The Quest of the Strongest Dragon

Long ago, in the far off kingdom of Pittsburgh, There was a gathering of magical figures.

Thousands of townsfolk, as well as those from afar, Found their way to the city’s most revered gathering place: The David L. Lawrence Convention Center.

These were not any ordinary folk. They did not claim gold or stature, They were rich in other ways. In kindness, imagination, and skill.

But little did these folk know that, On a particularly warm and humid day in Pittsburgh, Something truly rare would join them: A real-life dragon.

Now, this dragon didn’t feel like a “Dragon” yet. Not really; but he would soon.

But before I get ahead of myself, I know what you’re thinking.

And if it is not “Why am I listening to a disembodied voice talk to me about a dragon in the kingdom of Pittsburgh?” then you’ve beaten me to the punch.

You see… I’m what they call a bard.

A storyteller.

And the tale I have for you today involves… well, it involves tails.

Now… sit down, relax, and let me tell you the true story of the day a dragon arrived… at Anthrocon.

♬♪♬♪

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lie There are dragons in the sky. Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo This one knows just where to go.

Comin’ through the lobby doors, with a grin from ear to ear. He’s a swingin’ and a swaggerin’ ‘Cause he knows just why he’s here.

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo The Dragon knows just where to go.

The Dragon has a battle coming, and he intends to win it all. So he’s on a quest today, to beat Jonathan Christopher-Hall.

Oooooo Johnathan Christopher-Hall.

Jonathan Christopher-Hallllllllllll

♬♪♬♪

“Everything out of your pockets. Keys. Wallets. Pens.”

Daihm pats his sides, pulling out his cell phone and placing it in the nearby bin as he waits in line behind a large purple fox and in front of a smaller purple fox.

“Next.”

He tugs at his badge as he raises his hands, letting the electronic wand pass over him from his sky-blue dragon mask to his arms and legs, and then down to his rainbow-laced boots.

“You’re pretty good with that wand.”

The security guard gives Daihm a stern look.

“Please don’t make this weird, sir.”

Daihm nods, as he passes security and steps into the foyer of a massive convention center. His jaw drops and eyes grow wide as he looks from left to right, seeing a rainbow of colored fur suits.

Red pandas.

Black wolves.

Green monkeys.

“Right then. Now I just need to find me a dragon. And a powerful one.”

Daihm makes his way to an information booth and patiently waits in line behind a sassy-looking seahorse with a clack fan until it is his turn.

He smiles, leaning forward to greet a young woman with black hair and glasses wearing an “ANTHROCON 2026 STAFF” shirt. She looks up at him with a slight hint of confusion.

“Oh! I love the costume. What a great salamander!”

“Thanks! But it’s not a costume; it’s my outfit. And I'm not a salamander, I’m a dragon.”

Daihm spreads his arms out, letting the rainbow wings sewn into his arms extend outward like a pride-themed dilophosaurus.

The woman claps her hands together rapidly and squeals. Daihm reaches out with concern.

“Are… are you okay, miss? You seem to be leaking air.”

The woman laughs.

“Oh you’re funny. I like you. And that accent… you better watch out. You’re going to get glomped for sure.”

Daihm does his best impression of that meme where the math equations float by a confused woman’s face.

“Glo…mped?”

The woman, whose nametag reads “Pytricia,” frowns slightly, seemingly concerned for the young man’s wellbeing, before continuing.

“What can I help you with?”

"I need to be regainin’ my powers so I can defeat Jonathan Christopher Hall. Can you point me to your strongest dragon?"

Pytricia leans back in her chair, looking nervously over to a fellow staffer.

“Well, there is a panel about to start that is about How to Train Your Dragon you will find some there; I'm positive.”

Daihm flashes a smile.

“Aye! That’s exactly what I need! Training!”

“But we don’t have a Jonathan Christopher Hall. Just… Hall A, B, and C.”

Daihm flashes a smile.

“Christopher starts with a C. That’s a good start. Where is it?”

She points to her left as Daihm, a pep in his step, slides her a sticker showing an anime version of himself winking with a dragon wrapped around his shoulders like a boa constrictor.

Pytricia nods politely, taking the sticker and watching as Daihm proceeds through the lobby onto the next stop along his quest.

♬♪♬♪

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo This Dragon knows just where to go.

Dressed up like a rainbow salamander, Our hero continues his pursuit.

