Azarian leaned over the low stone wall that surronded the common room balcony, picked out a target, threw and ducked.

She was participating in her favourite pastime, throwing tiny pebbles at stuffy old academics and nervous newcomers. It was a simple thing but it amused her to see people jump and look confused when there was no-one there.

She spotted an especially dusty old professor who loathed her and she took aim for his cap.

Antony was wandering through the University looking for a lecturer that was proving to be decidedly elusive. He had been discussing immortals with an acquaintance when a question about Stormwings popped into his head. When he gave voice to he question namely how there managed to be so many of the blasted things around when carrying the eggs usually killed the mother, his friend had recommended he find an expert on the subject named Azarian of Stone Mountain. He had been trying to find her for over an hour now and when he asked about her most people looked at him as though he was crazy. He was just thinking that she must have an awful reputation when he entered the common room in time to see a woman on the balcony with what looked like a pebble in her hand aim at a shuffling proffessor.

Azarian swung her arm and threw the pebble so that it plopped squarely on to the professors' head and stayed nestled in his hat. With a snort of laughter she ducked down behind the wall, turning to reach for another pebble. It was then that she noticed the young man in the doorway staring at her.

"Well are you going to paint my portrait or are you just looking for the sheer pleasure of my glorious visage?" As she spoke, she heard an exclaimation of annoyance from below as the professor discovered his new hat adornment, which caused her to let out another burst of laughter in a most unl-ladylike fashion.

She raised herself to peer over the balcony again. Glancing over her shoulder she called, "five nobles says you can't hit the old duffer with the glasses!"

Antony was fighting the temptation to laugh and was only winning through sheer will. He walked next to her and looked down at the people in the main room.

"If you'd like to bring me paint I could manage something lady, but a woman with aim and humor is much better that a woman with glorious visage's and a pea for a brain. You wouldn't hapen to be Azarian of Stone Mountain would you?"

She seemed to have the proper conduct for such a reputation.

Looking at the man she was talking about he sighed.

"No, I have horrible aim. I prefer to save my money for food."

Azarian leaned back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest, her face unreadable as she stared at the man for a second. She chewed on her lip thoughfully as she took in his appearance and noted the glimmer of amusement in his face.

Finally she spoke, "I am indeed, I see my salubrious reputation preceeds me and it's fortunate indeed because I don't have five gold nobles to give!" She raised an eyebrow, her face still set in it's slightly severe expression, "and do I get the honour of your name?"

"Ah, yes. Antony of Torhelm at your service." he said sweeping her an overly formal bow.

"A lecturer at the university doesn't have 5 gold nobles? If you don't mind me asking, how on earth does that work out?" he eyed her for a moment and went on. "Actually, I'd never heard of you until this morning. It's only the looks people gave me when I asked where I might find you that gave me a hint. I don't suppose I could persuade you to answer some questions of mine?"

A wolfish grin appeared on Azarian's face. "Yes I'm quite the popular darling of the university aren't I! I can't think why people might find me so objectionable." She set her face in a pious expression then gave in and laughed.

"You're lucky sir knight, you find me in good spirits." She nimbly hopped up to sit on the balcony wall and began to rummage in her pocket for her small clay pipe and tobacco.

"So...stormwings!" She said it more as a blunt command than a question.

"Ah yes... Well, We all know about how stormwings came into being, but how can there be so many in the mortal realms with the immortal wars only 40 years ago, and their difficulty with bearing children?" Antony asked.

"And how do they manage not to cut themselves up canoodling?"

He didn't think she was the type to take offense at that.

Azarian's mouth twisted in to a smile and she gave an inelegant snort. Azarian being Azarian, the question didn't even raise a blush.

"I'm quite sure my dear friend Queen Eschraz would give you a more than colourful answer to that question! Being immortal, they have an awfully long time to perfect their technique. Thankfully I've never had the dubious honour of finding out in person so we can only theorise that they mate in much the same way as birds, their lower halves being birdlike rather than human. I have it on authority that mate in mid-air much like some bird species. It would explain the difficulty in concieving.

The numbers can be explained by the nations that chose to pass in to the Human Realm from the Divine Realms at the end of the Wars, adding to the numbers that had already been brought here by Ozorne of Carthak. If you know you're history you know that thanks to Veralidane they were the one group of immortals who weren't restricted from crossing to our Realm. Some have mated, but most are draw here by our lust for war."

Azarian held out her hands, "and there we have it."

((OOC: woo....Stormwings 101! Nothing like inventing mythology!))

"Well of course, but a large number were killed in the war...Weren't they?" he was a little put off that the answer to the question he had been pursuing all day was so simple. But in the end..."Nevermind, it's just idle curiosity."

"How did you become so acquainted with them?" he asked, "I don't suppose something in a steel egg went wrong a long time ago..." he smiled a bit.