Blacktail Deer Plateau How Dare

i was not standing in the way of your healing. merely making it known that our help does not come without a price. ingram explains, cloaking himself in a frightening sort of patience that he is not known for. he speaks now, from wanheda, from worheda and the commanders that came from before him. drawing from their presences so close to him in the void. a metallic taste lingers upon his tongue: there and gone like the tang of some forbidden magick.

you are free to heal as you want, but debts: of blood or of life will be paid.

you speak of the injustice of him choosing to ignore you while not considering that you, as his equal, gave him commands in the first place. it is not in his nature to heal. at least, this is what ingram has gleaned from the time he spent getting to know the deathbringer.

it was a double edged sword as ingram cared to see it.

you are not his leader and i did not see fit to make him do anything. if deathbringer had wanted to help then ingram assumes he would've.

the acolyte involves herself when she should not have. i was trying to warn her off, but she, too, had shown a fair amount of insubordination. she is not a druid and has no standing among us until she decides whether she will stay or go. that had been their deal, after all.

the next time i am disrespected by any, i will draw blood. a breath lingers in the air. if i wish for council when i make decisions, i will ask for it.