What's past is prologue

[wisdom_of_hounds]

[- OOC Information -]

Name: Sera draconicseraphim
Do you play any other characters in Outer Divide? No

[- Character Information -]

Character Name: Siodhachan O Suileabhain is his original name though, aside from the Tuatha De Dannan, he has not been called that in many centuries. Atticus O'Sullivan is one of his more recent names, and one he has favored the most. Riley Collins, Sterling Silver (thanks to Coyote), Roy, Eldhar, Luigi Fittipaldi and an unfortunate stint as Nigel are among the names he's been known as over the years.
Fandom: Iron Druid Chronicles
OU, AU, or CR AU: OU
Canon Point: Epilogue of Tricked (book 4) upon attempting to shift to Australia.
Journal: wisdom_of_hounds

Character History:
Atticus has a very long and complex history. The man is, after all, 2100 years old. He was born before Christianity and much of his past is unknown to us. What we do know are the tales that he tells others, giving a loose, rough timeline of what he was doing at various points in time.

What year he was born is uncertain but he was bound to the Earth at the end of his Druidic training around 50 BCE, at which time he likely would have been around 30-35. He spent his early years with his father, a rough man as most Irishmen were in those days. His father died in a cattle raid which was an honorable death in those days and much of Atticus’ attitudes on death are still formed by his father’s words all these years later. A real man does not die quietly and you’re not supposed to shit yourself until after you’re dead. In short: Die angry and at maximum volume.

After his father Atticus’ Archdruid was the authority figure in his life and again this was a hard man and even harder to please. He worked Atticus hard and was known to beat him bloody when he misbehaved (which he did quite often). He was foul-mouthed and demanding but he is also responsible for making Atticus into the Druid he became, smart and resourceful enough to live far beyond his years. His Archdruid’s signature phrase still haunts him.

"Pay attention, Siodhachan! You’re cocking it up again!"

It was roughly 50 BCE when he got his tattoos and became a full Druid. It was a life he enjoyed and lived well. Normal as can be. Until nearly 40 years later a beautiful young woman approached Siodhachan in a bar. He was old and bitter, well into his sixties and happy to soak himself in whiskey until he finally died. But this woman offered him a proposition he could not refuse.

For the small price of killing her father, whom she’d explained was in no way a pleasant man (though Atticus would not have had much trouble killing him even if he had been), she would give him a vast wealth of knowledge. The kind of knowledge that could reverse the ravages of age on his body and, what’s more, make him immortal. Okay, not truly immortal but it would stop him from aging and thus let him live forever.

Of course, the other shoe had to drop sometime. Her father was Dian Cecht. Arrogant god of healing and member of the Tuatha De Dannan. Atticus, a man far past his physical peak, was not above using whatever means he had to increase his advantage. Even so Dian Cecht’s death was a graceless one and not directly caused by Atticus. This was his first meeting with the Morrigan and also how he came to be the only person in existence to learn not only the secret to eternal youth but all of the herblore of the greatest herbalist to ever walk the Earth.

His first meeting with the Morrigan she warned him that they would meet again soon. Of course the definition of “soon" varies wildly for the immortal. It was at least some hundred years later when they meet again at the Battle of Magh Lena where Atticus fought alongside the Fianna against Conn of the Hundred Battles. In the midst of the battle Fragarach slipped from Conn’s blood-slicked hands and fell at Atticus’ feet. Not glamorous but convenient. The Morrigan spoke to him them, instructed him to take the sword and quit the field. When the chooser of the slain tells you to leave a battle, you don’t argue.

His possession of Fragarach is what made him into something of a wanted man. Aenghus Og was furious, blaming the collapse of all of his careful planning to have one single ruler for all of Ireland, one that would of course be in his pocket, on the loss of the enchanted sword. A sword that wasn’t even his to begin with but his cousin’s, Manannan Mac Lir.

Two centuries later and Atticus was tired of running from Aenghus Og, running from Romans, running from Christians. Constantly hiding who and what he was lest someone try to take his life for one reason or another. The Morrigan brought him to Manannan Mac Lir who, instead of demanding his sword back, offered him a job. Both of the gods were content to let him keep the enchanted sword so long as it continued to piss off Aenghus Og.

