"If Bruldenthar was a dwarf, sir, I fear he is dead. My recent colleagues," Dent gestured to Tolan, Damien, Aridha, and Thaliss, checking to see whether he had the right of it, then continued, "reported finding a dwarf buried in a shallow grave." Dent stood up, his heavy flail in hand. He idly swung the fiercely spiked ball from its chain, enjoying the weight and heft of the weapon. He'd forgotten what a wicked thing it was. His longing to see it split skulls was suddenly consuming. He swallowed.
"You're badly injured, sir, but fit enough for walking. If Aridha can heal you a bit, you can fight. And where you fight, I fight. Otherwise, I suggest we escort Carradoc to the room he wanted to investigate, and then find somewhere to rest until we're better suited to tackling whatever monstrosities lie below the monastery." Dent straightened. "This group is ramshackle and without order, but they fight well enough. Perhaps they'll say of their own accord whether they're up for more spelunking just now?"
