RP:A New Recruit And A Well-Deserved Promotion
Summary: Lanara is overseeing the construction of the seasonal display at the Adventurer's Guild Museum, when she notices that the sphere that activates the stone figure of Krampus is missing. She was jilted by an ancient tribesman, and even traded a megalodon tooth for this particular statue! Furious, she plans to head into the forest and confront the natives, and she convinces Saerwen to come along. The two elves are strangers, though they warm up to each other quickly enough, and Saerwen mentions her interest in joining the ranks. On their way outdoors, they bump into Elioyahazer, the weapons expert, and he agrees to accompany them and offer protection. A fight ensues, the tribesmen kill each other due to a powerful illusion, and the sphere is reclaimed. Lana offers Saerwen membership into the guild, and Eli is promoted to the title of deputy.
Adventurer's Guild Museum
Lanara :: It’s a bright and early morning at the museum, as new additions are being added to the seasonal display. Yule is fast approaching, and so the main attraction in the center aisle of the spacious building has been designed to resemble a massive igloo. Once entered, snow would begin to fall from the ceiling, as though it had been enchanted with some sort of ice magic. Further in, one could see various items from all over the realm, all pertaining to the festive feeling of the month. Statues, paintings, fine jewelry, and ice sculptures, fill the room and enhance ones visit to the Xalious landmark. A pretty brunette keeps a close watch on the trio of men that step inside, carefully maneuvering a granite statue of a demon in a furry hat. It looks far from fitting in this magical environment, but the elf manages a small smile, as her gaze locks on the rock form of Krampus. At the base of the statue, rests a cylindrical slot, and at once, Lana’s hands slide to settle on her hips, as she gives a firm shake of her head. “Where is the sphere?! I –know- it was there when we traded the natives! How could you not check?!” An accusatory glare is given to Hank, the ‘brains’ of this current operation, and as he prepares a half-assed apology, Lana turns on her heel and exits the igloo. “I have to do everything myself! Ugh! I just –knew- those natives would pull something like this… And to think I traded a megalodon tooth! I don’t even have any of my team around to come along with me, and forget those incompetent morons that forgot the sphere was the whole point of taking the statue!” She’s annoyed beyond belief, as those chocolate hues scan all that are gathered. Perhaps there would be someone adventurous in the museum that wished to accompany her to the village, and earn some coin?
Saerwen totters through the front door with all the grace and moxie of an overgrown toddler. Strands of sun-kissed blonde lash to and fro as she tilts her head back and forth, her autumn eyes scanning the entirety of the museum's atrium. A look of awe and bewilderment drapes across her face as she takes in the fine art and precious artifacts around her. Of course, awe and bewilderment flush away as she stumbles into one of the very same workers currently hoisting up a rather large and intimidating granite demon. A thunderous BOOOOM echoes off the high ceiling followed by an ear-splitting, "YEEEEEEowwwch!" and the subsequent string of curses emitted by the rather unfortunate worker, bright red embarrassment filling Saerwen's cheeks all the while. "I am SO sorry," she squeaks, delicate fingers covering her gaped mouth. She reaches out as if to comfort him but, thinking better of it, retracts her hand and grimaces while looking quite unsure of what to do with herself.
