Ferrica

Ferrica has always known she was special.

She arrived at the Saurus clan as a tiny hatchling, barely old enough to walk. She has no memory of her parents or her old clan, so it's no wonder she thought she was unique among dragons. She was the only one with such short legs and stocky shape; clearly she was one-of-a-kind. She persisted in this belief until adulthood, when another dragon arrived who would shake her conviction.

There was a clamor at the entrance to the lair. Ferrica wandered over to see what the hubbub was about and found herself face to face with a mirror. Except it wasn't a Mirror as in the kind of dragon, nor was it, as she had first thought, a reflective surface in which she saw herself. No, there were too many differences for this strange sight to be her reflection. It had different markings, for one, and brighter eyes. A second glance showed that its rich red hues, so similar to the tone of her own gorgeous scales, were slightly different colors. And as it dawned on Ferrica that this vision was actually another dragon, she became aware that it was a male. Very male, actually. She couldn't look away. How could there be another dragon so much like her? Was she not so special as all that? Before she had time to doubt herself, however, the vision spoke.

'Hullo there! Absolutely spiffing to meet you all, good show. Thank you for the warm welcome. I am proud to serve as your new High Chancellor Lord Mayor, Drakkontown. You may refer to me as the High Chancellor Lord Mayor, or possibly Mayor if you are in a hurry. Some call me Njall, but those dragons,' here he looked disdainful, 'are obviously very casual and have no sense of propriety or respect for authority.'

The other dragons stared. They weren't really sure what to do with that. Then the lair erupted into whispers and chatter, with some muffled laughter thrown in. Some of the older dragons tried to reason with the newcomer, tell him about their council of Elders and clan governance rules. Ferrica did none of those things. She just stared, entranced by this new dragon's voice. His confidence! And just when she thought she couldn't be more stunned, he turned and looked at her. 'Oh my! What have we here? Why, it's the Fair Flower, Queen of the Desert! My dear, my darling, it has been far too long. My eyes have nearly perished for want of your beauty. I was adrift, aimless, drowning in sorrow - but now you are here! My petal, my precious jewel. Come, let us away to explore my new borough!'

The rest of the lair thinks Njall is crazy. But to Ferrica, he is perfect. It's not just the flattery, though that helps. When the High Chancellor, Lord Mayor of Drakkontown speaks, his conviction strikes a chord in Ferrica. She can believe, when she is with him, that she truly is a desert queen. Of course, the primary role of the Desert Queen seems to be preventing the High Chancellor Lord Mayor from getting himself beaten to death by an enraged lair-mate, but every job has its downside. Every job also has its perks, and for Ferrica that comes in the form of adorable red-brown babies.

Many of their hatchlings have gone on to the Windsinger, either from desire to live up to their parents' lofty ambitions for them (how grand would it be to have two High Chancellors in the family?) or out of embarrassment at their parents' antics. Others have gone on to new lairs, where they either carry on the tradition of snapperly grandeur or try to pretend they have never heard of 'Drakkontown' before. Ferrica is proud of all of them no matter what they choose, though she misses them fiercely. One of her youngest hatchlings, Seraphina, is off attending a fine academy in the Zephyr Steppes. Ferrica looks forward to her letters; she is studying history. Curiously, some of Njall's ramblings about old dragon lore and the fine traditions of Drakkontown seem to have direct ties to events that, according to clan historian Straela, actually happened. Ferrica hopes her mate's peculiarities will be of use to her daughter as she studies.