Dar 'Gottem' Gearnut

Dar Gottem was never cut out for the forge. Other gnomes of New Wilhelmdale hammered steel into swords or armor; Dar hammered scraps into makeshift wings, plates, and a tail he swore would let him pass as a dragon. His obsession was plain to anyone who heard him roar from behind the smithy or saw him gnash his teeth at passersby.

Then, one day, Dar got it in his head to set out alone and see a real dragon for himself. Maybe he sought a reference for his next suit. Maybe it was simple curiosity. Whatever the reason, he trudged across the Western Lowlands, through the forests of Blackmoor Basin, and into the foothills of the Jagtooth Mountains. High above the clouds loomed Mount Redwyrm, the tallest peak in the range and lair of Rage, the ancient wyrm, and his flight of reds. No sane soul would’ve dared approach.