Serra arches his back, his arms on his hips, a grimace on his face. The moves around, trying to ease the strain on his underworked muscles and chaffing armor.
This could be so much easier.
This is the knight's way.
*groan*
Redfaced from the exertion of working, Serra stretches and looks around to Grasker and Beagan.
"How much longer did you want to work?"
Know (Religion)
I know how long I'd work for, but this project isn't for me.
Ahhh. If it's evening Cole would not be pressuring to move or to stay. He's neutral.
"We could stay here and get some rest. It probably is dusk or night up on the surface. Fixing up the place would give us something to do, and we could easily defend this room."
"Beagan do you know how much needs to be done to fix up this place?"
Grasker can work another ...2 hours? then take a shift of watch over night while still getting normal rest.
Assisted by Eli's mending and Serra's huffing and puffing, a total of several man, Gnome, and magic hours were contributed to spiffing while Grasker was praying. During the hour it took for the Iomedaen to meditate, it appears the three of them and their magic completed a bit more than half of the work.
"I'm no priest, just a dedicated warrior, but it looks like we're maybe half way to getting this place nice and tidy. Unless somebody who knows more about religious rites knows we are missing something essential to take away the unholy taintment, several of us working will probably get this back into semi-respectable shape in another hour or so."
He surveys the temple and the group. "As good as it is to remove defilement, I think it's more important to get our wounded comrades to safety, but at some point that will include rest. If it is time to rest now, several of us should be able to spend another hour or two and finish removing most of the tarnish from this once-sacred place."
Serra sags against the wall, already weary, but happy to keep working if this is a rest spot.
I can take off his armor for a bit, maybe...for when I'm not on guard.
"Sure, Beagan, I can work some more...*pant* *huffa*...just give me a few more minutes to rest here," Serra takes out his waterskin and finishes what he has left. He upturns the skin to get every drop out before returning it to his belt.
"Your assessment seems sound, master Beagan." Eli doesn't look up from his banging, afraid to take his eyes off the hammer's head as it works.
Eli moves into a corner, making way for the others to find space, and making sure that he has a wall to lean on, to keep behind himself.
The knight Serra. He's lost someone, but doesn't want to admit it to himself. So he talks to the boy squire, and becomes upset when confronted by the delusion. He just needs time, surely. When we find our way back up, I'm sure he'll find a counselor to overcome his grief. He seems a good enough man, but it will be good to be rid of him, once we're free.
The Gnome's clean-undirty-spiff actions are aren't nearly as quick when Calistria's spell winds off, but all of the time his little arms stay in almost constant motion. His concentration fixed, his stout dedication and constitution see him through the rest of the labor.
"If our captive is any indication, it can't be anything but good to re-establish a shrine to Liberty and Justice in these forsworn caverns. Hopefully any who follow will find it as a source of succor." And hopefully we will, too. "Perhaps we can re-dedicate it to righteousness, rest, and ascend out of these cursed caverns. What I wouldn't give for a nice, safe, soft, bed of moss and ferns now..." ...not to mention the arms of a frolicking fey.
The group is able to clean the temple in a few hours, making it a much more comfortable place to spend the night. Aravashnyel helps as he can, instructing the others in the best ways to clean certain types of stains while Horgus grumbles about the time it is taking, but when he sees how hard the others work, he lends a hand as well. Anevia helps, if encouraged to do so, but otherwise remains withdrawn and silent.
Looking over the cleansed Temple, Horgus sighs. "I suppose now you're going to want to reconsecrate the place?"
"What a lovely suggestion, Horgus. Beagan would no doubt appreciate any instruction you may offer. I myself know little to nothing about reconsecrating temples." Eli wiggles on the bench, testing its worthiness. He smiles when it stays up.
It always seems like the new recruits are religious. This lot is no different. They'll likely get more dedicated as they go too from the look of these, not less. Can't be helped. At least they're keeping me out of their machinations.
