Him

Towering and intimidating, the figure is clad from head to toe in black armor that is embellished with eldritch carvings and demonic visages etched into its surface. Thrown around the armored figure's shoulder is a cloak, red as blood, that is thrown open and over his shoulder at the moment. You cannot see this armored figure's face as it is clad in a horned helm with a faceplate that covers almost the entirety of his face and is carved into the likeness of a gaping maw. The only thing that reveals there is anything living beneath that armor at all is the eye-slit and, in that thin darkness, two eyes of blood red glow like fiery embers. Your wings expand out lighting up the room to look at your creator, your master, your father.

"He has your eyes my lord but are you sure such a brute will serve your need my lord?" Knowledge passed into your mind, teaching you about your race. The Lizardfolk are an old race who had survived an extinction event, both legends and facts passed through your mind telling you the truth of your race. Even more enraging was how the other races viewed your own, as an Emberkin the angel blood would make many of the races praise you as a symbol of goodness, redemption and hope not understanding that both light and darkness resided in you just as it did in them but they viewed the Lizardfolk as simplistic, barely above animals and many of the civilization saw it as sports to hunt and kill your kind. Elves tend to be more respectful to your race as both of you respected and adored nature.

Rage consumed you as you drew flames from your stunted wings shooting a small fire at Uldar the Master simple blocked the flames with a simple gesture of his hand. "You know little Uldar he is far more than just a Lizardfolk but the question is will he know his place?"