[center][h3][color=0076a3]GOST[/color][/h3][/center]

The environmental change within the mage-tower compared with the atmosphere outside was significant, Gost noted as soon as he was led within by one of the mage-lord's demure slaves. The auto-senses of his survival masque were precise, and fed him information about the ambient temperature, radioactivity levels, and the chemical composition of the air through his augmentics and directly into the background of his consciousness. Despite it being markedly cleaner and cooler indoors, a difference that could only be the result of magic, he chose to keep his robes and masque in place. Relying on the goodwill of outsiders, even for the shortest moment or smallest triviality, was viewed as a terrible folly among his people.

He continued to take micro-samples of the local environment and material construction of the mage-tower as he ascended to meet the mage-lord. The technology of the Old Ones had a curious relationship with magic; it could be measured, quantified, or even interacted with in some capacity, but could not be sufficiently analyzed nor its source explained. They behaved as two men that spoke the same language, but could not read what the either wrote in their shared tongue. One reason among many to keep magic and mages alike at arms-length, but at that moment Gost had little choice.

Stepping into the mage-lord's chamber, Gost paid no heed to heraldry or introductions, and marched directly across the room to the corpulent waste of flesh sat on the throne. The gawking onlookers and courtiers he paid as much mind as the bands of terrified Wasters that had filled the streets below the tower: exactly none. However, he stepped by what seemed to be a large chemical spill of some kind, being hurriedly cleaned up by slaves that choked on the smell. The compound was organic, according to analysis of its fumes, but after a passing glance Gost ignored it.

Once face to face with the tower's lord, Gost wasted no time on pleasantry or formality: "[color=0076a3]I am Therion of Clan Domitian.[/color]" The inhuman growl produced by his mask echoed in alien tones throughout the chamber. "[color=0076a3]Our auguries have detected the force amassing to attack this settlement. Clan Domitian is willing to commit forces to aid in your settlement's defense, if our conditions are met.[/color]" It was not unheard of for Drathans to forge uneasy alliances with the tech-cults, as each typically possessed something the other desired, and agreements could be met. However, neither party ever granted the other any trust beyond the barest modicum, and lasting alliances were the realm of fantasy.