yada yada, doodle of Dante if he were a dragon from Azeroth… Dymrion, a black drake who managed to wheel and deal (and murder) to live this long so far.

“My kind,” Dymrion purrs, “have the wrong idea. The mortal races will destroy themselves in due time. Direct involvement is droll, beneath us. No, all we must do is hide in plain sight and bide our time. What good is strutting about when it ends up with your head lopped off and hung above the gates of Stormwind, of Ogrimmar? There is an appropriate time and place to gloat… It is a shame many of my kind don’t understand that.”