[h3]Jordan Forthey[/h3]

	The human squire listened, eyes moving from one speaker to the next. The foreigner offered she was good at tracking - something which Sir Yanin seemed almost dismissive of... Probably because, in this given instance, the location of their objective wasn't exactly unknown, as evidenced by the noise and - now that Jordan himself was standing higher up on the stairs - the rather self-evident trails of blood. Afterwards, though? 
	"It would definitely be of use, later," he offered to the dark-skinned woman in a rushed, hushed tone, "We are missing, I guess, at least two people from this town and I suppose there is also some kind of bandit outpost nearby that needs finding." The others continued speaking, silencing the guy for a moment. 
	[i]Illusion. [/i]That answered the question of why there was seemingly still a mundane alive, though not necessarily why the thalk would sit around waiting for someone to come to ... him? it? Sir Yanin had said they [i]looked [/i]much like tall humans with red skin. 
	As a notion that was probably only blatantly obvious to him, Sir Yanin did not seem to have any particular qualms with Sir Freagon offering to take killing the divine upon himself. That was mostly how the human knight operated: silence meant he was fine with whatever he heard. Sir Yanin, as a general rule, had no particular drive to be the only one to do everything. If he had, he would have opted to work exclusively alone, he'd said as much. If Sir Freagon felt like volunteering, then he could. 
	If it had been [i]Jordan[/i] saying the same, however, then he'd most likely have been countered with a 'you'd get yourself killed' before he could close his mouth. Annoyingly, he'd most likely be right. Almost equally annoyingly, this brief encounter seemed to have been enough for him to rule the old nightwalker able to live up to his words (or at least not fail immediately and catastrophically), be it by some virtue of hearsay only his master was privy to, or just by observing his equipment and him fighting, ever so briefly. 
	All deduction from being around the other for eight years and counting. Even if Sir Yanin's face had not been concealed behind his helmet, there was little information to be gleaned from it. He just watched and listened, not even the people, just the doors above, almost statuesque. 

	"A quick clarification -" this was aimed at Deo'Irah, as she seemed to be the most knowledgeable in the matter "- if we open the door, will divine energy come spilling forth like water from a broken dam, or more like a creeping bank of fog?" It was probably completely invisible and nigh intangible until your skin began to resemble that of a shirtless drunk passed out in full summer sun, of course, but just to have a better idea of what was going to happen. Walls and doors seemed to be able to contain it - that much his master had known to share -, but other than that, new territory. 
	Better to have a plan. Maybe a few plans. The human knight's only question was simple - can they get rid of the illusion? Lhirinthyl's response was more about the nature he suspected the spell to have, but offered little in the ways of a direct counter. 
	The female deigan could offer little more. "I can only offer my senses, which are impeded by the divine energy. Should I notice something, I will say."
	The foreigner's reply was the least verbose:[color=000000]"Uh, no, sorry."[/color].
	"Then we'll have do make do with assuming everything could be a lie. More so if it doesn't quite fit." 
	
	The human knight ascended slowly - and surprisingly quietly for someone in full armor, well oiled and fluid in motion, nary more than the faintest tink of a link of mail falling in place against another.
	Right. The first two doors of the hallway, in the side they could see, appeared identical, no visible locks, just an unassuming bar-handle. Hinges on the left. Probably ... if he was correct, opening inwards, into the rooms? As they neared the rooms, Sir Yanin motioned the silver sword towards the lower edge of the first door. 
	Unlike with the communication between the deigan, this gesture lacked any covertness. The knight was just pointing it out in a sweeping motion to anyone who cared to pay attention, blade carefully kept high enough up to not reflect anything back. Light could betray if someone was behind a door, or a corner. Light could also betray [i]you [/i]if it cast a shadow of you onto something. 
	Jordan trained his eyes on the light, flickering and dim, maybe cast by a flame. There were no obvious breaks in it, he didn't think, as one would expect if there were furniture or people standing between the source of the light and the door. Actually, neither did it seem to come from a specific side, either, as you'd expect from a fireplace (had there been any chimneys on the roof?), so was it magic, or lamps? Or ... had someone made a campfire right behind the door? Wouldn't smoke be seeping out from the upper edge of the door yet, if that were the case? 
	There was the cracking of fire, at least. Lamps, oil didn't crack quite like that. The crying was louder. 
	Smelled like ... well, that could have just been the burning rags and wood and charred ghoul and blood from below. Also, was it just him, or was it getting [i]warmer?[/i]
	In one measured, quick motion, sound swallowed by the sobs and snaps, the human knight was with his back against the wall on the opposite side of the door, truncheon blocking anyone of standard human strength from opening it, yet nevertheless held so that if a force far beyond a human were to tear it open - or blast it out, it would wrench the iron away quite harmlessly, and not crush the knight's had between metal and shatter his bones. 
	For a second he stilled, listening, then motioned the two deigan, the dark one and Jordan past - quiet, fast, [i]do not linger behind doors and in lines of sight,[/i] and for Sir Freagon to move to the other side of the door. As the others passed, the knight raised the silver sword, observing the reflection of the door on its blade. Might give a split-second advantage in reacting. Might be more than deciding. 
	The nerve of impending fight creeping in, Jordan mirrored his master behind the second door, quietly motioning the foreigner to be on the opposite side to the door if she weren't already. Sir Yanin shifted from latching the door handle to simply resting the end of it against the door's surface, quite possibly to push it open.

	Nothing more immediate ensuing, Jordan tried showing his - the second - door open with the truncheon, barring immediate reaction slowly peering in, reflection, light and line of sight (anything? connecting doors? place to hide from divine energy? the noise, at least, seemed to come from the first room only...). If Sir Freagon indicated Sir Yanin to do the same, he would. The nightwalker had, after all, effectively volunteered to go first. Also, they wouldn't have fit in precisely shoulder-to-shoulder.