"They got us this far, but I don't think I'll be able to hide again should we assist them", Legion pondered, looking down at the scalemail attached to his body.

Azax looked at his companions and quickly made up his mind.  He chose his tone carefully - loud enough to be overheard by their secret follower but hopefully not loud enough to be heard by the feasting wyverling or terrified orcs.  "Let the beast have the orcs.  They won't lead us to their fortres if they know we are here.  The only way they help us if they are unaware of us.  And if they die - they have the sword.  That isn't our goal but having it in orc hands can't be a good thing.  And if it is a dragon-riders sword, well, where is the rider?  These are dark days.  A return of the dragon riders would be most welcome.  Perhaps one needs its sword returned to it?"  Here he paused and glanced back at the battle in front of them.  "Lets duck down and hide and see how things play out."  He looked at Legion.  "we'll keep that armor hidden for now, yes?  We can clean things up afterwards."

If the others agree with his decision Azax will slink back a little further into the woods - hiding as well as he can while retaining a view of the overall fight.  He also keeps his ears pealed for any sign of movement behind them from their shadow.  

"If these orcs have indeed killed the rider to get this sword I wouldn't even mind watching them get eaten", Legion's normally monotone voice almost had a snicker to it this time.

The wyverling continued its bloody feast, its prey attempting in vain to flee from the beast as it gorged on their companions. Three orcs escaped into the trees-wether through skill or sheer luck, it was impossible to tell. Those less fortunate were quickly devoured by the monster as it unleashed a roar of satisfaction and triumph.
'The wyverling has almost finished his repast,' Erundak whispered. 'Whatever we are deciding to do, we must do it swiftly before it sees us and decides to have desert.'

Azax replied in a loudish whisper: 'Let the beasts have the orcs. They won't lead us to their fortress if they know we are here. The only way they help us is if they are unaware of us. And if they die-they have the sword. That isn't our goal, but having it in orc hands can't be a good thing. And if this is a dragon rider's sword, where is the rider? These are dark days. A return of the dragon riders would be most welcome. Perhaps one needs its sword returned to it?'

Legion agreed.
'They got us this far,' the warforged nodded, 'I don't think I'll be able to hide again if we assist them.' He contemplated his gleaming armour before adding, 'if the orcs have indeed killed the rider to get this sword, I wouldn't even mind watching them get eaten.' The automiton's useually robotic voice had a hint of amusement to it.

Azax, Legion and Erundak slowly crept to a more secure location where the trees and undergrowth were more dense and so decreased their chances of being spotted by the wyverling's watchful gaze as it searched for yet more prey, its hunger not yet sated. The party hoped that the scent of the sparse flowers that had managed to bloom in the meagre light would help to mask their scent. The beast slowly, almost lazily, crawled down the rough, gnarled trunk of the ancient pine, then paused upon reaching the ground, its serpent-like head swinging from side to side, still searching for more victims to fill its already bulging belly, chops covered with gore. Upon finding nothing, it growled in dissatisfaction then proceeded into the trees, stripping them of their bark as its large bulk scraped past them. Soon, all that could be seen was the tip of its spiked tail, then that too slithered out of sight like a large snake.

The party exhaled a sigh of relief that they had successfully eluded the monster, but the events in the area were not yet at an end. Once again, the foliage behind them rustled as a figure disturbed it. The party turned sharply in the direction of the sound, but still the figure was draped in deep shadow from the thick canopy of the trees. All they beheld was the sillhouette of slim framed body, which paused as though hesitant to reveal itself, before slowly, gingerly, emerging into the more lighted area near the party. Erundak muttered a spell and the pixie dust in the lantern increased its glow. He held it higher and they finally discerned who-and what-had been following them.

