Roland had never deigned to imagine he would see another human face again, much less another one beneath the earth. It took him a moment to register the surprise of it, and by then Iseldis had tried to free Gareth. What would the foul witch need this man for to experiment upon? Aren't there more available subjects closer to her, anyway? Dark Elves might be nearly extinct, but there were plenty of monsters and barbaric non-humans elsewhere. 

Despite the trauma they had gone through, Roland felt less weary, closer rather to rage. To have himself and Iseldis be chased down here and tortured, and to find this innocent man already partially poked and prodded, laid bare. He felt the anger boiling inside of him, and he realized that it served no purpose. Not at the moment at least, and he took two deep breathes and gave a silent prayer to the Gods to show them the way. 

When her blade didn't cut the shackles and sparked the violent reaction from the magic, the footfalls beyond the door grew louder by the moment. At the moment he felt completely stuck between decisions. He didn't think of himself as heroic, but he wished to purge these devil-spawn from the world and get back at them for all of the evil they've done. But he also knew they would likely die in the attempt, especially if the she-witch herself was there. 

Though he didn't care about his own life in the attempt, one look at Iseldis made him reconsider. He didn't know what made her want to ask him, but he felt a swell of pride from the question. He knew he didn't want her to die, and that he couldn't just tell her to leave, either. It would be insulting, and he respected her too much for that. He looked back at Gareth, imploring them both to leave. Roland wouldn't want to leave the man either, but he knew they needed to make it to the surface as well. Damn! What could they do? 

It was at that moment, a moment of clarity filled him. 

They would do what they had to. 

Roland held his hand out to Iseldis, and if she took it he'd raise it between them in a salute to comrades. "Let's finish this." He told her simply, midnight eyes piercing. At her behest, he'd heft his sword aloft, and the door to the stairwell flew open to reveal a fey-like soldier in abyssal black armor, staring at them both with unmistable dark elven eyes. Behind him were two others, similarly clad, wielding scimitars.  

With blindingly fast movements, the three assailants were within the laboratory and snaking past the tables. Roland shifted his stance to a defensive one, sword leading as he parried and slashed, doing his best to keep the dark elves at bay. Already it was a losing battle, and he didn't know if he could beat one in a fair duel, much less three of them. It was only the cramped conditions of the room that kept him from being surrounded as the dark iron slapped against his blade and subtly cut him in a dozen places.
[@Luminosity]