Amongst the many burly men and other strangely armoured folk, there sat a human slowly sipping away at the unidentifiable brown murk--whatever passed in this place for a good drink--she had ordered from the proprietor. This was a strange land and only made stranger by their choice of intoxicants as an essential component of one's daily diet. Perhaps it was good for avoiding various water-borne diseases, but it still left something to be desired. This barbaric land could stand to treat tea as something other than a weird novelty for the traders.

With the call to adventure, Silva took her drink in hand and rose to her full height: towering over the majority of the tavern's patrons, it was easy to track the foreigner as she made her way over to the small paladin, half-emptied tankard in one hand and what appeared to be a pair of sticks in the other. She had no knowledge of the tomb itself, but the need for help was all that called the penitent mage to the small paladin.

"Should you need support magics, I can provide."