Mabdebereth

Mabdebereth rolls her molten-orbs-for-eyes and sighs, clearly exasperated. "Then I shall deign to speak to you in the tongue of mortals. I wish to drink from your finest reserves. If you have not the blood of an elf maiden, then I will settle for your strongest alcohol." Her voice is much different when speaking in Common - one could describe it as being either dignified or snobby, high-pitched and feminine despite her large form.

"Pray that whatever you serve me is strong enough to burn the filth this language leaves on my tongue," she says again. She flaps her wings and lands on one of the chairs, sitting as a cat would with a single claw tapping impatiently on the bar.