Kacir

Sad, sad face...

A thought occurs to Eldan that he would rather not be trapped inside this room. Next, his mind jumps to the safety of his brother. "Companions, it is my thought to force our way through the door and out. It may be that we can aid those outside. What say you?"

As his wits gather, Eldan begins to bemoan his decision to part with his warhammer, when glances upon it standing in the corner of the room. He covers the distance in a couple of easy strides and reclaims his weapon. As he turns to make ready his voice rumbles forth to the others. "It is some sort of undead that gathers. The same stench was upon the wind before my brother and I were attacked. It would not surprise me if they were led by the same creature, or at least one similar, that gave Kircan the injury that now threatens him." "The Knight protect us and guide us."

A snarl comes to Eldan's face as he is roughly awakened, becoming a scowl as he notices the others making ready. He lumbers to his feet to prepare himself; tries to clear sleep from his mind and the dreams of his dying brother that haunted them.

Eldan snores loudly...

"There is still much to discuss, friends. However, I believe the little one has the right of it. Our minds will be sharper with rest." With that, Eldan lumbers to the corner of the room to share in the small figure's respite.

Eldan jumps at the chance to speak to those in charge of helping Kircan. He stands quickly, addressing the stout figure. Thank you, Sir, for your aid. My brother and I were set upon by a vile creature. Undead, Sir. Neither my physical aid, nor my limited spiritual gifts seemed to improve the state of the wound Kircan received from the feind's blade. We met these others after our encounter. I trained with the knight, though the others are new aquaintances. They seem most trusrworthy, however. What can I do to aid you?

Eldan's response to the talkative scholar is a slight nod, keeping his head bowed in prayer. The situation, the inability to aid the only person he had ever truly connected with, coupled with the prattle of the room's occupants threatened his hold on his teachings. Steady, he reassured himself, they mean well. Again, in earnest, his thoughts flew to his deity and he prayed fervently for both his brother and for his own patience. His anamalistic nature longed to lash out, to find something to smash, something to throw his brute force into, but his training held true, reminding him to remain steadfast. The Knight had led him here for a reason.

Understanding the severity of the situation, and that certain protocols must be followed in such instances, Eldan follows the young knight in gaining nourishment. After grabbing the largest morsel off of the tray he moves to the corner to meditate and regain strength. Still embarrassed at his short outburst earlier, he remains silent and keeps his eyes lowered, not meeting the gaze of the others in the room.

d20=13 d20=16

d20 = 10

"Thank you, Neriskain." Eldan slowly removes the immense hammer and lays the head on the ground, handle up.

Eldan raises his head to listen. He remains seated and does his best to remain unthreatening. He remains silent as the halfling questions them, hoping Neriskain might answer. When no reply comes forth corresponds, "We are seeking a skilled healer. A Knight and a halfling have been injured, and are beyond our skills." He waves his hand in the directions of the hurt companions.

Eldan, only vaguely aware of the voices directed at him, glances after the figure riding off toward the new irritants and seems to catch himself. Without a word, he turns, mumbling mostly inaudible words under his breath. A harsh "cowardly" is spit out toward then end of the suppressed rant. Stress drains only a little from the bunched muscles and he strides over to Kircan to once again check his condition. Finding no change, he moves toward the diminutive figure lying against her pack, hoping to ease her discomfort. His stride shortens as he moves and the furrowed brow eases, changing the scowl to appear more pensive than angered. After applying his skill as a healer, he rests back onto his haunches and hangs his head, a prayer for strength and wisdom coming quietly to his lips.

A low rumble begins to roll forth from Eldan as he turns to face the new on-comers. Years of dedication and service have done much to tame the minotaur's intemperate spirit, but the events of the last days and hours have eaten away at his hard-earned self control. His nostrils flare as he inhales quickly and blows out what can only be called a loud snort. The full frame of his seven-plus feet and his four hundred sixty pounds pulls taut, bending slightly at the waist and at the knees. As his brow lowers down over his eyes in a menacing glare, his shoulders roll forward and strain against the chain links of his armor. Rational thought flies from his mind as he can think only of his beleaguered brother and new-found companions...