"Aye, lad. What of it?" he asked, "Here to scout for the King's men for a gold piece?"<br/><br/>"No king of mine." Osarin laughed slightly. He wanted little, if anything to do with humans, or their completely futile nobility. "Osarin Taleminesca," His name rolled off his tongue, sounding almost sing-song, He bowed his head slightly, his dark hair falling lightly in his face, "and if it calms you to any extent, I am not here to hunt, I am not a danger, unless you find flowers frightening." He laughed more heartily, the musical sound echoing through the trees. With a small, slow motion, a few flowers bloomed in a nearby shrub, "Simply a bard, I heard the noise and if nothing else could use some inspiration for a great, fame-worthy epic." He smiled. Osarin took a couple steps forward, trying to seem non-threatening, His dark green eyes flicking through the members present. "Or if not an epic maybe a great tragedy, is everyone alright? Your summoner appears ill, and there's a branch in that man's leg."<br/><br/>With a sudden realization of how bad this scene actually was, curiosity of all things, welled inside Osarin.<span style="font-style: italic">What happened?</span>His mind screamed. He was too worried what the answer might be to justify asking. If the dragon had indeed been summoned, and turned on the summoner why, then, was he not finishing the both of them off? With brow furrowed, Osarin looked from the dragon to the elf, then to the humans. Maybe he and not she was the summoner, maybe the woman was meant as sacrifice? That would explain the odd garb, humans had a habit of making things pretty before they die, or even more macabre, after they die.