It's a living.

January 5, Year 19

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An enigmatic dragon. Profession: gardener.

The Ship protects its inhabitants from the outside world, and Chopchop protects them from the Ship. It's unclear whether anyone needs protecting from Chopchop.

Shortly after the Ship awoke, when panic was high amongst the crew, a lone tundra sidled in from the trackless desert, offering expert assistance- years of experience, you know- in taming difficult foliage. With an array of electrical weaponry- all nonlethal, you know, completely humane- the dextrous wanderer was able to subdue the fury of the great beast, cutting short what might- Chopchop assured them- have been a massacre, and preventing much destruction of furniture.

Since then, the dragon known only as Chopchop has been employed by the Cap'n to stand guard over the Ship and calm its many tempers with multifarious electrical prods. Possessing a bit of a mercenary attitude, this humble gardener likes privacy, for sure, and claims to have a completely uninteresting past. Still, that expert nose seems able to sense trouble before it starts, even when no one else notices the Ship doing anything unusual; while tending to the treeflesh- which Chopchop calmly yet adamantly insists is what's going on- the gardener can appear in the oddest places, at the most sensitive moments.

By insisting that this professional relationship is temporary and trying to live apart from the crew, Chopchop managed to fit right in. Recently, after expressing an interest in the art of recombining portions of remembered musical compositions on rotational copper engravings for novel effect, Chopchop has joined Tongue and Grannyclaws to form a hip-hop trio called the Hatchet Society, performing in the Old Schoolhouse every Saturday night except when they forget.

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They may not have a license to ill, but they have a learner's permit.