[img=http://i.imgur.com/UPINOf1.png]

[b][u]Cuttersbury: Trail towards Drych Lake[/b][/u]

[i]‘I knew you were a klutz, but that had to be the fruitcake!’[/i] Delilah screamed as Lute flopped down to the ground for the fifth time within ten minutes. If the virtuoso could speak, he would’ve retorted something along the lines of not knowing that the Big Bro Varren was capable of ballerina twirls, but he was far too buried in earth and goop to even move a muscle. Next time, he’ll leave the heroics to Moira.

The earth trembled again as Lute tried to wiggle his way out of the sticky concoction, which was starting to look more and more like a patch of swamp on a bad day as it absorbed the tumbling gravel and various other falling debris. Thankfully Amy came over to help and she even cast a heal over him while she was at it, and Lute resurfaced from the horror with a red face, a bleeding nose and a very bruised ego. Asides from that, everything was perfect. “Thank you,” The virtuoso sputtered out and he wiped the remaining grime off of his face. The cleric’s magic was already smoothing away the pain wracking his head, though the Big Bro Varren stomping everywhere like that was bound to hurt him in other places. 

Speaking of… “Hey, miss Amy. Thanks for the heal, but I got to help the others now!” Lute turned to the woman and nodded at her in thanks before running after Trixie. Though his head pounded with the exertion of a wasted attack and a pissed off familiar, the virtuoso unfurled his fingers from his palm and gathered the nearest sounds that he could. “Oi, stink snout!” The prankster was obviously having a hard time keeping the creature after her all the time so Lute took the heat for her. The varren whirled away from the girl and tilted his head towards the source of the annoying, whiny (yet surprisingly loud) voice; a white-haired human jumping up and down while waving its arms about like a headless chicken. The varren snorted and was about to ignore Lute’s senseless actions if only he hadn’t heard the virtuoso say one damning thing…

“Your fashion sense sucks! Major sucks! Like totes! My goat Quentin knows better, and he doesn’t even wear anything!”

Oh, things just got serious. Or serious-[i]er[/i].

Lute laughed weakly as the Big Bro shimmied around in a funky manner before bolting towards him. “Time to do what I do best!” He joked and then ran to the side.