Commander General Malcolm Chapel, rider of Kronor the Crystal Dragon. Kronor himself is a large beast, standing easily seven times over the Malcolm in question.
Born within a small village amongst Elves upon the Silveer Plains and close to the Chasm, Malcolm knew much of strife. The sound of clashing swords, the thrum of bow strings and the rending and tearing of Dragons overhead. He knew much of the struggle for the seemingly important gap, the Chasm so it was called. He knew of the constant forays into the Chasm to capture the every important Magma Dragons, he knew of the pastures in which the great Plains Dragons would roam and soar over during mating season and he knew quite well of fair few things between.
Now, considering his knowledge, it did Malcolm little good. That which did was the use of sword and bow, of survival and more importantly, how to run. Running was a staple part of his young life as bread would a staple of ones diet. The constant forays by the Onyx Dragons and their riders would consistently strike terror and madness into those below, prominently the village as it played home to many of the Dragon Tamers, the forward scouts and observers who would relay information. Simply by existing, this village was a 'threat' to their so called conquest.
That didn't sit very well with Malcolm, or any of the villagers, guerilla warfare was prominent along the eastern side of the chasm on the intruding forces. Years passed until these events and Malcolm had matured as a man, not necessarily to the elves that dominated the village, the same elves whom had raised him after the apparent disappearance of a father figure whom had left him in Village care.
With such reverie out of the way, we continue on with the tale of guerilla warfare and how exactly it got Malcolm to the position he was in at current times. The eastern lands prided themselves on defending their own, but sometimes with the large border they had to cover, from the northern islands to the southern seas and all in between, a small village and its pastures might be missed. It was up to the villagers and those whom had the grace to choose to stay and assist when they appeared that it was not left a smouldering wreck by the raiders.
Malcolm, now a man as mentioned was one to head these attacks, many of the elves had a very laissez faire attitude to the events, pining on thoughts of the military coming to their aid, with longer lives to live they little cared at times for those of others, such as his own. Raising his banner, Malcolm rallied those whom might be willing to throw down their own lives for the good of many, one could say his motivational speeches, or acts of courage and valour attracted this following, perhaps an innate ability to lead inherited from whomever he shared his blood with. Many things could cause such things, but one thing was certain, if Malcolm wanted to lead, people would follow.
Now it was this charisma about him, his attraction of people to follow him that caught the notice of the military who eventually turned up to take over where the willing villagers left off, the Commander in station of the regiments who offered him a position as a soldier, not to lead but follow for once. This opened the flood gates for Malcolm, an undefinable young man taken into service, rising rapidly in the ranks as more than once the lieutenant, or sergeant or whatever ranks they had bestowed failed in his duties, only for Malcolm to grab them readily and claw back ever numbering battles along the rim of the chasm.
This ever present battling of Malcolm's for the next few years shaped him readily, as if he were clay in the hand's of a master, a unknown soldier come military leader, a novice of the blade yet soon master of the sword and any other instrument of battle from bow to cannon, a time with the caster's upon the fields gave him valuable insight and knowledge of the workings of basic magic, as limited as it was, it was put to good use and readily at that.
Now gone the chains of youth so to speak, years on from the infighting of the village and its expansive surroundings to a military general, the only part of the story left to tell of Malcolm is just why he might sit upon the back of his great Dragon Kronor, why he would lead such similar ones to he into battle. Malcolm would not be called a war hero just yet, he had not saved countless lives with his own hands or slain entire battalions... yet, many great feats evaded his vision but his simple and thorough goal, to protect and lead those whom would share such goals. His opinions on such matters garnered respect from those whom were above him, the lords and anything else, the Dragons, more specifically, the Crystal Dragons.
He was approached, as were many of his battalion he lead, overnight they were changed from ground fodder, as much of a general he was to one whom would soar the skies and make the fight that bit more interesting.