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shoves my way iNTO YOUR THREAD HELLO ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

The granite gradients of their home were shrouded in night, illuminated by Luna's pallid boon. Where morning dared to light up the skies in the east, rainclouds roiled in the west. The clouds sapped the saturation. In turn, the reverberant colors below were dingily hollow. Once day reached their skies, it would be a long, bleak day. They would not feel the sun's warming touch. This was but a warning of what was to come: the purging of the weak, the renewal of life.
           Vehiron wanted nothing more than to curl up into the furthest reaches of his den and sleep. However, an energy rippled beneath his skin; electric, as it surged throughout him. It could not go ignored, so he uncoiled and stretched his tired limbs, coming to exit his hovel. What greeted him outside was a light drizzle...and a nippy breeze. Not his cup of tea. The cold always made his joints ache, especially when it rained.
           With an indignant snort, he traversed the mountain, doing nothing in particular other than familiarizing himself with the nooks, crannies, and possible shortcuts. He spotted nothing scurrying about beneath him, still resting for the day ahead. Vehiron tardily ascended the peak only to come across a gray outline standing atop one of Silvertip's many drop-offs. He could smell Tonravik upon him, so that alone put him at ease. He approached Goldry, his talons noisily clicking against the rock. Eerily enough, the sound seemed to carry, inhabiting the mountain's many vestibules.
           “Quite exhilarating, no?” Scratchy were his vocals, sleep evident on his countenance and stature. Just who was this man? Where did he stand in this merry band of misfits?