[h1][color=beige][center]Kythor[/center][/color][/h1]

The tiefling's fingers drummed against the table steadily, but as Valna offered to tell him the tale of her people, the gentle raps against the table slowed down until they ceased. He was admittedly a bit disappointed that he likely wouldn't be learning the moon elf's reason for being here, but he couldn't say it was unexpected. [i][color=beige]"All the way from Waterdeep, hm...? Quite the journey to be makin', friend,"[/color][/i] Kythor said nodding. The disdain for Waterdeep was evident in the tone in which he said it, spitting it out with a quiet grimace. The grimace didn't last long, though, and a second later a cheeky smirk crossed his face briefly. With a shrug, he spoke again.

[i][color=beige]"Tell you what, though, you're not wrong. Don't really have much experience or knowledge in the way 'a moon elves, or bards, or Orishaar. You said it got destroyed in the, ah... Crown Wars? What happened to it?"[/color][/i] Kythor leaned back and crossed his arms. He didn't know if Orishaar was her hometown, but if she was offering, he figured it couldn't hurt to ask her to regale him with the tale of its demise. The fact that it was destroyed in something called the [i]Crown[/i] Wars also piqued his interest. To him, crowns were symbols of power for kings, meant to be a sign of status, wealth, and power. With the exception of power, he saw those three traits as completely useless in the natural world; besides, the only power a crown grants can only be effectively used within the city, so he may as well write that off as well. Ultimately, with the destruction of Orishaar apparently happening during the Crown Wars, Kythor predicted that the city fell not due to natural disaster or a freak accident or other such tragedy, but that it would fall due to the unfortunate tragedy of a bumbling ruler and their delusions of grandeur.