Spitfires are a desert breed of dragon. Their dull brown bodies contrast with their brilliant turquoise markings, and they only blaze brighter when these dragons fight. Spitfires are notorious for their territorial natures, and the wing-edges of most are ripped and tattered before their first year is out. Spitfires are also noteworthy for their brilliant blue fire, which is used not for hunting or fighting, but rather for making glass caves from the sand, in which the dragons can soak up the sun.

Dragons are highly-intelligent reptilian creatures that—from a human perspective, at least—appear to live forever. Many different varieties of dragon exist, each with their own unique qualities, habitats, and behavior. Adolescence in dragons is usually marked by the growth of a hatchling’s wings, although not all breeds of dragons grow wings and some breeds have other traits that indicate the beginning of maturation. In Galsreim, dragons and humans coexist peacefully.

There was nothing to hear beside the faint crack of thunder for miles. A canvas of sand for as far as the eye could see was a harsh environment in which to become stranded, especially in the time of a storm. However, a cave lay in the middle of the brewing storm: quiet, dry and safe... or so it was thought to be. Upon entering the shelter of glass, there came the thick scent of decay and a clashing of hard rocks. It was too dark to know then that those rocks were actually scales of the nesting dragoness whose eggs lay close to her belly, and her honey golden eyes were observing the trespasser. Makaya spread her ragged wings, showing off the creamy brown of her scales that creaked in the darkness. From her turquoise jaws came a low guttural noise and then a light. Her fire illuminated the glassy walls to show the human and just how lost he had become. He was now in the lair of a very territorial Spitfire.

Makaya had no mercy in a land as harsh as this.