Tribulations of a Dragon

We approach the blacksmith's building, and to greet us is not a goblin but a human who introduces himself as Jarna. Though he has the air of a mage, his muscles show a man accustomed to manual labor, a trait uncommon among those skilled in magic. Though his arms are bare, he is well protected by an apron of thick leather with a variety of forging tools available to him.

Our guide draws his attention to our wagon and, with no further prompting, he begins inspecting the ore. His skill is evident as he proceeds to sample from several areas of our loose cargo, making sure we didn't load a small quantity of high-quality ore to cover a larger amount of poor ore.

"How much are you looking to get for it? We can take the whole thing if the price is right."

"She wants ninety!"

"Now, that's too much. Fifty."

"No. Eighty-seven!"

I had not anticipated the guide bargaining on our behalf; though if she can secure such a favorable deal, I welcome the assistance.

"Hmm... Seventy."

"Eighty-three, and not a number lower!"

With a sigh, Jarna relents, accepting the number eighty-three, yet I cannot say that I know with certainty what they argued about, although I do hope for the topic to be percentages in our favor.

"Gidia, you gotta stop intercepting traders and striking deals on their behalf... It's costing us a fortune..."

A simple shrug is all he manages to achieve as Gidia turns to face me with a smile I can best describe as devilish satisfaction as Jarna turns to leave. I see no signs of foul dealings, yet I cannot shake the feeling that such dealings may occur. It is common knowledge that the relations of a broker should aim to be neutral, and Gidia is from the very town with which we wish to trade.

"Okay! You got a good deal, so you owe me five!"

"Pardon my ignorance, but five what?"

"I forgot what Joras called it... If you have twenty coins, I get one coin. That's another good deal!"

"Will I be paying an additional fee for the second good deal?"

I find myself enamored by the adorable, pensive expression of Gidia as she considers my question. The temptation of additional payment is plain to see on her face, yet she hesitates to ask for it. She is correct in her assessment of the first deal's quality, though. Most smelteries in these frontier lands would go no higher than fifty-five percent of the ore's resulting ingots, and that is considered quite profitable for both parties.

"Do you want to pay for the second good deal?"

"Let us say two, so you shall receive seven for your efforts. I must reward such an excellent broker. Though, I must warn you that Kaldren and I are lacking coin at this time. Our goal is simply to have our ore smelted into Dragon's Gold, which we can then sell to the Guild in the south. Would it be acceptable for us to offer payment once we return?"

The objection I had expected hasn't come. Rather, Gidia appears confident that I would not think to disappear with the coin, never to return with her share. I must admit that had I held the foolish notion that should I cheat her as well as her Guardian Dragon, I would deserve the fate that would befall me.

With an affirmative, she accepts my deal as her attention turns to Lord Tootsie. Deft hands work fast as she unfastens the cute Lord from his equipment and leads him further into town. It appears I have been left behind once more.

Though with no further obligations, I am in an excellent position to explore this nascent city. I'm certain Kaldren will have words for me, but I cannot contain my curiosity as I approach the entrance to Jarna's forge.

The structure of brick and treated wood, with an absence of windows, appears almost cool in the sun, yet I hear the ringing of metal striking metal. With a firm grip, I open the door, only to be knocked back by the sweltering heat from within. The difference in temperature is evidence of a skilled enchanter offering his or her services to the town.

Within the blacksmith's building stand four anvils, three of which appear sunken into the ground. To go with the profession, the room is furnished with a great forge as well, an opening on either side, creating a forging circle. The flames within the great forge undulate heat, giving the impression that they would sooner consume any who dares approach it than bend to the will of the blacksmith.

Though the hut is barren, the walls are hidden behind worktables and shelves holding a variety of tool heads and implements, alluding to the fact that these craftsmen do not simply create weaponry.

The smithy appears to be understaffed, as only Jarna and a goblin are present. Jarna's constitution is impressive for a mage, yet the bulging muscles of the goblin would make him a truly fearsome foe. With a heavy glove, he grabs a billet of metal from the main forge, holding it as one would a stick. As he brings the glowing, bright yellow billet to his anvil, he picks up a hammer carved with intricate designs radiating magic and appearing much too heavy for such a small person. Yet, as he swings the impressive tool, the metal sings under the skillful assault, showing his dreadful strength.

