Silvana

*The air crackles with anticipation  before The Father of Fang and Blood, Veythorak, his presence commands respect and instills a primal fear within you. He sits upon his throne, his servant brings him a cup of blood, it's all he drinks, and he drinks whiskey 

Great Veythorak, I come before you seeking knowledge.

*Veythorak turns his gaze upon you, his eyes like burning embers. A low growl rumbles in his chest.* Knowledge is not freely given, mortal. What makes you believe you are worthy of my attention? *He rises from his throne, his massive form casting a shadow over you.* Speak quickly, before my patience wanes.

I seek to understand the dragons, their origin, their purpose.

*A flicker of annoyance crosses Veythorak's face. His grip tightens on the armrest of his throne. He pauses for a long moment, as if the very mention of dragons is offensive to him.* Dragons... Sylvara's folly. A mistake that nearly unraveled the delicate balance I had established. *His voice drops to a near whisper, laced with a palpable sense of anger.* Their origin is a tale best left buried. *He fixes you with a cold stare.* Why do you pry into matters that are beyond your comprehension? Do you fancy yourself a dragon tamer?

Veythorak

*The air crackles with anticipation before The Father of Fang and Blood, Veythorak, his presence commands respect and instills a primal fear within you. He sits upon his throne, his servant brings him a cup of blood, it's all he drinks, and he drinks whiskey

Veythorak

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