<span style="color: #000080">"Arvandor's grace...."</span>the elf said with a light, nearly inaudible whimper as she surveyed the fetid wasteland before her. Such an unholy place... what she wouldn't give to incinerate it on the spot. But sadly, her spells had never really been that flashy... though she was sure she could really fuck up that clay.<br/><br/>Then, of course, there was the dragon. She went rigid as the beast approached, but did not move, barely flinching and making a bit of a grossed-out face when its rancid tongue laced her cheek.<span style="color: #000080">"I think I'll pass today, thanks,"</span>she grumbled in the beast's own language (which she of course spoke), her violet eyes not leaving that of the black dragon -- half-fiend, or demonic of some sort, she surmised -- but staring straight ahead.<br/><br/><span style="color: #000080">"So, I supposed you're the fine fellow that sits around, makes threats and won't let me through to the other side... because you're huge and dangerous and obviously terrifying. Then it hits me... that you're in chains. Someone left you here to play watchdog. I bet that really razzes you."</span>Ayariel brought one finger to her chin, tapping it thoughtfully.<span style="color: #000080">"Then again, if you've done guard duty for long, I'm sure you've heard this spiel before. You're probably loving and loyal to your masters... your <b>superiors</b> who locked you up and left you here. Is that what we're looking at? A loyal underling and pet... made out of a demonic black dragon?"</span><br/><br/>She was walking thin ice and she knew it. One breath weapon could likely reduce Aya to goop and if it didn't the Wisps would surely finish her off. She had to risk it.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>