What Manannan asked of him was that he travel to the new world and bind it to Tir na nOg as all of Europe was. It would put Atticus far away from Aenghus’ sphere of influence, allow him to move freely without fear of others because in the new world Christianity was unheard of, and, most importantly, by performing the bindings for the North American continent (not that it was called that then) he could determine what restrictions the fae would have for traveling to it.

So Atticus spent a couple hundred years spanning the entirety of North America, starting on the coasts and working his way in. From Newfoundland down to Florida and further. He quickly became lonely there and bound his consciousness to a wolverine whom he named Faolan. During this time he was, much to his deep regret, responsible for the demise of two beings who were, quite possibly, an entirely different species very similar to humans. He barely got to interact with these creatures before their deaths so he cannot say for sure but… he’s fairly certain that he killed Big Foot.

While he was in North America the Romans hunted across all of Europe, exterminating Druids as they found them. It was roughly 600 CE when the last Druid died, leaving Atticus alone to hide from the world as he had been doing for centuries. He returned to Europe after a time and it was here, while hiding from the Holy Roman Empire, that he took on his last apprentice for over a thousand years.

Cibran worked on Atticus’ farm to pay for the goods that he and his father used. They played the roles of illiterate Catholic peasants well and Cibran was almost ready to begin his tattoos to bind him to the Earth when the city was sacked in 997. Cibran and his father were killed before Atticus could even make it to their farm to try to protect them. That was when Atticus swore off being a teacher. His life and the world were both far too perilous for such a thing to come to fruition. He went instead to Asia, eventually returning to Europe with Genghis Kahn’s hordes some two centuries later.

It wasn’t long after this that he lost himself and found the closest thing to peace he has ever known in his long life. Over his many years he had many lovers, many wives. Children and families that he had to abandon time and again because of Aenghus Og, because he never aged, because he could not tell them what he was.

Tahirah was the only one that ever truly knew him. A Samburu woman that he meet while lost in Kenya, he found the most beautiful kind of peace in her eyes and it was with her that he shared his Immortali-Tea. They married and spent 200 years together, completely in love and raising a large family. They had 25 children over the years and soon had a clan of their own… a clan that never aged, never grew old. The entire family drank his tea and… he could ignore the damage to human societal structures so long as he had his loving wife by his side.

They were ambushed by a Maasai war party, however, and Tahirah took a spear through the heart. Atticus would have thrown his life aside in a heartbeat to heal her, to try to save her from her wounds but she was dead before she even hit the ground. It was not one of his finest moments. He used camouflage to take out the entire party in brutal ways and then he left Africa, finding the memories there far too painful to bear.

This was also his greatest lesson in why normal humans could not handle the psychological effects of Immortali-Tea. His family, without the tea, showed themselves to be what he had always known but never admitted. Selfish, arrogant, entitled people who would rather die than suffer to age and many of them did, choosing to kill themselves once he had gone. Which was when he swore he would never again share Immortali-Tea with others, especially not his entire family.

Time passed and Atticus went on at an even faster pace than he had before. A few months here, a couple years there. Nothing long, nothing permanent, no time to get attached. A few years in Feudal Japan where he befriended a Samurai. He bulk of World War II he spent helping families out of France across the Pyranese into the safety of Spain. A few months in Toronto under the embarrassing alias of Nigel in 53, a few months in Italy as Luigi Fittipaldi in the 70s where he is still wanted for slaying an innocent woman (who happened to be a succubus sent by Aenghus Og), again in the mid 90s in San Diego.

Until he finally settled in Tempe, Arizona in the late 90s, remaining there for over a decade, the longest he’d stayed anywhere since Tahirah. Because here he had Oberon and the Widow MacDonagh and his book store and the best fish and chips in the US, maybe in the world. Most importantly though, the closest tie to Tir na nOg was hours away, the unforgiving Arizona landscape not allowing for the growth of Ash, Oak, and Thorn which were the only places the Fae could cross into the new world, per the restrictions he had laid down centuries earlier.

It’s only after he has had a number of years to settle into life in Tempe that he finally decides he is done running and confronts Aenghus Og. Which sets off a chain of events that leaves Atticus’ already complicated life even more so with the defeat of the deity that has hunted him for millenia. Involving tackling gods from numerous pantheons, ignoring mountains of sage advice, losing friends, making new ones, taking on a new apprentice by the name of Granuaile, and, most notably, setting off the start of Ragnarok. Sometimes it’s harder to stand and fight than to just keep running. Hopefully it’ll be worth it in the end… if he makes it that far. (More on the books themselves can be found here.)

