Bob
Riverworn and as smooth as a water pebble, he is. Shades of brown vary from klah to rich loam from this muzzle to the forked tip of his tail. Deep, earthy colors sway over his bulging stomach and stubby legs, the colors lightening as they gradually climb up his wings and twine about the spars.

Note: Bob was my first firelizard ever. I love him. Don't ask about his name.

Merlyn
Long thin legs give way to a bulky body. Splashes and splotches of harper blue paint themselves across his frame, unevenly, as if this firelizard hadn't had enough time for a full paint job: And indeed, he hadn't. Silver talons click rapidly, graceful head twitching atop an elongated neck as this musician hurries to and fro, never stopping, in a frenzy of hasty motion. Dashes of brassy metal have made their way through to shimmer in his topcoat. One particularly bold slash of coloring has formed the shape of a musical instrument, the only piece of sense in chaos. A blue-glazed gold shaping a slide and bell on wealthy haunches.