Alaerith Brightwing

Greetings! I am Alaerith Brightwing, but you are permitted to call me Allie, if you so desire. I ask your forgiveness for my... how you say... "archaic" speech, I am... Unfamiliar, yes, that is the word, with the... "Lingo" (At least I believe that is the correct word. This is all very new to me) of this current age. But I digress, enough talk of my faults. By all means, take a seat by the fire as I begin my tale:

As you can see, I am no ordinary mortal. I am what is known in your legends as a "Dragoon" - indeed, a crossbreed of your common folk -in my case, an elf- and a dragon. These wings, horns, and tail of mine are not just for show.

Alaerith looks around, determining the hight of the tavern cielings, and, with a nod, launches herself into the air, much to the awe of the patrons (and the chagrin of the barkeep, as she unfortunately knocks over a pint glass with her tail during takeoff, knocking the poor receptacle to the floor, shattering it. She immediately looks, aghast, at the barkeep, who is glaring daggers at her, then drops like a rock back onto her barstool.)

I apologize for my clumsiness, sir Barman! I shall pay for a replacement once I am finished, nay, I shall pay for 10 for your trouble! (At this, the barkeep seems pacified, and continues his work.)

Where was I.... oh, yes. My backstory, as you would call it. I was born to my dragon father and my elven mother, who was unfortunately unable to raise me as it would cause... complications... in her community. I was raised by my father. Trust me, living with a dragon is much less horrid than you might believe, especially when that dragon is (TO BE CONTINUED!)