A shirking breeze ruffled the leaves of the Luthmore, sending its crooked fingers spiraling along trunk and twisted limb to claw ineffectually at unyielding bark. The wind seemed to breathe a sigh of resignation at its failure, stirring the early morning's dense fog sluggishly as it rose off the soft ground. The sheer silence of the forest pressed in on itself, the fog dampening any potential sound, the only noise the softest patter of unceasing rain. Thin drops this morning; light, as though the clouds high above knew that the trees had long since quenched their thirst in the night's deluge.

In the gnarled boughs of one such tree, hunched a figure wrapped in a worn black cloak, the hood pulled far down over the eyes. However, the scaled snout of the creature protruded, revealing it to be of no human form- as did the clawed feet which emerged from the bottom. As raindrops splashed onto the end of the muzzle, one glistening black eye blinked open beneath the hood, as the treebound Draconian came awake. Stirring himself, he shifted beneath the cloak, which fell away as he straightened, reaching one skeletal arm up to grasp the limb above. Moving forth with the familiar easiness of one who has spent time that has ceased to be counted in their present surrounding, he twisted his was from branch to branch, finally dropping through the lower foliage and to the soft ground with a squelch.

Many of his kind would have found it easier to simply fly to the ground; however MÃ*ghreann dar Léann made no use of the withered black wings that lay beneath his cloak, serving only to make his appearance hunch-backed to the casual observer. He threw back the hood, shaking his head in the rain to rid himself of the night's torpor, the silver-streaked strip of black hair that ran from between his backwards-curved ears scattering water droplets in rebellion of the weather. MÃ*ghreann scratched at the bark of the tree with his claws, scarred right eye falling closed again in thought.

"Anamnacha... seacht. Tá, mo bean." he murmured, voice slightly grating. MÃ*ghreann loose his staff from its straps on his back, scaled fingers wrapping around the dark hardwood in the shallow grooves formed by centuries of use, fading the carvings which rested beneath his hand. The eye opened again, and this time when MÃ*ghreann moved his limbs seemed to settle themselves beneath the cloak and he set off, reptilian legs propelling him silently as a moth over the soft ground, receding into the fog as though he had never been.