Lady Saharel has a secret. What secret? All of them. . . .
The Fallen Lands. Here ancient Netheril stood, grew and dissolved, eroded by the forces of time and the greed of her rulers, mute tribute to the great cycles of the universe.
Here now, against all likelihood, proof against time, the foolishness of the races of Toril and the Spellplague itself, stands Spellgard.
Alone of the ruins, the tower stands inviolate. The surrounding landscape offers a bleak view of fallen glories. Ancient towers crumbled to mere stone outcroppings, ramparts designed to prevent long dead enemies from entering and here and there cookfires from campsites set up by the desperate, brave or foolish. All those who seek the prophetic voice of Lady Saharel come to Spellgard.
On this particular evening, about two miles from the entrance to the main enclave a small clump of trees marks a natural resting place. From here the intact tower is visible, and among the flickering lights of the cookfires, the more permanent and welcoming sight of the Monastary of the Precipice can just be identified. Lamps are being lit. The glow from the windows grows brighter. The clouds that have been threatening all day decide to open. There’s no thunder or lightning, but the rain is savage and will drench you in seconds.
Brujo
You hardly know what wind of fortune brought you here. You life has been one long fearful run into the night since you escaped and the choices you make are not yours any more. They are governed by your feet, by the chance winds, by some spark of conversation, by triggered fears at overheard words – by all of these things, but no longer by any part of your conscious mind. Perhaps the stories of Lady Saharel and her unfailing prophecies have been drawing you all the time. About two miles from the main encampments around the tower you stop. You are tired beyond your own comprehension. Tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of lying. Perhaps the next people you meet will shelter you. Perhaps they will kill you. In truth you hardly know or care which you would prefer. What you want more than anything is a place to stop and hide from the rain.
Chyzylyx
The world amazes you. However long you may live, you will never lose that sense of wonder. The wonder of the world pales before the wonder of your beloved Feywild of course, but you can find amusement in it and pity for those who cannot share your knowledge of the Fey. And yet, for all the joy you feel in the Feywild, there is always that nagging feeling that you are missing something. Somehow there must be a way to bridge the gulf between your worlds. Bargains can be made. You know this well – was not your own eldritch bargain concluded willingly? And now you have the power to begin your own bridge building. Power, but not knowledge. For that, you need the legendary Lady Saharel. Your researches and wanderings confirm that her prophecies have never been wrong. Surely if she can see a link between the Feywild and Faerun, then your work will not be in vain. You have journeyed openly and without guards to Spellgard. Your confidence in your own abilities makes the seeking of a bodyguard ridiculous. Even so, you are aware that you are an incongruously diminutive and vulnerable figure as night falls and you approach the clump of trees. Even an eladrin needs shelter sometimes.
Commander Caine
Another day, another job done. Except this one went sour on you. Seems honour is in short supply among the pilgrim population. This bunch just ran out on you without paying and that leaves a sour taste. Anyway, they’ve gone and you don’t hold out high hopes on them getting back to Loudwater without your help. Now you’re stuck out in the wilds and your best hope of finding another job is to go on and see if anyone needs an escort back to Loudwater. It’s enough to make a man lose faith in human nature. Or it would be if you weren’t the disciplined type and realised that some folks are just jerks. To add to your feeling of gloom, it’s now raining with a vengeance. You head for the trees. No point in letting good equipment suffer.
Cronin
You’re is barely aware of the wet at first. As always on long journeys (and you’ve made many) you pass the time arguing with yourself, posing hypothetical questions and answering them. Sometimes to your own satisfaction, but much more often not. It’s this habit of asking yourself questions and getting the wrong answers that got you into your present situation in the first place. Your apostasy is still fresh in your mind. Always will be. A cleric doesn’t turn lightly from his deity and when that deity was Shar, you’d better hope it was the right choice. On the other hand, Selune is Shar’s bright twin, they share so much and so little. The questions go on forever. It’s only when you look up for reassurance from the moon that you realise just how drenched you’ve become. You can ask yourself questions wet as well as dry, but for now, the clump of trees is looking very tempting.
Geleri
Almost as soon as the rain starts, you head for the trees. You’ve just spent a frustrating month with a young tiefling upstart and you’ve had enough discomfort for now. Rallio deVore spent most of the journey to Spellgard confident he’d see Lady Saharel at once and be home again, free of his infernal pact within days. Within hours you were hoping this would be true so he’d be out of your hair. Unfortunately, Lady Saharel must have found the prospect of talking to Rallio as bad as you, as she hasn’t appeared. He’s taken to drinking heavily in the Monastery all evening and you’ve had enough of his company. Now that you’re back on the road home however, you do just wonder if you’re missing an opportunity.
