<strong>Pytyar</strong><br/><br/>The armsmaster shrugged.  He'd never denied the potential usefulness of potions.  Personally, however, they took too long to create.  "Indeed.  I've found such potions useful in the past, for normals," he said quietly, as they neared the door, "I've yet to find a need for them on a personal level, however."  The whole speech, short as it was, held a hint of distaste.  Pytyar knew he was an unnatural being.  A thing created of magic.  Not normal, except superficially.