Between he and Aeron's assault, the cockroach now laid dead, its guts splattered all over Dane's once clean clothes as a testament of their combined success. Panting as the adrenaline in his system began to wear off in the wake of the slain bug, the young adventurer quickly shifted his attention from their meager success within the ruined halls of the ancient dwarven tower to that of a more pressing nature -- Samad's injuries.
"Are you all right, Samad?" Dane inquired hastily, sheathing his sword as he maneuvered his way across the rubble beside the injured warrior, Mallack's bequeathed torch still shining brightly amidst the darkness. Even in the shadowy illumination he could see the foreign elf's grievous wounds; now the more vividly with the frantic notion of combat having been adjourned. Suffice it to say that from the former farmer's perspective that they didn't look good. At least, they didn't until his wounds miraculously closed with a soft glow.
"Take a minute to catch your breath," he implored as Samad spat up blood, Dane's own face full of shock and earnest concern as he rested his free hand on the desert elf's shoulder. Only now in retrospect did Dane regret not purchasing those curative potions before they'd left Venza, salt thrown in the wound as one of their number was now looking much worse for wear. It was sheer fortune that Samad had been more than capable to alleviate his own injuries, giving the human some measure of relief as he let loose a thankful sigh.
Pausing once it seemed the nomad would be fine, Dane turned his attention to his comrades, pacing beyond them and back to the room they'd entered to reclaim his fallen pack, adjusting the straps against his bow and quiver carefully as he then moved to rejoin his colleagues.
"Let's hope there aren't any more of those things," Dane bemoaned, grimacing at the state of affairs his outfit had been cast into after splitting the vicious bug down the middle. If Baggio had come this way, he likely had to have navigated his way around the menace in lieu of attacking it head-on -- after all, it took four of them just to slay one of the vile roaches! But there was still more of the tower to explore; specifically, a means to reach the upper portion of the torn-down spire. They couldn't lollygag long, for they still had a task at hand to accomplish.
Taking a deep breath, Dane recomposed himself, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his gauntlet. Turning to face those bold enough to have sojourned this far to quell the mysterious stench, the young sandy-haired human gave the trio an affirmative nod.
"Alright. I think I'm good. Take a minute if you need it. We've still got a job to do."
[sblock=OOC]Herp. Posted right after you did. Good job, me
Edited to fix that for continuity.[/sblock]
[sblock=Dane's Mini Stats]
Dane Mazelo
AC: 16 (13 flat-footed, 13 touch)
HP: 16/16
CMB: +2 CMD: 15
Fort: +4 Reflex: +3 Will: +2
Perception: +1
Initiative: +3
Current Weapon in Hand: Shortsword (+3, 1d6+3, 19-20x2); Torch
Current Conditions in Effect: Piranha Strike, Weapon Finesse
Used Items:
---[/sblock]