Physical description: Hysten is short and hunched over with a long snout and a bony ridge between his eyes. His scales are a grey-blue and slightly translucent, with white, almost clear scales decorating the top of his head and his shoulders. From his back spring two bat-like wings of a very pale blue colour, the leathery hide draped over them translucent, giving them the appearance of being very fragile.

Hysten wears a black tunic over his black died leather armour, specially crafted so that there is room for his wings.

Personality: Hysten is a calm and quiet kobold, reclusive and secretive in nature. He turns in upon himself often and keeps himself company. He has a rage burning within him though, a dark rage that always tries to emerge and reacts at the slightest pressure. Those who know him fear his wrath, knowing that it is fueled by something more than his own strength.

Despite this, there is a certain allure about him which draws others close and those who come to befriend him find that he is loyal and truthful, albeit a little strange.

Hysten has come to terms with his mysterious powers and tries to control them. Through them he has come to understand the power that words have and speaks them concisely when it is needed.

History: Hysten was born in a small tribe of two dozen families living in the foothills of a great mountain range. He was born in the tribe's communal clutching nest along with six other clutchmates. When he emerged he was sickly and weak and his scales were perfectly clear in colour. The fosterers were distraught, thinking that he would be lost, and so they brought him to their all-watcher. The all-watcher took a look at the wyrmling and nodded knowingly. He saw that though he was born weak, powerful energies gathered within him just waiting to emerge. After giving him a blessing, he was sent back to the nest to be raised with his clutchmates.

Hysten grew quickly. His sickly state at birth was quickly forgotten as he grew in size and strength. His scales lost most of their translucent quality but remained pale in colour, like no other kobold in the tribe. The others would often tease him about it, calling him names and poking him with sticks.

A few weeks before his third birthday, Hysten's powers began to manifest. At recess from studies the other kobolds began laughing at him as usual. This time, Hysten had enough. He looked at the lead bully and his eyes filled with rage. He pointed his pale finger at the boy and wisps of darkness began to rise off of his body like steam rising from hot meat. Hysten's brow furrowed and his upper lip curled. "May the curse of the ages be upon you!" he called out and instantly the youngling was struck with a feeling of dread as he felt darkness closing in around him. The others backed off and Hysten pounced on the boy, beating him to a pulp.

When he turned three, Hysten was called to the Master Sorcerer to be tested for aptitude. The Master Sorcerer was puzzled by Hysten's situation, because he did have power coming through him but it was of a darker nature than he was used to. Nonetheless, he agreed to help the boy through his awakening.

Hysten's time as an apprentice was troubling and stressful. He went through the daily meditations and concentrated on drawing out his potential, but he found no success. All he could muster was the strange curse he once manifested and even that would not come without first being provoked. Hysten was constantly being teased by everyone. By his fellow sorcerers for being inept and by the other children just for being strange.

Hysten began to be lax in his studies and meditations, feeling restless and discouraged. When his 5th birthday came and he made his transition into young adulthood he felt like he had accomplished less than any other in the tribe; he wasn't a successful sorcerer and he had learned nothing else. So Hysten decided to do something that was never done in his tribe: he publically renounced his vows to the practice of sorcery.

The tribe was outraged - members of the order were supposed to devote their lives to the craft. The master sorcerer was upset - he was always working to bring out the potential that he knew lay in Hysten. The all-watcher was fierce in judgement. He reminded the lad that he made the lifelong vow and that he was bound by his honour to remain in the order, devoted to a life of meditation. Hysten retorted that he did not have what it took and that all his work was in vain. The master sorcerer stipulated that it was the effort, not the reward, that was truly important. In the end it came down to an ultimatum. Hysten was to remain in the order for the rest of his life. That life could be a long one, or it could be short.

Hysten decided to take a third option, one that was also not common within his tribe. He left.

Hysten waited until it was day so that he could sneak out without anyone seeing him and he left the tribe's settlement, not looking back. He didn't have any respect, friends, support, love or admiration in his tribe and so leaving really was the best thing for him to do.

---

Hysten grew on the road. He travelled from city to city, digging through trash and begging for money. He didn't have any skills to speak of, having spent his whole life as an aesthetic, and so he didn't have much that he could do for a living.

Two years passed and Hysten was living the desperate life of a street urchin. He made his way to a big city and crawled through the streets begging for scraps. His skin had darkned slightly with age, going from a white to a greyish blue, though he was so covered in filth most of the time that it might as well have been bright purple. He had almost completely left his former life behind, having very little connecting him to who he was. Then his wings began to grow.

They came out as short stubs at first and Hysten was worried that he was ill or something. Then they began to grow and take shape. After two months they became recognizable as wings, though they were still too small to be functional. When he saw this, Hysten's life started to make sense: He was a dragonwrought!

The dragonwrought were usually identified from a discolouration of the eggs, but in his case he must be manifesting an ancestry of Crystal dragons by his colouration, meaning that the spots on his egg would have been very subtle indeed. Had it been known that he would have been a dragonwrought, his egg would have been taken to one of the sacred kobold mines where all the blessed eggs were taken. Certainly this error in judgement was the cause of his poor upbringing and miserable existence. It wasn't that he was an inferior kobold - it was that his gifts were not properly encouraged.

Hysten found a new vigor in life and a renewed sense of purpose. He began to perform his daily 'Search for the Dragon' meditation once more and he set off on a journey back to his tribal mine.

It was several more months before he reached the place of his birth and he was both excited and apprehensive at the thought of returning - but he had to set things straight with them and find the holy mine where surely he would find all the answers he sought. By the time he arrived his wings had blossomed and were strong enough that he could glide with them short distances.

Hysten came to the mine but when he arrived his expression of joy and excitement turned to despair; they were gone, all of them. The tents and tools were still there, but no kobold could be seen anywhere. Hysten came closer and noticed that everything had been smashed and trampled... his former village had, apparently, been destroyed by marauders... and by the looks of it, some time ago.
Hysten felt a new mix of emotions. Rage. Sorrow. Regret. Longing. He never imagined that his whole tribe, as hateful as they were towards him, would be killed... he always thought in the back of his mind that some day he would return and that there would be a place for him. It wasn't until they were gone that Hysten discovered how much they meant to him.

Once more without purpose, Hysten began to wander once more, but this time not as an urchin. He did not wander with fear and humility... now he went with rage and purpose. He took up the blade and scoured the land, searching for any signs of his tribe's killers, whoever and whatever they may be. His power grew from within him as he stood against foes and threw the rage he felt at any who would stand in his way. He hunted orcs and goblins, beast and monsters and made quite a name for himself in the region - the shining streak that flew through the night, killer of vandals and barbarians.

Hysten flourished in his new identity, his new life as a warrior. It came so suddenly and so naturally to him that he never again second guessed his skills. He grew to understand and appreciate what he once reviled within him and found that his gift, though limited, served him very well.

After several more years passed he was recruited by some adventurers passing through and Hysten found comraderie with his new warrior peers. His skill was honed by the instructions of the others and his gifts appreciated by them. Hysten was in his prime.
And so he stayed... the frightful avenger, pale of skin but dark of soul, quiet of voice but strong of heart, the shining streak that flies through the night.