[center][i]“There are many constants throughout life, but your focus will be of truth and change.”[/i][/center] Tracan stepped from her cell, having been silent from the others yet still knowing her service, her long black hair maintaining its straight form as she looked up. She had done nothing wrong, and she had explained her case truthfully, but it seems from what she had overheard, that she would be under someone's charge. Only used to being either alone or under Sanaar, she could not say what it would be like serving under someone. After all, her only basis of such a charge would be long ago when she was but a mere child under her parents, times she preferred not to think about. However, she hoped that it would not be anything like the emotionless killing that had been expected of her before. Following the others, her eyes finally viewed the people with whom she would be traveling with, as well as assigning voices to forms. Tracan’s eyes flickered over the giant woman then to the two humans and finally to the form of what she would assume to be a half-breed of some form, guessing that most orcs would have been killed on sight. They were a very motley band it would seem, following them out into the bright light of day to which she had to close her eyes until they could readjust to the light that she had been deprived from. However, her moment of slight blindness would be met with a backpack being dropped to her feet, her backpack. The elf squatted down to investigate it, making sure that everything was where it should be and that nothing of value had been taken. Though nothing was taken, she was most relieved to find that her cloak was unsullied by the touch of the rogue militia. A smile came to her face as she swung the bronze cloak over the leather armor that clung to her form, finally being reunited with a memory of Sanaar before she heard the voice of the Gorosk. Her response came quickly, and without emotion, “But you don’t have any weapons on you.” The meaning of the monk’s words had gone over her head.