“That’s my future bride… dog!” Haryk scowled arrogantly as he strode forward from his pair of sun elven guardsmen and passed the gruff human tracker who had guided them deep into the virgin forest, the raven perched on his arm springing into the air to light on a nearby branch. It had taken two days just to reach Noanar’s Hold, then another four of misery trudging through the horrid woodlands to track them down; only to find his betrothed in the arms of the lowly moon elven woodsman. “Now stand aside… or die where you stand!” “How did you find me?” Syn demanded with a snarl as she stormed toward the pompous elf lord, relieved that Torryn stood his ground, leveling Miir with an arrow knocked, drawn and ready, aimed at his heart. She had taken every precaution she could to avoid being tracked; going as far as to trade both a substantial amount of gold and her favors for an amulet specifically enchanted to conceal her from scrying. “You were clever to acquire that amulet... and to leave nothing behind that could be used to help scry for you,” he goaded as he drew a crystal sphere from the pouch at his side, “but you shouldn’t have brought something with you; Nykademous. Of course you would never dream of leaving your familiar behind. So when I couldn’t find you, I just scryed for her. I’ve seen everywhere you’ve gone, and everything you’ve done, in this dismal forest.” Then he added with a haughty smirk; “It’s been most… entertaining… if unbecoming of my future wife.” Syn gasped in shock, the realization that he had been magically spying on her ever since she’d fled Everlund leaving her enraged, and more than a bit embarrassed, while scolding herself for not even considering that Nykademous could be used against her in such a way. Not that she would have left her behind even it had. “But now it’s time to end this foolishness, and I may still forgive your… offences,” he commanded in an inpatient tone. She’d caused him more than enough trouble already, forcing him to leave important business in Everlund to chase her down, while she had spent her time cavorting with this common moon elven hunter and an Uthgardt barbarian woman. “My offences… I’m the one who was sold into marriage to the likes of you!” she snapped, her emerald eyes ablaze with barely contained fury as she brandished her sword threatening. “A privilege you obviously do not deserve,” he taunted like the true narcissist he was. “However, by the time you bare me an heir to claim that moonblade I’m sure I’ll have made you worthy of the Ealoeth name.” Syn was both infuriated and flabbergasted by his arrogance, growling; “You and your house with never have either me or this moonblade!” “That is not up to you,” he snapped back with conviction. “The elders of both our houses have spoken… and you are bound to their will by elven law.” Then he smirked evilly; “Now come along... our wedding bed awaits!”