Leo
Your passionate commitment to your order and your cause has brought you here. A couple of months ago, you begged your superior for a task. Something to bring your work and the work of Kelemvor into the wider world. You’d been working on your martial skills too long and missed the sense of spiritual purpose you used to have. He’d given thought to your problem and suggested that going to Spellgard had many benefits. It is widely considered that Lady Saharel grants her presence to those who help rebuild her fallen fortress. Here you can help Seekers to overcome their grief and make a practical contribution to the site at the same time. Truly, many Seekers will have misplaced and misguided hopes of what the Lady’s prophecies can tell them. Kelemvor’s reassurance and steady presence can guide such on their way. It is time for your evening prayer and you head for the safety of the clump of trees as the rain thuds relentlessly down on you.
Perigia
Your own insatiable curiosity has brought you here. Long ago legends of the power of Lost Netheril have haunted you from childhood. As your own powers have grown, so too has your curiosity. Who knows what may be hidden in the ruins? You know too of the prophecies of Lady Saharel. If she can be induced to offer you guidance to the powers you seek, the powers you know you have the ability to control, what can you not accomplish. Unfortunately one thing you clearly cannot accomplish is staying dry. The rain has soaked you completely already and going on today is impossible. The clump of trees looks like a promising place to halt for a while.
Cronin looks up briefly, blinking his eyes in the rain, then snarls softly and looks around. Focusing on the copse of trees, he heads for what shelter it offers.
Leo briefly wipes his face clear of the rain only to have more pour down upon him.
"Merciful heavens, this downpour has the markings of some omen, but good or bad I'll have to wait and see and to do that..." he mutters to himself as he strides towards the availing cover of the trees before him.
Tired, beat and wet, Brujo lays on the cold wet earth. Knowing he should find shelter, he takes comfort in falling rain. He opens his mouth letting the fresh water fill his mouth, and cool his aching muscles.
"Finally made it", He remarks to himself. He turns and rubs his left arm, "One step closer to finding an answer"
Prodding her horse towards the trees, Perigia mumbeled to herself. The very essence of fire sang in her blood, and yet it could not keep her warm and dry in a rainstorm. If she was ever going to learn to master her ties to nature and the arcane, and locate her missing sister, she would have to learn to endure such hardships. Finally reaching the trees, she tied up her horse and plopped down in a slightly less damp portion of the grove. Hoping that the rain would end soon, she pulled her cloak around herself and tried to get a few moments of sleep.
"A fine night for a torrent" Chryzylyx thinks to herself as she espies the tower thrusting upwards in the distance, its peak seeming to pierce the lowering clouds. The cloud-lightning that arcs through the dark masses above are reflected in the intricate tracery that begins crackling over her exposed flesh. She closes her eyes for a moment and savors the brewing storm, and her mind passes into the feywild, where already trees are bending and whipping about with the cacophony of true-nature unbridled.
"Yes!" she gasps, opening her eyes as the first drops of water sizzle on her skin. She steps into the leafy embrace of the copse and is delighted to find it already occupied. And by such a diverse group!
Sitting down on a dry area beneath the boughs, she spreads open her ground cloth and begins opening a leaf-wrapped package of waybread, smiling and welcoming all to partake with here, gently suggesting that if they were to pool some food of their own, we might have a veritable feast.
Commander Caine slings his weapon on his right shoulder and starts to walk towards Loudwater. Along the way he hopes to meet with people in need of an escort to Loudwater and willing to pay for the service. Damn it! That is the last time I deal with pilgrims without taking my payment in full first.
Commander Caine's mind drifts as he recalls his time with Purple Dragons. He remembers being summoned to the Knight-Commander's tent being told that the position of company commander was being assigned to an untested lordling, notwithstanding, Caine's clear qualification for the job. The floodgates of anger and frustration burst and Caine gave the Knight-Commander more than a mouthful of what he thinks of the nobility and the military hierarchy. The Knight-Commander sat silently throughout Caine's tirade and when Caine finished, the Knight-Commander offered the choice of a discharge or a court martial. The choice was obvious.
Hence, here is Caine mucking about in the boondocks, scraping a living.
Damn weather...
