[Erenthril Mael'tharias]

It was all rather unusual.

He paused, clucked his tongue, and considered. Yes, unusual was most definitely the best way to phrase it. Aside from a humongous monolithic veil overshadowing his beloved childhood memoirs and nostalgic memories, it was most certainly unusual that – given he could conclude all manners of individuals attempting to get in (or out, one could predict) – it happened to be one of the least elfin members of the powermongering society of warlords and petty feuds that was actually conniving a way back into nature’s embrace. Yes…Eren definitely hadn’t taken to very many elfish rituals of late; no dancing in skimpy clothes, no black market trading, no feudalistic inner House bickering, no economic manipulating…and most certainly no tree hugging. Seemingly so, the Erenthril had acted…well, rather human if one was to compare him to the others who touted reputations or prestige. He had left Syl’rosya after finding the Blackbarch and his role in Syl’rosyian society rather ill-tasting – and who wouldn’t, really, if all one’s life was meant to do was fight the tainted perils and victimizing heathen monsters within a forest so royally screwed up by his forefather’s that even modern day arcana could not reverse its effects – he’d left so abruptly from the scene that he’d only disclosed his departure to a few choice individuals.

The majority of the petty lords and presumptuous ladies, of course, were not among those chosen.

“And to think it’s me coming back with a helping hand,” Erenthril rolled his eyes as he brushed pass a leafy tree branch and ducked beneath a strong wooden limb. Oh yes, he could see it now. All the rumors that had flared up when he left, all the slandering and backstabbing that had immediately been started no sooner than he could say popsicle. Erenthril coughed lightly into the palm of his hand and took a second to slow down, examine his surroundings. He seemed to be getting….nowhere. Feth it all to Aerternia.

Of course, in his spare time, he’d pitched out a hand to the Empire. At least those people were humane enough to acknowledge the fact they were such – there was no self-deceiving airs thrown about when it came to the more-elfier-than-thou nonsense. Scratching the back of his neck, the Master Elementalist took notice of the sparrow, though his eyes did not register the pattern immediately. Too busy thinking about Milo back in the palace, about Nikki being kidnapped, about dealing with the de Lylles in Lauryl, about poking into Ire and sabotaging the troublesome Orcs, about musing over that hauntingly frightening experience at Narim, saving all those survivors. An unsung hero, perhaps. Milo’s hidden card. Sighing lethargically, Eren blinked out of this reverie and took note of the brightly colored plumage dancing about in front of him. Almond eyes studied as the sparrow bounced from one large tree to the next, twirling ever so carefully.

One large tree to the next….

Eyebrows shooting upwards in a glance of sheer horror stricken astonishment at his dumb luck – or stupidity, was it? – the Elf immediately began to follow the sparrow. Feth it if he couldn’t get through the light. Screw arcana. If this little bird was having ten times as much luck as any of his spells or own devices might, he was more than willing to throw all pride to the wind and be done with it all.

Lord how he’d been humbled over the years.