S
Stheno
Guest
Original poster
The naga were a proud race, half snake half human there mere gaze could turn any living creature to stone.... they were a nomadic race staying mostly in the mountains... coming down occasionally for warmth and food but always returning. They never felt they belonged. Never felt they had a place amidst the humans, the elves, the dwarves... even the basilisk their closest cousin was hard for them to live with. Secluded. With all things that live in seclusion those who do not see them become curious. Rumors are spread. They eat children, they turn maidens to stone, they ruin crops..... poison the waters. They became everyones scape goat. The villains. They were proud, they would fight when attacked. And they were attacked. They lunged and fought and were outnumbered. The most horrible hit happened years ago, the Nestlings.
They had been wiping the tribes out slowly, few remained scattered in seclusion. The humans found what they believed to be the last nest... and shattered the eggs, killed the naga... burned the remains. All that remained was one. One small egg, picked up by a merchant and sod to a collector, inside was a small naga male. The last of his tribe, but certainty not the last of his kind. He was sold before hatching, born to the world as a slave, an item to be gawked at and used, tossed aside.... he wouldn't be given anything but the confines of a cold cage... or the bed of someone with enough money to pay for his...exotic appeal. He was given food, but not enough... villainized and kept in only a loincloth.... he was a collectors item... polished and shined.... bruises hidden and tucked away. Periodically his scales may be removed for another collector, ripped from his fragile skin and then covered by his scanty cloth. He was the last naga known to man.
This small boy, was sitting in his cage this day when the foreign ambassador visited. Veiled, and exotic in her own right. From a country east, living in the mountains. A country of enlightenment and fame, a country that would not approve of his living conditions if they knew it
They had been wiping the tribes out slowly, few remained scattered in seclusion. The humans found what they believed to be the last nest... and shattered the eggs, killed the naga... burned the remains. All that remained was one. One small egg, picked up by a merchant and sod to a collector, inside was a small naga male. The last of his tribe, but certainty not the last of his kind. He was sold before hatching, born to the world as a slave, an item to be gawked at and used, tossed aside.... he wouldn't be given anything but the confines of a cold cage... or the bed of someone with enough money to pay for his...exotic appeal. He was given food, but not enough... villainized and kept in only a loincloth.... he was a collectors item... polished and shined.... bruises hidden and tucked away. Periodically his scales may be removed for another collector, ripped from his fragile skin and then covered by his scanty cloth. He was the last naga known to man.
This small boy, was sitting in his cage this day when the foreign ambassador visited. Veiled, and exotic in her own right. From a country east, living in the mountains. A country of enlightenment and fame, a country that would not approve of his living conditions if they knew it