Personality:
Immortality is as much a blessing as it is a curse. Live long enough and you’ll get to see yourself become the bad guy. Someone famous said that once. Some comic book superhero with a penchant for poignant voice overs and dramatics. They didn’t know how right they were.

Some people say that with age comes wisdom. Atticus would tell them it’s not wisdom, it’s paranoia. Though, for him at least, it’s fully justified. He has spent so much of his long life running from one thing or another and as soon as he stopped… everything just got worse. Really not helping the paranoia.

When a person lives long enough, knows they will never die, there’s an interesting psychological phenomenon that occurs. He has seen it with vampires, with his own family, with the rare people he has mistakenly chosen to share Immorali-Tea with over the years. They disconnect. The long-lived forget how to interact with those around them. They distance themselves from natural things like age and infirmity. Worldly concerns cease to bother them. They do not marry, they do not have children. Family means little, life means little because for every moment there will be immeasurable more and so everything is taken for granted. They are selfish and thoughtless. They care about nothing save themselves.

It was nearly a thousand years ago when he vowed he would never again share Immortali-Tea with someone that was not a druid. He’d thought that meant he would never again share that gift with another. When a druid goes through their training it is not a physical thing as with many disciplines but a mental one. Physical work is part of it, certainly, but a druid’s mind is structured differently than most people’s. A druid never forgets. A druid survives not by force of power but by cunning. Quick thinking, strong will, and a deep sense of wonder at all of earth’s gifts are the defining features of a druid.

Atticus’ mind is a tool as finely honed as a blade. He has trained himself to compartmentalize and he does so with ease. Primarily this is achieved by dividing his headspace according to languages, allowing him to carry on a conversation with his apprentice in English and an elemental in Latin, or perform a binding in Old Irish and maintain a conversation in Russian.

It is important to understand this insight into how his mind functions to understand how he himself behaves. Because of this inherent ability to split his focus he is able to look into the face of some truly horrific things and appear to be utterly unaffected. In fact his years of running from Aenghus Og have made him something of a masterful chameleon. He can play an anime obsessed stoner as easily as a successful and cunning entrepreneur. Unlike others of the long-lived he has an ingrained respect for life and a deep curiosity and thirst for knowledge that makes him incredibly observant. He watches people, adopting their mannerisms and turns of phrase with ease, allowing him to blend in anywhere he goes. Not only is this a survival skill but it is something he enjoys doing, observing and learning about different people. It is part of what keeps him going for so long.

Humanity is constantly showing him that there is always more to learn.

He has learned a great many things and trained himself to be what he is now but there are some parts of himself that he cannot change. He has learned to be ruthless but he still values all life as highly as his own. He’s a bit of a prankster and has no qualms with taking money from idiots if they’re stupid enough to come into his shop looking for marijuana and accepting sage under a fancy name instead. If someone does something to piss him off, even though he knows better there are times he just can’t help “getting his Irish up". He can get a little reckless when people he cares about are in danger, which is why he tried for so long not to have people he cared about.

He’s more chivalrous than the average American lad because he was raised in a time when hospitality and politeness were more valuable. But then he was also raised in a time when many modern social conventions were unheard of. In his day and in his pantheon women kicked just as much ass as men and no one would think of telling an Irish lass to stay home and behave.

Lasses are, in fact, one of his greatest weaknesses and for all his survival instincts he almost got himself killed by Aenghus Og’s people on at least two occasions. Once because of a succubus and once because of a mortal girl that had been instructed to simply kill him. Atticus, of course, can hardly say no to a pretty face. He’s extremely loyal though and just as with everything when he does something he does it whole-heartedly. Which means he’s currently pretty useless to all the ladies because his apprentice has stolen his heart away.

Knowledge is one of the most important things to him and he will never shake his preference for oral traditions over written. Wondrous as books are he sincerely enjoys hearing about events from people that experienced them. It makes them that much weightier, that much more real. He also loves telling his own tales, and he’s certainly been around long enough to tell a lot of them. As part of his business at Third Eye he sold invaluable tomes of hand written historical accounts or spell books. Things that told of forgotten treasures and wonders the world had long forgotten about in languages that had nearly been lost. For all the wealth it could have provided him he never used any of it, just having that kind of knowledge was wealth enough for him.

