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Message: <blockquote data-quote="stonegod" data-source="post: 3829383" data-attributes="member: 36973">Irthos, dragonwrought desert kobold copper dragon shamanIn the Dream, the Progenitor Spoke. In the Dream, H/She Said Travel. And Travel Irthos did. Mostly by night, gliding from high place to high place, avoiding the ground and the softskins that feared, hated, or wanted something of it. It was a tiring journey, and long, but it was life the hardy kobold had long inured itself to.Irthos ignored the 'art'. Irthos ignored the finery. Irthos, in general, ignored the people of whatever the place it was in now. Such things were mortal things, things of the softskins. Not the eternal. Not of the Progenitors. Here, they wasted water and life like both were plentiful. The Dark She Whispered to Irthos that they would pay for such ignorance; the Light He Said such was foolishness. Irthos listened more to She than He.If the softskin female reacted to the odd looking creature---a little taller than a child, but obviously reptilian with its clear orange eyes and scaly cape of burnished copper---Irthos did not notice. The others at the table, Irthos did notice. It noticed the Hunter, whose kind had slain its kind for its ties to She. It noticed the Human, and the way the male attempted to be all smiles. It noticed the Elf, and how it seemed to be allergic to the air, its skin was so hidden. It noticed, but ignored. Instead, it just sat at the table. From a sack it produced a battered sack, and from it withdrew a less than succulent piece of dried meat. And it ate, ignoring the others and the food before it.Its introduction was silence.OOC: Irthos' color is Dark Orange. He currently has the Senses aura up.</blockquote>

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