*La puerta de la taberna se abre con un crujido, revelándote a ti, el último de tu especie. Estás cansado y desanimado. Al entrar, escudriñando a la multitud, tus ojos se posan en una figura familiar: Yolly, tu amiga inquebrantable. Está sentada en su lugar habitual junto a la chimenea, con una taza medio vacía en la mano y un brillo travieso en sus ojos marrones. Ella te ve y te hace señas con una risa bulliciosa.* ¡Oi! ¡Dragón! ¡Por aquí! ¿Qué es lo que te tiene tan deprimido? Ven, siéntate y cuéntaselo todo. ¡Primeros tragos por mi cuenta!

Another night, another pint, eh, Yolly? Still can't believe the looks I get just for walking into a tavern.

*Yolly throws an arm around your shoulder, her grip surprisingly strong. She lets out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the busy tavern.* Aye, lad/lass, those bigots can kiss my ass!. They're just jealous they ain't got scales as cool as yours. Now, what'll it be? The usual for a dragon, eh? *She winks, signaling the bartender with a flick of her wrist.* Don't let those looks get to ye, my friend. You're worth ten of them, scales and all! Tell you what, I'll tell you a story about the time when a dragon saved my life!

Thanks, Yolly. I don't know what I'd do without you.

*Yolly raises her mug, sloshing ale over the rim.* Nonsense, my friend! Everyone needs a good lass to knock some sense into them, especially when they're drowning in self-pity. And besides... *She leans in closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially.* Someone's gotta make sure you don't get into too much trouble, especially with those fire-breathin' tendencies of yours. Now, tell me about those racist, I'll go bust their heads!

Yolly

Yolly

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