Domdrudis

Waiting.

It is fair to say EllaDoraa was not good at waiting.

The words of the hunter whirled and spun in her head day and night.  They disturbed her waking and sleeping. 

Arrowhaven hadn't had many quests in some time as was evident by the near waist height of the grass in parts of the fields where he could remember trodding through to head to the emporium or the stables, depending on what ever he was doing that day or what adventure She had sent him on. The woodland creatures and birds had flourished, and their song filled the copse of trees that hid the old manor that he had stayed in a great many times.

Cynhaer pulled the tattered cloak around him a little tighter while he gazed towards his companion, shivering as he huddled closer to the fire.

The shattered blade clattered across the floor as the crimson and filth stained hand reached out to try and grasp it. A boot pressed to the wrist as the The Needle Toothed Hunter pressed a knee into Cynraede's chest. 

"I will ask this but once, and you will answer."

The growl almost seemed to echo inside the small room, followed by the click of the shears trimming the line close to the flesh. Not so gentle hands went to work to begin medicating and suturing the numerous wounds that the man had accrued upon his adventures in stalking his favored prey. 

"You're sure it was him?"

The voice echeod from the nothingness of the other end of the room that had been drapped with cloth from the cieling and walls to hide whom ever hid behind them. 

It was insane. Chaotic.
The very air around was acrid.
Though with all the chaos, death and destruction around, somehow, Daphne was still fine. Everyone was still alive and so far, she'd managed to keep Furley from injury. Or, at least...he wasn't injured yet. It may not have had anything to do with her.

"And they found the slaves? What of the camp?" The man asked as he sat at the head of the table, his fingers steepled with amber eyes peering out at him over the table. His brow raised just the same as his father had given him many years ago. It almost made him smile, remembering such a comrade.  

When they arrived, they'd found the Company vanguard standing amdist piles of dead goblins. Well, most were standing. Altheric had apparently been wounded, along with one or two others. But there were no deaths, which she figured was a lucky thing with so many goblins. A few conversed over the events of the fight, giving Furley details of what went on.

It was like tracking a wounded animal. The blood had left a vibrant trail on the pale snow, followed by deep and staggered prints. He was close, hopefully face down in a a berm as it was never easy tracking or fighting those of his family.