Binder Fred
3 rings to bind them all!
"Oh, good," breathes out the young mage, shoulders literally sagging with relief. They- They made it after all! "Blessings to the Shining One, brother Carlog, to have put you in our path! You have our eternal thanks. And the good captain's as well," he is quite, quite sure!
"I think I...?" tentatively suggests Antares, his breath too still somewhat heavy from the effort. Like brother Carlog, he too now lays hand on the officer's unconscious form and then summons his elemental moving spell once more (as that's probably the least jarring method of transport at this point?). Under brother Carlog's guidance <or another's ?>, the softly glowing captain is transported as gently as possible to where he needs to be for his recuperation to occur.
"Is he married, perhaps?" asks Antares while they are doing this, slightly startled into realizing how little he knows about the man. (Though in truth, afore yesterday's meetings his dealings with the law had been entirely comprised of polite crossings in the streets of fair Askadar. As should probably be, and with one stringently notable exception in their boisterous youth, granted... But that is neither here nor there at the moment!))
<If he is married or has living children:
"Should I perhaps inquire outside if any can carry word to her?" he inquires of the blessed brother.
On his way out, the young elf discretely breaks from his escort <assuming he has one> to detour by the gold-leafed altar, though for now only taking time to make deep obeisance before the statue of the Shining One as he lowers a handful of randomly selected coins into one of the offering bowls*.
"Thank you," is all he says before nodding deep once more and making his increasingly hurried way back out of the temple, robes swishing.
Not that he means any disrespect. And likely their role here is done, in truth, now the place of council and militia...? (Especially if the incident is not truly closed, being instead ember slowly sinking into fertile ground?) Still, the young mage can't help feeling, deep down, that he will not sleep tonight, and maybe not the day after, if he cannot at least make sure that all is well in his world right now. That he, at least, understands what is happening. That's... probably selfish of him, on the face of what could eventually be at stake...?
(And while Gods have his deepest respect, of course, he reflects - Mighty Pelor of Light, Gaia** of forests green, (Takam of secrets) -- and now Malborka of Shields and Hearths as well, it seems - outside of Holy Days they are not usually quite at the core of his quiet life -- as is the case for most people, he would guess? Gods are Gods, after all. They exist - and fight and love - all around them, always. And yet their lives are somehow diffuse, too big for the common of mortals to see and feel and quite comprehend? They... pass through each other, shaping each other's lives indirectly... until one or the other pauses and takes the time to really look down (or upwards, as the case may be)... And then legends are born.)
Antares shakes the random thoughts away: "Shall- shall we go to the guard barracks and see if Malborka's priestess, as well as our goblin prisoners, have arrived safe and sound?" he suggests to Muzdin and Stellan once they are re-united.
So many things could have occurred - to all of them - in this seemingly short amount of time. It's... a bit worrying.
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