Most unfortunate. He was just getting to enjoy their post-battle afterglow, when something ugly decided to rear its ugly rear. Pushed away from what was unknown, something not of the warlock's design as the creeping sensation tingled up Koan's unilateral upper extremity. Flailing wildly like a lesion of the contralateral subthalamic nucleus, something shifted in the dancer's mind to think this was all the umbramancer's doing. But before he could rebuff the blame, the caused made itself clear. Crawling from the frozen gauntlet, the trickster, bade his way into their corner. With a burning despite those fiery eyes focused on the impling, procuring purplish powersuits portraying petty plebeian playing proper patronage poorly. How dare that little devil insult his shadow-woven armor while conjuring up his own cheap threads. The little runt, had let nearly slipped the shadowed one's true name to the group. Of which a dead-eyed stare filled to the brim with murder raged against the vexing Dox.

"The little gnat..." A grumble of disdain. It was clear 'Sauron' knew the imp, and vice-versa. Creatures of darkness and vile natures after all, seemed to be rather active in the underworlds, there was a history no doubt between them. One which the warlock seemed unwilling to divulge in, as he quietly doffed and re-donned his shadow armor beneath the cloak. The strengthening shadows extending the length and width of his sword as well into a greater inky mass. A two-handed blade which was sunk back into the shadows which surrounded his ivory flesh. Fortunately it seemed Koan was left in the dark about the truth, for as long as the pest did not reveal the ruse, Noriam would be able to masquerade as 'Sauron' as he pleased.

---

Air? In a vast desert, a oasis was rare, in a vast ocean, a breath of fresh air was just that. It was quite possibly a trap, although breaching the surface was refreshing. The land was far steadier than the endless water, although walking on land for the first time in days was a bit strange. Though they now numbered seven, they had barely scraped out of the last fight, and going into the den would not be any easier. For now they had to fight together, as one cohesive unit, despite the rift of mistrust between them. The arrogant little floating meatball could continue to believe he was the greatest thing since sliced lembas, but the warlock needed to play along to see where this journey takes them. Imbibed by the light once more, perhaps this was the first step in the right direction to regain his absolution and earn his soul back from the dark pact.

"I'm curious as to what we will find on land. And if it bleeds..."
A brief pause as the tendrils of shadows conferred up the once vanished edge.


[hider=mechanics]
Noriam Recasts Mage Armor and is now armored for another 8 hours.
---
Noriam votes for the land path, resummoning his pact blade as a greatsword.
[/hider]