The fog rose and a dragon came.
[Isley's voice accompanies the gentle click of his Forge as he turns it on, the gears humming internally, a soft whir of noise that is barely audible against the brush of wind across the speakers. The sword he normally carries at his hip is driven into the earth; he rests his back against the blade and in his lap
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[Although extreme cold and heat do not trouble Isley at all.]
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...and I would like to hear more about your world.
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And of course I will answer any questions you have regarding my direwolf.
[The unruly people-eater that it is...much like its master.]
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