A tall, slim figure joins the campfire group, her form swathed in a durable, now somewhat damp cloak. Her armour and weaponry bespeak someone used to close combat in the wilds, or in the alleys of a city. Her grace is evident but at contrast to a certain world-weariness of manner.
"Well met, mind if I join you folks?" she asks of the people in general.
Damn weather...
A tall, slim figure joins the campfire group, her form swathed in a durable, now somewhat damp cloak. Her armour and weaponry bespeak someone used to close combat in the wilds, or in the alleys of a city. Her grace is evident but at contrast to a certain world-weariness of manner.
"Well met, mind if I join you folks?" she asks of the people in general.
"Well met indeed, it seems this storm is indeed an omen of some portent. And welcome there should be plenty of shelter here," Leo greets her wondering what this bodes as he slowly recounts the number of travellers taking shelter from the storm.
"There's the right of it, plenty of people with questions in mind and not much else," the woman replies with a smile.
"Well met, mind if I join you folks?" she asks of the people in general."Well met indeed, it seems this storm is indeed an omen of some portent. And welcome there should be plenty of shelter here," Leo greets her
The small shifter looks about the group that has joined him. "And well met. Blessings of Selune on you all, though we cannot see Her this night."
Cronin sits near Chryzylyx and opens his own back, bringing out some jerky. "Thank you, friend elf. But let us not share meat with strangers. I am Cronin."
"Well met, mind if I join you folks?" she asks of the people in general."Well met indeed, it seems this storm is indeed an omen of some portent. And welcome there should be plenty of shelter here," Leo greets herThe small shifter looks about the group that has joined him. "And well met. Blessings of Selune on you all, though we cannot see Her this night."
Cronin sits near Chryzylyx and opens his own back, bringing out some jerky. "Thank you, friend elf. But let us not share meat with strangers. I am Cronin."
Realizing that sleep would not come soon, the fair haired wizard got up and walked over to the small clump of people. "Selune's blessing to you all," she said. Gathering a small clump of sticks together she put them in a circle in a dry spot under the trees. "I have only enough food for myself, but I will offer the gift of warmth this chill evening." With a few uttered words and some minor gestures a small flame appeared among the sticks and soon had grown to a small but warming fire. "My name is Perigia."
Commander Caine, a tall, muscular human his weapon slung across one shoulder, sees the campfire and heads for it. "Greetings, may I share your fire?" He asks the people.
"Well this is right friendly," the cloaked woman says quietly with an arched eyebrow, "They call me Fairwind, them as has need to call me anything." She warms her hands by the fire, and observers can see the glinting hilts of several blades upon her person, as her cloak parts.
Realizing that sleep would not come soon, the fair haired wizard got up and walked over to the small clump of people. "Selune's blessing to you all," she said. Gathering a small clump of sticks together she put them in a circle in a dry spot under the trees. "I have only enough food for myself, but I will offer the gift of warmth this chill evening." With a few uttered words and some minor gestures a small flame appeared among the sticks and soon had grown to a small but warming fire. "My name is Perigia.""Well met, mind if I join you folks?" she asks of the people in general."Well met indeed, it seems this storm is indeed an omen of some portent. And welcome there should be plenty of shelter here," Leo greets herThe small shifter looks about the group that has joined him. "And well met. Blessings of Selune on you all, though we cannot see Her this night."
Cronin sits near Chryzylyx and opens his own back, bringing out some jerky. "Thank you, friend elf. But let us not share meat with strangers. I am Cronin."
"My name is Leo and its nice to see you all," Leo smiles back still a little wide eyed as the storm continues to howl and rain pelts around them their shelter keeping them dry but the fire slowly warms them from the wind.
Seeing that there are no objections, Caine slams the point of his weapon into the earth and starts to warm himself by the fire. "Much obliged. I am Caine."
The tall woman grins at the politesse of the half-elven warrior and the blunt solidity of the human. "Food and fire's gonna make good friends out of anyone. I don't doubt it's good seeing."
"Wise words."
Caine then starts to take out some of the trail food he has with him. "Dried meat and hard trail bread, anyone?" Caine offers.
Caine then starts to take out some of the trail food he has with him. "Dried meat and hard trail bread, anyone?" Caine offers.
"A kindness, Caine," Cronin answers. He selects a small piece of Caine's meat, completing the ritual, and gestures invitingly to the jerkies he had already spread out.
"The fire is most welcome, Perigia."
