Stool
Myconid Druid
AC: 11 HP: 28/28
PP: 15 PIv: 9 PIs: 13 San: 12
Conditions: -
Concentration: -

The tiny myconid thinks the loudest, which is odd since he appears very meek and tiny in actual 'person'. Stool is blessed with endurance, and is in tune with the fungal miasma. I pull from nature, though not every aspect serves me. Give me a bit of protection, and a wooden plank and I will be a warrior and a priest.

The small mushroom meanders over to the used chamber pot everyone shares and puts it on top of its head, having no issue with its contents. It fits as if it were a helmet. It is disgusting, silly and all around a bizarre sight.

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

Voices in her head, again. But these are not laughing, and Nilvae feels the voices are connected to the presence, to the people around her. Still a bit perturbed, she enjoys the help of Borthan. Thank you, Bort. Steadying herself, she sits down cross-legged, trying to access her arcane powers. Her face distorts a bit, but the cage's magic pushes back. She shortly hears the whispers of a dozen rats but then it is silenced. This cell is imprisoning magic? she asks rhetorically.

I am of no use inside here. I could talk to the guards to maybe leave your cell, but I feel my chances of escaping alone are poor, now that they know I can use magic. If I am to serve as a personal servant to a noble drow, I feel they would mutilate my ability to incant magic. I am exhausted as well, Faedryl, though I assume this is nothing compared to your suffering. Assuming the work shifts are exhausting I would say before or during is better, unless the work camp is inescapable?

Also I am Nilvae, friend to animals, and to fey.

She concludes with a small bow, expecting the others to introduce themselves mentally as well.