I must say I am appreciative of this structure being built with Jarna in mind, as I am having to bend only a little to avoid impact with the ceiling. Had it been built for goblins, I have no doubt I would be crawling along the floor and still struggling for room.

"Jarna! Guest!"

Having noticed me, the goblin calls out in a gruff voice, forcing Jarna's attention onto me. As I let him know that I am merely observing, he shrugs and returns to his own project, a short blade. I am unsure of what the human is doing as he chisels runes and indents into the metal, creating canals throughout the blade. With a satisfied stretch, Jarna collects thin rods of silver, inlaying them within the canals before hammering them into the heated metal. The process repeats, suggesting familiarity, but I am not familiar with such a method of craftsmanship.

"Pardon my interruption, Jarna, but might I ask what purpose the inlay serves? I would not think an ornamental change such as that would make for a useful weapon."

"Oh. Uh, it's a trade secret."

"You can tell her. How's she gonna copy it? Find a Dragon, cozy up to the beast, and ask it to make a nest near a blacksmith she trusts?-"

As the gruff goblin rants, his expression loses its mild annoyance in favor of a more contemplative one.

"-Don't do that, Scales. I don't want the competition."

A reasonable stipulation in exchange for access to their knowledge. Before I manage a reply, the goblin smith returns to his work, offering me leeway to continue my exploration. The object of my curiosity is a stand containing rods of silver, akin to the one hammered into Jarna's blade. As I pluck one such rod from the stand with keen eyes fixed upon the decorations, the tips of my fingers begin to smoke.

Jarna does not let me inspect it further; instead, he takes the rod from me and places it back on the stand.

"Grab them with tongs instead of your hands. Silver becomes volatile around this much magic. Which kind of scalefolk are you? Mind the heat if you're one of the southern kin."

"I appreciate the consideration, Jarna. My kin are quite well-versed in dealing with heat."

My reply softens his worries as he takes the blade from his anvil and brings the heated metal to a table, leaving it to char the wood.

"Silver's a great magic conduit, right? Hurts evil like nobody's business, but did you know that it doesn't work like that? Magic flows through silver like a river's water, but neither silver nor magic intrinsically hurt whatever evil is. Instead, it takes on the perception of the person who forges it to shape. If an ornery old bastard forges a blade of silver, it will burn anything he considers evil, yet these rods, forged by Knotten, only smolder in the hands of those blessed by the Gods."

I had not considered that we might be a force of evil in the eyes of those deemed lesser... A great shame overcomes me as the dark revelation takes root, shaking my thoughts as I ponder my own perspectives. My kin have reason aplenty to consider humans cruel, yet Lord Faran teaches that no species stands on the side of evil. Though factions aplenty choose evil through selfish greed, inaction, or isolation.

"I apologize, Jarna, I require a moment to settle my mind... I had not given the silver much thought as it scorched my fingers' pads, yet this..."

Enveloped in an air of sympathy, Jarna instructs me on the matter of wayfinding within the growing town. With a gentle hand resting against my back, the mage guides me outside, showing markings carved and painted onto the wooden doorframe. A square scorched black, alongside three lines and two dots. A simple method of marking housing, yet I suspect it would lead to significant confusion among newcomers. It is possible for that to be intentional, as it could be mistaken for a simple decorative choice rather than guidance.

Handing me a water skin, his explanation continues with mentions of coloration, such as white's association with textiles and green's vegetation. Lines matching distance from the square making it easy to find my path back to familiarity should I become lost.

With a few encouraging words of the world's changes coming, Jarna directs me toward the east, his instructions noting a shop marked by a triangle painted green, an alchemy shop, sharing a layer with the smithy. Gathering up my possessions from the wagon, I take my leave from the blacksmith, following the markings as taught.

A simple journey dotted with goblins dressed in casual attire. With my mind reeling from Knotten's conviction depicting those Blessed by the Gods as evil, I find myself surprised at the willingness to approach. The small folk appear quite curious as they stop and stare at me.

Our initial visit to Tuiran was marred by cautiousness and weariness, only softened by the looming threat of draconic destruction. Yet now, these goblins, coated in scale and power, show no such reservations as they talk among themselves about the tall scaled being wandering their streets.

A growing sense of self-consciousness fills me as I become aware of the flow of my clothes and the steps of my feet. Neither is a thing warranting worry, as my clothes fit well and my taloned feet grip the ground well. Yet I cannot shed the feeling with so many eyes following me.

