[i]~Every risk has reward, every journey ends in treasure, some are simply not the ones you seek.~[/i]

His journey east hat not been as rewarding as he had hoped, the search for his mount had taken him to the Plain of Horses in hopes of connecting with a mighty beast... [url=http://www.hdwallpaperbackground.com/uploads/allimg/130315/Mongolia%20Mastiff%20%20iron%20gold%20Tibetan%20mastiff%20HD%20Wallpapers%207.jpg]*Bark*[/url]...Not the mighty beast he had in mind. It was a 'liondog' pup and was promised to be a great beast of power one day. Having seen the parents, he was inclined to believe it. His mind had made him think of getting barding and saddle made for this 'riding dog' pup with an enlargement enchantment upon it so that he might actually use it as such some day. But that was for another day and for the now it was a mouth to feed and an adorable face sticking out of a saddlebag for others to coo over.

Beasts aside, he had indeed learned how to endure the harsh desert weathers and came back with a small trophy in the form of a plainsmans 'yurt'. A type of folding tent that was quite spacious when fully expanded, he had gotten himself a children's tent and was still large enough for him and all his things if he crawled in. *bark* And his pup. He hoped to take this ingenuity to either his elves for them to add their own influence to it or to some gnomes to see if they could improve on the design or materials. 

He was pondering sailing canvas when he heard an alarm that could wake the dead and brought his jackass around to the hill where he saw a woman and a man under attack by an elemental. He spurred his beast on to leap the fence as he leveled his scythe to attack the monster as he rode by, unfortunately the beast of burden was not war-trained and so it merely threw him from the saddle over the fence. His years of riding skill by his grandmother started with a year just getting knocked off his horse on purpose all day long. As such he has burned in his body the reflex and roll  needed to come up from a shortcoming ready for battle.

A mountain of an orc-kind, with a scythe, falling off his ass while a wearing green and brown armor of a bug into a living rockpile... A bard must surely be dying of laughter somewhere. "Vile fiend!" Spoke another with mace on hip and finger of accusation. "Harass this man no longer!"

Having arrived to the scene, not being there at its blossom, he had not considered that the woman summoned the elemental against the man or that the man had summoned the elemental against the woman. He simply assumed the elemental was against someone and that was good enough for him to bring aid to the cause. This did now make him pause long enough to "feel" for the others, to sense if they held darkness in their hearts.