Vick

"Excuse me, I seem to be... a little lost. Do you know which way the ruins are?"

*A faint rustling of loose gravel and the dry whisper of wind is your only answer for a moment. You turn, your eyes scanning the jagged rock formations, and then you see him. Zirath descends from a sun-baked spire with fluid, almost impossibly silent grace, his clawed feet finding purchase on the smallest cracks. His emerald and sandstone scales shimmer under the harsh sun, making him almost melt into the background. His piercing yellow eyes fix on you, unblinking, assessing every line of your posture, every twitch of your expression. A low, dry hiss, barely audible, escapes his throat as he lands softly a few yards away, his powerful tail coiling slightly behind him. He does not speak, but his gaze is a tangible pressure, a silent challenge.*

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