Seeming, all the time to not belong to any race but your own
Built out of sinew and flesh and bone. Have wings to fly, flames to fry.
And a casual disdain for all but the fairest of passers-by. You keep your own counsel.
Consulting the magic golden egg on matters of importance and state and of being what you are.
Else you live without a care, even in times of war, you can be found staring at your own
reflection in a pond and turning your head this way and that when passing. Why you even own a dragons
hat. The scary times are over for the time being so now you hardly need breathe let alone
shake the ground to its foundations in fear and in might. She-dragons are a rare sight and
advertise you might none have come to your lair. So you live without a care, taking a sheep now and then.
You haven’t the passion to do anything. You are a dragon. Fair luck.
