Moonspear tell me who to call

The first one spoke again—Helios—and Dirge listened to his sad tale. There were names and places tossed in, perhaps things he should have known of but only had the inkling of. Places that were perhaps closer than he realized, when the topic of the rumbling earth was broached and the memories of that time stirred like long settled sentiment on the floor of an otherwise pristine lake. It offered Helios a modicum of truth to his tale, though the scrutiny was far from wavering in Dirge’s gaze.

“And then you were ousted again, I presume, either unwilling or unable to defend your newfound sanctuary. More likely the latter,” he concluded on the Tonrar’s behalf. He was satisfied with the story of how and why and what had brought them there simply enough; if not for the details he could sympathize with, then the uncomfortable tension that arose in Helios alone filled the remainder of what was left unspoken.

“So other than your pursuit of knowledge and a desire for something a bit more, let’s say idyllic, what are you willing to offer us? I can’t necessarily promise that you’ll have your peace here, but the warring hardly comes from within. There is safety in these mountains, but out there,” he gestures beyond them then, “it is quite a different story as of late, and I‌ have young mouths to keep fed and safe from fiends that think little of you or I.”

A pause follows him, and is gone just as it came.

“However if that is something you lack fortitude for, then I implore you to look elsewhere.”