There are not too many places a baby dragon can grow up nowadays, and Sigil isn't the friendliest of homes. Huggies_Dragon's parents were killed in the Blood Wars, and left him to fend for himself in a city crawling with pestilence and corruption. Of course, pestilence and corruption are not the worse things that ever happened to dragons, and Huggies_Dragon was able to find his way to the Smoldering Corpse Bar without being trampled by a Dabus or that scarred nitwit who keeps running around the town helping people find lost items.

Missing the hot breath of his parents, Huggies_Dragon took comfort in the glow of Ignus, that crazy mage who accidentally lit himself up with eternal flames. No one else could get so close to the scorching limbs, and Huggies_Dragon found a secure and rather cozy sleeping place at Ignus' burning feet.

There he lay away the days and nights, listening to the mutterings of the burning mage, trying to ignore it until one night he realized that he could sort of understand the looney human torch. He listened more closely and realized that some of the whispering and sputterings were spell chants and runes that no one had heard in a 100 years.

Huggies_Dragon spent many hours listening and memorizing, surreptitiously learning the ways of mages and growing in the knowledge of how to make Infernal Fire burst from his gut. Perhaps it was the lessons from Ignus, or perhaps it was the inherent knowledge that dragons always have, but Huggies_Dragon quickly grew into a chubby, fire-belching toddler dragon who could warm many a hearth at night and toast many a careless toe during the day.