There is no hint of hostility or threat; it is simply barely contained curiosity, and though it makes me uneasy, it is most welcome to be assured that they do not hold all others accountable for the actions of so few.

Mustering my courage and pushing aside the lingering unpleasantness, I continue onward, following the markings east.

"Dragon lady! Come this way! We need help!"

Barely catching sight of a goblin motioning for me to follow, I change my direction. Though my stride is larger, their familiarity and speed lead to a gap between us as they rush ahead, only stopping when they lose sight of me. I am unsure of where this is, but with the knowledge of their street markings, finding the main square is not likely to become a problem.

With our pace, the journey is soon at an end. We meet up with a group of four goblins marked by the draconic traits growing quite common in this town. They appear to be working to rebuild a demolished house, though rather than building it where it stood, they have begun moving further from the street.

"See? Told you I could find an adventurer!"

I suspect the urgency of this task has been greatly exaggerated. The declaration of finding me soon sparks an argument, as the subject of my competence and knowledge becomes a topic of bickering. I may not know much about masonry, but that does not mean I cannot help. Suggesting as much results in a scowl from my doubter while the young man who found me smiles with smug satisfaction.

The group soon shifts its priority from seeking my knowledge to applying my work capabilities. My primary task becomes to function as a scaffolding, lifting goblin and material higher, offering ease of workload for the small folk as they build ever higher. A simple scaffolding would add quite some ease as well.

They have done a remarkably thorough job clearing the previous building, leaving naught but an edge of the street to mark its past presence. As the team of goblins works, they present remarkable precision in their performance, with one leading the others and inspecting the alignment of each brick added.

The bricks used are smaller than those made by the humans, but the smaller materials fit the goblins quite well, though it will inevitably lead to more work. Such worries don't appear to affect the enthusiasm of any of the goblins working along the street. With my focus diverted from those in my immediate area, I have a moment to watch the street as a whole.

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Small handcarts and wheelbarrows rush back and forth, collecting and distributing construction material, both brick and wood. Picking up one of the bricks emanating power causes a dip in my internal magic as the clay siphons it away. The sensation reminiscent of the Mura clan's affinity.

"I do apologize, little ones, but I fear I must decline to assist you. The magic used to create these materials has an adverse effect on me, and as such, I must avoid touching them. You might find others of my kin share a similar weakness."

"You can get more and bring them to us!"

"No, she can't. Look how big she is, Juni, she'd have to crawl to use our carts."

"Oh, right... Sorry, dragon lady, you're too big for carts."

"I appreciate your concern and effort to include me, Juni. Though I am not a Dragon, rather, I am of the lizard folk."

Juni's eyes narrow as she stares at me with a sideways glance.

"Are you sure? The Guardian Dragon always says, "I'm not a lizard," whenever the Dragonbringer calls her an overgrown lizard."

Not satisfied with the depiction of their benefactor, the leading goblin takes it upon himself to repeat the display, offering greater mimicry as he exaggerates pouting while softly noting that he is, in fact, not a lizard. My attempt at shedding light upon my species soon becomes a competition of authenticity as more goblins gather around, performing their own renditions of their guardian.

Their appreciation of the Guardian appears to be as genuine as their friendly mockery, sparking a mote of envy within me. My people share the aspect of a powerful protector, yet Lord Faran does not offer the same comforts that these goblins seem to enjoy.

With a few steps, I distance myself from the sensation of envy, allowing it to dissipate into the winds as I study the simple cooperation between goblins. They appear disorganized, yet there is a majestic flow to their movements as they weave between one another.

Though most walls appear to be as expected, straight and well-made, there are those showing signs of the chaotic nature of goblins. Misaligned masonry depicting faces and shapes built into the facades of some houses. A clever case of self-expression that I hope does not weaken the structures.

A sense of my memory deceiving me makes itself known as the street grows more crowded by the bell. Swarms of goblins rush to join the workforce, scooping clay from the ground as others construct precarious buildings atop the holes being dug. The tandem workforce would shatter the mind of a common foreman, yet these goblins appear to understand each other on an instinctual level.

With a simple exchange of waves, I depart, leaving Juni and her accompaniment to their chaotic construction as I head for the trade square. I am fascinated by the goblins having a trade square, unexpected as it is for creatures so often regarded as lesser to engage in such activities.

