Itzal/Stereotypes

The Others

The Others
	They feast off the living much as we do, though they are prisoner to the night and darkness. A weakness I should never want..
	Of all the ovids the wolves far to often become victim to their anger, One must keep their head to succeed in this war..
	I never much did care for ghost stories..
	They look far better than they taste...
	To give such power to such a weak life form.. it makes one wonder just what sort of game the cosmos is playing at. And I wonder just how they might taste..
	Such frail bodies.. so full of weakness.. so full of taste.

Views on the Triat
	Your Duty was to create, That was your place in the cycle of things.. In this little thing we call the Triat. Your children though seem to have forgotten that, with the rage of the ovids and their lust for honor.. They are now a force of destruction. Seems the Weaver has changed us all, even you and your children.. doing what the wyrm was always meant to do..
	Your web has grown wild, your lust for control stronger than ever. You throw things out of balance, Your madness spreads like cancer.
	One can not help but feel for many under your control, The madness imposed upon you by the weaver that touchs so many of your flock making them forget what it was to be of the wyrm. What our duty truly is.. But I do not forget, I shall keep to what you were meant for. Balance must be restored.