“What trickery is this?!” the priest glanced around to his dwarvern companion. “Well that’s ruined our chances of surprise. Well at least there is some comfort, they do not attack relentlessly unto death.” Maruc saw Feldards attention was down the northern corridor. “Are you listening to me?”
Then he followed his gaze to the shadowy figures. “Friends or foe, which you think?” the priest grinned in the torchlight, he looked almost maniacal, “My feeling is with the latter!”
For the first time the priest looked down at the blood seeping from between the plates of Feldards armour. “Pull back a moment. I shall call on Halav to staunch that wound.” as the dwarf started to brush him off Maruc cut across his words of complaint. “and none of your tiresome bluster! We are neither of us immortal!”
“Who said anything of being immortal? I’m merely made of sturdier stuff than elves and humans.” As the priest did his laying of hands upon him, Feldard kept silent but obviously felt the efforts would have been best saved for another time. He glanced back along the corridor to the north and then to the hallway in which the Siswa disappeared.
“We should regroup. If that thief was correct and this is a labyrinth, we don’t want to be separated from the rest of the party—especially if there is magic involved.” The dwarf led the way back towards the mage. The shadowy figures in the distance did not approach any closer.
Too busy with his tieing up and body-moving Miklos had paid little attention to the battle up the corridor. He grunted with effort as he pulled the final body into the alcove. He stood back a moment to look at his handiwork. It looked like a tavern’s alleyway, he grinned wolfishly. He turned his attention to the priest and and the dwarven warrior, who were now returning from their failed pursuit of the Siswa.