Cole looks on for a while as the party cleans and sanctifies the space. Eventually he grows bored and heads out of the 'temple' they're apparently calling home for a bit and looks around carefully. He leaves his light in the antechamber and stands just outside the door listening intently for other sounds (other than the party that is).
Hearing nothing untoward (I hope!), Cole steps inside again, retrieves his light, and tucks it in his belt. He heads back out and clambers over the rocks to get a look at the roof of the structure, using his grapple and rope if need be (though looks like there are some rocks alongside the structure I can use to climb it).
He looks it over and lowers himself back down.
Satisfied, he rejoins the others still cleaning the interior. I hope we don't stop at every structure like this. He takes a tiny sip from his liquor flask hoping to stretch out it's meager quantity. Then he follows it with several long drags from his waterskin, draining it of its contents.
Assuming it's large enough to hold two gallons, Cole casts Create Water in the holy water font and carefully fills his waterskin leaving a gallon behind.
"There's a little extra water in the font here if anyone is thirsty. We should ration out what we have as I can only create about 2 gallons a day. Does anyone else have the ability to create water? If not, the ration will be meager indeed."
Grasker notices drinking the last of his flask.
"Serra, I will pray for water in the morning. Iomadea grants freedom from thirst to even the least of her followers."
Serra strips off his armor for the second time in the day, slumping it over a chair to let his flesh breathe while he works.
"My back," Serra gripes as he shoots a dirty look to anyone working less hard than he is. Serra raises his voice, a good hearted attempt to keep morale high while they toil for unknown benefits in the dark. And he's looking for a chance to waste some time from the hard work.
"Did I ever tell you all about the thief and fighter?" Serra asks, not waiting for an answer.
"Well, the story goes like this...a thief and the fighter were exploring a cave, right? And then there was this cave-in, right? So they were trapped. They were trapped by the cave-in....rocks and what."
Serra stops to make sure people are listening before continuing.
"Well, the thief wasn't one to give up easily and started going through the fighter's pack, looking for solutions."
"Thief: Will this 10' pole help?"
"Fighter: No."
"Thief: How about this ladder?"
"Fighter: No."
"Thief: What about the abacus?!"
"Fighter: The fighter clenches his jaw and says, 'Don't count on it.' "
I was a hit at the bar too. A barkeep always needs a funny quip to make people feel at ease.
Serra laughs to himself and then gets back to work, certain he has helped with the mood of the work group.
Beagan enjoys Serra's anecdotes, chuckling and chiming in with a word or two of encouragement and mirth. But once he gets started, his focus never wavers for more than a moment or two, as he methodically, almost obsessively moves from one flagstone to another. Even after his cleansing magic fades, nothing distracts him more than temporarily from the grind of addressing dirt and dust and ruin.
When he is finished with his task, it's almost as if he is broken from a trance and his attention returns to the broader needs around him. If any of Cole's water is left in the font, he makes sure the walking wounded, Aravashnyel and Anevia, have been attended to and are carrying water with them, before seeing if there is any left to re-fill his own skin.
"Horgus and friends, any information would be helpful. I've seen plenty of Calistrian rites, and while I could re-enact some of their sacred rituals, I'm not sure just how appropriate they would be to reconsecrate a holy place for the Big R." At least Cathyra's comrades didn't indicate she was a practitioner of trickery or a slave to lust.
"Serra, I will pray for water in the morning. Iomadea grants freedom from thirst to even the least of her followers."
"Well done Grasker! When we leave, if you're willing, we should fill the font so there is water for any that might be following behind us also trying to find the surface in this maze of tunnels. Up to you of course."
Cole takes a moment to check over his gear, then settles in and rests a bit while the others work on the temple. He keeps his bow handy and a watchful eye on the entrance.
When there's a lull in the work, "I have two weeks of rations. Rather than me carry it all, I want to make sure everyone has a day or two on their person. That way if we're separated everyone has a little to eat at least. If anyone needs any food, please ask now."
Cole redistributes food as needed.
