Tur'Nook would not be joining, as much as the man might of wanted to, he knew such days were far behind him.  Limping along with Voran at his side, the grizzled veteran of a man who had seen much more than his younger counterpart couldn't help but agree that this moot had brought a rare mix of folk to gather beneath the old oaks.  "Dragons are a formidable foe no matter how large or small one might be, or so I have heard.  Many are concerned, rightfully so."  He led the young warrior who he had personally helped to train so many years ago away from the cluster that congregated around the bonfire, leading Voran down a path lined with thickets of weeds and brambles.<br/><br/>"Gorhan still holds much sway in the lands to the west, and the dragon is far from his lands.  As such most of your, or our brethren declined to come for fear of crossing him."  With a push of his weathered hand, Tur'Nook pushed a branch aside to reveal another gathering taking place.  A much smaller affair in a much tighter opening where the other chosen warriors that were to face Mordacious we're already making introductions or looking over the weapons and shields of steel that were laid out upon the canvas before a trio of dwarven folk.  Tur'Nook paused, stepping aside to allow Voran to pass by him into the small open glade where the moonlight from above offered a softer illumination that complimented a handful of torches and a small, modest fire.<br/><br/>"It seems we are a little late, my legs do not move as swiftly as they once had."  There was a rueful smile upon the stout mans face as he addressed the gathering before them.  "This is Voran, I Tur'Nook of the Saragos vouch for his tenacity and skill."  He stepped back further, ceding the way for Voran to make his entrance.<br/><br/>From her place upon the stump of a log, Mo'Toya raised her cryptic blood shot and wild eyes of blue and green upon the newest arrival.  Her voice was a low drawling slur as she cupped her potent beverage to her belly.  "Welcome Voran, I am Mo'Toya of the Moko."  Her glazed over eyes swept about to the others, taking it upon herself to make further introductions with just a delicate gesture of fingertips that pointed to individuals as they were named.  "That is Gostim of the Dwarves, Iseldra of the Elves, Eyota and Alo, and Gall the Far-Seeing."  She slid back into the comfort of her drink and let her thoughts wander.<br/><br/>Gorth stood up as tall as a dwarf might be able, one hand stroking his long beard of grey and silver braided hair before his cavernous voice rose.  "Come, Voran, all of you, come and let us find you a weapon crafted of steel by our finest smiths that might see a dragon slain."  His gaze swept over the spears in Voran and Galls possession before he plucked one up off the canvas and marched his way across the grasses towards where Voran was.  "This is Thunderstrike."  He held the spear out before himself, carefully tracing the shape of the weapons immaculately crafted shaft with his thumbs.  "Take it, it is yours now.  May it serve you well."