<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/lRMz7.png)   <br/></div><strong>Character</strong>: Tragon Talonius (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=68023)<br/><strong>Bio</strong>: https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=219261.msg10788024#msg10788024<br/><strong>Location</strong>: On the trail<br/><strong>Wearing</strong>: Brand new boots, polished chain shirt, matching breeches, loose tunic and cloak of deep blue cloth, ornate rapier at his side. Gold-wire spectacles. Starched white ascot. Brimless cap.<br/><strong>Tagging</strong>: Open<br/><hr/><br/>Tragon smiles at the halfling's words. Alchemy often had an undeserved reputation in Tragon's experience, considered more dangerous and less effective than true magic. It would be nice to have at least one soul to whom he wouldn't have to prove the value of his art. "My library is of course open to you, cousin. And I expect you might be instrumental in helping me set up my laboratory, if you have the time. The quest to acquire reagents is eternal, and unless I miss my guess you're somewhat of an expert at acquisition."<br/><br/>A retort to Edmund was brewing on Tragon's tongue when Muckbottom, the marginally more stubborn mule, took the opportunity to begin braying at a passing squirrel. Somewhat abashedly Tragon accepted Edmund's silent help in bringing the animal back into line, admitting that the brusque man may not have been entirely without a point.<br/><br/>Soon he found himself enraptured by Aralyn's storytelling, making the hours of the journey seem to slip by effortlessly. Not for the first time he regretted never learning the elvish tongue. His dwarven mentor Carcos had been insistent that the foul speech of the Goblinoid races would be a more practical use of his time. 'Would ye rather know yer enemies' plans, or woo poncy flower-suckers?' At the age of twelve the answer had been clear. Now, not so much.<br/><br/>