What’s good for the goose is good for the gander, Even when the goose is a guy in a fur suit.

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo The Dragon knows just where to go.

♬♪♬♪

Daihm approaches a large crowd outside one of the rooms in Hall C, his relatively short stature unable to fully see over the massive fur-covered heads in front of him.

“Excuse me… excuse me…”

He tries to slip through a pair of sabretooth tigers who seem to be discussing detailed tax law, but ends up catching his foot on an errant tail and tumbles to the ground.

“Crivens.”

He feels something large and furry on his shoulder helping him up as he manages to find his balance and then turns to see another dragon staring back at him.

To be fair, this dragon is fluffy, has enormous oWo eyes, and looks more like a living plush toy than the sort of beast that guarded treasure.

Daihm looks down to make sure his gear isn’t damaged before turning and nodding.

“Oi. Good lookin’ out. I appreciate it, uh…”

“Valerion.”

Daihm nods.

“Valerion. Nice to meet you. My name is Daihm – also a dragon.”

The furry dragon holds its claws up to his mouth and dips slightly to the left.

“That’s so adorable.”

“Thank you.”

Valerion gestures toward the line.

“Are you here for How to Train Your Dragon?”

Daihm nods.

“Aye. A few years ago I crossed paths with an evil witch. She filled my head with lies until I forgot who I was.”

He pauses to think.

“But I’m right-sided now. Mostly. Just need to get stronger’s all, hence the training. How about you?”

Valerion’s eyes don’t change. They can’t. They’re sewn on.

“Ohhhhh. Hun. This is for the movie. You know… Hiccup. Toothless. Light Fury.”

Daihm nods empathetically.

“I’m sorry about your medical conditions.”

Valerion puts their claws back up to their face.

“You’re adorable.”

Daihm smiles and accepts the compliment.

“Do you happen to know if anyone here can help with my training so I can win my contest? It’s my first one in a while.”

Valerion nods emphatically.

“Ohhhh. Now I get it. If that’s what you need, you may want to try over in Hall A. They’re having a panel of past winners who have a lot of advice.”

The fursona gives Daihm a top-to-bottom glance.

“Just take it slow, and I’m sure you’ll succeed! After all, I don’t think anyone you meet could forget you.”

Daihm smiles and grabs at Valerion’s furry claws.

“Thank you! I’ll head to Hall A right away. Here to thank you for your help.”

Daihm slides one of his stickers into the hand of Valerion’s costume and begins heading towards his next destination.

♬♪♬♪

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo The Dragon knows just where to go.

Met a dragon kind and true, who pointed down the road.

Every quest begins with one who helps to share the load.

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo The Dragon knows just where to go.

♬♪♬♪

Daihm slowly pushes on a closed door, stepping inside to find a conference room split in two with rows of chairs filled with costumed creatures.

They are all staring up front, to a long skirted table, where Daihm sees a wizened looking gentleman with a receding hairline and white goatee. From the neck down he wears a massive white fur suit with black spots and a bright red dog collar. A Dalmatian head sits just to his right.

Next is a younger woman, perhaps a bit older than Daihm, wearing a skin-tight cheetah unitard that blends seamlessly into her facepaint. Her hair is cut into a purple bob and over her neck she has a black-and-white leopard shawl.

The final two on the panel are twins — with and without their heads. Two men in their 30s sit in matching fursuits that resemble the rabbit from Donnie Darko, but are somehow creepier.

Daihm finds a seat near the back as an attendee raises their paw.

“Yes, this is for Jason… when you’re preparing for a contest, what is the first thing you do?”

They weren’t dragons, but they were still champions… ones that people listened to. Maybe he should too.

“Prepare mentally. If you skip steps or rush your preparation, people will know.”

He pauses, looking around the room like he's heard this question a thousand times.

"When you're under the lights, you don't suddenly become something new. The habits just stop hiding.”

Daihm pulls out his phone and quietly dictates a note to himself.

"Don't skip steps."

Another attendee raises a claw.

“For the twins — is it true you two didn't speak for almost a year before coming back to do this together?”

The man on the left takes the microphone first.

“Technically that’s true. For a while there all we did was argue.”

The other twin grabs the microphone on reflex to finish the thought.

“We still do, but it is a lot less fun arguing with yourself than with your brother.”

The other one grabs it back.

“But now he’s got my back and I’ve got his. Sometimes when you’re in competitions like these, you can lose sight of how important it is to have people you trust by your side."