Cronin is on the small side for a shifter. He wears chainmail under a battered traveling cloak, and no obvious weapons. A silver medallion bears the symbol of Selune, which some might consider an odd choice for one of his race.
All of you
The following is common knowledge:
- Travel by day is reasonably safe, although particularly bold bandits sometimes menace travelers who don’t appear capable of defending themselves.
- Spellgard was once known as Saharelgard, a great fortress of ancient Netheril. It is home to Lady Saharel, a ghost who has the gift of prophecy and insight. She speaks of the future or the past to anyone who chances upon her in the Spellgard ruins.
- At the edge of Spellgard stands the Monastery of the Precipice. Treasure-hunters and seekers after Lady Saharel congregate there.
Caine
These are just rumours you've heard.
The Monastery of the Precipice trades whiskey distilled on the premises for food and sundries supplied by dwarf merchants.
Three weeks ago, a widowed noble came to the Monastery of the Precipice, saying that Lady Saharel had told her where to find her lost husband’s body. She was intending to hire mercenaries to retrieve it so she could give it a proper burial.
Chryzylyx
This is just a rumour you've heard.
The magic of Netheril lingers within the stones of Spellgard. Before the castle fell, its arcanists focused incalculable power within the Scepter Tower, and the chambers of old Saharelgard were warded by magic locks that no one could defeat.
Fairwind
It's just a rumour.
Dark rumors have come down from the Monastery of the Precipice with the most recent dwarven caravans. Though the Spellgard ruins have always been a dangerous place, a dark presence is said to have established itself there in recent weeks. More than a few of the so-called seekers who look for Lady Saharel have disappeared in the ruins, never to be heard from or seen again.
Leo
A rumour you've heard:
Spellgard has lain in ruins for more than a thousand years, but the castle has never been truly abandoned. A shifting population of treasure hunters and prophecyseekers occupy the aboveground ruins, and the old tunnels beneath the site are home to kobolds and fouler creatures.
Perigia
A rumour you've heard:
The great treasures of Spellgard were taken from the place years ago, in the final days of Low Netheril when the fortress was sacked. However, rumors persist of undisturbed chambers there, and of ancient relics thathave not seen the light of day for centuries.
This is not a rumour. You have no idea where your sister is and are close to despair. Your sense of honour forbids you to return to your people without news of her, whether dead or alive. Lady Saharel may well be your last hope.
Cronin
Just a rumour you've heard:
In the middle of Spellgard is the Scepter Tower, one of the few structures of the old castle that still stands complete. Mystery and legend surround the Scepter Tower, and it is said that no living being can pass within its walls. There are other wilder tales as well about the old ScepterLords who created magical tools of astonishing power.
Brujo
A rumour you heard somewhere on the run:
Not all who look for Lady Saharel make the Monastery of the Precipice their base of operations in Spellgard. Seeker camps dot the ruins, and some of their residents are as dangerous as any monsters roaming the Fallen Lands.
Caine then starts to take out some of the trail food he has with him. "Dried meat and hard trail bread, anyone?" Caine offers."A kindness, Caine," Cronin answers. He selects a small piece of Caine's meat, completing the ritual, and gestures invitingly to the jerkies he had already spread out.
"The fire is most welcome, Perigia."
Cronin is on the small side for a shifter. He wears chainmail under a battered traveling cloak, and no obvious weapons. A silver medallion bears the symbol of Selune, which some might consider an odd choice for one of his race.
"Thank you. I only wish I had more to offer. I am not used to life on the trail. I have spent most of my life with my head in musty old tomes and scrolls," Perigia tells the shifter.
Picking himself off the wet earth, Brujo forces himself to move. He staggers as he makes his way toward the flickering torches and lanterns of the monastery.
"Thank you. I only wish I had more to offer. I am not used to life on the trail. I have spent most of my life with my head in musty old tomes and scrolls," Perigia tells the shifter.Caine then starts to take out some of the trail food he has with him. "Dried meat and hard trail bread, anyone?" Caine offers."A kindness, Caine," Cronin answers. He selects a small piece of Caine's meat, completing the ritual, and gestures invitingly to the jerkies he had already spread out.
"The fire is most welcome, Perigia."
Cronin is on the small side for a shifter. He wears chainmail under a battered traveling cloak, and no obvious weapons. A silver medallion bears the symbol of Selune, which some might consider an odd choice for one of his race.