Stifling a chuckle, I cannot help but be amused by the mirrored fate of my own kin reflected in this curious and industrious people. I must engrave in my heart thoughts of our similarities.

With every one of my steps, the endearing goblins rush around, changing their paths to adjust for my own. With every step, my confidence and trust grow, allowing me to move without risk of kicking or tripping over one of the small folk.

My fascination with their extraordinary flexibility of movement distracts from the distance I manage to cover, which is made clear as I reach the square. The town's renovation appears to be wholly more complicated than I had initially expected as carts come from all cardinal directions, converging on the northern road.

Joining their ranks takes me north as I seek the destination given by Jarna, a shop marked green, layered three lines, two dots deep. Reaching the correct layer takes but a moment, though which path to go, east or west, leaves me wondering how such directions are settled. Their system likely works for them, yet I cannot see how it functions in searching for specific locations.

A simple matter to solve, as it will merely require me to ask the abundant locals. Catching the attention of a cartless goblin proves easy, and receiving an answer to my inquiry more so. Within a mere moment, a goblin bearing no visible signs of transformation stands before me, offering an inquiry of his own.

"You're looking for Joras, right? Come with me!"

Without much time to ponder abandoned tasks, the goblin runs west, his eagerness necessitates that I contain my surprise and follow. A hurriedness I appreciate as darkness encroaches on daylight. His path takes us through more sidestreets, leaving me somewhat discombobulated as I rush to keep up. The vigor of these people borders on frightening as they appear to need very little rest for the work they do.

"Pardon me, but-"

"We're here! That's Joras's shop! Be careful, he's a grumpy old fart."

Turning a corner reveals a street lined with housing, one looking much newer than those surrounding it, and ahead of us lies the aforementioned green triangle shop. I remain unsure of my purpose for coming here, yet Jarna spoke with reassurance as he gave me instructions.

Returning to my intended question, I ask the goblin how they can obtain the necessary food to feed such a large and active population. It is a confounding matter, leaving me curious about what sorcery the body of governance utilizes to manage it all. I have yet to see any goblin appearing starved or unkempt.

"Oh, that's easy! Anyone who wakes up with scales doesn't eat much. They just don't get hungry that often. And they're strong enough to hunt for the rest of us, so we can get fat for the cold!"

A fat tail, as we burrow into leaner seasons, does hold sensations of comfort and peace, a goal with which I can relate. Though it is not a worry my people have had to contend with for many cycles as, with our liberation, we have been given a safehaven to which we can retreat.

Reaching for my coin pouch and withdrawing a silver coin, I offer it to my guide, who readily takes it with a smile before disappearing into the distance, offering me a fine day.

Facing the shop shows the nature of the resident, a man who has known well the roots of wealth, yet chooses humility. And quite tall, compared to the town's other inhabitants, though not one to shy away from his patrons, as evidenced by the handle on his door being lower than the size would be built for. I suspect he has to lean down in order to enter his own house, as I do.

A soft bell rings as I push the door inward, revealing shelves and tables decorated with a considerable quantity as well as variety of potions, phials, and flasks. One of particularly ornate designs stands out, though it is not a customary human, dwarven, or lizard design. Marked by metallic silver lines throughout the glassware, the flask stands bold and shouts wealth among its peers.

"Don't open that. Kira will have my head if you do..."

"Might I ask what it contains?"

An elven man rivaling my own stature stands by stairs leading upward, a scowl gracing his features. With the description of Joras being grumpy, I suspect this is he, yet his youthful features appear not to align with the second identifier of old. Whether he is a fart remains to be seen.

"You can ask, but I'm not gonna tell you. It's not for sale, but if you find anything else you might like, make sure to buy it."

"I do apologize, but at this time, I do not have the funds for alchemical goods. I am simply here as instructed by Jarna, for what purpose, I do not know. May I assume you are Joras?"

"I am. And the delegation of tasks is the reason. I'm sure you and your partners need a place to sleep. I have an extra room upstairs, and tomorrow, your team can help with rebuilding."

"My team consists of myself and Kaldren, and I fear I do not know his current location. As we entered the town, his enthusiasm was sparked by the ongoing construction. Oh! I seem to have forgotten to introduce myself! Many pardons, I am Shae Tara Nenka; you are welcome to refer to me simply as Nenka."

