Shadows Within

M.R.B.: Hey, better late than never, right?

Horde FTW: Well, thanks for the encouragement. I promise Dagor will be back in a chappy or so. Just have to brush the dust off him...

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"You allright, Kali?" a smooth male voice asked.
That hunter, right. Kalderin coughed, consciousness seeping back into his brain, and pulled his mask over his face before slumping up to a sit. "I'll live," the rogue croaked weakly. "How long was I out?" he asked, shielding his eyes from the sunlight.
"No' very, mon," a gruff voice answered. "Ten, mebbe fifteen minutes."
"Good," he muttered, "than maybe we can still..." his voice trailed off, the eye-lights shifting around in confusion.

"Wait, wait. How can you understand me?" he asked the mage. "This is Common, I know it."
"That would be my doing," a soft female voice answered.
Kalderin looked up, squinting, and saw the dryad, her upper body re-covered, peering down at him with a soft and thankful expression. "Once you know how to speak with the forests, making men share a tongue is an easy task," she mused.
The human nodded. "I'll bet," he said, his eyes trying to adjust to the light.

A familiar swath of leathers swam into view, the emerald green topknot of hair moving a little as the trolless sighed in relief. She reached up to his hood, grasping the hem, but a gloved hand shot to her wrist like a bullet.
Shyla shrank back a bit, remembering with an embarrassed start who she was dealing with. "Sorry, mon," she muttered, "ah just wanted to see if choo got'cho color back."
"I'm fine," he said in a quiet, guarded tone, releasing the steely hold on her wrist and placing a gentle hand on her forearm. "Thanks, though."
His eyes shifted, focusing on the cervine night elf nearby. "What about you? Decent?" he asked.

She gulped, an embarrassed blush blooming in her cheeks. "I have been better," the dryad admitted, "but as you so succinctly put it, I'll live."
"I know the feeling," he muttered darkly, resolving not to press the issue. "Can you make it back to the grove on your own?
"I would think so," she said, "but Ralian flat refuses to let me go unguarded."
He glanced over at the hunter, who had tensed up at the mention of his name. "I don't want anything going wrong," he explained with an awkward tone.
Kalderin nodded, wide enough to move the hood with the gesture. "Good man," he commented, leaving it at that.

Fronai wiped is mouth on a loose piece of cloth under his gauntlet and looked at the boy. "That one you killed," he said in his gruff voice, "I heard him talking."
The human turned to face the warrior. "Yeah, he said that they were sent here by the Venture Company."
The orc frowned. "So, the Burning Blade's got a deal with those scum?"
"It's possible," the rogue said, "but not very likely. Either they were hired by the Company... that's a shaky idea at best... or the Blade has a spy."
"So, we get ta' kill two birds wit' one stone, huh?" the shaman said, a wicked grin crossing her features.
"That's what it's shaping up to be," the rogue agreed.

The dryad nodded at Ralian, who stood and hefted his bow. "I should be going now, before this... taint... has a chance to gather its strength again," she said, turning. "Thank you for your help."
"It's nothing," the orc told her calmly.
"Anything that detriments the Legion is reward enough for us," the rogue mused, earning a nod from the trolless.
The hunter clicked his tongue at the boar, who trotted up to him obediently. "Come on, Alut," he said, patting the animal's head, "let's go."

The three of them took off in a light jog, the sound of hoof beats cracking through the air, then falling away over the next few silent moments. Kalderin strained his ears, listening until there was nothing else of them to hear, then stood with his companions. A glint of light caught his attention as Fronai tossed a bottle of water to the human, who realized with a start how parched his throat was.
"Thanks," he said in Orcish as he plucked the glass vial from the air with ease, uncorking it with one hand and moving his mask out of the way.
"I figured you might need that," the orc said. "Because whatever that crap was, I doubt it's pleasing coming back up."
The rogue was taking a long draught from the bottle, and only shook his head in response. "Horrid," the boy said after he swallowed.
"Which brings us to de' next question," Rajas stated, glancing at his sister. "What was dat, an' howd'choo do it, mon?"