The woman was of a tall and slender build, lithe as a hunting cat, her feline-like eyes were the hue of ice: white, but with hints of a softer blue. They darted to each member of the party, scruitinizing you, trying to decide wether you were friend or foe. Her white-blonde hair, which used to flow like a mane of silk, was now matted with blood, though the party had no way of knowing if it was hers or her assailants'. Her slender fingers were clutching her left side where a large patch of blood stained the fabric of her tunic, the red in stark contrast to the snow white of the garment. Gold thread, glinting in the light from Erundak's lantern, lined the edges of the collar with intricate designs, the flowing skirts of her tunic fluttering slightly in a gentle breeze. When she turned her head, a lock of hair fell across her face, revealing a sharply tapered ear. She was an elf. The party held still. Even wounded as she was, she could still prove to be a formiddable enemy if provoked and if she was indeed what they suspected her to be-one of the Golden Order, a dragon rider-then who knows what powers she may possess?

The elf swallowed before saying in a voice that was merely above a whisper, soft as leaves rustling in the breeze:

'I mean you no harm, travellers. I am Alyrëa Tharlul. I hail from the ancient forest of the south. Forgive my pursuit of you, but I was watching you to see if you would be able to assist me. Honourable Owlin,' she turned to Azax, 'you spoke of a sword that was in the possession of the orc thieves. You said you wished to retrieve it if you can. That, too, is my task for the blade belongs to me. I was ambushed in the easternmost reaches of Spireridge Valley. I was gravely wounded and my precious blade taken from me. I should have been able to sense the fiends' presence from afar, but somehow they eluded me. I fear they were cloaked in some dark magic that concealed them from me. I was a fool. I had insisted that Tyrune and I should split up to search the valley more quickly. Tyrune is my closest companion, a golden metallic dragon. We have known each other since the day he hatched. He knows not of my current fate. I must retrieve my blade and reunite with him, but alas my wound saps my strength. I fear if I attempt this task alone, I may fail.' Her eyes settled on Legion. 'A warforged,' she mused. 'From your appearance, am I safe in assuming you were built by my kin, the surface elves, to aid in the great war against the drow? If so, then I implore you to help me. Please. And if you, sir Owlin and sir Lizardfolk, would assist me as well, I would be most grateful.'

((OOC: If you agree to help the elf, Erundak will use his healing magic to heal her wound. Well, at least partially, anyway. Then you'll travel together to the orc stronghold.))

(Legion - my response is based on the idea that our previous discussions implied that we would help the dragon rider - if for some reason you disagree, speak up.)

Azax watched carefully as the strange figure emerged from the woods.  That he had already suspected the truth didn't really dull his astonishment at the reality of a dragon rider being alive (if barely) in front of him.  He spoke quickly to the others.  "Legion, several orcs ecaped the beast, we need to be careful that they do not circle back looking for their cargo.  But if they do, we might still have a guide to the keep.  Although a prisoner this time."  Looking back to the newcomer he continued, "Well met Alyrea Thalrul.  I am Azax of Clan Strix.  These are my companions, Legion the warforged and Erundak.  I am hopeful that Erundak will be willing to offer you some healing.  We have a quest of our own that is imperative, but if we can simultaneously aid you in yours we would do so.  We did see the orc caravan in possession of what we believe to be your sword.  Once you are healed we can go and retrieve it."

(Assuming she is healed and they move forward to search the wreckage of the orc caravan.)

"Be careful - remember, three of the orcs escaped."  He also continued his discussion with the dragon-rider.  "I am curious what brings one such as yourself searching into this region?  I had believed your kind lost to the world many years ago."  (Correct?)  "We seek the keep of the orcs in the mountains in front of us.  They hold a medicine the king's daughter needs.  But the orcs seems strangely active and aggressive.  And they speak of a "HIM" as if a great dark were coming.  Do you know of this - is your quest related to it?"  

The warforged took his arm onto his chest and nodded before speaking: "I was indeed, and after the war I spent a long time in a dormant state before awakening for an unknown reason. Since there was no use for me among the elves at that time, I headed out in search for a new purpose, however fleeting - which currently is assisting in the aforementioned potion retrieval.

"That being said, if the orcs took your sword it may be in their stronghold. And yet even if they didn't, perhaps due to my origin I would like to avenge what they did to you should you wish for that. They may not be drow, but an enemy to the Order is also my enemy."