Lanara didn’t expect to be followed by Hank, as she didn’t think the man would be that foolish. Long lashes rest against her high cheekbones as she gathers the strength to remain calm. “Must. Not. Throat. Punch. This. Fool.” She repeats the mantra, both aloud, and in her mind, taking steadying breaths. Though, as she’s about to turn around and deal with this brute of a man that has the sense of a flea, she finds that another has entered the fray! The shout, the spilling of heated cusswords and the shattering of glass as one of the smaller ice sculptures makes contact with the floor, all send off sirens in her tapered ears. “What the hell is going on?!” Once more, those eyes dart to Hank, as though –everything- that went wrong at the museum was his fault. He’s stuttering and stammering, relieved that the Christmas demon statue remained intact, however, the sculpture that was to rest beside him, was sadly destroyed. Lanara shakes her head, having decided that she didn’t want another asinine response, or an insincere apology. They came a dime a dozen from the worthless workers that she hired to set up the display. The crimson cheeked elf is covering her agape mouth, looking rather mortified, and this has the woman donning a lighthearted smirk. “It’s alright. Nothing my magic cannot fix. I think its best that I rework the sculpture when I return, as they’ll only destroy it again.” Many in the realm knew of Lanara for being a witch, most knew her by that legendary derriere, though only the locals knew of her position in the Adventurer’s Guild. She was the leader, which likely led one to understand that she expected nothing but the best, and at times was somewhat bossy. Just ask Hank and his crew! An idea strikes her, and she extends her hand, eager to make Saerwen’s acquaintance, “I’m Lanara… Welcome to the museum, I hope that you were enjoying your time here, before this little mishap! Would you maybe like to make it up to good ol’ Hank and I? There’s a small village to the north that forgot to give me the piece that makes the statues eyes glow, and I’d love some company.” Obviously, there was much more to the story, but for now, Lana is eager to get this show on the road.
Saerwen's eyes widen as painful embarrassment makes way for startled confusion. That Lanara would recruit Saerwen and her menagerie of facial expressions after such a ludicrously clumsy display... She looks down and regards herself as if for the first time. Soft leather boots, form-fitting tights, studded leather armor over a green elven tunic... The two weapons strapped to her hip, a simple dagger on the left and a finely crafted elven blade to the right, complete the look of your typical everyday adventurer. She perks up, as if realizing suddenly that she's perfectly fit for the job, and sets about straightening her attire. "It's a p-pleasure to meet you, Miss Lanara!" she manages, "My name is Saerwen Edmonds, I-I've heard tale of an Adventurer's Guild and wish to put forth my name for consideration!" She grasps the hilt of her blade and stands tall, hoping to seem suddenly more well-put-together than she certainly feels. "It would be my, um... Distinct honor! To join you on this mission!"
Lanara bites the inside of her cheek to halt the giggle that threatens to spill beyond her sangria stained lips. The young woman was eager to go on an adventure it seemed, and there’s something about her that reminds the witch of her little sister, Talyara. Perhaps it was the clumsiness? The green eyes? The fact that she wouldn’t back down from what could very well be a dangerous task? Lana gives the elf’s hand a gentle squeeze, before lowering her own, and eyeing the exit to the museum. She was hopeful that the tribe still remained to the north, though after scamming her on the Krampus statue; it was quite possible they had moved on. “It’s nice to meet you, and please, Saerwen, there’s no need to be so formal! We’re all friends here.” The possibility of this elf joining the Adventurer’s Guild ranks is noted, though Lana would see if she truly was made of the right material along the way. Just because Saerwen looked the part, didn’t mean that she would be the type that would take risks, revel in exploring the unknown, and being away from her friends and family for weeks at a time every once in a while. “I’m pleased that you’ve heard of us. And you’re certainly dressed for today’s adventure! You see… That man that sold me the statue, well, he’s a bit of a hermit. He only speaks in his native tongue, and when he can’t understand what we’re trying to say… He will grow angry and lash out. He struck poor Lancel in the back of the head with a branch last week… Anyways! I don’t think we’ll have to worry about anything, though I’m relieved that you know how to use a sword.” She eyes the woman’s figure up and down, noticing the elven blade that hung from her hip. In time, she’d love to learn more about Saerwen’s heritage, as Lana came from an elven kingdom faraway, and she was often fascinated to learn of others that bore the same characteristics. Without further ado, she ushers the elf towards the exit, casting an icy glare at Hank over her shoulder, “Don’t break anything else while I’m gone! We’ll be to the north… If we haven’t returned by nightfall, please send out Circinus.”
