The powerfully-built man eased the tension from his bow and with a low, deathly glare he stared with eyes of burning gold in the direction of the halfling woman toting instrument in hand. His long, uncomfortable gaze was dispelled as he methodically strung the bow over his chest, brushing aside his silver pendant as his fingers turned the arrow over into its quiver. With one hand upon his recollected sword, he rose back to his height, uttering to the woman, [i]"I hope you know what you're doing."[/i]

Being in the eye of the storm within, the green-cloak had enough restraint to let go of the fevered hunt, if only for now; it was clear in the grim expression of his roughly shaven face that he intended for them to kill these creatures like the rest. If not now, later. There was no redemption arc or story for them, they were monsters through and through, and wounded quarry. Leaving them to suffer and languish here rather than cutting them down was not favorable in the least and he allowed the moment to sink in. Not that Brannor would have, at any point, considered weighing the young bard with the guilt if this came back to bite them in more than one way - those metaphorical and literal - but the moon-touched champion was hardly convinced.

Once he was standing, he adjusted the leather across his chest and brushed his cheek with the back of a gauntlet. This place was more a hassle than it dared need be and how the wilder longed for the fighting they had done nights before where the advantage was theirs, even if it was not a resounding success. Waging war here in this underground wasn't ideal.

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Zverda][@Lucius Cypher][@Norschtalen]