“Yeah, I know.” Voran relented in a quieter, more wise voice about the danger of dragons, despite his earlier bravado. This wasn’t a vacation hiking party up a mountain side, this might as well be an invasion of a hellish realm if the tales be true about dragons, wreaking fire and destruction. Gorhan thinks he has sway over his piece of land, but all land was under the dominion of the sky, and dragons ruled that domain. Gorhan might think he could hide, but he couldn’t. Not really. Voran preferred to fight on his legs, even his knees, then stick his head under the dirt and hope someone else will blow away the storm.<br/><br/>He followed Tur’Nook to where the other chosen few were gathered, Voran taking them in one after the other. A dwarf, armored like a fortress. A half-orc, tall as pines. An elf, willowy and slender. And a young woman, with a very angry looking cat beside her. He barely had time to register or introduce himself. “Worry not, your mind makes up for your legs with its speed.” Voran assured the man, before looking to those gathered and nodding his head as Tur’Nook made his cause to them. An older woman with eyes of sky and leaf regarded him coolly, to which Voran quirked his eyebrows under her scrutinize gaze. He knew wisdom and age when he saw it and showed deference out of respect for that.<br/><br/>“Well met, Mo’Toya of the Moko.” He greeted back, before being introduced to those same figures. “Fellows.” He greeted them with a warm smile. A hardy bunch. If only they all had wings, but what they lacked in flight they would have to make up for in tenacity.<br/><br/>He was handed a weapon.<i>Thunderstrike.</i>How very apt. “You honor me. I have never held anything remotely near in quality or craftsmanship.” Voran said with some amazement to the weapon, taking it in his hands, twirling it between his hands, and then tossing it back and forth, testing its weight, its balance, feeling it as light as a feather yet swift as any eagle’s claws. “I shall bring honor to its crafter.” He swore with pride, setting the butt upon the ground and grasping it. He immediately felt uplifted by the gifted weapon, to add alongside his throwing javelins.<br/><br/>He looked to the others. He noted the cat companion of the human woman, called Alo, was regarding him fiercely. No doubt because of the hide of its older cousin that he wore as a trophy around his waist. Voran made eye contact with Alo, then mimicked its growl with one of his own, teeth bared for a playful heartbeat. Gostim, Iseldra and Eyota seemed to be in discussion about their own armaments and he was heartened to see their expertise with ranged weapons. Then there was Gall the Far-Seeing. A strange title to have. If there was one thing Voran enjoyed, it was a good tale, and if the half-orc was addressed as such by even these elderly, learned individuals, it must be significant indeed.<br/><br/>He didn’t feel right interrupting the trio’s discussion yet, especially with the angry lynx who probably was not ready to see the hide of a kindred beast around the waist of a warrior, so he turned to the half-orc instead. Half-man? Voran didn’t know what to think of that, but he didn’t care either way the circumstances of his birth. If he was chosen by this council too that was good enough for him.<br/><br/>“They called you the Far-Seeing.” He addressed to the warrior directly. “Everyone else here was called by where they are from or what tribe or race they belong to you. But not you.” Voran wagged his finger with a grin. “You get the title of a good ballad to go with your name. Why is that? Will we get to know or is that more guarded than the lost gold of a Crescent King?”