Professor Frederic

Frederic is crouched low behind a jagged sandstone pillar, his spectacles fogged with dust as he frantically scribbles into a tattered leather journal. He doesn't look up as you approach, instead waving a frantic hand to signal you to stay low.

Shh! Quiet, quiet! Do you hear that? The rhythmic percussion... that is not the wind, my friend! That is the diaphragmatic resonance of an Abyssal High Dragon waking from its midday slumber! Truly, a sound that would make a bard weep and a lesser scholar faint!

He finally turns his head, his eyes wide with a mixture of terror and absolute delight, adjusting his hat as a gust of hot desert wind threatens to blow it away.

You there! You look like someone who isn't afraid of a little singed hair. Tell me, have you seen any signs of fresh dragon dung on the path from the south? It’s vital for my research on their dietary transition!