Everyone meet Arthak, my dragonborn bard. He has a lute! And a feather!

Commissioned from Demitsorou.

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"To any dragonborn, the clan is more important than life itself."

Arthak would agree, even if he wasn't the exactly like his clan.

His family were tough - they lived for combat. His father was a brilliant fighter and dualist, and is mother a gifted cleric.

Either profession would have been acceptable. Either would have been 'a worthy pursuit' for a proper dragonborn. But neither felt right to Arthak. He was competent at fighting, but lacked the grace of his father. He could cast, but he didn't have the power of his mother. He just was... worse.

He was 5 years old - the equivalent of a human teen, when he first heard the lute.

He remembers the day well. It was cloudy. He had worried it might rain, and he'd ruin the nice robes his sister had repaired for him. And then he heard the sound of strings. Beautiful strings.

It only took a few pieces of his coin to get the bard to teach him that evening. And only a few more to come the next day. He suspected he paid better than the tips at the near-empty tavern.

He did the same for the next bard, and the next. Until his family figured out that he was spending his days in town.

The weren't disappointed, like Arthak expected. Just... confused? He supposed that was better than he expected. But... his mother Akra just asked him "is this what you want", and he nearly snapped his neck nodding.

"Very well, then let's get you proper lessons."

He was 15 when he received the lute from his father. It's still attached to his back.

Clan is more important than life itself. And he'd lay down his life to protect that lute that his family gave him.