Furor is the warrior of the clan, and he is always first to challenge visitors (friendly or hostile) to a fun little tussle. Unfortunately, his manner of speaking is rather unique and can be incomprehensible to those unused to it, so misunderstandings tend to occur.

Furor has always lived where the Wandering Contagion met the Shattered Plains. As long as he could remember, he had always been alone, and he always had to fight-- for food, for that last little hole in the ground, and for that angry pack of Mirrors nearby to just leave him alone already.

As he grew older, Furor began to notice a lot of things. It started with tiny, insignificant things: the warriors of the Mirror clan nearby had steps that went 'tap-ta-tap-tap' while their mages had steps that went a steady 'ta-ta-ta-tap'. Then, before he knew it, the little details started to help whenever he got pulled into battle with them. Tap-ta-tap-tap, slide, snap. Trail around, lash. When there's a ta-ta-ta-tap, find the source, and take them out with a crack.

Furor started to notice more and more things, like when another dragon thinks they're the king of the mountain or when a dragon is only fighting to protect their hatching grounds.

With this newfound insight, Furor could win fights he never could before. He drove off the pack of Mirrors who constantly tried to kill him in his sleep and made their lair his new home. He caught fish from the slime-pools that dotted the area. He fought every visitor to learn about their intentions. Before long, nobody came by anymore.

Furor was alone, and he hated it.

Then...

"Leech?"

"I've already eaten, thank you."

Furor was no stranger to Aes's brush-offs, and he knew to always, always not take anything at face-value. He stopped. He watched, and then saw the subtle shift of wing muscles that refused to loosen, twanging a painfully tight chord. He listened, and then heard the strained hiss catching under Aes's breath with a, "hh-khh-hh". Furor frowned, and pushed the still-wriggling morsels over to Aes again.

"Eat," he said firmly, "All of it. Good for you. Then see Waterlily."

Aes's mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, his small, sharp teeth clacking against each other in apparent frustration. Furor stared unblinkingly until Aes shook his head with a sigh and speared clean through a leech with a claw.

Aes has some rather unhealthy habits stemming from his zealotry toward the Plaguebringer and, although Furor knows none of the terms, Furor recognizes the actions of a dragon prone to self-destruction. No matter Aes's opinion on the matter, he and Furor were friends. And Furor takes care of his friends.

Furor was uncharacteristically silent as he watched the resident medic go about her business. He recognized the crunchy insects in her claws; they were shiny and fun to play with, but benign and didn't taste very good. His filmy eyes narrowed as he watched her crush them into a powder. "Waterlily," he hissed, his tongue flicking out between his teeth as he did so. The medic's feathers twitched in annoyance, but otherwise didn't acknowledge his call. "Waterlily!"

"What, Furor?" The tip of the medic's tail flicked, as if yearning to smack something. "And my name is Baylir! When are you going to learn it?"

"Bugs ain't medicine," Furor ignored her protest with a practiced ease, though he stood from his rock as a precaution; everything about Baylir's body language screamed that she wanted to hit him. And, for a self-proclaimed doctor, Baylir hit hard. "Ain't poison, even. Why powder?"

"Shove off. I know what I'm doing."

For some reason Furor can't explain, he doesn't fully trust Baylir. He doubts she's a real medic, doubts she really cares about Aes, doubts that she's not going to one day just kill everyone in their sleep. The whispers about her sketchy experiments don't help his impression of her.
Note: Furor knows Baylir's name, but he calls her Waterlily anyway.

"Bright-scale, Light-scale, Break-scale friend?" Furor trilled to himself, watching Caprice dismantle the remains of the creature they had just been fighting. The scratches in her gem plating caught the light so prettily under the grime of victory. "Tail like thunder, eyes dead blood."

"What are you mumbling to yourself about?" Caprice separated bone from flesh with her stained claws.

"Need a not-name." Furor chirped and butted his head against her side affectionately. "A strong one. Pretty one. Like you."

Caprice turned to him and hummed, then set the slain creature's skull atop Furor's head. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth, briefly hitting Furor's snout. "Call me 'Queen'," she hissed.

Furor likes Caprice a lot. He likes her lethal movements and sharp claws. He likes her tough golden scales and green gem plate. He even likes the divots her teeth leave in his scales when they spar. She's fun to fight by and with, and Furor adores the struggle.
Note: Furor calls pretty much everyone 'friend', and in his mind friends need nicknames.