Elioyahazer or the menace known to most as the Sandman, sweeps through the entrance of the Adventurers guild museum with calculated steps, just before Lanara and the other might make their hasty exit. His cinnamon skinned features stand ever vigilant keeping the facade of a cold, commanding demeanor; Those near perfect structures wouldn’t dare to betray the assassin trained spellblade. His sectoral heterochromia eyes come to a rest upon Lanara, after flicking to the unknown elf with a raised eyebrow. His accented voice questioning where and what they are up too. “Everything alright, Lanara?” He could tell by her busied nature that something is perhaps amiss within the HQ. A single hand raises to point at the unknown elf beside her, “A new recruit?” Taking a closer inspection of the outstretched appendage would give the impression of studious training; his fingers and palms riddled with hard earned callouses. There is also the presence of a bandolier of daggers and an exotic scimitar hanging from a leather belt. Though this mysterious man wears no armor and is instead, dressed for the occasion in wools, and warm boots. There is, however, the presence of a shadow looming over his forehead; created by the leather hood pulled over the top of his head. His attention moves to Saerwen, “My names Eli, though most call me the Sandman. I’m the guilds weapon expert.” He’s offering his services to Lanara, without words, proffered by the questioning look upon his features. His Canary would know exactly what this expression meant.
Saerwen follows Lanara back to the entrance with pep in her step only to have their journey interrupted abruptly by the new and warmly dressed individual. She stands tall as he regards her, taking a moment to hastily smooth in wrinkles from her forest green tunic. She puts on her most professional smile and says not a word until she is addressed. "MynameisSaerwenitsapleasuretomeetyouSir!" she blurts along a single sharp exhale of the breath she quite apparently was holding. As an expert of weapons and, no doubt, adventuring, Elioyahazer is sure to find nothing remarkable about the girl except, perhaps, the finely crafted elven blade of unknown origin strapped to her right hilt which she subconsciously takes a moment to adjust. Saying nothing else, and with her cheeks the color of cherries once more, she looks to Lanara in awkward silence as the two exchange glances.
Lanara is in a hurry, so much so, that she’s practically dragging the new recruit towards the exit. She hadn’t even noticed Eli entering, and so she stops herself a mere inch from his form, before they collide. “Hi!” A faint blush rises in her cheeks as she locks onto the mottled gaze, forgetting that they were in such a public place, and that she had to maintain her indifference towards all members of the Guild. It wouldn’t do to show favoritism, and only her sister knew of her affections towards the weapons expert. Still… Word would one day leak out that they lived together, and had been seeing each other steadily for the past few months. “Yes, I believe it’s very possible that Saerwen could join our Guild, and today’s adventure will see how she will manage to fit in.” Wiping the gaga grin from her face, she diverts her attention to Saerwen, to see how well she gets along with others. After all, being united in the group made all the difference, and Lana often made them go out on their own and have bonding experiences and train for their more strenuous excursions. The redness in the elf’s cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed, and Lana narrows her eyes in suspicion. The witch was notorious for wearing her heart on her sleeve, and so she mistakes that blush for interest in a man that she had long ago staked claim upon. Jealousy wasn’t a good look for the leader, however, and so she feigns a warm smile, and merely points outside. “We’re heading fairly close to the Sanctuary, actually, Sandman. You’re welcome to come along. The more blades, the better, in this situation. You know how I dislike using my magic in the eye of the public.” To Saerwen, she frowns ever-so-slightly, and explains, “Witch killers.” As if that would explain everything, she then heads outside, the brisk air caressing her silken skin, as she holds the door ajar for the man and woman that were eager to help her retrieve the sphere. “It’s not too far, but please, watch your footing. There are many roots and rocks that litter the forest.”
