Roleplay

[url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=39809470] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/398095/39809470_350.png[/img] [/url] A Pearlcatcher donned in bronze armor swoops in from the skies above, landing beside the group. He remains quiet for a short moment, taking the time to examine each individual around him. He cracks a half-smile, quickly returning to a stern expression. "I presume we're all here because of that... evil abomination," he says, shifting his attention to the Emperor, looking at it with disdain. "I am Tyrion, Warmaster of Clan Veranyx. I was sent to find those willing to deal with the threat. I do hope you all are capable of combat."

Tyrion chuckled at Katara's response, turning his head towards her. "I could go for a spice cookie," he states, quickly shaking the childish thought from his mind afterwards. "It's a relief to see others stand against chaos, but you said most of us are to fight," he says, quirking a brow. "Surely you don't mean there are some who'd simply watch the Emperor's rampage?" He paused, shaking his head gently.
"That won't do at all!"

(Hope you don't mind me joining!) [url=http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=15041464] [img]http://flightrising.com/rendern/350/150415/15041464_350.png[/img] [/url] With the heavy rustle of webbed wings she circled the growing gathering, lower and lower until she could settle her great bulk on the outer edge of them. Altus watched them for a long, quiet moment as she folded her wings. "I offer my aid, if you would have it," she said, voice soft and near sibilant in contrast to her size. To protect was her calling, after all, and so she would.

Tyrion spent much time staring at the beast. He gripped his precious pearl tightly, although not too tight, fearing that he might damage it. "Part of me believes Lightweaver may not come to our aid," he mumbles, closing his eyes.

Stormcatcher, grant me strength. Grant us victory this day.

He snaps out of his short-lived trance, furiously shaking his head to ensure he's in reality. He soon realizes a new arrival appeared, and offers her a welcome. He says, sounding rather uneasy, "Hail, Guardian. I'm glad to have a member of your kind with us."

Altus spread her fins out, flexing them before folding them down and slimming herself as much as possible. She did hate to take up too much space in a group. With delicate steps she moved in closer.

"Hail," she replies, dipping her head to Tyrion and Katara. "I am pleased to offer my service." Settling onto her haunches, Altus curled her great tail over her foreclaws. "I am Altus, Guardian of Wastewalker's Clan in the Shifting Expanse."

She looked, then, toward the path of destruction, dark blue eyes blinking slow with consideration. Thought outwardly she seemed serene there was worry beneath the surface.

Tyrion could've sworn he saw something twitch around the corner of his eye, but he saw nothing. It was probably a trick of the light. He introduces himself after Katara. "Tyrion," he begins, "Warmaster of Clan Vernayx." He eyes Altus' movements, silently questioning why she moved so cautiously. "It is rather unfortunate to meet while death is near, but I believe that's how the strongest bonds are formed," he claims, smirking.