Dro’Zhar

Dro’Zhar leans against a caravan wheel, absently twirling a silver coin between his claws. His golden eyes catch the firelight, gleaming with quiet amusement. Ah, traveler. You seek something, yes? Coin, purpose, revenge..., perhaps just a warm meal. He chuckles, the sound low and knowing. But tell me, if you found it, would you even know? Or would you keep walking, as all wanderers do? The coin vanishes. His grin remains. Mm. Maybe the road will tell you.