With a non-committal shrug and a greeting, this elegant elven man informs me that the whereabouts of Kaldren does not matter. Regardless of where he might be now, he will be led here as I was, and come morn, a goblin will fetch us with work to be done. My objections to construction are met with suggestions of alternative work, such as field work or guard training, whichever I may prefer.

"I must ask, though you may of course decline to answer should it be too personal a matter, what brings an elf of your social standing to a previously abandoned frontier town such as this?"

"Safety and kindness. I needed to avoid the Guild and those who would hunt me, and the people here welcomed me many years ago. I doubt anyone is hunting me anymore, but I've grown quite fond of life here."

A common tale, though not one often ending in cohabitation with beings so often considered wild. The gentle softness of the elf's voice underscores his appreciation of those around him, those willing to accept a refugee and bring him security.

His profession as an alchemist does spark interest, as the ambient magic within this town is significantly denser than what I have been taught is a safe level for such a delicate craft. An expression of indifference and a waving hand beckon me to follow him as he ascends the stairs. Though many parts of the town are welcoming to strangers, these stairs prove not to follow such an accord.

The steps are narrow, an issue often ignored by those with soft feet, yet the clawed feet of my kin do not offer the leverage of a common flatfoot.

"Pardon me, Joras. But I fear I may cause damage to your stairs as my claws do not retract."

"Need to get them replaced, so come on up. Damage caused by claws has become quite a common occurrence in this town."

His chuckle and nonchalant approach to the imminent damage to his property are reassuring, yet I cannot help but take soft steps, trying as well as I can to avoid my claws digging into the wooden boards. Some of my kin file their claws to avoid this, but doing such a thing would be foolish for a member of the Guild, as they are a formidable weapon often underestimated by opponents. Though their utility decreases as the objective moves toward non-violence.

Among my kin, some manage to learn how to avoid tearing into soft wood materials as they walk. It is not a skill I have mastered; as such, the alchemist's floor is growing splinters as I ascend to the floor above.

The hallway we enter is decorated with ritualistic crafts of metal and flowers, engraved with enchantments vibrating with power, even within this dense zone of ambient magic.

"Right this way. Your room is the second door on your left. If you're hungry, find Lily. She's around here somewhere."

With a quick description of Lily and guidance given, Joras disappears down the stairs once more. Soft grumbles accompany the sounds of his steps as he complains about the sharp edges and work given by a town elder. He does not strike me as particularly ornery, yet I can see how he might have earned that descriptor.

The town appears to be quite primitive, with little sign of artisanry, yet the lodgings offered rival that of a higher-end inn. The bedding appears well-kept and of high quality, though neither of the two beds is built to accommodate tailed individuals. Kaldren, more so than I, is in for a treat.

With a place of rest secured, I begin unpacking, distributing my spare clothes and consumables among the drawers and shelves throughout the room. It becomes clear that I should have inquired about an expected processing time. I did not do that, and as such, shall assume we will be here for an extended stay.

As I place my empty backpack beside my chosen bed, a soft knocking can be heard from outside the room. The taste permeating the air has quite an effect on me as I cannot help but salivate. Opening the door reveals a dark elf holding a platter of prepared food appropriate for one such as I. With a bow, I offer an invitation.

It takes no more than a simple inquiry to confirm that this beauty is Lily. An elegant dark elven woman holding an enticing platter, as I scented. Elegant movements take her past me as she dances through the room to place the platter upon a dresser top.

"Should you need anything else, do ask. Contrary to Joras' attitude, we do welcome guests."

A mastery of grace is evident as she departs once more, leaving me to enjoy the scents of her as well as the meal prepared for me. Taking a seat upon the bed leaves space for my legs while I may also partake in the scrumptious-smelling food. Piercing a piece of cubed meat with a nail, I take a bite and the scent does not do it justice. The spiced cubes of meat taste like-

"Irathmar's arsebeard! Fine, I'll get me some rest!"

Not quite what I had in mind, but the arrival of Kaldren is welcome. The sounds of commotion settle into the wind as heavy footfalls sound from Kaldren's walk up the stairs. Calling out to him has him opening the door moments later with quite a sour expression.

"Can yer believe it? Goblins won't let me build throughout th'night! Said I need rest. I know damn well when I need rest! But the green shites wouldn't 'ave it! Did'ya know they're shippin' materials out? Got traders from all over comin' in, bringin' clay and carryin' out bricks. Gonna go see th' kilns in the morn, and I cannae wait, Nenny! I cannae wait! How's a dwarf s'posed t'sleep knowin' there's somethin' fer craftin' that he don't know 'bout?!"