"Also, we should keep watches overnight. Maybe three watches? I'll take first with Grasker if he's willing, Serra you, uh your squire, and Beagan on second and the rest of the warriors on third. If that works for everyone. I don't mean to tell anyone what to do, so if you'd rather a different watch that's fine, but we need to keep an eye out for other lost souls - and the things that hunt them."
"My lights are going to run out in an hour or two and we'll be in the dark until tomorrow. I have a few more sunrods remaining, but I want to keep them for travel so we can see what we're walking into. We're just going to have to get used to the dark." Cole frowns, clearly not happy about the situation.
"Well said, Cole. Serra has claimed to navigate well in the darkness, so his watch should be fine. I myself will be able to stay vigilant, as my eyes adjust to the dark rather well, so consider both second and third watch covered." Eli nods at Serra.
"Oh and, yes, I'll take a portion of your rations, if you'll part with it. I lack the essentials, unfortunately, both the food and the water." Eli takes his share rather sheepishly, if not also gratefully.
Serra accepts the food from Cole, declining to ask for a second portion for Kastor.
"Appreciate it. I'll feed Kastor from my portions, Cole," Serra says stoically, fully intending to take care of his squire as appropriate. 'The lad doesn't seem to eat much, but if he's going to grow to be big and strong, he'll need to find his appetite. We'll work it out. Thank you again."
Serra will pack the offered food near his own meager stores in his backpack.
* * *
Serra is happy to take a guardshift and will spend the time keeping an eye out as best he can.
He will occasionally practice (mostly out of boredom, rather than a desire to be perfect) with his starknife, hacking and slashing at the air in a series of complex (and equally ridiculous) maneuvers that would never be of any use in real combat.
Other times he will practice the soldier's stance that his father taught him, a way to walk alertly into battle, with shield raised and weapon at the ready.
By the end of his shift he will have devolved into reading his mom's book of flowers...still alert, but also reading a bit.
* * *
In the morning, Serra will line up for water from Grasker if the offer stands. He will drink deep of the waterskin and nod thanks.
"Appreciate it. I'll see if I can't repay the favor one day," Serra says.
Sure...why not offer him your word as a knight?
Because you're not a knight, you fatso.
Serra gets a weak look on his face and retreats to get ready to leave.
Jurin listens as the stories are told and plans are made. He frowns as Cole divvies up responsibilities.
"Am I a warrior, Cole? Should I be in the third watch?"
He then points to the ioun torch circling his head.
"This light is a light that lights, would you like to borrow my light?"
"Cole, I would be proud to stand watch with Sir Serra and his" invisible? "squire, or whenever you want me on duty. My eyes are better than most humans in the dark, but not as good as a Dwarf's. I'm afraid I'm down to a moonstick, which will glow with the light of a candle for an entire night, " "and one pint of unburnt oil. The fire granted me by the Big R does not usually return to me until I have rested and performed my morning oblations, and his Flame usually lasts only a few minutes at best. Resting in the dark may be dangerous, but no doubt warranted given our state of supplies."
Cole gives 2 days rations each to Serra and Eli (1gp/2lbs total, each for those keeping score).
"Am I a warrior, Cole? Should I be in the third watch?"
He then points to the ioun torch circling his head.
"This light is a light that lights, would you like to borrow my light?"
"Jurin, you feeling fit? If so, then yes, please, help with the third watch. I wonder. Would you mind giving your Ioun Stone to whomever is on watch at the time? It would be a great help, and act as a light in this dark place for all to share."
"Beagan, save your light for now as it seems Jurin's will carry us through for now. But keep it close just in case. It's a very nice item, and not one I've seen before."
Satisfied that things are stabilizing as much as can be expected, Cole prepares his watch, then sleeps when his time comes, and sleeps fitfully. He always slept well in the field - better often than in his old rooms at home where he'd often pick the floor over the softness of his bed.
I wonder if there's anything left of my bed... or my family. he shakes his head to clear it of the negative thoughts and gets back to the task at hand and sleeps...
