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Nhim certainly hopes that this is the right farm. She's visited several on her way here with no luck, and the deer she carries in her maw is starting to taste a bit off. The dragon lands in an ungainly fashion at the Cooper farm, dropping her catch with a thud and peering into the house's upper story window. "Hello?" she calls, experimentally, then mutters to herself, "I hope no one has those damned sticks again, if this isn't the right farm..."

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"Warfare, and logic. I prefer to lean towards logic the most out of all of them, though I've fought in more than my fair share of battles. It's rather hard to avoid when evil keeps overtaking things on a regular basis. It always has to be fought back, after all."

She shrugs. "And if not for logic, how can you expect to fight a war well? The destruction...well, I've always thought that ties in well enough to what acid does."

Oliver nods slowly, closing his eyes once more.

"How do you worship your god?"

It's mainly curiosity, with a hint of 'I hope your god doesn't ask you to destroy towns in his name'.

"Prayer, generally. Or singing-though likely, you'd just think of it as roaring or the like if you didn't know what to listen for. There are a few temples for each god or goddess, scattered around my world in remote places.We leave offerings there. I've only been to one once-they're rather hard to get to, particularly at my age, and given where Adikos' temples are."

"Oh? Where are they?"

"The swamps towards the south. Neither the climate or the landscape is particularly comfortable for me."

Oliver wrinkles his nose at the word 'swamps'. "I've had a few missions near the Elderburrough peat bogs - I can still smell them in my nightmares."

And see and hear many more angstful things he doesn't mention.

"I can't say the swamps in mine smell particularly good, either. Not to mention the heat and the insects-and the fact that fur and swamp water is an unpleasant combination."

"Oh, rather," Oliver murmurs.

Oliver gives a quiet chuckle (he's not big on outright laughter). "My brother's hounds came back from duck hunting this one time, absolutely covered in filth. Henry wanted his favourite - ah, Rufus, I think - clean, to show off to father. Even with what I now know was my power over beasts - even with that, it took me hours to clean that mutt. Henry persuaded me to help the way any good older brother would." Oliver apparently feels that older brothers bullying younger ones are universal enough that he doesn't need to elaborate.

"I do hope wet dragon does not smell like wet dog."

"I've dealt very little with hounds, but from what I've seen of them, I'm not surprised. As for how we smell-we smell like wet dragon. We don't mind it, and don't really notice it. I've never had anyone comment on it, so as far as what other species might think...I don't know."

Possibly the lack of commentary on wet dragon smell is because she has teeth the size of bananas.

A part of him would enjoy smelling wet dog - Rose Manor was famous for their hounds.

Then he actually returns to the conversation at hand...Lord, did he just say....?

He clears his throat. "Possibly because it shows ill-breeding for anyone to mention bodily odors. I ask for forgiveness. My mind...wanders, of late, a habit I must clearly try to correct."

Nhim just shrugs again, with a bit of a grunt at the movement. "It was a valid question. It's not as if you'd have any way to know what we smell like. I can't say I've ever noticed wet elf or human having a smell, though..."

"Humans do - they smell richer, with the world-stench washed away...."

"But this is only to a discerning nose. I know it only because I've ridden the senses of the fox that makes Mansfield Abbey its home. Remarkable creatures, foxes. Easy to see why the men that can take their shape are so hard to destroy."

"I would think if they're so linked to foxes, hounds would terrify them enough to be useful. And I can't comment on how humans smell normally-truth be told, my sense of smell is rather poor. It's my eyesight that's good."

"Smell would not be terribly necessary for a creature with flight," Oliver agrees - and manages to show off his learnings in the process.

"Unfortunately, they are demonic as well as bestial; dogs turn rabid and horses spook if they get too close to a fox-skin. Men...do much the same."

"Rabid?" she asks, sounding blank. "What do you mean, rabid?"

"'Uncontrollable' - the word comes from the disease known as rabies, which would be the province of rat-skins. Rabies is transmitted by bite; it causes frothing at the mouth, madness, and eventual death."

There's a hint of roughness to his tone when he finishes his description, though his expression remains as composed as ever.

Nhim nods as she listens. "Foaming mouth. I've seen a handful of animals with it myself, and always taken care to kill them. It doesn't affect dragons, but the humans are quite afraid of it."

Oliver tilts his chin in the barest of nods. Very afraid.

"That was kind-hearted of you to do so, Nhim," he murmurs after a moment.

"There isn't any cure, at least that I know of. Why leave them to keep suffering and spread the disease?"

Oliver nods again. Very logical. Which makes his thoughts turn to her god once more.

"What offering did you leave upon finding the temple? Something from your hoard?"

Nhim nods, then tilts her head as she digs through her memory. "A sum of a gold and a sword. It seemed fitting, given how warfare is one of Adikos's domains."

"I pray I do not pry - but was this offering made for anything in particular?"

"Well, it was during a time of fighting. Given that I was in the area near where the temple was, I thought it couldn't hurt to visit and ask for luck in our next fight."

"I hope it went well?"

Nhim snorted in amusement. "I'm not dead, am I?"