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<blockquote data-quote="Aristoi" data-source="post: 2675046" data-attributes="member: 32975"><p>They stood all stood panting, the last notes of S'lann's song dying away, slumping with exhaustion as it's strengthening effects faded. </p><p></p><p>"I need a drink," Elim muttered, sitting down heavily. </p><p></p><p>**We both do** came the voice. </p><p></p><p>He looked up alarmed and saw nobody else seemed to have heard. With dread his eyes fell to the bow laying across his lap, ~Oh gods and Powers, please...~ </p><p></p><p>**Well who else d'you THINK it was you simpleton?** </p><p></p><p>~Did I just trade one form of-?~ he started to ask, directing his thoughts at the weapon. </p><p></p><p>**'slavery for another? If you like... though I tend to consider it a partnership. You need a fine bow and I need a wielded and we seem to see things similarly** the edgy male voice replied. </p><p></p><p>~Can we discuss this later?~ Elim replied, levering himself upright but not letting go of the weapon, intelligent or not. </p><p></p><p>**Surely** came the whispered reply. </p><p></p><p>"Where now?" Adama asked, standing over the rent body of the Aasimar Paladin, holding her sword thoughtfully. It held power, even Elim sensed it from this distance but he couldn't tell what kind. It bore a strange mark of trinity on it but he couldn't make out the eidolons. </p><p></p><p>"We must away," S'lann told them. "Gather what we can and continue," he paused and touched the stone around his neck, "that way." He pointed down the way they had been heading. </p><p></p><p>"I am Yolen of Cormanthor," the Satyr introduced himself, shaking hands with Adama and nodding to Kilmor, Elim and S'lann. "I would aid you as you have aided me. I sense that we will have greater success together than apart." </p><p></p><p>Adama looked at the others and seeing no apparent objection he nodded wearily. "I am somehow diminished. I am not sure how much further I can go." </p><p></p><p>"The Healer is in the Pits?" he turned to look at S'lann, who understood instantly what he was asking. He touched the stone and got that faraway look for a moment before nodding confidently. "Then she can tend to our wounds." </p><p></p><p>"I can help with some of that," Yolen offered, singing an oddly yodelling song with a syncopantic melody, moving from one to the other and healing them of their lightest wounds. </p><p></p><p>"And we have these," S'lann offered one potion to each of the most-wounded from the pack he had collected. "These are the Healer's potions, carried by the minions who have perished. Kilmor and I have confirmed them of healing." </p><p></p><p>A few moments and the mint-dusk tasting fluids had been drunk, vitality returning and fatigue banished, though for Adama he was still weakened. "We must go."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Aristoi, post: 2675046, member: 32975"] They stood all stood panting, the last notes of S'lann's song dying away, slumping with exhaustion as it's strengthening effects faded. "I need a drink," Elim muttered, sitting down heavily. **We both do** came the voice. He looked up alarmed and saw nobody else seemed to have heard. With dread his eyes fell to the bow laying across his lap, ~Oh gods and Powers, please...~ **Well who else d'you THINK it was you simpleton?** ~Did I just trade one form of-?~ he started to ask, directing his thoughts at the weapon. **'slavery for another? If you like... though I tend to consider it a partnership. You need a fine bow and I need a wielded and we seem to see things similarly** the edgy male voice replied. ~Can we discuss this later?~ Elim replied, levering himself upright but not letting go of the weapon, intelligent or not. **Surely** came the whispered reply. "Where now?" Adama asked, standing over the rent body of the Aasimar Paladin, holding her sword thoughtfully. It held power, even Elim sensed it from this distance but he couldn't tell what kind. It bore a strange mark of trinity on it but he couldn't make out the eidolons. "We must away," S'lann told them. "Gather what we can and continue," he paused and touched the stone around his neck, "that way." He pointed down the way they had been heading. "I am Yolen of Cormanthor," the Satyr introduced himself, shaking hands with Adama and nodding to Kilmor, Elim and S'lann. "I would aid you as you have aided me. I sense that we will have greater success together than apart." Adama looked at the others and seeing no apparent objection he nodded wearily. "I am somehow diminished. I am not sure how much further I can go." "The Healer is in the Pits?" he turned to look at S'lann, who understood instantly what he was asking. He touched the stone and got that faraway look for a moment before nodding confidently. "Then she can tend to our wounds." "I can help with some of that," Yolen offered, singing an oddly yodelling song with a syncopantic melody, moving from one to the other and healing them of their lightest wounds. "And we have these," S'lann offered one potion to each of the most-wounded from the pack he had collected. "These are the Healer's potions, carried by the minions who have perished. Kilmor and I have confirmed them of healing." A few moments and the mint-dusk tasting fluids had been drunk, vitality returning and fatigue banished, though for Adama he was still weakened. "We must go." [/QUOTE]
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