The elf shook his head. "This is no dragon, they are a mixed breed, between wyverns and black dragoneers. They know no good, only evil. They know no friends, only foes. This I once read about the so called, Drachlings. Stay your distance." Haethar called up to the heavens and suddenly he was aglow with a blue-white globe around him. The elf inched closer to the drachling and held his staff in two hands and closed his eyes. Suddenly, before the elf, stood an image of another Drachling and the elf spoke to it as if it were an old friend. "Mighty Anthargoranther, I have need of your assistance." To which the Drachling replied. "Yesss, I sensed your need for me. This Drachling will do you no more harm." The tongue of the imaged Drachling was of ancient dialect, but the elf nodded, as if he understood every word. The imaged Drachling turned around and spoke something that was the most ancient tongue spoken, and the two Drachlings suddenly were engulfed in a black sphere. There was a flash of bright black light, and suddenly, they were gone.