Legend of Ransera

To be clear, the Harbingers were spread thinly through the region and it was only Thimryl and Turuher who approached the ruins on foot.

A big hand fell upon Thimryl's shoulder and through Turuher's sembling, he shared impressions of the bird's-eye view of the place. From their new vantage, they could see that while the former buildings were in utter disrepair, there seemed to be courtyard that more or less held its shape.

Flagstones were edged with rebellious greenery long since left to grow. The arches were covered with moss and vines, the stone seeming to have been carved out of some sort of stone that looked like it might be local or might not. Butterflies fluttered through a shaft of sunlight that seemed more stable than the shifting, dappled light through the moving branches of the canopy above.

"It's magical," he reported, though that was hardly a surprise. All elven ruins were magical, even if only carrying the residue of the magic used to craft them. It was the favored tool of the Hytori. Perhaps he could glean more if they were closer or he were given more time, but while Semblance was quite popular among their people, not everyone was capable of achieving mastery.

And, "All right," at Thimryl's decision. He fished something out of one of his pockets, aimed it for that more permanent breach of the canopy, and released it: a magical flare, which flew like a firebird, red and dazzling. He watched it make for the hole in the latticework of branches and nodded once it was out. It would fly high, burn brightly, and hang there until someone saw it and came to support them.

That done, he found a convenient boulder and sat down to wait.

Turuher opened his mouth to answer the question, but closed it again with a bemused expression as Thimryl continued to speak, or perhaps think aloud, or fill the silence. Perhaps he was one of those elves who was nervous far from their centers of civilization; the winged elf didn't know him well enough to decide. So, he shrugged it off. Seated, he was, perhaps, less intimidating in his height.

Ultimately, he didn't mind the rest. Flying could be relaxing, especially when updrafts made it easy to just soar. He wasn't familiar with the area, though, or its air currents, so he had been putting some effort into his airborne scouting. His eyes marked the interaction with the bit of jewelry that summoned a spirit. On the visible spectrum, it was a bit of shadow and light, paradoxically juxtaposed, but when one focused, it looked more and more like a raven, though parts of it were in constant flux. It wasn't a singular raven, but a spirit of ravens, and what raven meant to it seemed to be in constant flux, as well.

The raven eyed Turuher for a moment as if unsure what an elf was doing with wings, but as it had been given aether and a task, it flew off, following what looked to be a game trail heading in the direction of the ruins.

Turuher shrugged off the apology.

"My orders were aerial scouting and supporting Harbinger Company, so it's your call." He flexed his wings, spread them wider over the boulder, and leaned back upon his hands into something like a sprawl. Wings were a bit awkward for an elf to wear, but he hadn't known a life without them.

"What about you? Did you see anything interesting out there. Sometimes I wish they would let me scout or track on the ground. If I were to injure a wing or something, I should know how to do my job still, don't you think?"