[hr][hr][center][h1][color=00aeef]Ivaron Andesil[/color][/h1][img]https://vignette.wikia.nocookie.net/brenielverse-rpg/images/a/ac/Human_Portrait_Male.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20170201142818[/img][hr][color=00aeef][b]Location[/b][/color]:Ancient Forest (???)[/center][hr][hr][center]

	Ivaron would sigh slightly, watching the Orc's valiant attempt at resistance. Grabbing the leather strap fixed towards the head of his poleaxe, he would bring it closer and slip it around his neck, while moving his hands to each end of the metal shaft. As he spoke a few words the purple-blue shimmered with silver as it distorted in the faint darkness. In just a moment it had become a small medallion hanging from the strap about Ivaron's neck to rest against the hollow of his throat. The man would hold his hands up in a gesture of surrender while waiting for further direction.

	"[color=00aeef]I am not quite familiar with your language, yet your tone implies some urgence and a lack of nonsense. I take it you're not too pleased with my trespassing in this sacred part of the forests, and I'll gladly take myself back to where i came. It was a bit of a problem that led me here anyhow.[/color]"

	Ivaron hoped that that would have been enough to earn him an escort to the nearest hippogryph which would return him to anywhere else. The forest held a weight to it that seemed to bear down on his shoulders and his psyche. He could not think where he could've been in Ashenvale that would've brought their wroth onto him. In any case he couldn't exactly fight his way out or outrun so many Sabers.