Elioyahazer makes little attempt at calming ‘MynameisSaerwenitsapleasuretomeetyouSir’ - for she is obviously nervous to make his acquaintance. At least, not right away, and instead chooses to let the girl put her foot in her mouth. Though he half wonders if she’s always a nervous, high strung wreck, most of the time. “Calm it down there, Saerwen. I won’t eat you.” A hand points to Lanara, “Though one of her pets might.” His gaze moves to that unique blade, which she adjusts, admiring it momentarily. She’s well equipped, but he wondered if she was ready to actually use such a thing in combat? When Lanara offers her brief explanation, he nods - taking nothing more than a moment to decide for himself whether or not he would join. Saerwen might indeed be armed, but she looked a little less than capable. Ultimately this was his deciding factor in going. “I’d be delighted to. Don’t mind the escort Saerwen, I’ll just be tagging along to ensure the safety of everyone.” Without another word, Eli steps out into the world once more, following behind Lanara and Saerwen, presumably.
Saerwen trots alongside Lanara as they depart, several paces ahead of the Sandman and perfectly silent for at least the first, oh... 60 seconds or so. Suddenly, "S-so, what language does this hermit speak? What's his culture. Does he have friends? Family? Is he ALL alone??? What kind of demon was that statue of? It was quite frightening. I'd hate to meet one of them in some dark cave, that's for sure!" She continues to prattle on like this the entire journey, stopping only to collect an answer before riddling Lanara, and occasionally Elioyahazer, with her next question as they make their way into the heart of the forest.
Lanara rolls her eyes at the mention of her animal companions, all of which were more than capable of mauling someone, aside from two or three. The animal empath had a menagerie of exotic beasts that she considered to be her children, and if Saerwen joined the Guild, or if they struck up a friendship, she’d learn soon enough. Their trek to Sage happens without incident, though as they step into the thickness of the trees, the terrain becomes difficult to manage. Lana falls silent, allowing the rest of her party to converse, should they wish, while she maintains her footing, and keeps a watchful eye on the ground. In the dirt, there are a few rogue feathers, and the occasional hole where one had struck the forest floor with a walking stick. They were getting closer to the area in which the trade had occurred, and its here that Lana lifts a hand to alert Eli and Saerwen. The one wouldn’t quit talking, and while it was endearing that she was so excitable, the witch commanded that they focus. “About a hundred footfalls to the north, through the trio of red bushes… That is where the tribe lurks, before they move on to their new land. They are leaving at dusk, so I think we’ve arrived in time.” Her voice is but a mere whisper, as she sets her sights on Saerwen, “The hermit lives in a tent… If the others allow us past, he just may grant us an audience. If he does not, then we will have to battle our way through them, and take what belongs to the Guild. I know not what language he speaks, I believe it to be made up… It’s a pattern of tongue clicks, humming, and some random words. There are a total of seven in the tribe, and he is their Elder, their Keeper. Both of them are addressed, as she answer the remainder of Saerwen’s endless questions, a faint smile on her lips, “The demon statue is known as Krampus. He’s half-goat, and he punishes children during Yule, if they’ve been especially naughty.” A wink ensues, before she gives Eli a gentle elbow to the ribs, “Why don’t you lead the rest of the way? You are the best equipped with weapons. I will handle speaking with the Keeper, if we get that far. And Saerwen? Perhaps you can focus on finding the sphere?”
Elioyahazer is not like Saerwen, preferring to let the silence ring out in response or simply leaving Lanara to answer such things. For even he didn’t really understand what they were going up against or what exactly is happening. Instead, the desert born finds his pace even with theirs, following behind like any guard would; always on the lookout for the next surprise. Ready for any attack that might come from just beyond the next bend. Saerwens random questions wouldn’t deter him from his job. When Lanara’s chiding elbow pokes at his ribs, he bites his cheek. If this is a new recruit shouldn’t she lead this attempt to collect the missing component? Ever silent, the sandman stalks through the rough brush - taking the lead just as she had suggested. He is still ever ready, calculating the odd tribe which confronts his sights before stepping out into their view without fear. Their odd language is only a backdrop to the noise of their weapons being readied. Indeed, for the camp is suddenly filled with clicks and gasps - most pulling their spears and getting themselves prepared for an oncoming attack. Though such things don’t happen right away, but once Lanara steps into view, their whole demeanor shifts. A whole new slur of clicks and clacks, Eli half wonders if someone just coughed. Is this Language even real? Despite his best efforts to obtain any information from their words, it seems these people understood the trespassers purpose. In but a moment, a terribly aimed spear is launched through the air with a word that remarkably resembles the word ‘kill’. It seems they mean to keep the shinies Lanara had come to collect. The other two would find stone axes, and swords found in plunder pulled and advanced upon. “Great,” Eli sidesteps the terribly aimed throw with mild annoyance. With the flick of his hand, several daggers are thrown through the air - yanked from that bandolier; which bury themselves into throats and chests of these enemies. “Lana and MynameisSaerwenitsapleasuretomeetyouSir, take cover and find the item or ready yourselves!” Did Elioyahazer just use humor in the middle of battle. No, he wouldn’t would he?
