About

Ågni (pronounced AHG-nee) is one of nine dragon lords, nigh godlike beings that govern the world they live in. They are imbued with control over certain aspects of that world according to the sign they were created under and can manipulate it as they see fit. Ågni is the Bearer of the Flame, a position he inherited from his sire before him, and is associated with volcanoes, forest fires and destruction. He is considered to be the patron of metalworkers and blacksmiths and is credited with creating the phoenix.

Of the nine dragons, he is the youngest by nearly two milennia and is the only one who was born rather than created by an elder dragon. His sire, the previous Bearer of the Flame, Karsara, was the eldest of the dragon lords and widely considered to be the leader of the pantheon. As the Bearer of the Flame, they chose to focus on light, warmth and the hearth rather than the destructive power of fire and were considered the patron of parents, children and those who traveled by night. They were known to disguise themselves as a vagabond and roam the area near their temple blessing those who showed them kindness. It was during one such journey that they met the woman who would become Agni's other parent, Llewelyn. She proved to be a good, kind, generous woman and Karsara fell in love with her, something that would seal both of their fates.

During one of their visits, Karsara revealed their true form to the woman, trusting her to keep their secret and also to still accept them. She did with open arms and the dragon lord chose to stay with her instead of returning to the temple when their time was up. So deeply in love were the pair that the dragon chose to sacrifice their true body and reside permanently in the human disguise they'd used to wander the land. They married Llewelyn and intended to spend the rest of their now human lifespan living with her as her spouse.

But a human form, even one crafted by a dragon lord, was not strong enough to contain the essence of one and within the year Karsara's body began to fall apart. When it became apparent that their death was imminent, they begged the other eight dragon lords to keep watch over and protect their family when they were gone. The other lords mocked him, now small and mortal and turned away. Only Iori, Keeper of the Four Winds heeded their former leader and agreed to help. Now weak and coasting off of the last dredges of his former power, Karsara used what strength they had left to place a protection spell on their unborn child and bless their wife. Then, they faded, leaving behind sweet smelling ashes in their wake.

Llewelyn, though crushed by the death of her spouse, carried on. A few short months later, her child was born, a baby boy she named Ågni after the sleeping volcano that rested near by. Like it, she could sense that there was something secret hidden within him. For six years they lived in relative peace with the world around them. They harvested the vegetables their tiny farm produced and sold them at the market. They climbed the side of the volcano on clear days and had picnics in the high grass. Those halcyon days of Ågni's youth would haunt him in later years after the veil of happiness the world had worn had been ripped away.

In his seventh year of life, everything changed. In a scuffle with some of the local boys, Ågni's powers manifested. They were all just playing, but in a particularly rough bout of wrestling, sparks shot from his hands, burnt one of his friends and lit another boy's tunic on fire. The latter child died and the entire village was in uproar. Ågni, who'd previously been allowed to partake in the village's social life despite his mother being labeled a heretic, was completely shuttered out. Over the next few months, fellow villagers grew more and more aggressive to him as his powers grew until the breaking point finally came.

Llewelyn had known all along that her son wasn't a normal child and when his teeth started to grow sharper, and two firm, round bumps appeared on his forehead, her foresight was confirmed. Despite telling him that he was special in a way others wouldn't be able to understand and warning him not to use his abilities outside of the farm, Ågni was still a seven year old boy and children are curious, exploratory things by nature. He was seen making small fires with his hands near the communal river all the villagers gathered water from. The man who saw him was one of his mother's greatest detractors and upon arriving back at the village he told everyone that the farmer's son was a demon changeling and she'd drowned her true child years ago. A mob was all too eager to take a trip to the farm and kill the witch.

Llewelyn saw the mob coming up the road from half a mile off, pitchforks and torches in hand. She told Ågni to hide while she went out to meet them and the child ducked underneath their bed, a window just low enough so that he could watch what was happening outside. He watched as her voice was ignored and she was shouted down. He watched as the mob fell upon her, vicious as wolves. He watched as his mother was murdered and the pain of loss and fear of what would happen to him now that she was gone overwhelmed his body and his abilities manifested fully.  

An inferno fled forth from his body, all the power of a dragon lord wielded by a child. He had no control and no idea what was happening to him. Afraid for his life and half-mad with the pain of becoming fully himself, Ågni ran for the river, trailing flames through the town with the mob hot on his heels. By the time he reached the water and flung himself into it, the village was ablaze and the mob was nowhere to be seen. Before the night was over, those who couldn't escape the blaze would choke to death and the flames and those that did manage to escape would be haunted by the night, forever remembering the event as the curse of the witch upon those who'd harmed her. No one thought to search for her son.

When dawn finally broke, the town was nothing more than ash and smoldering beams, Ågni the son of Llewelyn alone among the wreckage. He was afraid and alone and hungry and he could do nothing but curl around the now cold body of his mother and wait for death. For three days and three nights he lay with his mother's stiff arms around him, for three days and three nights he kept his sleepless vigil until on the morning of the fourth day, someone came for him. 

Llewelyn had been a pious woman in life and she'd taught her son the nine hymns. He knew Caeliot called the sun and that Noma brought it down again. He knew Galea's net pulled the tides and loosed them once more and that all gamblers prayed to Kreion. He knew of Tažma the clock keeper and of Karsara the wandering god and he knew that the massive figure who appeared before him, resplendent in white, dandelions tangled in their ankle length hair was Iori, the Keeper of the Four Winds.

The deity knelt before him took his hand and brought him close to their chest. They dried the boy's tears and offered him comfort. Other than Karsara, Iori had been the most benevolent and the only one left in the world to care for the Bearer of the Flame's hatchling. They wrapped him up in the fabric of their robes and brought him to the Cloud Garden, the castle in the sky at the center of the world, where the four winds were kept.

Though Iori was far from being the mother he'd lost, they still raised the dragonling as is he were their own, teaching them about their people and their responsibility as the new bearer of the flame. They brought him to the meetings the other seven dragons had and ensured that he'd be ready to take his place as the head of the pantheon when the time came. Despite the Keeper of the Four Winds best efforts, they couldn't stop Karsara's son from becoming an angry, surly child and and even surlier adult. While Ågni's sire had gone out to the people, in his adulthood the young dragon chose to hole himself up on the mountain his mother had loved in one of his sire's crumbling temples, attended only by phaedra. For nearly six centuries he lived alone, leaving his self imposed exile only to meet with the other dragon lords and carry on occasional dalliances with Kreion. It was a lonely existence.

His resentment over the death of his mother and his hatred of humanity poisoned the once beautiful mountain and the surrounding lands, turning the once lush peaks into a volcano and the formerly bright fields of his boyhood home into a wasteland. With each year his despair grew deeper and deeper and his fury settled cold and heavy into his stomach. Despite his best efforts to remain unknown and unseen, humanity still attempted to worship him as one of their Lords. He hated it and in the 712th year if his life, weary of the drudgery his existence had become, he decided to seek out a magic user to help him end his life. That magic user was Traveler.