*Squeak, pfft, pfft, pfft, erk!,* Tristram exclaims as he comes trotting back to his mistress with his prize.
"What's that dearie? Oh, you found a treat for yourself, well aren't you clever," Auntie Mab whispers to the rodent, "And, what's that you say? Noises from upstairs? Well, I suppose now's as good a time as any to see what we're up against," the old woman muses as she pulls out a sunrod and ignites it, holding it in her off hand, and carefully shielding one side with her right hand so none of the light will spill up the stairwell.
To Rysethynn she shakes her head saying, "No dearie. None of that blood from earlier."
Then, looking upward at the ceiling, she cautions the rest of her companions in a stage whisper, "Careful dearies! There's something moving about up there, and from the smell of things there's been some grubby, unsavory types coming through here of late."
[sblock=ooc]Feel free to use Auntie Mab as the torch bearer (at least when she's not sneaking). She only needs her main hand to throw her kitchen knives.[/sblock]