While Grasker and Cole are on Watch, sleep comes for the rest. Anevia's is restless, "Irabeth?Irabeth!" muttered over and over with a terrified whimper in between. Aravashnyel sleeps lightly, if it can be called that, his lips moving, though no sound comes out. Horgus sleeps solidly, with not a sound nor motion.
His heart lurches, the world tilts, and she turns to gray, an old man standing in verdant green in front of her. "It doesn't have to be this way, son. You know that. All you have to do is...choose."
The first watch passes uneventfully, and soon it is time for Grasker and Cole to wake the second.
Sleepy-eyed, Serra is happy to take a guardshift and will spend the time keeping an eye out as best he can. He asks Grasker/Cole to stay awake while he (with help from his squire) puts on his scale armor.
While on watch, he will occasionally practice (mostly out of boredom, rather than a desire to be perfect) with his starknife, hacking and slashing at the air in a series of complex (and equally ridiculous) maneuvers that would never be of any use in real combat.
Other times he will practice the soldier's stance that his father taught him, a way to walk alertly into battle, with shield raised and weapon at the ready. He will occasionally make a passing instructory comment to Kastor, asking the squire to take note of his technique.
By the end of his shift he will have devolved into reading his mom's book of flowers...still alert, but also reading a bit.
Beagan is accustomed to sleeping in his leathers, although while dozing his face is cradled by an uncovered forearm marked with the Red Wing and Sword. Upon wakening, he performs his oblations, but he can't help sneaking glances of Serra's combat maneuvers, spying on the scaled knight with fascination. As his own training was a bit unconventional, even by Elven standards, the human's interesting workout would track his attention.
Whenever the knight speaks to his squire, Beagan squints hard, looking for signs of the invisible lad. Unable to make out even traces of the boy's movement, he can't help but comment. "Your lad is amazingly talented, you know that, Sir Serra. Perhaps only such a fine knight as you deserves such a worthy squire." Really, he seems to be able to hide better than a pixie.
When not taking peeks at the strangely dancing star-knife wielder, Beagan traces a highly stylized, almost glowing ruinic R on his bare forearm. Almost entranced by the brush strokes dabbing the color onto his skin, he concentrates on re-igniting the Big R's fire. By the time Serra moves to his books, Beagan is finished with the re-inking Big R's marks, leaving one arm shining with the winged symbol, and the other with a ruinic R. As the human becomes engrossed in his tome, Beagan makes sure to keep his eyes peeled to the extent allowed by Jurin's stone.
Towards the end of the second watch, while Beagan carefully retraces the ruin upon his flesh, something flits into the room, as lost and unlikely as either of them. Brightly colored, with wings swirling in a flame of gold, purple and midnight blue, the butterfly alights upon Beagan's brush, its wings fluttering as needed to keep it in place.
He had been painting, reflecting on his dream and wondering how to conduct a proper re-igniting ritual. Of the three distinct traditions of religious rites that he was intimately acquainted with, the Calistrians were by far the closest in temperament and outlook to Ragathielites. This was worrying him more than a little when the multi-hued, flame patterned wings flitted close.
"Virile vixens! What's a blessed flutter of the Lady of Luck embossed in flaming hues doing in this green-forsaken place?" He closes his eyes and lets the brush float in his hands, trying to let the bristles stroke wherever the beating of the fluttering wings may lead the strokes.
"ปีกลอร์ดไฟไหม้ เลดี้ของโชค! ต่อยของการแก้แค้น! ฟ้าสวรรค์อยู่เหนือสดับฟังคำอธิษฐานของฉันและให้ความประสงค์ของพระเจ้าที่จะทำ ฉันอยู่ที่นี่จะให้บริการและเสียสละ Raga-theelie กู้อิสรภาพสีแดงปีก!"
During the watch with Cole, Grasker will confirm the Serra situation.
"So no one sees that knight's squire right? I could not detect any magical enchantments on him, which occasionally is useful when looking for cultists."
