After consulting with Vanyel, they decided it would be worth the few days' ride to make their way to the southern reach of the Cloakwood to do some scouting of the portals there. Vanyel was eager to look for clues about the portals that brought him here to Faerun.

Clint was comfortable in the saddle, while Vanyel cruised above on favorable winds, and the time to reach the Cloakwood passed quickly. While neither were tremendously talkative, they shared some pleasant conversations on the trail during their rests. Once they reached the Cloakwood, though, they were both all business. All of Vanyel's energy was turned toward the exercise of his training as a woods-person, hunting for clues, trails, disturbances, and signs of the fracture between realms that might reveal a portal. Clint turned his attention to more earthly concerns, namely keeping the two of them safe from the dangers of the Cloakwood. While Clint was not the most stealthy of protectors, he knew how to handle himself in a scrap. And thus the day was spent, in heightened tension, waiting for something to happen.

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Because something always seemed to happen now that he joined this motley crew of adventures. Clint was mostly a wanderer and Vanyel was pretty reliable when it came to guiding the party. Clint needed power and following owls never strayed him wrong. Fistandia’s mansion opened Clint's eyes to the fact he was not necessarily equipped to fight the creatures of the unknown. While Clint made it through that mansion with barely a scratch on him it could have easily gone another way.

His party members were relying on him to hold the line and there was only just one of him it’s not like he could be in two places at once.