[h2][color=lightblue]Rolan[/color][/h2]

[hr]

Rolan wasn't so brazen as to request to bring down the lord of the hunt himself, no matter how much he may or may not have improved over the past few months, not in an honest fight at the very least. Still, one by one the Knights chimed in, either amongst themselves or directly to the Moonlit Queen, though the huntsman was mostly lost in his own thoughts as he was already trying to come up with plans to assist in weeding out and keeping the Hunt from being organized enough to wear them down and overrun them. This would be a long night on top of a long day, and the Hunt had the advantage of home terrain in this case. Ser Renar offered the smartest question yet, clarification on what constituted besting the Hunt, and clarification was given by the Queen in due time. Slay the head, and the body dies. Or perhaps more fittingly, behead the serpent and the body spasms and sprays blood all over the place in a final fit. That made his role deceptively simple to say, keep the Hunt off their vampire's flanks and support where possible. He could do that much at the very least, though the how was always going to be the problem.

Gertrude was mouthing off again, something about the Captain not denying the vampire her hunt, and the sight of the broomstick reminded him of that flying circus of a jousting match from their post training trials. Depending on where the fight took place, or if they could goad the Hunt into open ground, that might just prove to be an edge he could take advantage of. What disrupted his thought process was the Captain formalizing the terms, noting his own request for a trinket from her collection in addition to the restitution of the Duke's wits. Fortune willing they wouldn't have to make a habit of staking life and soul in return for righting the wrongs of nobility, as thus far he didn't like any of this one bit. Not the mad duke's antics, not the Gannek, certainly not the Moonlit Queen (Though he would not be able to lie and say that her Sister hadn't been easy on the eyes at the very least), and now they were hunting one of the most favored villains of all folklore.

The crow man, who up to this point had been a silent presence, was ordered to provide Ser Fionn a blade, and was indeed provided quite the fine one indeed. While swords were not his forte, the quality of fletching for his bolts was, and the feather's on display would have made brilliant fletching for a select few bolts saved for truly dire circumstances. He wouldn't ask for any, however, that seemed rather rude given one such 'feather' seemed capable of removing his head from his shoulders without even so much as a slight strain. They might work if he had a larger crossbow, although at that point he would be lugging around siege equipment to maintain bolts of that size. Besides that, a fae made of solid flame would be their guide to the current hunting grounds of the Hunt, and with that they were cast back into the woods to go hunt or be hunted, with far worse than death on the line for all of them should they fail and fall short, something that Lord Arken alluded to, though unfortunately the walking torch was dulled for the duration of their latest trial.

[color=lightblue]"Here I was actually getting used to the walking lightshow, alas."[/color]

Kneeling down, Rolan got to work preparing in the short time they had before striking out. Several bolts got the smaller alchemist fire vials affixed into position, the most potent of his current poisons on a few of the better fletched bolts, and after a thought, careful rearranging of his alchemical satchel. He also altered how it was resting at his side, at least for now, which concluded about all the preparing he could do given the circumstances. Instead he approached Gertrude, politely sidestepping the fire fae that was bobbing between the various knights going about their own work to ready themselves for the coming hunt. He wasn't going to interfere with the fae like Tyaethe did, especially since he wasn't keen on being set on fire. He preferred to be the one setting foes on fire, it was a terrible way to go frankly. 

[color=lightblue]"Gertrude, should the opportunity arise might I borrow your ability to fly? Disruption and crossbow fire always did work better with the high ground, after all."[/color]

The humming and singing was certainly an indication at least [i]one[/i] of their number was overtly in good spirits, though Rolan wasn't exactly following the song too closely as he strategized as much as he could given the circumstances at hand. He would have to rely on his fellows to screen the Hunt from getting into melee, it would be where he was least useful, at least until he could hopefully make for the skies. Relying on Gertrude for that would grow old, perhaps he would be able to find a way to attain flight on his own? He hadn't a single spark of magic to rely on for that, however, which made that wishful thinking at best for now. Right now all he could do was hope fortune was kind and Gertrude not terribly obstinate this time. Perhaps not having to carry one of their number keen on jousting dragons might make it a more palatable request.