The Heartwood forget you, and you, and you

Neverwinter and Firebirds—he was aware of both of them, granted the former was certainly a more familiar prospect than the latter. What he did know of them was not particularly positive from the mouth of Hydra, but he had aligned it with more pleasant memory; Ceara, Tegan, and their ilk. A more carefree time instead of being wrought with one trip hazard after another, but even then it was all embellishment on his part.

Neverwinter was... well, Neverwinter.

Either way, they were only parts of the whole; he retained his pleasantries.

"That's a pity," he hummed, "I had hoped they'd come to till up the worms." Disappointment is there and gone, and he readily seized opportunity nevertheless. "But I'm Dirge, from Moonspear. Care to join me in a hunt? The ash only stretches so far and I'm willing to share any spoils. Three of us would make for a better fare in delicacies if we're fortunate."

Hydra wouldn't turn down whatever he offered, he thought, and it would do them well to curry favor.