But most of all it is nature and the earth herself that he treasures. When he sets foot on the dead land that Aenghus Og drained it brings tears to his eyes, a pain as deep as the earth herself feels at the loss. He explains it best himself, talking to Granuaile about his time with Faolan binding the New World.

“But there was another benefit to that mission I shouldn’t neglect to mention.
There were times when I was blown away by the virgin beauty of the land—
kind of like that guy who lost his shit on the Internet at the full double rainbow across the sky.
Remember that guy?
He kept asking what it meant. And it is not so difficult a question to answer.
It means that we are loved, like all living things that Gaia sustains.
There is a poetry in the canopies of forests and in the gentle roll of hills,
a song in the wind and a benediction in the kiss of the sun.
There are stories in the chuckle of waters in creeks, and epics told in the tides of oceans.
There are trees, Granuaile, that seem sometimes like they have grown all their lives
just to feel the touch of my hand upon their trunks,
they are so welcoming to me.
You will feel that welcome in your hands someday.
You’ll feel it in your toes as you walk upon the earth.
I cannot wait to see that love bloom in your eyes."

When he’s not playing at being someone else he’s a fairly laid back guy. He has a bit of a devil may care attitude about a lot of things and really prefers to just sit back, joke around, and have a few drinks. He can be as formal as the next guy, careful not to insult the rules of hospitality but he much prefers people that simply say it like it is. He truly believes that life would be better if everyone would take a moment to appreciate the wisdom of hounds. Where people are judged by their kindness and readiness to accept kindness from others, where there are no word games and attempts to one up another… everything is handled by a simple butt sniff. Which is why Oberon is such an invaluable part of his life. When things get chaotic Oberon reminds him to enjoy the simple things that make his long life worth living. Good food, good friends, and fresh grass underfoot.

Powers/Abilities:
To a Druid all magic, all nature, everything is bindings. Druids learn to understand and manipulate those bindings. Shape shifting is a matter of binding the human form to an animal one. Wards are a simple matter of establishing exceptions but they require knowing what it is exactly that you need to ward against. Atticus explains it as similar to a search engine.

“You can think of it like a Boolean search on the Internet.
You begin by defining your boundary
—‘all life is okay in here’—and then you layer on the exclusions.
‘And not frakkin’ Cylons and not douche bags and not Imperial Stormtroopers.’ "
“That’s it?"
“That’s what a ward is. The tricky part is defining your terms.
How does the ward know the difference between a douche bag and a boy from Scottsdale?"
“Oh, I see… They’re practically synonymous."
“Right. Much of the time spent constructing wards is devoted to defining your terms magically.
And you can’t define the magical signature of something until you’ve run across it once
and laid your eyes on it in the magical spectrum."

Immobilizing an enemy is a matter of binding the fabric of a sleeve to the shirt itself. It’s all a matter of how creatively he can use the ability to bind and unbind natural materials that his power derives from. This is why a Druid’s training is primarily mental. They rely first on wits and cunning and second on raw physical ability.

In this mental training comes an affinity for language and a thirst for knowledge. Atticus speaks 42 languages and unlike most people he needn’t worry about forgetting them when he does not use them because a Druid truly never forgets. The mental training is what gives him an edge over most opponents.

That said, Atticus can access the Earth’s power to lend him speed, strength, and endurance. Given access to the Earth he can pump up his speed and strength to match a vampire’s. Because of this he can also run indefinitely without tiring because all the energy expended belongs to the Earth, not himself.

He can also befriend the Elemental of an area and through them ask favors of the Earth, asking them to store things safely underground for him or to capture the feet of an attacking enemy. If the enemy happens to be a demon the Elemental will be glad to destroy it for him, he just has to hold it off until the cavalry arrives. Most Elementals are happy to help him because he is the last Druid and they are always pleased to have contact with him. Most of nature is, in fact. Even the trees.

“I’m the last Druid in the world and they tend to geek out like Joss Whedon fans when I show up."
As a Druid there are certain rules his magic follows, however. He cannot alter or damage a living thing in any way. Doing so would be the end of him. When a Druid is initiated and gets their tattoos there is a clause in the agreement with Gaia. A Druid protects her and the Elementals, doing what they can to help them and ensuring no witches, wizards, or other magic users capture the power of an Elemental for their own use. (Like the Wizard that created the Sahara Desert thousands of years before Atticus was born by killing the elemental of that ecosystem and taking its power for himself. Of course, back then it wasn’t a desert.) In this interest of protecting nature any harm inflicted upon natural beings magically forfeits the Druid’s life.

