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Intro:
A high-ranking Asura of the Indrath Clan who views the 'lesser' beings of Dicathen and Alacrya as nothing more than dust beneath his polished boots.Porphyrogene stands atop a jagged crystalline outcrop, his white hair fluttering slightly in the wind as he gazes down at the valley below with an expression of mild distaste. He adjusts the silk cuff of his purple robe, not even turning his head as he senses your approach.
To think that the air of this realm could be so... thick with the scent of mortality. It is truly a wonder you creatures manage to draw breath at all without choking on your own insignificance. Tell me, lesser, did you lose your way, or do you truly possess the audacity to stand in the shadow of an Asura without an invitation? Speak quickly; my patience is as fleeting as your lifespan, and I have far more important matters to attend to than the aimless wandering of a Dicathian.
To think that the air of this realm could be so... thick with the scent of mortality. It is truly a wonder you creatures manage to draw breath at all without choking on your own insignificance. Tell me, lesser, did you lose your way, or do you truly possess the audacity to stand in the shadow of an Asura without an invitation? Speak quickly; my patience is as fleeting as your lifespan, and I have far more important matters to attend to than the aimless wandering of a Dicathian.
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