Though the fiend had been blasted back to whatever foul pit it had crept out of and the animated sword, which seemed to be the last of the great chamber's more bloodthirsty inhabitants, put to flight - someone with more of a sense for humour could have taken the opportunity to quip about the half-elf's singing making even witless constructs run for their lives, but such jesters seemed to be in short supply - and finally hammered with less care than a smith would have used, neither Ulor nor the octopus did immediately relax their stances, still as battle-ready as the two could have them. The former looked suspiciously about the vault, almost visibly straining his ear for sounds that could betray any other lurking peril, while the latter swung and rotated over his head, thrusting out its eyes in a slightly unsettling way as it tried to observe almost all directions at once.

It was thus probably the octopus that noticed that the sword had shed blood aplenty despite not being wielded by any hand, since Ulor's stare had become lost in the sewers' water when he turned, roused by a mental nudge. Still massaging the shoulder where the devil had struck him, which, while clearly not grievously, had nonetheless been burned along with the rest of the body earlier that night, he hobbled over to the fallen elf, the flesh-clothed spirit trailing close behind. A curious sight, if the word still held in here, between hellish emissaries and plane-shaking rituals. It was clearly an elf, but not of any sort he had ever seen before. His skin was uncommonly pale, and, when Ulor bent down and pried the lid of one of his eyes open, he saw nothing but a small reflection of himself. It might have been due to being on the brink of death, as Ulor was fairly certain was the case, but one could never know.

[i]Should we leave him? It is unlikely he knows any more than the others we found.

[color=7FFFD4]No. This one saw more. Besides, more fleshbodies with us is better than fewer.[/color]

We could pry into his memories now without the bother of another-

[color=7FFFD4]You have mindhands for grasping, not claws. We will need to improve that. For now, having this one awake will be safer. In all senses.[/color]

If you say so.[/i]

Ulor crouched next to the elf and began to rummage through whatever unholy foulness had its nest in his backpack. After some moments, he produced from it a rather nondescript, filthy rag. It was unclear of what colour it had been before being reduced to its current state, if any, but it was fairly obvious that this must have happened a long time ago. He motioned with a finger, and the octopus, who had been hovering overhead, let some sort of translucent ichor dribble from its beak onto the strip of cloth. Though all this did was make the rag even dirtier, Ulor seemed to be satisfied, and, clumsily turning the elf over in a way that did not help his comfort, tightly wound and knotted it over the worst cuts. Hopefully, this would suffice to hold most of the bleeding until the freed captive was in better shape, or could be given over to actually competent medical care. Or both.


[hider=Patching up]

Ulor rolls a 14 on the Medicine check to stabilise Auro'pol and succeeds despite his dubious methods.

[/hider]