No, I'm not related to that crazy Greek in the dress. I, in point of fact, owe my existence to a quite excellent lineage of fine-scaled dragons from the general environs of Camelot. Alas, I now find myself to be a 640 year old orphan as all my lovely and intelligent ancestors have been pointlessly slaughtered by a cadre' of insipid (though well-armed) xenophobes in iron tights.

While claiming to participate in this dastardly genocide for the sake of "fair damsels", the actual truth has far more to do with their fear of nature. I know this as I am quite expert in matters related to fear. In fact, I would describe myself as an epicure of fear. For, you see, contrary to some mean-spirited slander about my taste for nubile female flesh, my preferred diet consists entirely of the fears of humans.

The insidious aspect of this truth; the irony of it, rests in my specie's attraction to the very fear that brought these ner-d-wells-in-tin to our lairs. The average knight's fear of the natural would precede him as palpably as a slice of over-ripe brie on a Ritz. My kin would be attracted by the savory scent only to find it emanating from a creature all a bristle with sharp edges and pointy sticks. Hardly ever would they even talk with us. It was almost as though they feared we might have bad breath. Thus, and purely in self-defense, we would protect ourselves with the powerful defensive magic that all our kind posses.

Unfortunately, this process often left our attackers dead. I say unfortunately not out of any great love for these militant cretins but only because their fear would dissipate rapidly with the onset of death. Sometimes we would become so crazed by hunger that we would linger a trifle too long within knight's-reach in order to drink our fill of their terror. Even this tactical error could not have resulted in our demise were it not for the magic our aggressor / oppressor discovered as his fear was slurped completely away. Yes, that's it, in our simple, and totally natural act of feeding ourselves, we would, inadvertently, free our foe from the chains of fear that otherwise bound his deadly knee-jerk response.

As to the supposed devourage of damsels. This never happened! Not once. Not even when they would prick at our tender parts with their pathetic little blades. Clearly we would be attracted by the fears of these delightful creatures, for the feeding was even richer here than with their male counterparts, but under no conditions whatsoever did a dragon ever so much as nibble at the tresses of a maiden. On occasion, of course, she might get in the way as we turned to repel an attack by her knight protector. This would usually result, much to our chagrin, in her untimely, though unavoidable, death by scrunchage. But it just was not our fault, damn it!

Ahemm ... I seem to have gotten off on a rant ... please forgive this lapse of taste. I have the most beautiful scales imaginable. I'm essentially green but I tan the most alluring shade of golden yellow. I wear glasses over my large golden eyes and like to arrange my wings to attractively frame my face. Small children are sometime frightened (umm .. nummy) by my smile. I don't know why; I have a full set of long sharp teeth that are greatly prized by my kind for their ability to break open even the most neurotic of fears.

As I mentioned previously, I'm 640 years old and have a taste for the fears of humans. I stand 5'3" tall to the tips of my wing claws and I weigh in at about 45 pounds. Times have been lean lately as my roommate, Will, has fed me almost all of the fears he once had and felt he could spare. Fortunately, I'm able to maintain a proper dragonish figure by the application of powerful magic. It's like flying; once you learn how to let go of the ground, you never forget.

Would you like to be our friend? We could share some great adventures.