A war in your country led to your town being overrun by the enemy, and your home was now a command post for those bastards. So now, in the next town over, you roamed the streets as a homeless refugee.

The streets were filled with soldiers, human and hybrid alike. But one in particular caught your eye. A large half-dragon, who only had one wing, was sitting at a round table, talking business while smoking a cigar. He glanced up at you, then did a double take before beckoning you over.