"What do you think?"
At the end of the night, he will consider preparations for their journey.
"Light, water... perhaps the purification of food, should we find ancient rations or need to make an omelet from owlbear eggs."
During the watch with Cole, Grasker will confirm the Serra situation.
"So no one sees that knight's squire right? I could not detect any magical enchantments on him, which occasionally is useful when looking for cultists."
"What do you think?"
Cole nods to Grasker, "I don't know what to think yet. It's one of two things right? Either his squire really is invisible, or he's crazy. I watched him 'share' his food at supper but it really looked like he ate it all... which leans toward the crazy side."
He shares a bit of his dwindling supply of gin with Grasker and takes a sip himself.
"But in other ways he seems quite normal - for a new crusader that is. So if it's crazy, it's a deep rooted crazy. Those are the most dangerous. I don't think he's a cultist though. At least not yet. He's entirely too happy being good for now. He's certainly the one to watch with this crew though."
- - -
Cole awakens uncomfortably and considers his dream a while before stirring. He looks around the crowded temple uncomfortably.
We can't get out of here soon enough for me. Let us pray we reach the surface today! And then what? South I think to the Star Keep. They're likely taking in Kenabres refugees and may need help.
Eli stirs at Beagan's exuberance. Used to light sleep, it doesn't take him more than a couple of good eye rubs to be fully observant of the source of Beagan's glee. He only takes in the alien tongue, but he understands well enough that he is happy. "My word, Beagan. You nevered show me your pet before. How have you kept it alive through all this?" Eli drinks from his waterskin, to rinse his breath less stinky.
He listens intently to Beagan, then moves towards the outside door, where he takes position, listening to the echoes of the cavern.
For a short duration, he closes the door, to allow himself a moment of privacy.
* * * *Second Watch* * * *
Serra smiles as his squire approaches Sir Beagan to play with the butterfly.
"Ah...she's a nice one, Kastor," Serra says, trying to point the butterfly out to Beagan, as if the gnome or squire had missed it.
It's good that the lad approaches Sir Beagan. He's a sturdy knight, likely a paragon amongst his kind. The boy can learn a lot from one like that.
"I do see, Kastor. Sugar? Why yes, I'm quite sure that's possible. We should ask of the Elf in the morning. My mother used to draw butterflies, loved them to death. Said they were a symbol of her goddess, Desna. Have I told you about Desna yet, Kastor? Well, you have much to learn if you're going to be a knight. Remind me to tell you about her later on."
"May the Lady guide your art. May her muse find seed in the fertile imagination. Let her inspiration be released." Serra utters, encouraging whatever wonder the butterfly hath brought.
Butterflies are never bad, ever, Serra reflects, remembering his dream.
Edit:Serra ponders upon the nature of the butterfly and what omens it might portend.
Know (Religion) - Butterfly
The butterfly twitches, the flames in its wings flickering with the motion. It takes flight, landing on the altar.
**** Second Watch ****
His eyes lock on the butterfly, drinking in the rich hues that color its pattern of flames. Using his experienced, obsessed painter’s eyes, his gaze studies the flow of the purple, blue and gold in the wings’ fiery colors, pondering how he could recreate them with his pallette.
”Serra, your squire can’t turn into a butterfly, can he?” If the boy was as quiet and stealthy as a pixie, who knows what other powers he might have?
Inspired by the butterfly, Beagan starts to match the shades painted on his arm to those emblazoned on the insect’s sail-like appendages. When satisfied he has the patterns and shades reproduced, he moves to the altar, practiced brush strokes beginning to recreate the flame-colored wings on the once-holy place. His eyes constantly seek the wisdom and blessings found in the hues and patterns on the ‘pennants’ of this divine herald.
"No, Sir Beagan, I should think not," Serra answers, watching Kastor admire the butterfly. "Kastor, will be many things. And while I do not think he wants to be a butterfly, right now his path is that of knighthood."
