The Triad
Thaistius' news makes her blink in surprise, but she nods after only a bare second of hesitation and a glance back at the small, sleeping bundle in the cot behind her. "Of course."
He sighs.
"Can it wait 'til morning this time?"
The elf raises an eyebrow at the angel. "Where she goes, I go."
Since the Kuldihar militia had become self-sufficient over the last and half, he had lost his old militia habit of warming a metal chain with prestidigitation to wake him up on an hourly basis. It was really his own fault he wasn't always alert and ready like he used to be. He had to admit though---he had gotten rather bored. There were only so many local threats nowadays that required more than a days' work to clean up. Regardless, though, if Mylandra was calling for him to help free a long-enslaved people, he would answer.
But what was it with heavenly messengers appearing in the middle of the night? Why couldn't they show up after breakfast?
Zenithral tightens his belt, slings his bow over his shoulder, then takes Halla's hand. "Shall we?" he asks, then takes Myllandra's hand.
To the side of Alalla's cot, the baby begins to fuss.
The woman takes Zenithral's hand as he touches Myllandra's. There is a flash of light and all three of them vanish, leaving empty the cottage once home to Arundel...
Equipment gathered, save her armour, Al picks up her fussing baby. "Thank you, Keggruk, but I need you here to lead the tribe while I'm gone." She gives her baby a squeeze and a kiss, breathing in the baby smell, then hands her to Keggruk. "Bring Shelur to Chaide. Tell her we don't know when we'll be back."
Hastening to her plate before Thaistius or Keggruk can see her eyes moistening, Al dons her armour as quickly as she can. As soon as she and Erevain are done strapping her into the metal plates, she slings her pack over her shoulder and stands before Thaistius. "I'm ready," she says firmly, summoning her glaive.
A moment later they are gone, leaving only Keggruk holding a small bundle of hope...
"Lady Alalla Thur’kafaz, it is good to see you again." His pronunciation of the Orcish word is perfect. "Erevain Blacksheaf, it is good we finally meet."
"Zenithral Melerelel, your skill with a bow is matched only by your compassion. Ilmater would be proud of you, could He ever be guilty of pride. And Halla, foster-daughter of Arundel, welcome."
He turns to the last two members of the group, a half-elven woman in gleaming armor and an elven man. "Aribeth de Tylmarande and Fenthick Moss, hailing from Waterdeep. You are called the very Sword and Scales of Tyr." Both blink in astonishment, though being in the presence of a deity this is hardly surprising.
"Welcome to Trueheart, heroes."
"Lord Torm! he exclaims still exasperated, glancing around. "Er, Alalla, Erevain. Good to see you two here as well." He says, eying their armor and clenching his teeth, only now remembering he had forgotten his own. That, he couldn't blame Myllandra for.
He purses his lips and shifts uncomfortably, then relaxes as he notices the impossibly exquisite scenery.