My name is Vahn, and I have no home.

Honor, they say, is innate to my kind, bred into our very beings. We strive to be as close to Bahamut, the Platinum Justice, as we can be. And for many Dragonborn, this is true. But not all.

When I was young, I was taught that we were made by Io, and that the traits of all the true Dragons are found in our kind. Both good and bad.

So it's no surprise, really, that I was flawed. Blessed with both strength and agility, I was prideful. I thought myself better than others, and acted like it. I couldn't accept being anything less than the best, and I trained long and hard, pushing myself to the limits of my endurance.

As the Humans say, I had a competitive streak a mile wide. So arrogant was I, that I saw everything as a competition. A chance to be the best. I won more often than not, though when I lost, I was unbearable to be around. Thus I had few true friends.

I won great fame for myself as an athlete, though what little money I won, I tended to waste away on good food, drink, the company of females, and gambling.

It was the gambling that led me to my doom. I soon owed more money than I could pay, and found myself at the mercy of the Thieve's Guild, and it's Master, the Smiling Man.

I was stubborn, however. I beat the first enforcer to within an inch of his life. The second and the third, followed by the fourth and the fifth.

The sixth, however, didn't come alone, bringing with him numbers seven through twelve, and that's how I gained my audience with the Smiling Man, broken and bleeding.

I became his newest soldier, bringing dishonor to my family. I was cast out, and to live with my shame, I became an even worse bully. I drank often, and used my strength without regard for others. I'd still be living that life now, if you can call it living, or dead, with a knife in my back…but for a twist of fate.

Who was watching over me that night, I cannot say. Avandra, who brings fortune and change? Or the Raven Queen, who spins the webs of fate over us all? It all started when I picked a fight with a Dwarf.

Wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. The Smiling Man wasn't too fond of outsider thieves encroaching on his domain, and he wanted the renegade, a Halfling adventurer, dealt with.

I found her with her companions at Bloody Bill's, a rather infamous tavern near the docks, and one I was familiar with. As I walked in, I let a touch of the Dragonfear roll off my body, and the patrons quickly got out of my way. I'd brought some extra muscle, but I noticed even they walked a few steps behind me.

Most Dragonborn are born with a special organ that lets them exhaled various lethal substances; I lacked this ability (though I didn't advertise that fact). Instead, I'd learned how to tap into another part of my heritage; the ability to inspire fear and terror in other beings.

In my line of work, it came in handy.

The thief in question was a girl, small even for a Halfling. I didn't know her real name, but she was known as 'Redbird' among other thieves, and simply 'Red' to her friends. I couldn't tell you why, since she was a brunette. But the other races rarely made sense to me.

I'd done this a dozen times before. I'd pick a fight with the strongest warrior among her circle of friends, bloody him, and deliver my message. The toughest-looking one was a Dwarf, and knowing their love of ale, I bumped into his table and spilled his drink.

His friends thought about getting involved, but I brought out the full force of my Fear; they didn't run, to their credit, but even the Dwarf looked nervous. The fight was short, and I said my peace. As I turned to go, I heard the Dwarf cry out something in his native language.

I made the mistake of thinking he was tapped out, and told the goons to handle him. To my surprise, the Dwarf ran into their midst, a shield strapped to each arm, and whenever he struck, he sent a man flying!

I readied my weapon of choice, a two-handed hammer, and shook my head. “You should have stayed down, Dwarf. No shield can stand up to my hammer!”

The Dwarf grinned. “A fine weapon, the hammer. As big as you are, if you say no one shield can stand, I believe it. But what about two shields?”

I rushed him, and got in a good, solid blow. Instead of going down, however, the Dwarf laughed, and slammed into me with first one shield, then, spinning like a top, it's mate. I found myself knocked aside, and I landed on my back. I hadn't forgotten how to get up quickly, however, and I quickly regained my footing. Still, I'd bruised my leg badly, and I could only hobble for a few moments; I had no way to get at the Dwarf, so I took a defensive stance.