Kalderin emptied the bottle and exhaled. Saw this coming a mile away, he thought with a sigh. "Part of my condition," he began, pulling down the hood. It felt more natural to explain things when they could see his face.
"Basically, the reason why I have so much arcana in me is that I absorb it," he said, refusing to tell them the real reason behind it. They'd never trust me if I did, a part of him bitterly spat, but he pushed it aside. "This allows me to draw arcane corruption out of anything that doesn't naturally contain it, and thusly expel it from my person."
"Sounds pretty harsh," the warrior said, looking over at the purple-black stain on the ground where the puddle of jelly-like substance had since dissolved.
"It is," the human replied, his chest throbbing in pain. "Obviously, I don't like to use that trick too often."

Shyla placed a light tap on the boy's shoulder. Choo okay? she mouthed to him, worry creasing her features.
Kalderin thumbed to his chest and made an uncomfortable face. Ouch, he mouthed back, indicating his wound had opened again. The shaman frowned, but said no more, seeing that the others were looking at them again.
"So, where did that thing say their contacts was?" Fronai asked, oblivious to the pair's exchange.
"Windshear Craig," the rogue replied, looking at the orc.
The warrior scratched at his neck, his face scrunching up in thought. "I didn't think there was much else there but kobolds," he half-mumbled.
Rajas shook his head violently, the ebon locks whipping around his face, and glanced around him. "We'll see when we get deah, mon," the mage said, running a blue hand through his hair, pulling it behind his head.

The four set off down the slope of Webwinder Path, evading or slaying the myriad of spiders and other beasts that followed them. Fronai lead them along the earthen road, flattening the occasional obstinate critter that would lunge from the sidelines, but the creatures mostly stayed out of their way.
As they neared the entrance to Windshear, the warrior held a mailed hand aloft, halting the others. He pulled the compact spyglass from his pack and opened it, scanning the horizon as the others gathered behind him.
"Anytin' in'trestin, mon?" Shyla asked.
Fronai was silent for a moment. "There's more than I think we can take ourselves down there," he said, scanning the area with slow, careful sweeps. "The encampments are rather full right now... they've definitely got the numbers to overwhelm just us."
"Wha'tabou' him?" Rajas said, jerking his head at the Human.
"I don't think he'd be able to..." the orc trailed off, adjusting the glass. "Shyla, I need your eyes for a moment," he said with urgency.

"Where?" the Shaman asked, drawing the energy into her body.
"To the left of that big set of tents," Froani said.
The trolless nodded, casting her farsight at the spot, her face going slack as her perception shifted. "De'ah be a woman ou' dere," she said in a detached, semi-flat voice. "Orc, I tink... She's no' runnin, but she looks nervous, mon."
"Any idea where she's going?" the rogue asked, staring futily into the distance.
"It looks like she don' quite know... no' yet, anyway."
The warrior growled in frustration. "If we weren't so close to them, I'd send some kind of signal," he muttered.
"You can't," Kalderin said, "but maybe I can. Give me a few minutes."

Fronai nodded, keeping his spyglass up to watch as the boy's form melted into the shadows. The tug of arcane magic was strong enough to be felt by the warrior, but he gave a light shake to keep it from affecting him.
The human sneaked onward, his steps light on the barren dirt, making sure to walk slow and let his footprints vanish. Being seen now, as he neared the camp, would be disastrous.
It was tedious, weaving his way through the camp, trying not to run into the patrolling guards or their tents. When the rogue had finally gotten near the bald green woman, he stopped, glancing around, and pulled a stone from his pocket, and crept closer to her.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered behind her, watching her whole body seize up in reactionary surprise. "I'm getting you out of here."
She turned her head to either side, managing to feign her nervous fear as mild restlessness to the Venture hirelings nearby. "At the ridge near Webwinder Path," the rogue continued, "I have a few companions there. How closely are you being watched?"

"Too closely," she replied, just as quiet as he was.
"I'll get their attention," Kalderin whispered, hefting the stone.
She began to walk, and he followed closely behind her, watching the guards for any quick movements. One group of tents was set near a large camping fire, the goblin diggers that occupied them sitting in a circle, drinking from large tankards.
One of the human hirelings began to look suspiciously at the woman, and the boy decided that this would be the best time. He halted, turning enough to take careful aim, and hurled the rock at the unsuspecting guards. A stroke of luck sent the stone bounding from one goblin's head, caroming off the fire pit, and into one of the support beams for a tent, toppling the structure, and causing the fabric to land near the fire.
The goblin muttered an oath under his breath, rubbing the slow-forming bruise on his skull, then quickly shouted in alarm as the tent caught aflame. Though his companions scrambled to put the blaze out, the rest of the nearby Venture goons did little more than point and laugh. The orc woman turned deftly and looked at the scene, then continued to walk, shaking her head and giggling, playing the whole thing off with the confidence of someone who had bluffed their way through life with ease.