"Everyone has to begin somewhere so feel no shame about it, in truth it feels like this is no chance meeting so at the very least some good has come of this foul weather," Leo smiles feeling better for the company.
Turning towards Caine he pauses as if in thought."May I ask what brings you here?" he asks him.
Rev
Brujo
As you stumble towards the distant sanctuary of the monastery, your concentration is only on your feet and how much further they will carry you. Your footsteps don't betray your presence. What you have not taken into account is the horse. As you skirt the copse, your scent alarms it and it raises its head and nickers curiously. You freeze.
Perigia
You highly attuned nature sense alerts you to subtle movements near your horse. Something or someone is out there. And they're close by.
Fairwind
The genasi pauses suddenly and looks towards her tethered horse. She seems to have sensed something and that makes you twitchy.
"I feel that we are not alone," Perigia says to the others. "Perhaps we should investigate."
Cronin jumps up, scattering some of the food, growling softly as he looks around.
'Fairwind' puts a hand out to calm the shifter, "Y'all're mighty jumpy..."
She calls out in the direction of the disturbance, "Ho, friend! Show yourself and you can share the fire!"
'Fairwind' puts a hand out to calm the shifter, "Y'all're mighty jumpy..."
She calls out in the direction of the disturbance, "Ho, friend! Show yourself and you can share the fire!"
(Perception: 14+7= 21)
"Guess I just jinxed someone again..." Leo sighs as he prepares to draw his longsword but scans the area with his elf blood enhanced vision whilst waiting for Fairwind to try and persuade whatever it is that coming in peace was better than getting cut into pieces by attacking them.
(OOC: Do you want to handle the rolls? I'm still getting to grips with computer die rolling)
(OOC: By the way one advantage of having two half elves is that you get to add the group diplomacy bonus since there will always be a half elf in range to provide that bonus! Guess I'm late coming to that conclusion!)
"I feel that we are not alone," Perigia says to the others. "Perhaps we should investigate."
The tall woman sighs, stands up and reaching into her left greave draws forth a slim dagger and tosses it in the air, catching it by the blade.
"Seems like I'm gonna find out what's spookin' y'all." she says quietly and heads towards the source of the noise.
"Everyone has to begin somewhere so feel no shame about it, in truth it feels like this is no chance meeting so at the very least some good has come of this foul weather," Leo smiles feeling better for the company.
Turning towards Caine he pauses as if in thought.
"May I ask what brings you here?" he asks him.
"I'm headed for Loudwater and I stopped here on account of the rain. I am a service provider. You require an escort, a bodyguard or a guide and I am your man. My lost job didn't pan out so well so here I am."
"Are you also looking for a job? I heard that some widow is looking for people to do her a service. Interested?"
"A 'guide', huh? Don't seem like you're Loudwater-born; sound Cormyrean to me. Nuthin wrong with that, you understand. but still... you want someone who knows this area like the back of her hand..." Fairwind adds quietly as she moves away.
Chryzylyx watches her new friends with interest, but speaks little. She is enjoying the storm and the fresh air, the food and fire. Out of the corner of her eye she notices Cronin the rodent-man getting jumpy, but he seems to be a jumpy type, so she isnt worried. her interest is drawn more to the hulking human warrior who seems determined to lead someone somewhere.
"Caine, is it?" she asks. I go to the Spell-tower on the morrow and have little desire to go alone. An escort would suit me." She appreciates his animal magnetism, but is a little put off by his short temper.
It is the pair of half-elves who most interests her. She is unaccustomed to these 'mixed' racves, and finds their feywild auras to be intriguing. She feels each of them is more than they first appear. Turning towards the male: "What say you, sir? Shall we travel together to Spellgard as a grouop? your sword may come in handy, though I have powers of my own. Her eyes slowly turn to the departing female half-elf, and she marvels at the ease with which the woman fades into the shadows outside the firelight. Her hand slowly draws her pact-blade, and she sighs, knowing that she is enwrapped as ever, in the protection of Feywild.
Chryzylyx watches her new friends with interest, but speaks little. She is enjoying the storm and the fresh air, the food and fire. Out of the corner of her eye she notices Cronin the rodent-man getting jumpy, but he seems to be a jumpy type, so she isnt worried. her interest is drawn more to the hulking human warrior who seems determined to lead someone somewhere.
"Caine, is it?" she asks. I go to the Spell-tower on the morrow and have little desire to go alone. An escort would suit me." She appreciates his animal magnetism, but is a little put off by his short temper.
