The elder pirate sat, suffused with a slight sadness, staring at his soiled palms. He unwittingly abetted the half-orc, in providing food and clothing to the enemy, by sacrificing the very Nature, he had sworn to protect. With his legs crossed in enmity, he poured his hands into the nearby mud, molding the earth around his hands into shackled mittens. 

Once encased circumferentially to the wrists, the druid wistfully wore the apparent tragedy as ball bearing cuffs, preventing him from furthering the cause of more slaughter. 

Torus watched eagerly only to eventually close his eyes, listening to the interchange between Parum and the acolyte. His hope dwindled with the occasional wind, snuffing out a sporadic word between the two.

[Hider=Mechanics]
Torus will sit, in pity, listening to Parum, while gathering his strength. If enough time allows a short rest, he will pursue that.
[/Hider]

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara]