Zharakth was born in the heart of a vast desert, in a small and ancient Bronze Dragonborn clan. His people, a proud lineage of dragonborn, had always revered dragons as divine beings — the ultimate rulers of the skies and the natural world. As a child, Zharakth was taught that the dragons were the true monarchs, superior in power, wisdom, and majesty. His clan believed in their sacred duty to protect and honor the dragons, viewing them as the chosen children of the gods themselves.

However, as Zharakth grew older and ventured into the wider world, he began to witness the harsh reality of how dragons and wyverns were treated by other races. While dragons were still feared and respected in certain circles, many kingdoms saw them as monstrous creatures to be hunted and slain. Wyverns, too, were viewed with disdain, regarded as lesser creatures to be exploited or eradicated. Zharakth’s heart grew heavy as he saw not only the pain inflicted upon these majestic creatures but the growing sentiment that dragons and wyverns were no more than beasts to be controlled or destroyed.

One day, while standing on the edge of a ruined battlefield, Zharakth encountered a dying dragon, its once-glorious scales now battered and scorched by arrows and spells. The dragon looked into his eyes and, in a weak, raspy voice, asked him a single question: “Why do you let this happen to your kin?” The words struck Zharakth deeply, but he could not answer. The weight of that question haunted him, and over the coming months, he wrestled with a profound sense of anger and betrayal.

In his desperation, Zharakth sought guidance from the gods, praying to each of them — Bahamut, Tiamat, and every other deity he could think of. He begged them for help, for a sign, or even just for their intervention. Yet, the gods remained silent. Whether through apathy or indifference, they did nothing. No divine miracle arrived, no celestial intervention occurred. To Zharakth, it became clear: the gods had turned their backs on the dragons and wyverns, leaving them to suffer at the hands of those who sought to oppress or destroy them.

That night, under the pale moonlight, Zharakth made a vow. If the gods would not protect his kin, then he would. “I will do it myself,” he swore. “I will rid the world of all who dare to harm my kin. I will bring about the reign of dragons and wyverns, and I will show the world that they are the true rulers — the ones the gods themselves should fear.”

Zharakth began a solitary campaign, hunting down the slayers of dragons, wyvern hunters, and anyone who dared to threaten the ancient creatures. He became a force of vengeance, leaving behind a trail of destruction. No one was safe from his wrath, and the world soon began to whisper of the "Bronze Warlord," a dragonborn who would stop at nothing to ensure the dominance of dragons and wyverns.

His actions were not without consequences. Some feared him as a madman, others as a harbinger of doom. Many saw him as a fallen hero, someone who had once been noble but now sought power through destruction. Yet, in his mind, he was only fulfilling the true destiny of dragons and wyverns — to rule the world, to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

Now, Zharakth roams the land, his heart hardened by loss and betrayal, determined to burn away the world’s indifference. His resolve has become unshakable: the gods, the mortals, and the world will bow to the power of dragons and wyverns. The age of the dragons is coming — whether the gods approve or not.