"What a marvelous idea I have…It must be made into reality."
"As Demitorah and Myself maintain our lab within Lions Arch and I am on leave from the Pact we will likely spend the evening handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. And a happy Halloween to you as well!"
…Some quite fond memories there.” ~Grathnor Silverclaw
……I do not have time for your antics, progeny!
"I suppose it was a bit naive of me to actually believe I’d get paid for this.”
"I’ve not had a partner for about three years now, but I do have two cubs from that mate - Tarrath is four, and Darglen is three. They are in the fahrar of course, but I admit to going to visit them whenever I am near the Citadel. There are days I wish I could take them with me… It’s strange for a charr I know, but I would hold them in my heart over all others."
Why do you simpletons keep falling for his schemes!?! Stay away from that box!!
I’m certain his entrails are well on their way to being embalmed now thanks to those confections. I promise it will only be a minor surgery. Nothing Trigura would miss. Hmn.
Er, well, ya see…
Awright, here’s th’deal.
Mos’ charr don’t do th’whole “exclusive mate” thing. Fer th’majority, it’s a bump-and-go sorta affair. Get in, get off, get out. Count yerself lucky if ya don’t see th’other charr fer a week or two.
My mate an’ I are doin’ it different. We’re stayin’, ya know… exclusive t’one another, so we try not t’make too big a deal outta it. Some char’ll use any excuse t’hit ya in th’nose with a barrel at the Blade if ya give it to ‘em, so we, er… try t’use a l’il discretion.
If that weren’t weird enough, he’s an Ash. Ya know how they like their secrets, yeah? Information’s like a form-a currency for them, an’ somethin’ like this’s worth gold. Don’t want people sniffin’ around me wonderin’ if I picked up some vital intel ‘bout th’Citadel or somethin’ — that could end up gettin’ him in trouble. So that’s another reason t’keep it, uh, professional.
So no, I en’t gonna give you his name, but I… eh? A picture? Uh… ya saw my bridge, right? I en’t that… … awright, burn my tail, jus’ know that it en’t gonna be pretty. Gimme those…
*scribble scribble scribble*
Er… ignore th’hearts, I dunno what I was thinkin’. What? … Hell! Gimme a scaldin’ break! They don’t teach art stuff in th’scorchin’ fahrar!
*mutter grumble high standards mumble grunt en’t a scorchin’ artist rumble growl plebians all-a you grumble mutter*