Daihm looks down at this phone.

“This is all good stuff…”

Then on the opposite side of the room a massive black bear outfit, like the ones you would see stuffed in fancy lodge entryways, stands up and raises their paw.

“Yes, Ms. Cheetu?”

The woman leans forward towards the bear, arching her back like a cat stretching after a long nap, and raises her microphone.

“Yeeeeeeow?”

The bear looks around to make sure everyone else is seeing what they are.

“Um… well, to take from what the twins just said. What advice would you give to someone who has had people try and make decisions for us? Even if they felt wrong?”

Ms. Cheetu purrs into the microphone.

“Ahhhhhh yes. Doubt, everyone’s least favorite uninvited houseguest.”

She plays with the question for a moment, like a cat batting at a ball of yarn.

“Here's the part nobody wants to hear. It doesn't leave when you win.”

She tilts her head slightly, as if seeing a bird through a window.

“I've placed first and heard it just as loud backstage after as I did before I ever stepped out. Winning doesn't evict it. You just stop checking if it's still in the house.”

“So how do you stop checking?” the bear asks.

Daihm leans in as she purrs again.

“Unlike a cat, we don’t get nine lives to figure it out, so the answer is to stop asking for permission to keep the door closed behind you. Metaphorically.”

Daihm holds up his phone again and whispers to himself.

“Stop asking for permission. Keep the door closed.”

"Even if it's louder than usual? Even if the guy I'm up against has got titles and a decade on me?"

A beat as Daihm looks up.

“Especially then.”

Daihm’s hand shoots up before he can think.

“Uh… yes, in the back. The… salamander?”

The Dalmatian points toward Daihm, who pops to his feet, raising his voice so it carries all the way up to the front of the room.

“I’m a Dragon. Sir.”

The crowd turns back to look at him. Hundreds of sewn-on eyes and mesh screens in the form of pupils staring back at him. He shifts weight between his feet as he clears his throat.

“Yes, of course. What’s your question, young man?”

Daihm had jumped up so quickly he hadn’t even thought of what he wanted to ask, but he couldn’t waste this opportunity to get an advantage for his match from these champions.

Then it clicks.

“Aye. Yes. I’ve also got an opponent. He is a former champion, too. And I love all the advice each of you have given so far — I really do.”

Daihm takes a breath.

“But I actually had, uh, more of a technical question. Something more practical.”

Jason gestures for Daihm to continue.

“Well, you see, I have a lot of energy so I’m no' worried about getting knocked out too early, but where I’m really struggling is with my submission holds. Do you have any you could teach me?”

An entire room of furries turns to look at Daihm, a hundred felt eyes lock on him like some kind of horror film.

You could hear a pin drop. Instead what you hear is the “thud” as Jason’s microphone falls from his hand, hitting the top of the panel table. The sound reverberates around the room as Daihm bows meekly before sitting back down.

The Dalmatian picks his microphone back up. His face is contorted into a weird mix of confusion and amusement.

“Sir, are you sure you’re at the right panel?”

Daihm stands back up, nodding.

“Yes, the panel to learn from champions.”

Laughs pepper the crowd as one of the twins chimes in.

“Hey, different strokes for different folks, my dude. We’re not here to kink shame.”

Daihm blinks.

“Well, I guess it may be for some. But I just need to know how I can be strong enough to overpower my opponent. It doesn’t have to be submissions; it can be holds, pins, or even reversals.”

Ms. Cheetu smiles, cat-shaped dental implants flashing back at Daihm as she raps her nails on the table. She grabs her microphone.

“You want to dominate others, yes?”

Daihm nods.

“You don’t want to be submissive any longer?”

Daihm nods even harder.

The cat woman purrs and points around the room where the conversation has captivated everyone’s attention.

“Well, it seems like you’ve got all the strength you need my dear. But if you’re looking for something with a bit more application then I would head over to the ballroom in Hall B. They’ll get you taken care of.”

Daihm’s eyes light up as he flashes a big smile.

“Aye? Thank ye! Oh. And I do really appreciate all the advice. And good luck to everyone here on their matches! I’ll just leave this…”

He holds up one of his stickers.

“Here — as a thank you.”

Daihm places the sticker on his chair and quickly exits back into the hall as the furries all turn to look back toward the panelists.

“Well. That was memorable,” the Dalmatian says.

The rabbits nod in unison.

“Definitely.” “Definitely.”