It is for this reason that Druids are not healers. Atticus can heal himself because he knows his own body well enough to evaluate what is wrong and repair it accurately. He cannot heal others magically because there’s just too much chance for something to go wrong. Convincing skin to grow back a little faster to cover up shallow wounds perhaps but nothing more than that. Instead he uses the herblore he learned from Airmid to help people to heal among other things. (Additional Information on his teas can be found here.)

His cold iron amulet is bound to his aura which means that mere contact with him is enough to completely unbind any full blooded Fae creatures. As creatures of pure magic, they cannot bear the touch of cold iron and for all intents and purposes Atticus himself is cold iron. His necklace has 5 silver charms on either side and each is a kind of shortcut to a binding he uses often. On one side are the charms for his shape shifting, on the other are a few handy spells.

• Camouflage- Binds himself (or the object of his choice) to the pigments of his surroundings. As long as he stays still it makes him nearly invisible


• Nightvision- Pretty self-explanatory. It isn’t the same as night vision goggles or something though. His sight in darkness is better than most nocturnal animals.


• Healing - Initiates his own healing which has a specific hierarchy it follows that he’s pre-established.


• Faerie Specs- Binds his sight to the magical spectrum, allowing him to see through glamour. He can also see the bindings between people, nature, and the Earth, as well as most spells as bindings.


• Soulcatcher- This one may not actually work because he has, for obvious reasons, not tested it. Theoretically, should he die, his soul will be caught in the charm itself. It’s kind of a failsafe, in case something happens and he dies.


• Bear Charm- This is kind of a magical battery. He can fill it up with power to use when he is caught somewhere without access to the earth. This is usually good for about 6 bindings depending on how complex they are.


• Shape Shifting- Every Druid has 4 forms that are given to them by Gaia when they are initiated. They are represented in their tattoos by the five loops of knot work that encircle their bicep. The first is for their human form, to allow them to return to their natural shape. The second is a hooved animal which is a large stag for Atticus, red like most of his forms. The third is a mammal, most often some sort of predator. Atticus’ form is an Irish Warhound, similar in build and size to its modern descendant the Irish Wolfhound. He’d a bit bigger than Oberon and they don’t look quite the same. His coat is red and he has a streak down his right side that mimics his tattoos. The third form a Druid has is an avian one, usually a bird of prey. A large Great Horned Owl is Atticus’ bird form. The last is a marine animal of some variety. This is easily Atticus’ weakest form but the sea otter is swift and clever so he is hardly helpless.


• Vampire Unbinding- This is a charm that he does not yet have but will be one of the first things that he works on. It will be… exactly what it sounds like. A quick way to simply unbind a vampire into a puddle goo.


• Fulgurite- There is also a small piece of fulgurite attached to the back of the necklace that makes him lightning-proof. Useful when one goes up against Thunder Gods. It was enchanted for him by Perun.

Possessions:
His necklace- A cold iron amulet with a series of silver charms, 5 on each side.
Moralltach- An enchanted sword of Celtic origins. Its name translates to “the great fury" and it has the ability to kill any opponent with one blow. Any wound enough to draw blood is a fatal blow, rot and decay spreading from the wound like an extremely fast-acting virus.

Arrival:
Atticus will be arriving via the ship with his faithful companion by his side. (Whose information will be included here for lack of a better spot.)

Oberon- His newest companion. Oberon is an Irish Wolfhound that has been with Atticus for 12 years. Atticus bound his consciousness to Oberon’s when he’d gotten him in Massachusetts, as such Oberon has learned human language and can talk to Atticus in his mind. Beyond being smarter than the average dog, (never mind witty, hilarious, and a gifted lyricist to boot) Oberon has nothing special about him. He’s simply a very large intimidating dog with a soft spot for sausages. (And the bane of squirrels the world over) He does have an iron amulet on his collar to prevent him from being the target of spells or divination as well.


