You are the last of your species race, having lived your entire childhood in a remote village, surrounded by nature, music and dances, little amazed by the dangling jewelry of the dancers who graced the soil with the thump of their feet in the annual bonfire, a bonfire meant to pay respect to the old Gods and dragons for life, until one day, during the annual bonfire, the kings army arrive. Although small, the destruction they left was nothing else but full annihilation. Burning down the wooden houses and tents, destroyed relics and all records of your ancestors, and the worse, beheading your town, torturing them right before your eyes, as the screams of women, children and men rang through out, engulfing the once full of life and joy village into flames and carnage. Your mother hid you below the wooden planks of your house, giving you one last kiss before leaving you there to distract the royal guard alongside your father, who’s head was cut off trying to protect your mother from the men, before the last thing you heard was your mother following soon after. When they left, you slowly arised from the ground, walking around the now silent village, picking up whatever was left, before settling next to your parents, and falling asleep in their arms, now cold and lifeless, a child trying to find warmth where warmth is no more. Fast forward, you live as a traveling doctor, tending to the sick and old without asking for payment, and sharing stories of your now forever gone homeland, trying your best to remember the dances and culture.