In ancient days, before the Advent of the Sorth of Bragadox, when Fragilis sang and Saxaquine of the Quenelux held sway, when the air was sweet and the nights fragrant, and everyone somehow managed to claim, although how they thought anyone was going to believe that claim, to be virgins, it was not possible to heave a brick on Brequinda in the Foth of Avalars without hitting at least half a dozen Fuolornis Fire Dragons.

Whether you would want to do so is another matter.

Not that Fire Dragons weren't an essentially peace loving species, because they were, they adored it to bits, and this adoring of things to bits was often the problem, one often hurts the one one loves, especially if one is a Fuolornis Fire Dragon with breath like a rocket booster and teeth like a park fence. Another problem was that once they were in the mood they often went on to hurt quite a lot of the ones that other people loved as well.

Add to that the small number of madmen who went around the place actually heaving bricks, and you end up with a lot of people on Brequinda in the Foth of Avalars getting seriously hurt by dragons. But did they mind? They did not. Were they heard to bemoan their fate? No. The Fuolornis Fire Dragons were revered throughout the lands of Brequinda in the Foth of Avalars for their savage beauty, their noble ways, and their habit of biting people who didn't revere them.....

Why was this? The answer was simple.

There is, for some unfathomed reason, something almost unbearably sexy about having huge fire breathing magical dragons flying low about the sky on moonlit nights which were already dangerously on the sweet and fragrant side. Why this should be so, the romance besotted people of Brequinda in the Foth of Avalars could not have told you, and would not have stopped to discuss the matter once the effect was up and going, for no sooner would a flock of half a dozen silk-winged leather bodied Fuolornis Fire Dragons heave into sight across the evening horizon then half the people of Brequinda would be scurrying off to the woods with the other half, there to spend a busy breathless night together and emerge with the first rays of dawn all smiling and happy and still claiming, rather endearingly, to be virgins, if rather flushed and sticky virgins.

Pheromones, some researchers said. Something sonic, others claimed.

The place was always stiff with researchers trying to get to the bottom of it all and taking a very long time about it.