Serra switches to Sylvan so the squire cannot overhear.
"I try not to confuse the boy too much...but he seems happy to squire and find purpose. Truth told, as he grows, if he wishes to find another path, I would support him in that as well. For now we focus on the basics."
"I should think this butterfly is a good omen, a portend of fiery rebirth, a symbol of the blessings upon us," Serra says seriously, switching back to Common. Serra kicks back in the light light's swirling light and ponders upon things.
"You know, Beagan? I don't have much knowledge about such things, but dad was a scholar and I think the temple might be ready to go again with some fire...you know, the symbol of your god, and a heartfelt supplication to his glory. Well, at least that's what I'd try, " Serra says. "I mean, the butterfly seems to be suggesting it."
"Oooh. That’s a great idea. I don’t know why I didn’t see that myself, Serra. I didn’t think Desna’s messengers are usually ensconced in such patterns of fire. Eli thought I brought this little guy with, but unless somebody slipped an caterpillar cocoon into my pocket, this one must be a sign from somebody with more divinity than I’ll ever have!"
Upon hearing Serra’s suggestion, he finishes the current stage of his painting, and looks about for the best manner to rekindle the Big R’s fire in the restored sanctuary. He keeps his eye on the multi-hued butterfly, entranced by its beauty and seeking any additional guidance it may give.
"Perhaps I can anoint this altar with oil and set it alight with the Big R’s own fire." The Calistrians anoint things with oil, too, but he won’t use the oil in that manner to reconsecrate this shrine.
Once Beagan starts looking, the small divot in the top of the altar becomes unmistakeable. He'd even painted it into his devotional art; the center of one of the swirls, at the heart of a fiery wing. Filling it with oil is easy, but in lighting it for consecration, the little knight's most beautiful work to date will likely go up in flames.
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His eyes follow the butterfly, jumping back and forth between the fiery-colored flutterer and his painting on the altar. He wants to call forth the Big R’s divine fire, but realizes he hasn’t rested enough yet. He fingers twitch around the tindertwig stuck in his bandolier, rolling it again and again, before resisting the temptation. He’d rather have call upon his Lord's flames for this special purpose, and he doesn’t want to wake his companions while they rest.
But he can’t take his eyes off of the butterfly, or off the the freshly painted drawing.
His hands twitch, his eyes widen, and his hand reaches into his bandolier to pour oil onto the un-holy-fied stone.
After a bow to the fluttering butterfly, with a quick flick, the tindertwig smacks against the stone and drops onto oil pooled onto the personally crafted painting of the vibrantly colored wing of his Lord.
"Big R! I call upon thee, divine One, to re-sanctify this haven! May the innocent receive succor, the enslaved receive freedom, and all who are oppressed be Liberated in your name!"
Eli perks up to the noises that threaten to encroach upon the group's welcome respite. He eases the front door open partially, and whispers hoarsely to those inside.
"Folks. Folks! We're about to have company!"
He moves to the wall across from the entrance door, and readies to swing on any creature that strikes him as hostile.
It is the end of second watch, Beagan's voice rising in supplication to his god. The oil catches light, taking the butterfly painting with it. The flames lap, wings of fire flaring above the sacred flame.
The butterfly, the living fluttering thing of fire and dreams flits its way into the flame and becomes one with the sacred sconce. The fire flares, a ghostly aura of retribution exploding out from the altar in all directions, through people and walls and stone.
"...and all who are oppressed be Liberated in your name!" comes from within and an aura of fire rises up, sweeping out from the temple! The large roach is gone in an instant, its swarm nothing but dust in the very next breath...and then the world outside, at least as far as Eli can tell, is quiet and clear...and safe.
...The fire shrinks back once more, until just a few small flames remain, looking remarklably like a fluttering, flittery butterfly upon the altar.
On the far side of the temple, the bound priest from the tunnels groans, and wakes...
Serra, still on alert, rushes outside to aid Ely.
He looks to and fro for the source of danger and trouble.
