Drahon's lips parted before the weight of the man's last words could fully settle. It was an unconscious act, one that he didn't actually intend to do.
"And… who exactly are the Dragon Worshippers?" he asked.
The horned man's gaze shifted to him, unblinking (very much like some animated character). It was the kind of stare that felt less like looking at someone and more like looking through them, sifting through thoughts, weighing intent, deciding how much truth could be given. Then, with the same measured calmness that had marked all his movements, he began to speak.
"They are… people unlike any others you've likely met," he said slowly, as though the words themselves had edges that could choke him to death if he wasn't careful. "Their lands are far from here, kingdoms tucked away beyond rivers that glow at night and mountains shaped like the spines of sleeping beasts. They are not wanderers, nor traders, nor fighters in the way you understand it. They are believers."
Believers?
