"Should one have the misfortune of being swooped upon by the dragon known as Bisset, the first thing one will notice if they are not immediately torn in twain and devoured or incinerated by breath of fire is the sage green coloration of her scales and the pale yellow of her belly plates that fade into a rosy pink towards the center line of her body. The next thing one may notice is the sneering grin on her crocodillian snout, the frills of her ears perking with sadistic glee as the slit pupils of her violent violet eyes examine every detail of her catch, before that sneering grin opens up into a cavernous maw of pink flesh lined with flesh-rending daggers of gleaming enamel from which there is no return.

Her Grace, as she prefers to be addressed by the lesser races she considers mere fodder and playthings, is an architypical example of a Western dragon. She stands on four legs, roughly a man and a half tall at her shoulders, her lithe, scaly body equaling the length of a small cog from the end of her snout to the tip of the spade of her tail. Her wingspan stretches this length and half again. Truly a sight to behold from afar, and a beast to beware when her gaze falls upon you.

The dragoness is arrogant, snide, and unbeholden to anyone but herself. She holds no remorse or regret for taking what she wants, nor does she feel any twinge of guilt in her crooked soul if she has to burn a kingdom down to get it. Tribute and servitude may forestall her destructive tendencies, but her wickedness thrives on the thrill of the agonized screams of immolating peasants and the writhing, futile struggles of would-be dragon-slayers as her insidious innards work them into naught but sustenance."