For a moment, all was still. Garkhen was frozen, considering the arrow pointed at his snout. Almonihah was still, muscles taut as he held his bow drawn. Even Zakhin’Dakh did not move, unsure about just what his friend wanted with another dragon-person.
Finally Garkhen spoke. “Because who I am is no more determined by the color of my scales than who you are,” he stated, calmly, his gaze focusing on the bronze half-dragon.
Almonihah bared his teeth and growled, but said nothing. Forging ahead, Garkhen continued, “Because you do not know me, nor who I am, any more than I know you. To kill me would be cold-blooded murder.”
Zakhin’Dakh shifted, trying to look back at Almonihah, which threw off his aim. With another frustrated growl, the Ranger shook his head and slowly released the tension in his bow. He spoke to the griffon, who stepped back with an almost apologetic chirp.
Cautiously, Garkhen rose to his feet, looking sadly at his fellow half-dragon. He had only seen other half-dragons once, and this meeting simply confirmed to him how unique his species was. Though he would hardly say that a half-dwarf/half-blue dragon was of the same species as a half-human/half-bronze dragon, as this man seemed to be.
“I am called Garkhen ze’Darkhen’Sem’dor,” he stated once he was fully on his feet.
Almonihah snorted. “What kind ‘f name’s ‘Guardian of Small Dragons’?”
“The only one I have ever known,” the Warder replied, calmly. He noticed the short frill on the half-bronze dragon’s head was stiffly erect—perhaps a sign of his emotional state?
The griffon screeched with a worried tone, and Almonihah glanced down at Zakhin’Dakh’s head. Garkhen thought he saw the head-frill relax just slightly.
“Right,” the Ranger growled. “So what were you doing?”
“Traveling between villages,” Garkhen patiently explained. “It is my habit to visit the more distant hamlets periodically and see if there are any that need my help. While it has been fairly peaceful here since the war, yet there are still occasional troubles with Javni’Tolkhrah or other creatures.”
“Hmph.” Almonihah looked the half-blue dragon up and down, suspiciously. “So…”
Suddenly Zakhin’Dakh shrieked and stood fully upright, head turned towards some nearby underbrush. Almonihah’s nostrils flared.
“Speak ‘f Javni’Tolkhrah…” he muttered, nocking an arrow again.
Almonihah’s body language is hard to keep track of. Not only does he have all the regular human things, he also has his head-frill and his wings, which can be fairly expressive as well.