He puts his right fist to his chest in a salute, and bows slightly. "I am in your debt Ophion. You are the first living being I've met here that actually understands me. May I ask, what kind of adventure would this be, and would my magics be useful at all?" He runs a hand down the blade of his scythe as he talks, and the blade seems to whisper in a strange, windy language, the symbols twisting and swirling in on themselves. He suddenly cringes, and then straightens. "I'll need to feed soon, however."