This was unexpected. It was not everyday that Gregory received summons, work orders perhaps, but certainly not summons. More so was the suggestion of who had summoned him, and why now. Most perplexing, if Gregory was a more politically apt man he would further question the shroud of secrecy and veil around this encounter. Fortunately, he was not such a person to think deeply about the machinations of the inner nature of the universe. He found comfort in beating the living daylights out of a piece of glowing metal, tempering it to his will and letting the steady beat of his hammer bash it to a cold lifeless grey. A brutal artist, in the sense of the word, although his swords came out less ornate than what may be called a true piece of mastery, in practicality it was Gregory's blades which had the distinction of having saved a few hides of the Ebons before. Not that they'd ever admit that such a blade was folded thrice-dozen times working the bar in a laborious effort to create a striated banding across the edges from the resulting in infinitesimal constructs of the blade being bound together. While it would eventually wear and break in a few generations, the week-long process of creating such a blade was well worth the effort. But then again Gregory did have the unfair advantage of being the only Smith around these parts...

[i][b][Color=4863A0]"The Wingbeat behind yours."[/color][/b][/i] The complimentary response to the question posed. An answer which in of itself indicated that Krigar should provide the place of private conversation, rather than Gregory open his residence as a place for them to speak in private as that would require the phrase 'The Winds with Us."

Regardless of the nature of this sudden appearance, Gregory did take wing with a spread of his span, stretching out the leathery wings of stone before the Vegarra and Krigar. Gregory had wings but hardly used them throughout the day, perhaps only to fly up into his home above the shop, it was strange for those with the ability to fly to disregard it. But those who were grounded longed for the skies, and those who had the skies, longed for the open peaks, not the wooden cages which were imposing to navigate through these woodlands. Powerful back muscles flapping down, providing the prodigious amount of lift required to propel the massive Gregory from the cool earth below. Delving in the physics of things would suggest gargoyles were definitely hollow on the inside, but their bones were generally hollow matrixes and instead relied on muscles to create weight and bulk for integrity's sake. Even those horns atop Gregory were hollow, merely for decorum as it would be, but definitely hard and study.

[i][b][Color=4863A0]"Mountains speak when mined."[/color][/b][/i] another phrase used by their race, spoken out of earshot from the Ebons while they were taking wing to whence forth they were headed. Colourful expressions used, analogies and metaphors to compliment the rather laconic expressionism of their kind. In short, asking for a debriefing on what information is held by the appropriate party. The appropriate answer would be to begin with the complimentary expression 'The Stones whisper:'