Finding none, he returns inside and signals the all clear.
"Ain't nothing, Ely. Uh...best keep on our guard. And best be safe rather than sorry."
The old coot is seeing things. The oppressive dark can do that to a man. Sad to see that happen.
Eli gapes for a good while, managing to utter a cancelling utterance for the earlier call to arms. "Uh, nevermind. Sorry to have... bothered you..." He waves Serra back inside.
Eli wanders back inside too, ogling his hammer, almost stepping on those still asleep. He takes in the flame, allowing his ogle to transfer from his hammer. He bangs his hammer on the doorway with a soft thud.
"My, my. Fire and all. Beagan, it looks like you've been most successful, I take it? Well. Good for you. This is good." Eli fails to notice the waking priest at first. He studies the flames for quite some time.
The flames entrance the Gnome's gaze, the flicker and flare and flight of fire thrill and excite him to the core. The burning sparkles in his eyes and he stares enthralled until it melts back into the butterfly shape.
Eventually, he croaks out a soft "Bountiful bunnies..."
"My, my. Fire and all. Beagan, it looks like you've been most successful, I take it? Well. Good for you. This is good."
"Not me. It's the Big R's doing, no doubt. Maybe a little help from Desna." He nods knowingly. "You see, there was this fiery butterfly, well you saw it. Hmmm, maybe they're working together. Do you think the Big R is scoring with the Lady of Luck? Now that's what I would call successful."
Noticing the stirring figure across the way. "Hey, the foul-mouthed guy from the star symbol and over-sized snake thing is waking up. I guess my prayer and, ummm, little candle-lighting was louder than I thought."
"Not me..."
"You're too humble. I don't think it much of a coincidence that you happened by this waypoint by chance. Wing on your arm, wing of a butterfly. Fire in your belly, fire on the altar." Eli chuckles softly.
Beagan draws his attention to the bound priest, if only for a moment. He considers the groans a good sign of life, and turns back to Beagan.
"I just hope I get to see the day that Ragathiel decides to bless you with your own pair. It'll probably start with a light itch between your shoulder blades." Eli's eyes gleam with the flame of the altar, until he finishes his comment with a wink.
"Well, I guess we'll have our chance now to hear whether we've knocked some sense into the holy man." Eli turns his full attention towards the priest. "Are you thirsty?"
Cole stirs a little at the call to arms, but one open eye tells him it's just the twitch of nervous crusaders and he quickly falls back asleep still clutching his bow.
Jurin remains asleep, twitching at the noises and occasionally mumbling.
"Faith...you have...to have faith........can't........without.............faith."
"I just hope I get to see the day that Ragathiel decides to bless you with your own pair."
Hey, I’ve already got my own pair!The Gnome crinkles his face and frowns a bit, and then relaxes as he realizes: Oh, he means wings! "Yeah, that would definitely be cool, although not very knightly."
Seeing Eli turn his attention to the captive, he remembers the heinous noises the bound man had made during their combat. Upon remembering those vile sounds, Beagan immediately stiffens, all joy from the re-holy-fied flames slipping out of his expression. Tense muscles draw his sword, standing back and watching the conversation between Eli and the captive with extreme wariness.
"Serra, perhaps you and your squire should be ready in case there is trouble."
Serra salutes Sir Beagan with his starknife, taking the request seriously and shoofing Kastor behind him and towards the corner.
"Stand aside now, Kastor. Time to attend to potential danger," Serra says and enters his soldier's waddle and goes to watch the back of his fellow 'knight'.
When he is in position, he will nod to Beagan and Eli to continue.
This has been a different shift at watch...many wonders why others have slept.
Eventually, he croaks out a soft "Bountiful bunnies..."
Grasker mumbles in his sleep. "mmm.. battle bunnies..."
The priest tugs at his bonds, then sags, looking up at those gathered around. "Wha? Why didn't you let me die?"
Serra looks annoyed at his squire.
"Kastor, I said, 'STAND BACK!'"