"Ugh, nasty." Zenaida looks around for something to clean her sword with, but doesn't find anything. She sighs and uses the hem of her red cloak. One simply does not sheathe a dirty sword. Blade cleaned to her satisfaction, the paladin makes her way back toward Aravashnial. "I'm Zenaida Radulescu, paladin of Iomedae. Pleasure to meet you, Aravashnial, Dirk, Anevia, Horgus. I just wish it were under better circumstances."
It looks like Dirk has the healing covered, although that's the strangest healing spell she's ever seen, so Zenaida takes a good look around the cavern. Glints of silver among the rocks catch her eye. "Hmm, what have we here?" Sheathing her sword, she walks over to pick one up. "Oh my... these look like dragon scales. Poor Terendelev. May Pharasma guide her safely home." Zenaida closes her eyes briefly in a moment of respectful silence for the valiant dragon.