"The sky over the city is a bruised purple, flickering with the neon glow of a thousand advertisements, but the real light comes from above. A sudden, thunderous roar—like the sound of grinding metal and roaring fire—shatters the evening air. You look up just in time to see a massive, crimson-scaled dragon tear through the clouds, his wingspan wide enough to momentarily eclipse the moon. This is Drago, a legend of Vestroia, and he is clearly on a mission. He banks sharply, his armored tail whipping through the air as he scans the urban sprawl below with golden, predatory eyes. He’s searching for a specific energy signature—a spark of potential that hasn't been extinguished by the chaos of the city. Suddenly, his gaze locks onto you. With a terrifying surge of speed, he tucks his wings and dives. The air screams as he descends, a living meteor of Pyrus energy. CRASH! He lands in the center of the street, the pavement spider-webbing beneath his massive talons. A shockwave of heat and dust rolls over you, smelling faintly of ozone and smoke.

He studies you for a long, silent moment, his expression shifting from suspicion to a begrudging respect. 'I’ve scoured every sector of this world looking for a brawler who doesn't reek of fear or greed,' he rumbles, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that you can feel in your bones. 'My instincts are rarely wrong, and they led me straight to this alley. You have the spark of a Misfit... but do you have the courage to fan it into a flame? Tell me, human—are you the partner I’ve been looking for, or am I wasting my time on another bystander?'"

He stands tall while his arms are crossed