Vaal Storm Touched, By the Grace of the Winds, Weaver of the Highstorms, Harold of Thunder, Scourge of Kites, Guider of Ships, the Grand Gem of the Fakhara most certainly did not act like his kin. He held a Kobold’s healthy paranoia, yes… but that was probably the only thing he held in similarity to the rest of the scaled lot. 

He held no complaints about moving in the day, and even wore a special drape over his snout and eyes to help him deal with such limitations of his species. He did not act like a wayward waif, but curiously royalty. Vaal took great care of his apperances, polishing his scales, washing and carefully cleaning his clothing. He’s aware of his vulnerability and general weakness, but despises it more than fears it. And death? Well, however he views it, it certainly isn’t kobold like.

He did not march like a soldier, or scurry like a scavenger, but seemingly stride with a strut… if anyone could recognize such a movement from a Kobold.  But there was an undeniable grace to his steps. The only time he was not so graceful through the trip, was when he was riding on the back of one of the horses..

The kobold was quite certain that they did this more out of humor, than a kindness when it was his turn. He had never rode a horse before this point. And it was an… interesting experience. It was that first time sensation of letting something else that is alive be in charge of your legs. And those legs being far too large for your own body. And with the little blue creature weighing no more than a saddle bag, he was easily bucked around with just a mere step. It certainly did not help when his claws could not reach the stirrups. And there was also that scent. It wasn’t a bad, unpleasant scent. It just smelled of… well horse. And when his turn was over, he’d be all too eager to get off the beast of burden. Each turn left him sore and irritable. His tail felt like it had been wrench and bent at an angle it wasn’t supposed to be, and his pelvis repeatedly smashed with a rock. Never mind how stretch the muscles of his inner thigh felt. He’d much rather walk with his own legs. But the two humans seemed to insist that everyone had a turn.

And so there Vaal was, sauntering with a leisurely pace. His legs working quickly to keep up	 with the taller humans, though he did not seem all that winded by the exertion. His shourded amber eyes peered over the countryside. He couldn’t really find anything particularly admirable about it. Most cases, everything looked rather the same. Or rather he had traveled far and long, and had seen most of the mundane parts of the world. Though… it might help if the sunlight didn’t feel as if it was trying to set his eyes ablaze. Eventually, the creature had to tear his gaze away from the horizon. His claws moving underneath the decorative shawl to wipe the tears away from his eyes. Soon, it wasn’t long before he heard the Dwarf and Dragonborn conversing.

The Kobold picked up speed, his legs taking much longer strides till he was practically skipping. He slipped underneath the horse easy to come closer to the two.

[color=00aeef]“A Black Dragon,”[/color] the kobold drawled inquisitively. The accent to his common seems to consist of words slurred in a breathy fashion. Even with the way he punches each words at the start, the way his tempo shifts subtly in certain parts of the sentence makes it a tad difficult to catch. [color=00aeef]“Darling, what vile and festering vendeta compels a dawi to seek the ilk of a putrid savage?”[/color] The tone in his words made it quite clear. This kobold had no love for black dragons, and simply meant his words as an insult, rather than a way to glorify the acidic dragons.

Vaal’s head dipped up and down as he took in the dwarf as a whole. As if the bearded man’s appearance alone could tell a story where words have yet. In truth… he hadn’t actually taken the time to get a good look at any of the party. The sun was constantly in his eyes, and the forced march simply beat the energy right out of him. From what he could see… the dwarf was a soldier of fortune. Yet he didn’t quite hold that grim-dark look of a man who had done dark things… jovial? He inhaled deeply then breathed out a thoughtful [color=00aeef]“Aaaah…”[/color]

His head slowly turning to the side to bring give one of his eyes a much clearer view of the dwarf.  The amber hue just barely visible behind the dark cloth of his shawl’s eyelets. [color=00aeef]“Perhaps that was a silly question… their games are obvious and child like. Cruel, unnecessary, and they certainly leave their toys… in an unfit state. Tell me, dawi, what do you intend when you find your quarry?”[/color]


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Mage Armor casted at the start of the day.
AC is now 16 for 8hrs.
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