(two characters met on paper)

With his eyes blinking somewhat while he stands there.. looking onwards with a bemused grin laced across his dark lips, Shantak’s arms cross gently across his chest and mutters under his breath absently… his eyes flashing over with a bright hue of light while he glances onwards toward you, feeling a strong.. yet un-taught power coming from you, one which is a power that holds the same feel as his own… while he looks across your features, head to toe with his fingers tips cutting a bridge between his hair while he bats it back... The being only lowers his head downwards... gaining the notation of your race in full... as well as other things, and surprisingly enough any mental shields which you retain go un-touched in the least of aspects... [Luminescence/Total Perception]...

Parting his lips a bit and expelling a slight sigh, Shantak walks over toward the other before… his right hand raising upwards and gesturing a finger towards the watchful eyes before him... the very end of such hazing over with a Dark Purple and Sanguine blotted mix of flames… yet, this seems to be to keep those runes placed upon his own as to know he has the blue one's attention... another Muqarribun-jinn, what a rare treat says he, taking a few steps backwards, Shantak crosses his arms firmly over his chest… my name is Shantak Azathoth… the, first of our kind.. but low and behold we seem to be breathern, such lucky blood you hold within you… and only a Generation of two from me, so it seems… with his eyes narrowing somewhat, Shantak continues, seemingly have obtaining this information from the grimore he had invokes just a second ago...you hold, Spheres..some of course… seems my doings have prevented even the rest of the Muqarribun-jinn from learning there true importance... though, there are only four of us… one had died eons ago with the Fall under the waves along side Cathlu… the other was… stricken down for defiance... pity... does he whisper… with skin colored scarlet, the Muqarriban-jinn(genie) idles to listen...

An almost look of unimportance overtakes this newman's features, in retort to the other's words. the quiet one slimly shifts his arms about his stomach, flinching quietly as the names of those he'd met before are stated among the deceased. quietly, Shobordzon shuffles his right foot over his left, whirling in an almost remodeling shift, his eyes no longer caught up within thieve-bearing gaze within that of Shantak. Shoborzon's leather hoof slams staking against the crust of the requiem, mind traveling far from it's residence to figuratively slip within the other, for a power: unknown to even he has actuated. this... telepathy is seemingly coherent to both entities in assembly. the cold, chilling breeze coolly slips up and over his being as the spine shivers in reaction… whispers of a sentence to himself before deciding to speak about it with his audience, deciding the time is right. knowing nothing of his own being, he is overzealous

to grasp a claim over why he is.. well, what he is.

And so, as the blue genie turns to face the scarlet in a calm fashion, his electric, yellow eyes flash brightly as he widens them poignantly. the necropsy does neither extend a formality for greeting nor a hand to welcome you. his mouth, still immobile, allows his mentality to speak for itself: Shantak Azathoth, called it within an echoing of the darkness which hath enshrouded the being to coincide as its master--worn as a cape of sorts, if one could describe the looks, as the shadows rested purpously upon his bearing shoulders, as if to coax an eye to view their shade, as well as their master. The mentality intellect continued, I know nothing more than what you've told me, but i would suggest you save your breath for the mortals. in tandem, i greet you as Shobordzon Allotorackt, 2nd son of Crucible the Wishmaster.…

It's words, chosen so delicately, are resonated with an almost demonic color, tainted by his years allotting his lacked chances to test his linguistics. tell me... what are we? Crucible failed to an Evil Emperor who wished the Dynasty fall--along with such, to end our treachery and our expansion, that the Wishmaster fall with the rest of the damned colony. and so, it came to pass that father only told me there were three more of us: Domingo Malcartis, Artimallin Forebalance, and Shantak Zomanthis. what has come of your name, if you are he? as then, the mentality silences itself, awaiting a retort of any matter from you for the pastings of his repramanded inquisitions.