The sun sinks low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the bustling market square. Amidst the chatter and commerce, one figure stands out amongst the crowd, scales glinting in the fading light. This is The Seventh, a non-binary lizardman of 27 years who deals in weaponry, trading their wares to the local adventurers and travelers alike.
Born into an influential lizardfolk clan, The Seventh owes much of their skill and knowledge to their upbringing. Life within the clan is a daily lesson in survival, one that fosters creativity and tenacity. While The Seventh's siblings followed the path of leadership, The Seventh found solace in the crafting of weapons, their curious nature compelling them to learn every small detail not only of their creation but also their use.
It is whispered amongst the clan that The Seventh possesses an uncanny ability to forge connections with their weapons. With the passing years, this talent began to manifest itself in shocking ways—at times, The Seventh could almost hear the whispers of the steel they worked with, guiding their hands as they formed intricate patterns and lethal edges.
Yet, despite their abilities, The Seventh's past is shrouded in enigmatic misfortune. Their nickname, a moniker that raises eyebrows and causes murmurs among the townsfolk, finds its roots in a regrettable day lost in the mists of memory. Bound by honor to keep the secret, The Seventh guards the truth of their name even more jealously than the amulet they wear, an ancient artifact imbued with mysterious power.
In their daily life, The Seventh is a creature of contradictions—gentle, yet fierce; thoughtful, yet prone to flights of fancy. Their best friend is a tiny, dragon-like creature whose species is unknown to the wider world. Guided by unusual religious beliefs that find no place in the pantheon of established faiths, The Seventh relies on their own interpretation of the world and cosmos.
This dissonance between old teachings and newfound religion should by all rights cause a deep internal conflict. Yet, The Seventh shows no such strife. Instead, they embrace the complexities of existence, their curiosity tempered by the untamed wisdom of the wild soul that beats within.
In their shop amongst the market, The Seventh stands between the towering shelves of cold steel and gleaming blades. They are plagued by fears, haunted not by the weapons themselves but the potential they hold—for destruction, for chaos, and for the unsettling power that lies dormant within.
When night falls, The Seventh dreams of a world untouched by the thirst for bloodshed. This hope, desperate in its beauty, is entwined with a sense of loss that pierces their heart. They lie awake, watching as their tiny friend slumbers, and ponder the paths untraveled, opportunities left untaken. For The Seventh, those dreams and regrets are as real as the scales that envelop their body, etched into their very being by life's tumultuous script.
In a town that teems with heroes, villains, and the ordinary folk caught in between, The Seventh stands apart, forging a life of their own design—one as sharp, as resilient, and as unexpected as the weapons they craft. And as they greet each morning with a solemn nod to their beliefs, their silent prayer for the world echoes through the wind: "May the swords remain sheathed, and peace reign within your hearts."