Nilvae
Half-Elf Warlock
AC: 13 HP: 23/23
PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 San: 7 (-1)
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

The half-elf's head was spinning and slowly accustoming itself to the dark dank environment of the very crowded cell. She looked around, immediately realizing just how many creatures where in here. Most stayed silent, quite a few busy with themselves, as the drow female of all opened a conversation. She, rather than Borthan, who was caught here too, so at least he wasn't actively betraying her.

Where is my donkey? she blurts out before regaining her composure, and answering the question. It was too long since she had real human contact. Polite ones, not pragmatic ruffians like the half-drow headhunter. She puts up a smile and says: I am not sure. Do you have any plans on leaving, ilharess*? adressing Faedryl like nobility. If you pardon the insinuation but you do not look like you are used to hard labor, but even if the dwarves look more hardy than you I think we all have an interest in leaving here. If I judge the amount of people and other creatures in this cell. she nudges the small mushroom already at her feet it is looking as if the drow would orchestrate our sudden departure by in
Stool
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

Having learned to pretend to be caught in his cage whenever the guards approached, Stool openly communicated telepathically that he was open to help in any way possible.

He stands in the middle, extruding his rapport spores to be inhaled by everyone. Sorry for sporey air. We should continue this talk in mind, not mouth. Pale-face elf is right, but we have to take a chance. Our physical and mental health is getting worse, some of us will die sooner than later in here. It would make Stool sad to have to eat their bodies.

Despite a grim subject, Stool's voice reverberates happily in your head.