[h3][color=bedded][b][center] Thomas Richard Harrison [/center][/b][/color][/h3] [center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] Barad-dûr (The Tower). [color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] None. [/indent][/center] Everything was going along swimmingly. Which was strange to the young sorcerer. Given the nature of their last encounter, he had expected these guardians to be far more challenging. Tin clad undead? There was something that did not bode well, but alas Thomas could not put his finger on what was amiss. There was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that this was all too easy. An Ill-defended tower, of which the voice so tauntingly claimed to be an abode, such simple guardians taken down by a rag-tag group of rapscallions did not seem equivocal of a force that ravaged orc tribes. Was this a trap to lure them into a false sense of security? For when dealing with undead, they were never truly dead until their remains were ashes. Yet not all the armors had been animated, maybe it would do well to strike those down as well? Regardless it seemed Nor had the last undead down and taken care of. At which Leaves Thomas free to allow the dwarf to continue stabbing the ex-ex-person as the barber pleased. Focusing on the stairway now instead, Thomas judged this battle to be over soon unless another enemy should make itself known. Either shambling down the stairway to taunt them or appearing otherwise somehow. After all, the necromancer was able to see and hear their arrival. There may be some scrying going on, but the boy was unable to detect such on faint traces. As such it was better to be on guard, and keep a spell ready to be cast should something suddenly appear. They should probably investigate the room when this was all over, and see if there was more to this floor than they originally saw before the battle. Or alternatively they could hurry up to the top while the momentum was hot. He had a few spells left from his preparation... With an ace up his sleeve that would be his final gambit.