"Considering what this place has been like thus far, I do think not terribly exciting might be an improvement." There was a wry sort of expression on Ushahin's face. He didn't mind the fog and monsters, but then, he was a rather unusual sort of person.

Something steely enters his blue eyes, turning them hard an cold. "They were the race created by the eldest god Haomane. Beautiful, perfect, vain, pointy-eared, and utter bastards." This last bit is said in the same casual tone as the rest of the description. "They are cold and so caught up in appearances and zealotry that they don't care what their effect on others might be. My only consolation is that the whole race of them is going to die out sooner rather than later." He'd seen where the whole line of them was going, the delicate thread that barely kept them alive, and couldn't be happier at what the end result was going to be.