Azariah sheepishly sets aside her tools for the infusion, and bows.

Greetings, good drake. I apologise for the somewhat violent nature of our conduct; we were waylaid by an octet of demons en route from the city of Union.

She draws near to the dragon, uncowed by its great bulk, and cranes her neck to talk levelly with it.

Your being an outcast of Tiamat speaks volumes, reassuring volumes, about your valour, Etiol. That is, unless you've gone and pacted yourself to some Devil-king, which -

She quickly assays the massive wyrm with a half-serious eye.

- I would say is unlikely.

An infernal, you say - the accursed, wandering, demon-god children that wander the planes making a nuisance for themselves? If so, then it is likely that we have a common foe - perhaps we might pool our information?