Mosur exhaled again as they took off. He wasn’t sure how Sielic or either of the death knights had arrived. He and Zaanthe had rented a pair of griffons to make the trip in a timely manner and now he was glad for it.
He’d hoped at first all the strangeness of the camp and the guards could be explained by the cold and simply tired guardsmen. That the excitement levels of this trip would be at an all time low. But no, it’s always something.
His left arm throbbed.
It had been bothering him since their trip into the ogre cave in Arathi. Just thinking about it still send shivers down his spine. There was something in that cave, hopefully still trapped. Maybe they had a duty to say something about it but he’d rather just forget about it. Specially with how it seemed to enthrall even Zaanthe. It was scary.
The bend of his right shoulder stung.
The adrenalin was wearing off, the swing of that polearm must have clipped him. They could look at that once they landed. That death knight was still bothering him, he wasn’t sure of their name but Aunne seemed to know them. They seemed dangerous. “We should kill the living like they killed us.” Or something like that. Were they really a Templar? She is dangerous, he was going to have to keep an eye on her. Hopefully, that’s all it came down too.
Zaanthe was right to keep them away from his home. The orphanage…maybe he shouldn’t be leading them their either. They had their own unique methods of protection though. Hopefully, the Ash Man would forgive him.