There was something in the woods.
Well, this was a given fact. Lots of things could be found in the forests surrounding Westmarch. Years and years had passed, and Rathma still hadn't quite managed to see everything that lived within them.
Right now in particular, there was something...calling to him. Perhaps someone. Someone in the woods.
The call had begun at seemingly random. Its presence had been unnoticeable at first, but steadily gotten louder and louder. Rathma had taken note of it, kept tabs on it, and hoped it would go away on its own.
When it didn't he suspected there might be trouble. While the call didn't feel malicious, it was certainly out of the ordinary, and things that were out of the ordinary on Sanctuary were rarely less than trouble.. If something had his attention, it was always for a reason. Although, he supposed he wasn't entirely certain if the source of the disturbance...actually wanted his attention. It may have been an overstatement to say that he was being called, but rather that a call was being broadcasted.
Regardless of intent, the fact remained that somewhere in the chilly forests was a new presence. He could sense it, taste it on his tongue, feel it. For reasons he did not know, it fascinated him. Someone was out there, and while they may not have been trying to get his attention, they certainly had it.
The urge to investigate this strange...stranger, grew with each passing day. It was not a loud presence, but it was constant. Blocking it out was becoming a chore.
Rathma did not particularly care for dedicating so much effort into ignoring something. He much preferred to face things, deal with and be done with them. Additionally, whatever this particular thing was, it did not care to hide itself in the slightest, at any given moment. Like it wanted someone to come out and...deal with it.
Unfortunately for it, Rathma had become a busy nephalem of late.
While they had been enjoying a short bit of peace after Vidian's defeat, something else had arisen. Whatever this particular threat was had been haunting Westmarch's northwestern docks, and making the way treacherous for any sailors or fishermen. The city could not exactly afford any more drain on its food supply. Once they'd determined that the threat was of supernatural origin, the city's watchmen had been quick to go to Tyrael for aid.
And of course, the angel had readily promised them to take care of it. Nevermind that he had no idea what he was getting himself into. Several of the Horadrim had been sent out to investigate, and they would make their move once they knew more.
Given his recently developed care for the former angel's general well-being, Rathma had been roped into the mess too. He vaguely remembered old tales of rituals gone horribly awry from Westmarh's coasts. Cursed Islands were an unfortunately common occurrence though, and Rathma simply didn't have the time or desire to deal with them all. The only reason this one was getting any attention was all the issues it was causing with his current home and people.
Rathma hoped it would be quickly dealt with. The forest's call was getting louder.
If Rathma seemed irritable about the whole situation, Tyrael was downright ornery. The former-angel paced about and had thrown himself at the issue with gusto. Apparently, the lack of progress was bothering him too, although for perhaps a different reason than his nephew.
Idly, a mental note to discover what had Tyrael all out of sorts was made. Not that Rathma really wanted anything else to worry about, but his mood was starting to be affected by his uncle's.
All in all, there were too many things pulling at him right now. Ideally, they'd deal with the island, Rathma would deal with whatever was in the forest, and Tyrael's issues would sort themselves out too. Not that things were typically ideal, but he could certainly hope for it.
While he waited for the Horadrim to return with their findings, all he could do was wait, and listen.