[h2][color=00BFFF]Brann Aldebard, The Spellsword[/color][/h2]

[center]The sound of hooves clacking on the semi-rocky ground was something Brann had become accustomed to. It had an odd quality about it which made it pleasant to the ear, in the same fashion how certain scents carried a pleasant sensation to certain people. This feeling was only amplified in this moment when he saw Syfa, their Satyr spear-woman, frolicking her way in a playful manner towards him and lending her flask with a flourish before trotting on her, rather accurately put, merry way. This one of those rare occasions when Brann hadn’t notice he had been smiling all this time, the thought that perhaps his damaged tooth was showing off just a touch too much had crossed his mind yet it left just as easily. ‘[i][color=00BFFF]I’m sure they’ve seen worse[/color][/i]’ he thought as his thirst was pleasantly quenched as he drank deep from the flask. 

Just as he wiped his chin from a few stray drops with the leathery-part of his gauntlet, he heard a second, less friendly, noise thrown at him.

"[b]Well ya should’ve filled it up more, now shouldn’t ya.[/b]” The voice belonged to none other than the Elven woman named Ninty, someone who seemed less enthused about this mission than the rest and who also appeared to have taken a bit of a disliking towards Brann, perhaps due to his demeanor or his earlier slip of the tongue.

“[b]Lucky for you Jester, ya got her to keep ya alive.[/b]” The comment made Brann focus his attention to her ‘[i][color=00BFFF]Guess I already have a nickname then?[/color][/i]’ he wondered.

“[b][color=00BFFF]No need to be jealous, darling. You know I only have eyes for you[/color][/b]” The Spellsword responded with a smirk and a false-flattering tone, unsure if Ninty heard him though considering how swiftly she passed by. 

All around him his new companions were beginning to form some semblance of bonds between each other, some more easily than others. The Revenant, Cassian was being quite distant, even more-so than he was before, yet Brann didn’t worry, thinking that perhaps he simply needed some time. Speaking of Cassian, Brann’s sight shifted towards Samuel, ‘[i][color=00BFFF]..or maybe I should call him Father Samuel?[/color][/i]’ unsure if the pious man kept his saintly title in this life-style. The man was falling a bit behind but not out of necessity but by choice, as one could easily see him admiring the environment, taking it all in. An ironic twist of fortune had made Samuel the only one unaware of Cassian’s true nature and neither Brann nor the others had the heart of telling him just yet, thinking that it may cause quite the disparity between them. The cold glares and unfiltered disproval from Penolope were already enough, he considered. 

Reinvigorated, Brann cracked his neck and continued marching, this time at least trying to be a touch more cautious about his footing. It didn’t take long for him to catch up with Ninty and Syfa, which allowed him to partially eavesdrop on their conversation before moving on, pretending he wasn’t listening, whistling a silly tune to himself and keeping his gaze forward. Timothy was still ahead of everyone, even the rather enchanting Krielie’nas was having a hard time keeping up with him despite her rush. Brann scratched his head, he couldn’t for the life of him understand how this Elf could move so easily over such problematic terrain while also carrying that monster of a pack. Yes, one could argue that Syfa and Ninty were having no troubles either yet they were both significantly less burdened and Brann was sure at least one of them had been strolling through terrain like this for at least half their lives.

‘[color=00BFFF][i]The pay better live up to what he was promising. Gonna need a new pair of boots after this is all done…[/i][/color]’ he contemplated while shielding his eyes from a ray of sunlight that peeked through the branches above. 

[hr]

Timothy had one of his characteristic smirks plastered on his mug, seemingly pleased with himself as he occasionally glanced behind at the selection of would-be-heroes he hired. With these numbers, finding what he is looking for ought to be child’s play.

“[b]Not far now… Just a little bit further..[/b]” one would sometimes hear him mumble to himself if they could keep up with him. Whatever it was he looked for must be important. The group was days away from any civilized settlement, at the very edge of the Dwarven Kingdom where the wilderness was unwelcoming and the terrain too difficult to maneuver for even the most skilled farmer, hence why the Southern part of their lands was left to the will of nature and evidently, the more superstitious folk would come up with a whole plethora of tales and rumors about the dangers of the wild, be it to warn others, scare them or just to entertain and pass the time. 

A sudden and loud series of ‘CAWS’ had briefly interrupted the group of adventurers from their respective conversations, drawing their attentions upwards to a small flock of crows that had taken flight from the trees that had so perfectly kept them hidden from view. Most flew away through whatever gaps they could find between the branches yet a couple of them had simply moved to different trees, as if intending to watch what this curious group of ‘intruders’ were up to.[/center]