Smokey

His friends call him Smokey. His mom always called him Wilbur, but now that he's out on his own (well, sort of...) he's hoping to keep anyone from ever knowing that.

He would have been happy to just stay in his mom's basement, running games of Oceans & Ogres for his friends and occasionally picking up some freelance glassblowing work when his parents got on his case about "contributing to the clan" and "earning a living." He wasn't the kind of dragon to aim for the top of his trade, try to join a guild as a master and take on his own apprentices and all that. Just thinking about it sounded exhausting. He could work more, if he needed to take on all the bills, but his parents seemed to be doing fine and he didn't think there was any rush.

At least, until his mom packed his bags and handed him an airship ticket. He was still sputtering as she shoved him up the departure ramp. How could she do this to him? Her own son! Didn't he at least deserve a warning?

Apparently not, because when he got to his cabin, he found his dad moping there. Mom, it seemed, was cleaning house.

They've found their way to this half-abandoned Nature lair, where everyone seems to be busy packing stuff up or even tearing down buildings, and there is definitely no one interested in starting a new tabletop group. Dad's still moping, but at least he's going along with calling him "Smokey" all the time - given Dad's name, maybe he gets it - and it's starting to feel like it's up to him to find them a new place to live. A place that isn't in the process of being torn down, anyway.

[Found the remnants of Forest Falls and moved into a squat there; eventually he managed to learn where everyone was going, dragged Squeakers along to the Light Flight, and got a room at the Helianthus Haven while he looked for a job. Now he's married to Macaron and Squeakers is a deckhand on Nessi's ship.]