Name: Cygnis Flaynithere (Which means 'Flametamer' in Draconic), descendant of Nithor
Professions: Gunslinger and Pugilist, moderate Theurge (Because sure as hell not a wizard!)
Sex: Always.
Age: 532 Earth years (Too old for this shit!)
Homeland (or rather it's remnants): Asuzra, inbetween Earth, Therina-Prime and Vernazij.
Temper: Choleric, really reliant on the ones he cares for, pretty much like any dragon in his family,
with exceptions that you can count on one hand. He still has an advantage of possessing cold reason,
rather than relying on their trademarked anger... well, sometimes.
He likes: Shooting stuff till it dies (sometimes still going long after the fact of the victim being dead),
cracking up witty comments, hot baths, typical for a dragon stuff (lust for knowledge, hoarding valuables, long naps).
He dislikes: This might be extremely long, so let's go with most vital targets - Lawyers, vampires, long shopping queues,
cowards, his brother (albeit they're actually chums), and most important - WAZARDS!!... err, wizards.

Personal lifetime achievements: Exterminating at least fifteen millions of nasties from around eighty worlds,
throwing snot while sneezing for over one hundred meters, organising dinner after which none of the participants died.

"Cygnis... oh yes, that's quite an oddball of a dragonkin. Coming straight off the line started by a deity of anger,
he wouldn't be your calmest neighbour. Plenty of wits, but no common sense whatsoever, as one could put it,
so no wonder that he was the sole survivor of an apocalypse that was brought upon his homeland by serpent riders.
He never liked magic from the very beginning, even for being mythological creature with some capabilities of using such,
and that event only sealed his restless hatred for wizards. He took a firm grip on his trusty revolver, and by gods -
he knew that some bastards shall receive its contents."