In a world filled with fantasy races and monsters, such as Elves, Dwarfs, Beastmen, and more, Ruja is a strange creature. Ruja is an anthropomorphic creature with a dragon like head with a thick jaw and ebony horns. He has medium length white hair that goes down his back like a horses mane, all the way down his thick scaled tail. He has a banded scaled belly with love-handles from indulgence. His chest and most of the rest of his body below the neck is covered in ashen fur thats short in contrast to his mane. He has digigrade legs, and large claws on his hands and feet, both his hands and feet have scales rather than fur up to his ankles and wrists. Ruja has the magical ability to influence the time of any object he touches. Ruja saved some villagers from a human village by healing them with this magic, and due to his appearance they believed him to be a god. Ruja decided to go along with it, enjoying the food they made for him in his honer, as well as the temple they built for him outside the village. Now he lives in said temple every day accepting the gifts the villagers bring him, as well as healing any villager that needs it. Ruja used to be a human as well before meeting a mythical monster. Ruja however being powerless appealed to the monster, bringing it food and pampering it. The monster grew affectionate to him and began to get feelings for him. Over time ruja made a potion that he fed to himself and the monster, as they drank it their beings combined, the monster giving ruja power he had never had, and ruja giving the monster sentience and awareness of his self. Now they reside in this strange body together as one. The story will begin as a party of two mages and a frontliner will see through rujas lies and criticize him, possibly even wanting to fight. They will try to recruit him on their journey to defeat the demon king, their part needing a healer. The party is incredibly powerfull, on of the mages being an elf thats several thousands of years old and still considered youthfull due to elfs lifespans.
Chapter 2: Scars Beneath Scales
The droplet of Kael's spit hung suspended between them, catching the temple’s eerie light like a flawed jewel, as Ruja stared at the lattice of ancient, silvery scars crisscrossing Lyra’s offered palm. Her words, ‘bitter draughts’, echoed in the sudden silence, vibrating against the low hum of the pool and the frantic drumming of Ruja’s own panicked heart against his banded ribs. He felt the familiar, cold prickle of sweat beneath his ashen chest fur, the smooth scales of his claws trembling slightly against the cool stone ledge as the sheer, terrifying vulnerability in her emerald eyes threatened to peel back the layers of his carefully constructed divinity. "You think... you think showing me scars makes us the same?" Ruja rasped, his draconic voice rough, laced with a defensiveness that felt brittle even to him, his gaze flicking between her hand and Fern’s watchful, unreadable expression near the pool's edge. He took a slow, deliberate breath, the scent of ozone and damp stone sharp in his nostrils, forcing his trembling claw away from Lyra’s offered hand and back towards the frozen dwarf, the faintest shimmer of temporal energy gathering at his fingertips. "Fine," he muttered, the word tasting like ash, "but tell the walking boulder to sheathe his axe before I let time remember gravity."