The Mythril Mines
The crash of the waterfall raged through the cave but even the cacophony of the tumbling river faded into the silent background as Braz and Calliope stared at each other intently.
Braz was breathing deeply, a deep line of crimson across his snout from the vicious battle they had just waged.
Calliope smoothed her feathers.
Following screams deep into the dungeon may have led to the party being able to save the lives of a couple of centaurs but now as the party saw to their substantial wounds Braz's thoughts turned to his home, of Agelada, and the ongoing torture his herd would be facing without him present to protect them.
He thought of Estoria, and the gathering storms all around.
He thought of the blood sight at the Temple of the Oracle.
With a snort he raised his head and straightened his back. He had said his piece, his feelings were known. But he was part of something bigger than him. Part of the heroes of prophecy and he knew that despite his rage and sadness towards the gathering maelstrom he felt in his visions of the future he knew that he must continue to fight alongside his oathsworn in the present.