Gotta hand it to Shakespeare; he sure has a way of putting things that endure. You wouldn't believe how many Mundanes have said just that about Faerie--and how many Faerie say it about you Mundanes.

It is a new world. Ever since the Gap opened between my dimension, Faerie (spare me the jokes) and yours, Mundane (now you can snicker), there have been changes great and small to both our universes. So many, in fact, that historians want to synchronize both calendars to the date of the opening and call it AG. (You can imagine the Faerie Catholic Church isn't too thrilled by that idea.)

I'm not here to talk about the big changes. It's been done--from Rimspotter's Compleate Hystories of the Post-Gap Worlds to Idiot's Guide to Faerie. I'm certainly not here to marvel at the creatures in it. When you're a dragon, you're the one who gets the awe, not the other way around.

I'm here to help you protect yourself.

Who am I? Vern of DragonEye, PI. Yep, a for-real dragon. "Wisdom of the Ages. Experience of Eternity. Treasures Found. Virginity Confirmed..." My ad used to say "Hired Muscle;" but my partner, the mage Sister Grace of the Faerie Catholic Church, didn't like that. It didn't work well, anyway--I may be 800 pounds of muscle, wings and scale--and don't forget teeth--but any Faerie will tell you I'm an undersized runt compared to my fellow drakes.

I used to be large as a house--well, trailer in your Mundane world; you build big--but that was before our Saint George captured me in a holy spell. He took everything from me: my size, my magic, my fire-breathing ability, even my fangs! By the time he'd finished, I wasn't much more than an intelligent and good-looking Gila-monster. Then he laid a geas on me, a real doozy: if I wanted to return to my former grandeur, I'd serve God and His creatures under the authority of the Church. I've been a faithful servant ever since. I've gotten back about a quarter of my size, a functional but (to my mind) miniscule amount of my knowledge, my flight and my fire. Damsels and Knights, how I missed my fire!

Actually, I don't mind my fate overmuch. Faerie dragons live forever, which is why George didn't even try to kill me, so we value novelty. Much as I resent the loss of myself, I've certainly had some interesting assignments the last eight centuries. I've traveled the Faerie World and seen some of the Mundane, fought--and defeated, boo-yah!--demigods and demons, and made some very interesting friends in species I'd have never even met if I'd stayed my glorious dragony self in my territory of Caraparavelenciana. Now, here I am, in a whole new dimension, eeking out a living as a private detective with a rusting warehouse for a lair and leftover e-bay rejects for treasure. Okay. That part's not so good.

God bless Saint George--magically overpowered pain-in-the-tail.

Enough on me. Read more on my website if you're really interested.

It's my current job to help out Mundanes and Faerie when the crossroad between magic and tech leads to trouble. It hasn't been easy. How can such a naturally suspicious people believe that if you catch a leprechaun, he'll give you gold and not some debilitating disease?

So, why am I trying to work myself out of a job? Frankly, I'm hoping to spare myself some agony. Have you any idea how annoying it is to listen to some Mundane princess-wanna-be who gave a Faerie strongarm five thousand dollars so he could hire mercenaries to win the kingdom back while she babysat the Frog Prince? What's worse is when "Princess" wants to hire my mage partner, Sister Grace, to break the Princey's spell. I'm embarrassed for my entire universe.

So, let's spare me the headaches and you the heartaches and get down to Faerie Truth Behind the Fairy Tales.