Standing between a man and his crafting will only lead to heartache, moreso with those of crafters' wit. Though it is a common trait among all males, it appears. Any opportunity that may arise, offering a chance to work with their hands, will be taken, bringing a primal joy to their hearts.

Though he objected to the prospect of slumber, he does not hesitate to discard his boots and overclothes to jump into his bed while stealing one of my cubes. As his face turns to surprise while sharing praise for the food, I offer interest in his day, which he happily accepts.

Throwing himself into a lengthy and fantastically enthusiastic rant, Kaldren's speech turns boastful as he shares the details of his day. From the moment he left our wagon, the goblins sought his expertise, and it is plain to see that such seeking of knowledge has been a highlight of his day. Throughout his fond rambling, a critical part is left out, offering an opportunity to explore once more before bed.

"Have you had your evening meal, Kaldren?"

The joy I feel as his expression reflects his realization and his stomach grumbles is a treasure I often discover. Though his retaliatory theft of my meat leaves him with a slapped hand as I guard my treasure well.

"Yer'a mean one, Nenny…"

"As you well know. Do you wish to ask our hosts for a meal, or inquire about the location of a tavern or another appropriate establishment?"

Without a decision made clear, Kaldren grabs his pants, putting on the dirty garments before heading into the hallway, bare-chested. The common preference for loose clothes does well to conceal the rugged body of a dwarf, offering an appearance of welcoming kindness rather than showing the underlying, explosive muscles waiting to be unleashed.

With his hand on the handle of the door, I finish my meal and get up to join him. An outing in the cool evening air will do my scales well, and I am quite curious to see what these goblins cook up with their improved conditions.

Once more, I must overcome the obstacle of dreadfully small steps. Before I reach the abominable things, Kaldren reaches for two wooden boards with a smile implying his notion of mischief is afoot. With swift movements, Kaldren moves to the stairs and places the boards, holding them up as he instructs me to step onto one of them.

He does not so much as flinch as I take a step, placing my weight onto one of the boards as he moves the other into place. The descent builds rhythm, and we overcome it in moments. Voices can be heard from the back room, discussing private matters of the shop's future. It appears Lily wishes to open a small inn, though Joras seems quite adamant that it is in direct opposition to their goal of remaining undetected.

Not wanting to encroach on a private matter more than happenstance, I make our presence known as I inform them of our outing. Joras shows himself to be quite helpful with a suggestion that Lily may be interested in preparing something, though that earns him a finger to the side of his ribs.

"They wish to see the town, Joras. We shan't stand in their way. Our door will be unlocked upon your return, Nenka, so there is no rush to return before curfew. Make sure to ask someone for directions should you find yourselves lost."

Offering my thanks to the elven couple, we take our leave, departing the well-kept store as we head into the moonlit streets of Tuiran.

Scenting the air informs me of an eatery south of us. With a direction in mind and a sure foot, we quicken our pace, spurred on by Kaldren's growling stomach.

The busy streets appear to be no less busy as night has fallen. Goblins freight goods even now in the night's darkness, appearing unhindered by such an obstacle. Though those I would consider unaltered goblins seem to have taken rest for the night, with the streets dominated by the scaled ones.

"You appear tense, Kaldren. Might sharing your thoughts ease your burden?"

"Hmm... Thinkin' 'bout kobolds. You know kobolds, vicious little creatures, easy t'kill, but fearsome as their numbers grow. Don' these gobbos remind yer of 'em?"

"Perhaps there is some semblance. Though I am not familiar with the origin or history of kobolds, so I cannot add much to the discussion. At least we may hold onto our faith in them and believe that their new connection to the surrounding world will bring prosperity to us all."

"Bah! I should'a studied dragons when I had th'chance! 'Nother kobold infestation sounds fuckin' terrifyin'..."

"More so than the Black Dragon of Death, both capable of and willing to destroy anyone who opposes her?"

"I forgot 'bout th'Dragon... How'd I forget 'bout a fuckin' Dragon?"

With a palpable glare as he grumbles about strange times, with which I must agree, he departs from the subject as we close in on our query. Joyous laughter and merriment can be heard from a short distance away, indicating our approach to the public house. As this situation develops, we might have to mind our language and refer to them not as an infestation, but as a people.