Tor groaned in exasperation, and holding the now limp vegetation with one claw. "What," he mumbled, clearly not excited. Azrael bounced out of the shadow completely, hopping from one foot to the other. "There are explorers on the mountain! They said they were setting up another village!" Tor rolled his eyes, the red fire flickering lightly. "Oh joy." Azrael squealed in delight and grabbed his paw, pulling him towards the tree's shadow. "Come on! Don't you wanna have some fun??" Tor sighed, knowing that she wouldn't stop bothering him until he did. "Fine." She giggled again, and jumped into the darkness, hauling him after her.
They appeared on the top of 'The Cursed Mountain', as the mortals had called it for so many years. Tor stared down at the three cats climbing the mountain, waving their paws around and chatting as they did so. His mind pulled him back to a thousand years ago, and he growled softly. The last time a village had been born, he had gotten no peace and quiet, no matter what he did. So he had created the avalanche. The cacophony of screams and yells, curses and crying... they had only lasted for a couple of minutes before the snow had covered them up. Much better than having to listen to them for the rest of eternity. The fire inside of his chest flickered up, the crimson light consuming everything around it and creating ripples across the snow. The heavy white drifts shuddered, shifting dangerously. In seconds they came loose, and he watched with a neutral expression as the cats yelled, scrambling back down the mountain to try to get to safety. They were too late though, and the cold wave hurtled over them, tumbling the rest of the way down the mountain, and coming to a stop in a huge heap. The pass wouldn't be clear until the next spring, he reckoned. "Wowie!" Azrael grinned, clapping her claws together. "A good show!" Tor huffed, and sank back into his shadow, eager to get back to his garden, as Azrael bounced off down the mountain to check out the damage. Finally, some peace and quiet.
The Narrator is a soulless dragon. He lives on a mountain close to the ruined city. He used to be Azrael's shadow, before she found out how to enchant it, creating him in the process. When he's around the city, he can be found tending to his plants next to the river, or sitting on the bench in the forest, meditating. When he's on the mountain, he can be found sitting and staring at the clouds below the peak, or down near the small hut where his main garden can be found.