Reforged from a French Stone Snap Dragon, by Hunter; Mist.

Always wanting to be in the hustle and bustle of Norwich, Jester could be found hanging around the rafters or in doorways of local establishments. He was never interested in the social interaction that came with the locations; he was much more entertained by watching the people. The merriment, the joy, the atmosphere. All of it.

He would often tuck himself high on a shelf, hiding behind the ginger bottles or stein glasses. He would peer through, giggling at the kaleidoscopic shapes that appeared. He would do his best to be quiet and remain hidden, but after many a tipple from the bar floor, he wasn't quite as slender as he used to be. An uncorked bottle would be enough to make him jump and tumble, colliding with the objects on the shelf. He could do nothing but watch them fall and shatter.

It was here that he picked up the name Jester, as watching a chubby snap roll around, knocking over glasses and bottles, would make the patrons chortle and choke. He would do his best to fly away once he had been spotted, but sometimes he would be caught and forced to roll around on the bar as entertainment for the inebriates. Perhaps even for hours at a time.

Jester would then have to find a new place to hang out, preferably a few miles from the last location so as not to be recognised by the patrons. Fortunately, now he lives a quiet life on the outskirts of the city, but every so often he follows his hunter downstairs and watches the television from his perch to feel a sense of the atmosphere he misses once more.