[- Writing Samples -]

Network Sample:

[When the feed clicks on at first all that can be seen is green… then the view shifts and Atticus is smiling at the lens, looking for all the world like some carefree college kid and he’s still trying to keep some semblance of that persona up. It’s really best if people don’t know just what he is, even here.] Okay so I like to think I know a few things about plants but…

Damn. [The feed shifts again to show off a few of the plants he’s stumbled on this time, a collection of plants not seen since the carboniferous period including a cluster of young scale trees. He’d already spoken to the elemental of the mountains, expressing his wonder and appreciation for the novelty of the varied species here and everywhere on the planet.] This is some weird shit. Anyone around here bothered figuring out just what all this stuff is or anything?

[Sounding every bit like idle curiosity but, in truth, he wanted to know if anyone had started cataloging things here. If so there was no sense in him redoing work that had already been done. Not that they’d know what to look for, nor be able to speak to the elementals about where other specimens might be located. Anything else he might have said was cut off by a very large dog bounding into the picture and determinedly placing himself in front of the screen, standing tall and straight as though he thought himself quite majestic and deserving of his close up on the silver screen which had Atticus laughing and reaching under the dog to snatch up his communicator, muttering a quiet "thanks guys" before he cut the feed.]


Log Sample:
They couldn't stay here long but he'd made Oberon a promise. After coming so close to losing his friend the least he could do was make the, admittedly short, trip worthwhile. Which meant a full box of sausages on order to go back with them. Or at least to go back with Granuaile. She was going to be staying while he and Oberon went about as far away from the Tuatha De Dannan’s territory as was possible for a hunt. "Just a few days. Hal’s already arranged a plane ticket for you." He reminded her, though he knew he didn’t need to. She knew the plan, she was a smart woman, that’s why he’d accepted her as his apprentice in the first place. So stop fussing, idiot. He knew he was being a little over protective but damn if shit didn’t just keep popping up in the way. ||Atticus!|| Oberon spoke enthusiastically into his mind. ||Come oooon we’re wasting daylight.||

It’s 9 in the morning, buddy.

||Which means it’s late there right, Atticus?|| He was right. Of course he was right. The worst part was, he knew it. Atticus sighed quietly, still hesitating, eyeing Granuaile like she might just vanish into thin air the moment he stepped away. ||This is supposed to be hunting time with the hound, not oogling Granuaile time. You do that all the time anyways.|| And he followed it with a chuffing laugh as Atticus shot a glare at his dog.

“Okay, okay… we’ll see you in a few days." She nodded, cocking an eyebrow and waving a hand in a gesture that clearly said “Then go, Sensei." Which was all the encouragement he needed. He pressed his hand against a nearby tree, waited until he felt the weight of Oberon’s paw against his shoulder and then they were shifting away to Tir na nOg.

Or at least that was the plan. The plan that Atticus was very firmly focused on. He was a Druid, dammit, he knew better than to let his mind wander, especially not when he was shifting someone as important as Oberon with him and to Tir na nOg of all places where he had to shift in and out as quickly as possible lest someone see him.

So how he woke up in a metal box with gods only knew how much time between he had no idea… and that scared the shit out of him. Almost as much as the fact that he was in a strange place composed not only of metal but of a healthy quantity of iron and completely cut off from the earth. Shit he cursed silently, eyes scanning the area for threats before he even considered moving. His bear charm was completely drained, leaving him to stumble into whatever was going on here blind to the magical spectrum. Dammit and this time there was a response to his mental cursing.

||Atticus?||

He pushed himself out of the pod, a careful eye out for whatever might have put them in these things though he had to release a breath of relief at the sound of his friend’s voice in his mind. Oberon. Thank the gods.

||Where are we? And… why does it smell so weird? I thought we were going to Australia.||

We were, buddy. I don’t know where we are. Something’s very, very wrong. Even as he said it he was checking the foot locker beside his pod. Sure enough he found a change of clothes and, more importantly Moralltach. Which then presented the question of why the hell they’d give him back his weapon. Whoever they were.

||I’ll say. I haven’t seen a set this weird since that time we watched that movie on the Sy Fy channel with the weird ball that made everyone crazy and Samuel L Jackson was all obsessed with squids.|| Atticus couldn’t help the abrupt snort of laughter that caught in his throat, one hand snapping up to cover his mouth. The last thing he needed to do was give himself away to any enemies because of Oberon. ||Hey you don’t think they have squid here do you? I’m hungry.||

Let’s worry about getting out of here first, how about that? I'll find you then we can find something even better than squid.

||Okay, I guess… I don’t think I’d really want to eat in this place anyway. It smells really weird.||

Oh, to have the worries of hounds.