♬♪♬♪

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo The Dragon knows just where to go.

Champions offered answers and advice, but not ones the Dragon needed.

So Hall B is where the Dragon heads, The cat lady’s words now heeded.

Ooo hey-a-lin, hey-a-lo The Dragon knows just where to go.

♬♪♬♪

Hello again. It’s me. The bard.

I know I usually show up at the end of these kinds of stories, But sometimes what a hero finds on his journey Isn’t the kind you can sing about or show.

What I can tell you is that The Dragon met some very nice people, And even got some phone numbers.

But this is not what he came to Anthrocon for. He still needed a way to reclaim his power.

Which is exactly what he got.

♬♪♬♪

Daihm sits on a bench on the outside of the David L. Lawrence Convention Center as the sun sets in the distance.

The convention would be going on well into the next morning, but he knew he was running out of time. He had spent every weekend for the last two years keeping in shape knowing that he would find his way back to the ring eventually.

But he still didn’t feel strong.

He never doubted his ability to, one day, reach the same heights as people like Jonathan-Christopher Hall or Nathan’s new friend Ivan… but he still felt like he was a kid in a world he had never been prepared for.

The one his mother had kept from him for 18 years.

The one his grandfather hated.

The one his father nearly died for… at the hands of his best friend.

The one that nearly broke him physically and mentally.

Daihm pulls his mask off, full mane of red hair falling out as he clutches it in his hands.

Dragons are strong. Intelligent. Proud. He was just some kid from Dundee who wanted to learn more about his dad.

Maybe being “The Dragon” was always more about what he wanted to see himself as, more so than what he actually was.

“Maybe I am just a salamander after all.”

“Excuse me.”

Daihm looks up and sees a young girl, maybe 10 or 11, wearing a red dragon Kigurumi onesie and holding the hand of a woman who had to be her mother.

“Hi. I’m Grace.”

Daihm smiles at the mom and then at the kid.

“Hi Grace. I’m Daihm. How can I help ye’?”

Grace reaches into her pocket and pulls out a familiar looking sticker. The one Daihm had left in Hall A.

Daihm raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“Are you giving it back to me?”

Grace shakes her head.

“I think it’s cute. I just wanted to thank you for leaving it. It’s my favorite thing about the convention so far.”

“She’s been trying to find you ever since,” the mom says with a tired sigh.

Daihm leans back on the bench.

“Aye? Why’s it your favorite?”

Grace puts the sticker back in her pocket.

“Because you are one of the only dragons I’ve seen here today. They’re an endangered species. So that’s why we have to find each other … and look out for one another.”

Daihm smiles and nods.

“That we do.”

“Go on, give it to him,” the mom nudges.

Grace reaches into her other pocket and pulls out a different sticker. This one is brightly colored and features a winking Puff the Magic Dragon with the words underneath saying “You’re Magical” in big letters with a rainbow bursting through them.

“Cheers, Grace. I love it.”

Grace pulls the sides of her pajamas outward and curtseys.

“Well, we gotta leave now. Very nice to meet you Mr. Dragon.”

“Yes… Mr. Dragon,” The mom says dryly. “Hope you have a great convention.”

Daihm watches as the child runs off, her sticker held between his thumb and ring finger as he turns it over. With his free hand he reaches into his pocket and takes out his phone, opening his notes app one more time.

“Jonathan-Christopher Hall.”

Daihm smiles.

“Sounds regal. Kingly.

He’s been at this longer than me by a bloody mile; the kind of record to his name where everyone expects him to walk all over someone like me.

But I guess that’s why dragons are rare. And why they are feared.

Because even if they sleep, they never really go away. They just get hungrier.”

A flicker crosses Daihm’s eyes as he pulls his mask back over his face and stands from the bench. He looks down at his badge and sees his name staring back at him under the Anthrocon 2026 logo.

Daihm smiles, peeling Grace’s sticker off its backing and then placing it on the back of his badge before heading back into the convention center.

But not to search for the strongest dragon. He had already found them.

♬♪♬♪

And that’s how it happened, boys and girls. How The Dragon's spirit caught fire in the kingdom of Pittsburgh.

Did he find what he said he was looking for? In a way, perhaps. But he also found something better.

The folk who gathered that day found something too. A story they could tell. One they could pass on.

And, according to this old bard? Whether you prefer tails or tales, You should always pay close attention When a Dragon is involved.