"Well." Eron coughed and adjusted his cloak.
"Yeah." Ava snorted and swapped the strange mint stick (why was it curved on one end?) she was chewing on from one side of her mouth to the other.
"That was... different from our usual escapades."
His sweet hellion simply snorted again, ducking her head and plowing further through the snow.
It had been a strange week indeed. It had begun well enough, with their Mage sending the Lightbringer and Paladin off on dangerous, yet straightforward retrieval mission. A few days later, they had been on their victorious way home, bearing artifacts of unsavory power to be retained within the Citadel.
They had been walking along, discussing the merits of various foods, when they had been accosted by... elves. At least, the beings claimed to be elves. They might have been some unholy union of elves and hutchen, being rather on the short side, but he wasn't about to ask, and they did insist that they were elves.
Ava, of course, had not been polite, and throughout their strange adventure had persisted in questioning the poor beings' ancestry.
The... elves had latched on to Eron, begging his aid. They claimed to know his reputation (from where, he could not quite determine) and they claimed some strange list prophesied that he and he alone could save their leader.
While he had some doubts as to the power of prophecy, how could he refuse? Ava had flatly – and violently – refused to take the liberated artifacts back herself, which meant that the elves had crammed the two heroes and themselves into a strange sleigh drawn by a team of reindeer.
Truth be told, neither sleigh nor reindeer had seemed unusual until it took flight.
His hellion had threatened to dine upon venison if they did not fly lower. This had caused rather a large ruckus amongst the elves, but middle ground – so to speak – had finally been reached. He simply wished that Ava had been more understanding that while he did not quite understand her discomfort regarding heights, he could at least empathize given his great dislike (sadly, perpetually mutual) of horses.
In an effort to most quickly change the subject, he asked the elves for details of their plight. Of course, all three of the beings had begun talking at once, often over each other. Their leader, someone the Clawed, was apparently a being of most generous and benevolent spirit. He had however been overtaken somehow, or lost his... "Chrismahansqwanukah"?
The several high pitched eager voices all speaking over each other made it almost impossible to determine what, exactly, their leader had lost. But it had seemed like quite the appropriate quest to assist and retrieve... whatever it was.
They had arrived at an incredible palace, all glinting (ice?) crystal and strangely decorated with more of the mint canes of astonishingly varied sizes. They had found a cranky, irate man of considerable girth and formidable temper as well. His tendency to throw magically empowered boxes – gaily wrapped and beribboned – that exploded had driven the small party to separate in an attempt to take cover. Ava, being Ava, had charged the man with drawn blade and righteous fury blazing from her eyes, dodging exploding boxes and peppermint shrapnel.
Eron had gone the slightly longer way round. Thus he had stumbled upon... something he thought of as green yeti, trailing magic to the red-garbed man so that the monster could use him as a puppet.
One long, sprawling battle that had ranged across the icy landscape later, the beast was slain, the Clawed one (or whatever he was) was most grateful, and both Ava and Eron could not get back to the borrowed sleigh quickly enough.
While the Paladin was not quite sure what to make of such escapades, he found he could not complain overmuch. After all, they had saved, er, the "Chrismahansqwanukah" Clawed one, they would get transport back home – without any blasted horses! - and Ava, who apparently still loathed heights, was sitting quite close to him even though their conveyance was but skimming the top of the snow banks.
No, no complaints at all.