Every time I turn around, someone- Gerald, a lore master, or a king- is telling a story of a mad dragon. This one flew into a volcano. That one spends all its time trying to survive underwater. And these three over here... really are mad. One in particular might as well change his name to Gerald's Insane Bane.

Are all dragons mad? By human standards, perhaps. But then, they don't think the way we do, eat or sleep the way we do, or care for their young the way we do. They fly. They breathe fire. They hatch. How many of us really understand our family and neighbors? Why should we understand these behemoths? Perhaps they think us mad as well.

Therein lies the problem. They don't understand us. We don't understand them. If all goes as usual, this means war.