Saerwen easily takes to the shift in tone, quieting down as Lanara commanded focus. Focus on finding the sphere. Take what belongs to the Guild. She nods and, as the Sandman slips from the brush, thinks back to her past travels and adventures. An object of some importance and value. A deal falsely honored. She glances around the camp, looking for a shelter perhaps better kept than the rest. As she finds it, the distinct clatter of a spear bouncing in the dirt catches her attention and she sees, as if for the first time, the weapon-wielding tribesman approaching. Saerwen's eyes shoot to the well-kept shelter on the other side of the camp. 1, 2, 3, 4 tribesmen stand between her and the goal. Without hesitation, she extends her right hand. Tiny arcs of electricity flash from her fingertips and, a split second later, a tendril of lightning lashes out from her palm and wraps around the first enemy. She pulls hard and explodes forward with incredible speed into the tribesman's chest. The pair skitter forward kicking up dirt and grass, him unconscious on his back, her crouched atop his chest, eyes already locked on her next target with weapon drawn in her left hand. She pushes off while still in motion and strikes out, cutting the second down before he can react. A pirouette, feint, and slash sees the third fall. Where once the girl seemed in possession of two left feet, now she dances across the battlefield as a stage. She squares with the fourth and final roadblock between her and her prize.
Lanara finishes rattling off answers to any remaining questions Saerwen may have, all in a whisper, of course, before they both follow at Eli’s heels. The man knew how to stalk through bushes, silent as a predator, and prepared to deliver death, should an enemy be foolish enough to strike. The witch could have led the charge, put herself at risk, as she was wanton to do on any particular day, but she wasn’t an expert in hand-to-hand combat. It was vital that she speak to the Keeper, for he was likely the one that held the sphere. The desert born was more likely to ask questions later, and slay any that stood in their path, and Saerwen was new to all of this, so she assumed. It was the obvious choice to put the weapon and combat master in the lead, while Lana took the rear. She finds that she’s protective of the new recruit, her dark gaze eyeing each tree as though a foe were lurking nearby. Slowly, they advance, and as Eli steps into the clearing, he’s eyed with caution and they give into gossip in their unique dialect. However, once Lanara’s presence is known, weapons are flying, insults are thrown their way, and all hell seems to break loose! The witch did know how to make an entrance! She assumes that Saerwen knows how to fight, being that she carries a sword and daggers, and so Lana gives her some parting advice, before the trio splits up. “Keep moving! A moving target is much harder to hit, and if we part, we have greater odds.” Naturally, Lana doesn’t think to head towards the most secured shelter, though she’s fairly certain of where the head honcho resides, and so she heads in the opposite direction. The witch sprints across the area, narrowly dodging a poison-tipped arrow that was aimed at her thigh. Leaping over a log, she twists and turns out of reach of a native that aims to grab her, and she is literally sent spiraling –into- the Keeper’s confines. Crashing into the tent, it collapses, and Lana immediately cradles her right side. “Definitely broke my ribs… Again.” Crawling to her feet, she slips beneath the fabric and finds that the Keeper is nowhere in sight. Neither is the sphere. “Damn!” About to exit, and hopefully rejoin Eli and Saerwen, she finds that she won’t be going anywhere, as her long locks are roughly pulled, and she’s forced to stand, or lose some of those lustrous strands. The Keeper found her, rather than what she originally planned, and he is –not- happy about having trespassers on his land. Would they reclaim the sphere? Would the fearless leader meet her demise? Would Saerwen and Elioyahazer make it out of this alive? Lanara defiantly meets his gaze as he bellows at her in tongues, calculating her next move.
