The Curse, the Magister, and the Nightingale

Part 3: The Good, the Bad, and the Freezing

"Ram, or horse? You've gotta make up your mind," Umbric clarified, folding his sleeved arms over his broad chest. He quirked an eyebrow at Nightingale, a rather impatient gesture coming from the most patient elf Nightingale had ever known.

The Ren'dorei scoffed, dragging his nails down the massive pine tree they sheltered themselves behind, tearing through the bark and skin with questionable behavior. He hissed, "I hate rams."

"Well, rams are better suited for the icy environment we're definitely going to have to pass through if it means reaching the exact spot of your vision. A horse will do, but there's always the risk of it slipping," Umbric said, squinting up at the bright sunlight that filtered through the pine needles. Nightingale would've preferred a horse over a ram. The goat-like creatures were just. . . too bouncy and jumpy. They didn't make Nightingale feel safe and secure at all.

"We could always walk," Umbric offered, smiling craftily at the look of torment that passed over Nightingale's visage. The Magister said dramatically, "So many options, what ever will we do?"

"Shut your smug mouth, Magister," Nightingale muttered, rubbing his forehead just above his eyebrows to prevent his headache from spreading. He let out a sigh that seemed to stretch so long the Magister swore it must've hurt. Nightingale finally decided, "Rams. . ."

The Magister offered Nightingale a thumbs up as the Ren'dorei stalked forward, purposely under the shade of the pines and firs where he could gather more Shadows to mask his identity. He was carefully prowling toward the Alliance establishment, where most of the armies were still waking and readying themselves for a laborious day. Rams and horses were tied to a wooden post the humans and dwarves built overnight, restraining their burdened beasts.

Nightingale softly crept over to the animals, bringing his hand gently over the flank of one of the horses. He stealthily moved over to the wooden post, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth in a recognizable noise in hopes of not disturbing any of the animals. He pulled out one of his slim elven knives, biting through the thick material of the rope that held two dwarven rams secure. Both rams were white with splotches of black and grey along their shaggy coats. One of them shook their horned head skeptically at Nightingale.

"I really don't like rams, I really don't like rams," Nightingale repeated to himself quietly, wrapping the rope around his wrist as he lead the two rams forward. One of them bucked and bleated in protest, Nightingale turning around and hushing the stubborn animal. He seethed as he crept forward, "I know I'm not a small and chubby dwarf like you're used to, but that does not mean you get to back talk me."

The ram snorted, shoving its head against Nightingale's back and causing the elf to hiss in fury. He continued to tug the two stubborn bucks forward, muttering under his breath when the voices in his head laughed and jeered at his futile attempts.

When he was well out of range of the Alliance outpost, Umbric popped out of hiding to greet him cheerily, "You haven't been shredded to pieces yet! I applaud you."

"Thanks," Nightingale sighed, untying the ropes from around the rams' neck. He stayed clear of the massive and curled horns that protruded from the head of the dwarven steed, hoisting himself onto the back of the uncomfortably small and skittish creature. He wondered how the dwarves were such good friends with these literally bullheaded creatures. Nightingale was an elf, he was supposed to easily get along with every critter of the wild. He looked over at Umbric, hoping the Magister was having the same problem.

Of course he wasn't.

The ram nuzzled the Sin'dorei sorcerer, snorting in a friendly and accepting manner as Umbric pulled himself onto the back of the buck. He offered Nightingale a smug smile, one that made Nightingale's face twist into an emotion he didn't want to explain. Either Nightingale snatched the bad egg of the bunch, or this animal could smell the Void properties of the Ren'dorei. He sighed, asking with exasperation, "We're heading toward the mountains?"