As the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Rockscale exhaled slowly through his nose, and spoke.
"I am...sorry for the surprise the party presented. I wished to acquaint you with the draconic nobility, and certain things are expected, meat among them. I was foolish enough to believe that you had already been acquainted with draconic nature, and decided to host a traditional feast. Everyone armored, wearing furs, and..." The Jarl sighed.
Mane frowned, refusing to look at her host. "But I-I don't get it. Why does Orthoclaw hate me-and why do you have to eat meat at all? To kill things? Why can't you eat grass, fruit, and vegetables like us?"
Rockscale settled his teeth on his lip and exhaled slowly, a slight puff of flame manifesting before he blinked, and brought down his head next to hers, opening his mouth slightly, baring his teeth.
"Look at my teeth, Mane. They're pointed; sharp. When the Eternal Flame forged us from the living rock, he gave us teeth suited to our task-battle. Yours are flat, meant to trim grass and hold that which your hooves cannot." Rockscale closed his mouth, speaking normally. "Before we were civilized, we were barbarians, fighting our way across the world in search of a home. When we found Draconum, it spoke to us, saying 'This is home. Live here, and it will serve you.' We burrowed into the mountain, and the Eternal Flame curled to rest in its heart. Here, happily, for the last thousand years, we have lived." He settled slightly. "Orthoclaw and his ilk do not believe in Draconum. They think we should trample roughshod across the world, killing anyone we dislike and eating everything we please, as we did before we came here-that we should abandon our home of ten centuries for the road and pointless battle. If I had not fought him, he would have continued to challenge my authority, eventually attempting to kill me. Today is just another of his many attempts to acquire rulership he does not, and never has, deserved."