[Post 1 of 2] Elioyahazer || The tribal hooligans who mean to keep this magical sphere to themselves are unrelenting, pursuing their desires with sneers and weapons which might belong in the hands of cavemen. The few who had been struck down by Eli, find themselves grabbing at those deadly blades embedded into their flesh - a few gurgles of blood later and they flop to the ground. Despite their best efforts, it seems that this would not be enough to halt the advance of the adventurers guild. More men, dressed in loincloths and masks which seems to defy the very nature of winter step into the fray ready for combat, lunging for Eli with skilled efficiency. Their bladed weapons are jagged and would assuredly cause severe pain and chunky cuts across the flesh should they score hits. But this isn’t all, for the keeper of this tribe steps out, carrying a stout staff of gnarled wood; half rotted and smelling of foul carcasses long since expired and dragging Lanara behind by a fist full of her hair. He casts his disapproving gaze towards the group, and calls out with ominous clicks and clacks - foretelling of the dangers which they were now braving against. For in a moment, mana expels from his staff, filling the area with latent potency. Just waiting for the summoning of his final chants; which are still words that none can understand.
[Post 2 of 2] Elioyahazer has already grown tired of these buffoons. These simpletons in masks who dare to wield weapons against his fellow guild member and recruit. He’s beyond irritated and instead shifts his attention to one of the approaching Tribesman. He ducks beneath the attack while pulling his scimitar free and taking his unarmored leg as a trophy mid-dodge. A stream of hot blood sprays another assailant in the face, blinding him from the attack entirely, where he desperately tries to wipe the muck away in a vain attempt. What Eli did not expect however, is for the keeper to appear, dragging Lanara out into the open field of combat. In reaction, comes Eli’s own call to power, a crack riddles the lands as his own essence disperses. Every foe here would feel his wrath, it mattered little as his spelled illusions shift into view. Each tribesman might find themselves staring at monsters; each monster a fellow tribal person. They scream and hiss at each other, thinking the other means to devour them - they are after all, suffering from the Sandman’s spelled nightmare; a mirage meant to help him further in combat. The keeper’s call to power stops, he’s suddenly terrified of the man to his right. He lets go of Lanara only to find an exotic scimitar plunged into his throat and violently ripped out. The others begin to attack - effectively killing the others off. Eli offers a hand to Lanara mid carnage. “Are you okay?” Soon, the last foe would find themselves panicking and running from these strange visions. But perhaps the crystal they sought, is embedded in the ghoulish staff the keeper carried?
Saerwen :: The final tribesman brandishes a heavy battleaxe which he uses parry a flurry of blows from the elven spellblade. She takes a step back, examining her foe who seems to be a cut above the rest. Heavy weapon. Slow. She can place 3 blows in the space of one of his. Tracing an arcane sigil in the air with her right hand, she lowers the weapon in her left, leaving herself seemingly open to attack. The tribesman lifts the great axe high and lumbers forward, bringing the axe down on the elf's left shoulder. A blinding flash later, and the axe is embedded in the dirt, somehow deflected altogether. Saerwen wastes no time. As the tribesman tugs on the hilt of his weapon, she raises her sword in the air and, spinning behind her foe, sinks the blade into the back of his throat. She yanks it loose, leaving his head connected by half a neck as his lifeless form slumps forward into the dirt. She looks up, now facing the main body of the settlement, to find the remainder of the tribe tearing itself apart. A moment is taken to assess any further danger before she leans down to wipe the blood from her blade in a patch of grass.
