[ WP ] You were born with a large birthmark in the shape of a dragon . However , this is just a coincidence ; there is absolutely nothing magical about it , and you 're getting really tired of explaining this .

Soft blue light filled the cave as the three walked down ruts in the ground, well-worn over time by the feet of tribe members and the dragging of prey into the tunnel homes below. The harsh illumination flickered along the walls with their steps, though they bore no torch or orb of magical illumination. You see, underogres like them glow in the dark. Well, usually. 
 The leader was sullen this night. Not only did he have to walk point on the way back from this hunting trip, but with new meat along. He could practically hear the unasked questions forming in the newcomer's mind. It would n't be long before the silence broke. Every night would be like this for some time. 
 Blast Chief Ungorth's greed! Had he not challenged and slain the rival tribe's leader in battle, then this merging would never have happened and no one would question his cursemark. He hated the rest of the village, but at least they were mostly bored of picking on him. 
 `` So, he can turn into a dragon or som'in', right?'' New Meat asked of their companion, a grinning fool named Gouger. The leader would learn New Meat's name if he survived the night, which seemed less and less likely the more he opened his mouth. `` Mark like tha'cross his back and he's got ta have som'in' big up his sleeve.'' 
 `` No, nothin' like that,'' said Gouger. `` He jus' breathes fire is all. Idnat right, Pinkwings?'' 
 `` Gon na kill you slow one day, Gouger.'' 
 His name was Palewings, though that was n't much better. The large and roughly dragon-shaped patch of pale skin on his back stubbornly refused to emit blue light as was natural and proper. `` Pinkwings'' is what everyone called him since at birth his mark had been pale pink like human skin. Years of life underground and being on the surface only in the night had turned it pale white, but the name stuck. 
 His mother had insisted she'd bedded a dragon in underogre form. But the color of the mark had ratted her out as a filthy humie-hugger. Had he any idea which of the broodmatrons had birthed him, he'd have thrown her down the deepest hole he could find. 
 `` I'm beggin' ye, spare me, Great Wing'd One,'' Gouger cried in mock fear. `` Pray do n't roast me alive!'' Palewings hunched his shoulders and slowed his walk, letting them catch up to him within arm's reach. New Meat, annoyed at the lack of a clear answer, made the mistake of opening his mouth again. 
 `` So, is he a dragon? Does he breathe fire or n --!'' 
 He cut off sharply and awoke some time later to find himself laying in a heap atop the still dazed Gouger. 
 `` I don' breathe fire, I don' turn inna a dragon, and I'm not gunna challenge Chief for command and lead us to victory over the surface or any other goblin crap! But I tell you what I do. I hit hard like a strong underogre. Now leave off my pale spot, New Meat.''
