Zone B -- Forest

[Gildarts]

Illidan scowled at the enemy, funny how faces became so familiar on a deserted piece of land in the ocean. Gildarts was up and moving toward the newcomer, making friends again and the dark elf didn’t like it, no, he couldn’t see why. They should battle, having the freshly borne wounds of an injury was much more noble, however, in the long run, Illidan contemplated the middle-aged prime’s reasoning and narrowed his eyes. The Betrayer wanted to finish the fight they’d started, what better time than he without the aid of the Sage’s allies?
 
Gildarts was tense yet… Happily aloof. Dust was keen on the entire situation, his young eyes learning and absorbing the elders’ secrets.
 
Hey, isn’t that the old man who blasted you pretty good, Gil? You gonna take that from him? Miss Mal spoke in his ear.
 
Gildarts shrugged her off. This wouldn’t have been a battle, but a massacre. Gildarts liked to play fair, for he was a noble man. This old wizard didn’t need to die, there would be nothing right about it. Instead, Gildarts just relaxed and respectfully asked the Sage for a private word. Illidan didn’t like it. Dust couldn’t protest.
 
And so it was. They walked a little ways from the little camp and Gildarts introduced himself, “You fought well and have skill, sir.”
 
The Humble Sage nodded curtly, he was still envious of the battlemage who had his youth and could battle so well.
 
“My name is Gildarts and I’m sorry about the others. They were worried about getting ambushed. But I think I can lead them to let you on your way,” With that, Gildarts flexed a smile, it was polite and almost an insinuation of a purposeful piece of advice.
 
The old man wasn’t blind, and his years made him wise. “Ah yes, I see how it is. The nefarious elf will follow your command, but he won’t do so without protest.”
 
There was a special sort of smile on the man’s wrinkled lips, one that told of knowledge, one that resembled the god-mind’s infinity.
 
“I can’t control him, he likely wants to kill you. But I can make sure he doesn’t. Or at least try.” Gildarts was succinct in his words. Surrounded, the three shirtless men had the upperhand. The Humble Sage felt like rolling his eyes and facepalming. Gildarts whispered something in the Sage’s ear and they went back to the others where Illidan stood waiting.
 
Illidan cracked the man across the temple.
 
“Ow! What was that for?!” Sage said.
 
“Be thankful I didn’t do it with your staff,” the night elf replied.
 
But that was it, that was the end of the retaliation. Gildarts didn’t need to warn him, nor chain a leash around the fel warrior’s neck. The three exchanged a look and Gildarts spoke, “You may have our fire to keep you warm tonight. We were cooking bear. Please keep the leftovers, it is our gift to you in good faith.”
 
The Humble Sage scoffed. The accurate word for this was out-numbered and oppressed. Still, he had to admit as he watched the young sorcerer go, while Gildarts had the things he desired most, there was a daunting burden he carried on his shoulders, constant strain behind his eyes. The old man didn’t miss a thing through his spectacles. Not a single thing.
 

Gillidan plus Dust moving from E1 to B12