64_Weird or special

"So everyone, this is Patrick. Say hi, Patrick, be nice," Herman said, also warning his unlikely companion and slightly nudging the red-haired human forward as to present himself to his other companions.

"Hmm..." Patrick hummed, palm on chin, an intense face of concentration.

"A fat guardian mech, a paranoid assassin bot, a spoiled AI, and something hiding under a proxy illusion, presumably an adolescent dragon judging by its intense desire to please everyone." The man concluded with that infuriating smile of his.

"Mechanoids can't be fat!" Toppo shot back, involuntarily placing one arm over his armored belly.

"Who told you I was paranoid?!" Staple barked, eyes darting this way and that, searching for hidden ambushes.

"How dare you call me spoiled! I am a strong, independent man capable of caring for myself!"

"I can be whatever you want me to be, kind sir, just name your wish and I will do my best to comply," said the nervous mule/dragon. His eyes looked up at the red-haired human with anxiety, wondering if his words had been received well and dreading the consequences if they were not.

The party shouted all at once. In less than 10 seconds, this man, this red-headed menace, had managed to psychoanalyze Herman's companions and vocalize their biggest insecurities.

The man was a genius, no doubt about it. But his ability to keep his mouth shut kept getting him in trouble time and time again. Herman absently wondered how the man had survived in the real world at all. Though considering he had been inside Generica for a few decades already, he assumed Patrick had somehow lucked his way to old age.

"Sigh... Alright, alright, everyone, settle down, settle down. He didn't mean to insult you all, did you, Patrick?" Herman said, trying to placate his riled-up companions who had quickly assembled into a miniaturized mob, standing united against the infuriating man.

"Not at all. I didn't intend offense. All I said was the truth. All of you people have some serious issues to resolve," Patrick declared calmly, pointedly ignoring the murder in the eyes of Staple, Toppo, and Slippy.

"Take that back! Who do you think you are? Get him, get him!" This and various shouts of discontent and accusations were mercilessly hurled towards the uncaring man.

"Patrick, you pumpkin, can't you at least TRY to be civil for 5 minutes?!" Herman said as he tried his damnedest to hold the angry mob from getting to Patrick.

...

While Herman was trying to hold back his allies from tearing Patrick to shreds, the group failed to notice the sun above them dimming, winds gushing, an oppressive aura of raw primal power, under the imposing form of the Draconian clan leader, Sharo.

The massive, battlecruiser-sized dragon let out a piercing roar, spewing gusts of fire at the sky and showing his grandeur for all to see. Then plunged downwards at the city, right at the group of bickering people.

The dragon landed with tremors, shaking the very ground beneath him, then rose back to his hind legs, puffing his chest and waiting for the inevitable oohs and aahs of the citizens of the city he was responsible for protecting.

He was the mighty grand-level dragon and leader of all draconians in the solar system, the slayer of countless foes, both system enhanced and not. An ancient calamity, unmatched in both power and wisdom, he was the biggest, baddest, STRONGEST...

"Amm, excuse me, can you move your tail a little to the left?" said a mechanical female voice, rudely interrupting the dragon's thoughts.

"Hrm..." Sharo grumbled, tilting his massive head to regard the puny mechanoid woman below him. She appeared to carry a robot hatchling on a harness at her chest and push a cart with an even smaller botling in it.

"Amm, the tail, can you please move it off the crosswalk? Please hurry, I have to leave my kids in the nursery and then go to work," the mother said, completely unbothered to command the massive dragon monstrosity. Neither was she impressed by his amazing presentation of power and grandeur. If anything, she seemed more worried about getting late than suffering the dragon's wrath...

"Grrgrgmmmm..." Sharo grumbled, eyeing the puny robot and her two hatchlings with displeasure. Nevertheless, he slowly lifted his tail to the side, letting the mother pass and being careful not to accidentally hit her or her hatchlings.

"Sigh..." The clan leader let out a tired sigh. There was a day when whole kingdoms trembled in fear at the mere mention of his name. People back then used to respect dragons, regarding them with awe and fascination, and a healthy dose of fear as well.

And now... now he barely even got a glance directed at him. What the hell was wrong with these Earthlings?! Dragons were one, if not the most fierce, creatures in the entire universe and beyond. And yet here they were regarded with the same awe as pigeons... God-damned pigeons, he and his kind deserved better, they deserved proper respect! Oh, what was he even doing here? He should just take his clan and leave this backwater of a planet...

"And go where...?" Oh, who was he kidding? He was too old... Few dragons survived to old age in the harsh, battle-ridden universe. Yet he had managed it. And what did he get for his efforts!?

His family members had gently but firmly ushered him out of the way. A "retirement," they called it, an old warrior's way to still contribute to the future of the clan. As if Sharo was some demented old grandpa who was a liability to the newer generation. "Bah, the nerve!"

Still... He did enjoy his work here in the clan nursery. Yes, it was out of the way of serious battles, but having the chance to guide the newest generation of hatchlings was surprisingly rewarding... Despite the damn Earthlings showing him and his kind constant disrespect!

"Thank you, Sharo, you are my favorite dwagon, muah!" The little mechanoid girl chirped, extending her little hands as wide as they could go and hugging the snout of the massive beast, then giving him a kiss for good measure.