Lanara isn’t sure what is going on, aside from a searing pain in her side, the annoying clicking of the Keeper’s tongue, and the fact that she’s being drug from one end of the clearing to the other. Her scalp is sore from the incessant pulling of her hair, and she manages to lose a boot as she roughly kicks up dirt and debris. Helplessly, she claws at the male’s wrist, in an attempt to free herself, though her attempts are futile. Despite his rather frail frame, he had a firm grip on the little witch, who was unable to resort to her magic, as she was so preoccupied with trying to remain standing and lessen the ache in her head. Would she be scalped? What was the Keeper’s intentions? Lana has the sinking suspicion that she will lose her title of being the fairest woman in the lands, that her legendary arse had been kicked for the last time, and that this very well could be her last grand adventure. Its then that Eli’s illusion strikes, and the area erupts into chaos! Everyone Lana looks, the blood, the gore, the macabre feeling of it all, she knows that it’s the desert born’s magic, as she’s seen him in action on several occasions. Thankfully, it does the trick, she finds herself freed, and her captor takes a scimitar to his throat. Blood sprays in such a pattern that the brunette is covered from her waist to her chin in crimson fluid. Blinking fast, she lifts her shaking hands to wipe her chin, finding her cheeks awash with tears. Lana doesn’t remember crying, though the harsh treatment to her scalp must have loosened her tear ducts, and she shakes her head as Eli holds his hand out to lend assistance. She hadn’t come here to be coddled; she had come for the sphere, which rightfully belonged to the museum. Kneeling, she eyes the staff curiously, before she slides the sphere from the tip, holding it atop her palm. Only now does she give a sadistic smirk, as karma had lent them a helping hand and delivered the utmost justice. To Saerwen, she passes their treasure, watching the girl’s eyes light up. She had enjoyed coming along, and she had defended their cause. “I think you’d be a find addition to the Guild. What do you say? Want to continue the adventure and meet the rest of us?” Lana waits for an answer, though by the grin on the elf’s face, she’s certain it’s a positive one. To Eli, she rests her hand on his shoulder, eyeing his form for any sign of injury. She’s relieved that there aren’t any, and she heaves a sigh, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Sandman. I want you to be deputy of the Guild. Do you accept?” It’s an honor that has never been given to another, and in her eight months of being leader, she felt she could use the help of one she trusted.
Elioyahazer looks after Lanara once she stands, and then turns to meet the recruit, who should be accepted into their ranks without hesitation. Despite his current standing and worry with Lanara he knows that she’s taking the time to stand on her own two legs - he’s worrying about her when he shouldn’t be. A nod is given to Saerwen when Lanara tells her she’d be a fine addition to the ranks. “We’d love to have another member! Congratulations Saerwen!” Yes, he does know her name, and it seems that the carnage, and his personal form of humor has left once more. Instead, he’s smiling revealing a near perfect row of ivory teeth. “Welcome to the Guild,” but his features twist in confusion when Lanara continues. He’s being asked to be deputy? What about the other members? He doesn’t even know what to say in response. Instead he falls silent absorbing everything she’s saying. Deputy? Eli? He would have to start taking his duties even more seriously, and find a suitable replacement as the Weapons Expert. “I accept,” He confirms his thoughts finally and then cleans his weapon. Once more that grin is stretching over his features and his gaze falls on the new recruit waiting to hear her response. When all is settled he speaks up once more, “Let’s get out of here.” Without any further words, the Sandman would lead those two away from the combat zone and to safety.
Saerwen takes the treasure in both her hands and carefully, CAREFULLY places it in her pouch. She pats the bulging satchel contentedly, sure that it will make the journey back to the museum safe and sound. Turning to Lanara, her eyes glisten with happy tears. "Thank you, thank you!" she exclaims, all but jumping for joy, "I won't let you down, Miss, I SWEAR it. Thank you! Thank you, BOTH!" As they prepare to journey back to the Museum, she checks her satchel once more, twice, a third and final time to ensure the contents are safe. The journey home, by comparison, is quiet and uneventful.