[h1][center][color=a3edf5]Álmos Air-Swimmer[/color][/center][/h1]
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Álmos opened his eyes suddenly, and he was greeted by the sight of the inside of his facewrap. Gingerly readying himself for movement by gathering his wrappings up and slipping and tying them back into place, the monk moved quickly to the hall - eyes watering from his movement against the still air of his room - and looked out to find the source of the disturbance.

[color=a3edf5][B]"Surrounded?"[/B][/color] Álmos called, leaving the door open and stepping into the hall. [color=a3edf5][B]"Any idea how or where we might go, then?"[/B][/color]

As he considered the options, well-aware of the fact that he knew next to nothing about the cultists (especially in terms of their individual physical capabilities), Álmos' hands throbbed. He flexed and moved his fingers methodically, hoping to cause the discomfort to dissipate. The skin was still slightly uncomfortable from having aided the proprietor the previous night by doing dishes and tidying up a bit. Now, he was regretting it a bit.

Álmos was resigned to a fight - hopefully Chres would have some plan that could make that less likely, or at least lead them to a smaller fight.