Bandits and thieves — scum of the earth — ascending from the most desperate of infernal circles, willing to sacrifice their souls, commit suicide, but for what? Foreign provisions? Currency that was practically unusable in their realm? Weapons? The very weapons that could and would decapitate them in one swift swipe, sever their heads clean off of their shoulders... Their logic eluded him, but Luran would be deceiving himself if he didn't admit that the mention of such desperate and demoralised villains hadn't instilled a certain degree of fear in him.
'Well, then,' he spoke confidently, 'we must ensure they do not gain insights in our presence and whereabouts.'
The advisor was aware this approach didn't serve as a proper solution. In fact, he didn't even know how such a feat could be accomplished; his entourage had the circumference of a small, private army. How the hell did one obscure a marching band of elves and a cavalry of galloping horses? Without the walls of the palace to protect him, he felt vulnerable, inept and easily frightened by the slightest of susurrations. Perhaps accumulating further details, pertaining to these bandits and their perverted ideologies, would aid him in establishing a more comprehensive understanding of their motivations, of the machinations labouring in their sick, twisted minds. He could deploy his knowledge, and the insights he'd gained, in potential confrontations with those foliage creeping vermin, and thus protect his own people with them leaving the skirmish unscathed and alive.
A long line of armoured elves, either on foot, or on horseback, followed the native through the forest as she guided them to the clearing; they much resembled a travelling colony of ants returning to their nest and leaving behind sacrificies, prior to embarking on the same, tedious journey to find more. Luran, upon stepping into the clearing, briefly skimmed the open area, exposed on all sides — they'd be easy pickings if they stayed here! Was she genuinely helping them survive, or helping them to their untimely demise? His mount tossed up its head at the sudden influx of blueish luminosity and snorted in aggravation. He'd never been a great animal fanatic and couldn't wait to dismount the beast and stretch his long legs, especially now that the creature was on the brink of trepidation. A gesture was issued and one of the elves, who'd trailed behind him, took the reins and he jumped to the ground with the finesse, grace and agility of any elf of their kind.
'Mhm. The location leaves much to be desired, but it'll have to do,' he muttered, tremendously dissatisfied, but motioned for the others to settle themselves down and rest for the night. 'Most beasts... Pray tell, what beasts are excluded from the majority of those staying in their burrows, dens and lairs when mist is expelled from their nostrils and muzzles and the frost bites into blade and leaf?'
Luran approached the foreign elf and after wringing his gloved hands, clasped his arms behind his back. He scrutinised her from up high, his dark brows lifted in a haughty fashion, and his back as straight and rigid as a ruler. She could do magic, he reminded himself, thus it was wisest not to antagonise her...
'Granted this clearing is not ideal, it is much preferred to trekking down endless, winding, oftentimes overgrown, trails in the dark of night...' he spoke, his tone of voice mellifluous, words considerate, a sliver of gratitude concealed in there somewhere. 'If you require food or supplies — a healer proficient at her craft — you need only ask.'
