Harrow takes a drag on his cigarette and laughs a puff of smoke at her description of their winter god. "Sounds like Iamme would like Reynard. He's our resident winter spirit. Older guy, real proud of his mustache. If he likes ya, he might teach ya a little frost magic. If he doesn't..." He's chuckling again with a shrug of his shoulders. Vague badness it is, then!

He motions to himself then and says, "I'm somethin' called a worgen, but don't worry about that. It just means I look human some of the time. Somethin' tells me you're not askin' what a human is, though." He pauses for a brief nod of understanding. "I'm a death knight, too. Undead. They got those where you come from?"