"Huh?" Sharo murmured, stunned at the unusual display.

"Molly, come back, don't bother the kind dragon. I am sure he has more important things to do. He and his clan are helping us protect our home from the bad humans," the mother said, hurriedly rushing to gather her daughter.

"I am terribly sorry about this, Clan Chieftain Sharo." The mother apologized with a respectful bow, then quickly grabbed the hand of the little girl and gently detached her from the massive beast.

"Oh, um, that is quite alright..." The dragon murmured awkwardly, his tail unconsciously waving in the air with uncertainty...

"Ah well, I'd better be going. I still have to let my kids at the nursery before work," the mother finally said after an awkward few seconds of nobody saying anything else.

"Oh yes, yes, I, um, I know what you mean. Hatchlings can be quite a handful, especially when they are young. I was actually looking for my youngest son... We have to have a serious talk, me and him." The dragon grumbled, unused to openly talking about such things.

"Oh, you have a son? You have to bring him to our bakery sometime. We offer special blueberry pastries for dragon hatchlings. They are amazing for growing lizards and for maintaining their healthy, shiny new scales."

"You are a baker?" Sharo exclaimed with curiosity.

"Indeed, I am. I am one of the ones who prepares the regular treats Fencetown offers to your clan. We have become experts with the preparations of various baked goods, specifically designed for growing dragons. Hey, why don't you join me? I can show you how we make the different pastries you dragons seem to like so much." The woman offered, struggling to place her fidgeting daughter back in her chest harness.

I... I... Sharo hesitated... That was precisely why his family had exiled him here. He might have been the strongest warrior, but when it came to politics, he was always the black sheep in the clan...

"It wasn't proper for the mighty clan leader of the Draconian clan to patronize with mortals, especially ones that haven't even finished the system tutorial... What would the people say if they saw him talk with such a commoner?" Sharo thought.

"Bah, who cares? If they have a problem with what he was doing, they would have to deal with it!"

"I would love that Earthling. Lead the way," Sharo finally said, motioning at the baker and her hatchlings to move on, while he used a metamorph spell to downsize himself a bit so he could freely move through the streets of Fencetown.

___

"Well, that was a very enjoyable and informative visit." The kind mechanoid baker had shown him the complicated process of preparing the dough and other materials, and then assembling everything into one magnificent product.

Currently, he was walking in the streets of the town in search of his son.

Ever since he was a mere hatchling, he had always been interested in baking. Specifically, in making pastries. They tasted and looked so good, and that was before some of the expert bakers enchanted them with magic.

The endless possibilities and combinations of tastes and textures were such a fascinating thing to Sharo. Yet... he still remembered the day when he gathered the courage and announced to his father (the old clan chieftain) that he wanted to pick a baker for his main class...

Sharo involuntarily ground his teeth at the painful memories. The scars his father had inflicted on that day still ailed him, both physically and mentally...

At those ancient times, the clan was still small and under constant threat from all sides, nothing like the grand Drakonian empire of today...

His father was right to question Sharo. They needed more warriors, not bakers. Eventually, Sharo was forced to pick a true class, a warrior's class. And through it, the clan had prospered to what it was today. Sharo was an excellent warrior. No, he was a savant unseen in generations. So yes... his father was right in the end. But Sharo would never forgive his old man for the way he chose to "educate" him...

He could have talked with him. He could have tried to convince him, to explain... Instead, he chose to... Sharo shook his head with a grimace, pushing the painful memories away. He had an important task to do now, one that reflected these memories all too well. He had to guide his first son and youngest of children towards choosing his first class.

In a way, Sharo was glad that he visited the mechanoid bakery. It stirred the ancient memories of his past that would now reflect on his choice of what to do with his only son.

But on the other... his son was quite... special...

Sharo sighed yet again, tiny flames exiting his snout, the surrounding Earthlings staying well clear of the troubled dragon.

He never had any problems with his other children. All of them, for some bizarre reason, were daughters, and they had no trouble choosing a class of their own, one in line with clan doctrine and traditions. His clan were warriors through and through, usually frontline warriors, but some of his daughters had ventured on to pick more unusual specializations such as strategists, an unusual choice but still combat-related. He didn't have to guide them too much. They all knew what they wanted to do well before the ascension day.

But his son... Sharo had his own ideas of the world...

One week he would swear to be a musician, then the other he would abandon that path and follow something completely random as a juggler...

Last time Sharo saw him, he wanted to be something called a ... 'cosplayer'... He even sewed his own furry suit, whatever the hell that meant...

And his personality also needed some work. Sharo immensely loved his son, but he did lack a certain firmness in his mindset, a decisive nature. He constantly let others walk all over him, and he just didn't know what to do about it.

Of course, Sharo could exercise his influence and deter anyone stupid enough to mess with his progeny. In fact, that is exactly what his elder sisters had done back in the empire. And as a result, Sharo's son had grown even weaker and more incapable of standing on his own four feet.

That is why he had taken him with himself here on Earth, hoping that spending some time with his son might offer some insight into what to do with him.

Unfortunately, Sharo was really at a loss. Still, he refused to act as his own father did so long ago! He would rather die than strike his own kid and force him to submit into the mold.

There was always a better way, and Sharo would find it no matter what!