“I fear this is not our battle to fight old fried,” said Jax sympathetically.
“So long as there are arrows for my bow, and my sword arm is strong, any battle against the foe of the Elves is mine to fight,”
Rohlen looked at Yulien and vice versa, knowing that each had cast this very day.
“We offer you assistance Fraevon,” said Rohlen.
“In whatever help the arcane arts can offer,” added Yulien.
Knowing there would be no point is asking the thoughts of the dwarf, for his hunger for battle was paralleled only by his love of food, Jax was left with the decision of joining his friends in attempting to free the prisoners, or abandoning them all.
Before he was able to weigh up the notion of attacking a goblin settlement with only five of them, and getting out alive, Fraevon remarked surprisingly had them all gazing in the direction of Greshfell,
“What is that crazy dwarf doing? He’s going to get himself killed.”
Unnoticed by the others, Tumbor saw no point in dallying around making plans and talking about things. Things needed to get done, and goblin heads had to roll. With his battle axe ‘Trollcleaver” ready to taste flesh blood, the dwarf boldly stormed toward Greshfell.
“We should…” started Jax.
“Yes, we should,” finished Fraevon.
The four remaining companions encouraged the mounts towards the town, and rode on after the petulant dwarf.