I really don't remember how the rest of the fight went, to be honest. The next thing I remember, I was on the ground, and the Dwarf had the edge of his shield at my throat. “Yield, and ye might live to learn a few things, lad.”

What could I do?

I found myself indebted to the Dwarf (he was very insistent on this point), and, even though I was likely going to die, I led them to the Smiling Man. To be honest, I was tired of living like an animal. Could death be any worse?

Oddly, the Raven Queen decided not to take my soul that day; to my astonishment, the adventurers were a match for the Smiling Man and his lieutenants. Still, it was a close thing. The Smiling Man offered me a choice. Help him, and he'd forgive me.

I introduced him to the business end of my hammer.

“Wise choice, lad. Wise choice.”

-

And that's how I met Beorden (“The Bear”) Stormforge. Bear is a good guy, for a Dwarf, and he had a lot of sympathy for me, once I told him my story. Like Dragonborn, Dwarven society places a lot of emphasis on one's Clan and family.

I'd been cast out, and lost my honor, but as he pointed out, I never had much to begin with. I'd stained my family's honor, but I still had my own, for what little it was worth.

The value of one's honor is dependent on one's actions.

So I asked him to train me, and let me tell you, fighting with a shield is a lot different than swinging around a maul. I had a lot of bad habits to unlearn! But before long, I fell into that old mindset, pushing myself to try harder, train longer.

And in the end, Bear grinned and said my training was half complete. “Taught you how t' use one shield. Now let's see what you do with two of 'em!”.

-

Once I'd learned all he could teach, we parted ways. I felt like I'd been given a second chance at life, but what next? I had no home to go back to, so that left really only two options. Mercenary work, or becoming an adventurer.

While I couldn't get work with any Dragonborn companies, it turns out other races are always looking to sign up a Dragonborn warrior. We have a reputation, although, personally, I'd rather fight a Dragonborn than another Dwarf. They don't fight fair!

So I became a mercenary. I guarded merchant caravans, I hunted down bandits; it wasn't glorious work, but it quickly became routine. Granted, I didn't often pull out the second shield; it's an unorthodox way to fight. People can understand swinging around a weapon and a shield. But two shields? Madness!

I could understand it. Until I got beat down by Bear, I wouldn't have thought much of the technique either! Although, as Bear taught me, sometimes a shield isn't just a shield; it can be a weapon, too. I used to use spiked shields, but then I came across something called a 'Fighting Shield'.

It bore a minor magical enchantment that made it the equal of a spiked shield, while providing the defense of a much sturdier shield. A perfect match! There existed more powerful variations, but they were expensive. Too expensive for a mercenary…unless you were willing to take on more dangerous assignments, that is.

So that's what I started to do. No job was too dangerous for me. My old competitiveness came back; I relished the challenge! Paladins in service to the Raven Queen, I discovered, sometimes used something called a 'Soul Shield'; a shield that had a magically-sharpened edge, making it the equal to a good axe!

So when some Raven Queen acolytes needed an armed escort to clear out an abandoned shrine of some undead, I was quick to sign on. I'd fought skeletons and zombies before, but never in such numbers! The more I beat them back, the more of them came. My Dragonfear was of no use; the Dead care not.

I was the last one to die; the other defenders had fled or fallen, leaving no one to guard the rear; try as I might, I couldn't protect the priests against so many foes. I died, with regret on my heart.

-

I awoke in the Raven Queen's temple. Against all odds, a young priestess had survived as well. She had managed to find her way back to the temple, and gathered the other priests, telling them of my heroism.

Heh. I never thought of myself as a hero. I just don't like to lose.

Still, they were impressed enough to rescue me from the fate of becoming a monster, and did beseech their Goddess to return me to life. Once again, I was in debt, but this time, to a God!

There was trouble brewing elsewhere in the land, and the priests suddenly had use for a strong sword-arm. Or shield-arm, in my case.

And so I go forth to meet my destiny.

At least I got a pair of nice new shields out of the deal!

-Vahn