The to and fro between the paladin upon the citadel sparked a second wind within Torus. The ash, flavoring the fluttering gales, hinted a haunting excursion. Cinders and fretful residue singed the elder’s nostrils, taxing memories of seaward battles of old.

Facing the divine aspirant of the Silver Lady, the tongue ring singed a song of concomitant urgency.

[color=92278f]“My bones might require some respite after dusk’s end, but I echo Brannor. I do not disagree with ya, lad. These hoarders are wild pigs, feeding off the crumbs of Greenest. Ferret them out? Yes! The cleverness of foxes deracinates the cunning of devils. Timing is everything, though, as this morning will bend its hot eye upon us, soon, unveiling a wasted kismet.”[/color]

The druid turned to Nighthill, beckoning a slight veneer of fatigue and exhaustion. Old age had ripened the pirate, taunting an unabated sleep to mull over as languid bags under his briny eyes. 

[color=92278f]“Governor, grant us any guards that you can spare, to take on our hunt. This town shall feast on the spoils of our bounty. Their still hearts will become our quarry! We will fly like eagles, kick like mules and hide like hermits. We must go now or forfeit until tomorrow’s eve.” [/color]

[@The Harbinger of Ferocity][@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Lucius Cypher][@Norschtalen]