It is the pair of half-elves who most interests her. She is unaccustomed to these 'mixed' racves, and finds their feywild auras to be intriguing. She feels each of them is more than they first appear. Turning towards the male: "What say you, sir? Shall we travel together to Spellgard as a grouop? your sword may come in handy, though I have powers of my own. Her eyes slowly turn to the departing female half-elf, and she marvels at the ease with which the woman fades into the shadows outside the firelight. Her hand slowly draws her pact-blade, and she sighs, knowing that she is enwrapped as ever, in the protection of Feywild.
"It would be an interesting endeavour," Leo acknowledges.
"Please excuse me a moment if you will," he bows slightly as drawing his sword he moves after Fairwind at least in so far that he can back her up if needed (Assuming she is using Stealth so Leo would be looking for whatever's spooked the horses but will remain close to them to avoid revealing Fairwind's approach)."You were saying something about a widow, what exactly is she seeking help for?" Leo asks Caine as he looks out from the shelter.
Brujo stood froozen in fear. He wasn't even aware of the horse till it neighed.
"This is what happens when one goes without resting", he thought to himself as he stood there.
"Surely those by the fire heard the horse and are coming. Maybe they'll have room for one more by the fire. Maybe they're slavers or Thayans." The thoughts rage in his mind.
"Either way I'm better off with them. Best case, warmth of a fire and time to rest. Worst, I'm a deadman. Both great choices at this point.
Cronin jumps up, scattering some of the food, growling softly as he looks around.
Cronin feels his skin prickle as he senses a hastily stilled movement from near Perigia's tethered horse.
Cronin
Beyond the immediate problem of the suppressed noise, you are now alert to the wider landscape. The road to the Spellgard is lined with rocky outcrops and the clouded sky provides exceptionally good cover.
'Fairwind' puts a hand out to calm the shifter, "Y'all're mighty jumpy..."
"Not for Netheril," Cronin whispers in reply. As Fairwind moves out into the darkness, Cronin retrieves a spiked gauntlet from his pack and readies it, then moves cautiously toward the source of the noise.
As Fairwind moves out into the darkness, Cronin retrieves a spiked gauntlet from his pack and readies it, then moves cautiously toward the source of the noise.
Cronin/Fairwind
You advance cautiously into the darkness, making a pincer movement around the source of the disturbance. A slight, solitary figure crouches beside the horse, seemingly frozen in terror. Cronin stays low and hidden, ready to help Fairwind if needed.
Brujo
Too terrified to move, you remain crouched beside the horse. It is almost a relief when a shadowy figure emerges from the darkness in front of you. From where you are, poised to run it seems enormous, slightly outlined by the glow of the campfire behind it.
Rev:
Perigia watched as her new companions slipped into the darkness. Gripping her staff she said, "perhaps my skills will be needed as well." With that she stood and followed the shifter into the night.
Perigia watched as her new companions slipped into the darkness. Gripping her staff she said, "perhaps my skills wiull be needed as well." With that she stood and followed the shifter into the night.
Perigia
You move effortlessly through the shadows avoiding anything that might betray your presence. Cronin is crouched low, hiding on one side, Fairwind is approaching on another. The object of their interest is a slight crouched figure, seemingly frozen in place, near your tethered steed.
Rev/Cronin
Perigia
"Would whoever's there care to step out into the light, its an awful night and it would be a shame to make it worse by turning it into a fight, let's try and get along shall we?" Leo calls out hoping whoever or whatever it is would either take up his offer or move off spooked by the lack of fear.
(Diplomacy check: rolled an 18+11 for a 29 would that help ease the nerves of those present, well other than those who now think Leo is insane)
"MOVE. Damnit move!" Brujo mind screams as a shadowy figure approaches. The strain of not having rested, or eaten since gods know when have finally caught up to him.
"Heh, to tired to even draw my weapon", he whispers as a jolt of pain runs through him. "Can my day get any better"...
Rev
With the last bit of energy, not alot I gather, he would try to bum-rush the figure (with little avail). Only to find himself exhausted to the point of unconsciousness.
After that I'll handle his reaction to the others. I hope thats alright
Caine turns to Chryzylyx, “Sure. I’ll accompany you. Would you cede to me first choice of the spoils?”
In reply to Leo’s question, “I believe the widow is looking for men of sufficient moral fiber to recover the body of her late husband so that a proper burial could be had.”