They walked onward, the orc stepping slow and easy, putting on a casual air as she strode away. Looking around, the rogue stifled a relieved sigh; it looked like they were going to make it.
"Where are you going, woman?" a gruff human asked in immaculate Orcish.
Kalderin swore as the brute clapped a large hand on her shoulder, wheeling the simply-dressed woman around to his glaring face. The orc's mouth moved, but she was too shocked to form any words.
So much for going unnoticed, the boy sighed, drawing the steel dagger from his side.
"I said, where are you going?" the guard growled, tightening his grip. The orc's face twinged in pain, and she glanced over her shoulder to the empty air behind her.

The blade of the dagger jammed through the man's wrist, severing the carpal ligament with ease, and making the hand go limp.
"Run!" the rogue shouted, yanking his weapon free and shoving the woman with his left hand.
It didn't take any more prompting. She surged forward, dodging the outstretched hands of the guards by the barest of margins. As Kalderin turned to run, he saw several figures, their races indeterminable by the human, hurtling towards them with speed that he recognized as a rogue's sprint.
The man swore under his breath. He knew he could outrun them, but the orc woman would be left dead in the water if he did. As his mind worked frantically, trying to form a plan, he saw a blue-robed figure appearing and vanishing towards the fleeing pair. The air before them parted as the mage blinked directly into their path, grabbed the woman by the forearm, and blinked again, reappearing thirty feet closer to the ridge.

Shyla saw his eye-lights narrow as he concentrated, tilting forward and pumping his legs furiously, gaining a burst of unnatural speed. The shaman felt the burn of arcana through her farsight focus as he barreled past it.
Shaking her head to dissolve the remnants of the spell, the trolless opened her eyes, focusing on the fleeing form of the human, her gaze darting to her brother and the orc woman he led before him every few seconds. She was still trying to figure out how it was Rajas managed to pull that stranger along with him; from what little of the arcane arts she knew, blink was only able to teleport the caster.
The distance between the two parties melted away with astounding speed as Kalderin's arcane-fueled charge pushed him forward. But Shyla saw, with a disturbing revelation, that the pack of Venture pursuers was actually gaining ground on the three of them, by means the trolless could not begin to fathom. A quick glance at Fronai showed his face painted with the same shock that she knew she was feeling.
This wasn't going to end well.

Kalderin heard something fly through the air behind him, and lunged to the side in time to dodge a heavy throwing axe that would have surely buried is head into his spine. He glanced behind him, a twinge of fear registering within his brain at seeing the detachment gaining on them, and urged his body to move faster.
Summoning the magic that was now flooding his body, he cupped the essence of speed in his hands and clapped his palms on the shoulders of his companions before he passed them. Where he was getting this wellspring of arcana from, he didn't know, and for the moment, he really didn't care. That could wait until they had shaken their disturbingly vigilant aggressors.
Neither Rajas' nor the orc's faces twitched when the spells touched them, but they knew what he had done. They redoubled their efforts, matching pace with the frantic rogue, darting across the barren dirt with maddening swiftness.
But they were still losing ground.

Kalderin's hand flashed to the side, snatching another axe from the air as it sailed towards the mage, and hurled it back, leaping and spinning to retain his forward momentum, and hit the ground running without missing a beat. He didn't risk looking, but a sharp ring of metal on metal told him that they had knocked the missile away before it impacted.
A loud, wet squelching noise alerted the rogue to something definitively wrong. He only had a moment to process this new revelation before a burst of half-formed fel energy struck him in the back, making him stumble and falter, but not quite fall. As the pain surged through his body, he looked behind him-

"What in the hell?!" Fronai exclaimed, revulsion etched on his face at the sight. Four of the pursuers had exploded into half-demonic forms, filling twice the room they had normally occupied with reddened, arcane-tainted flesh, and began hurling greenish-red fistfulls of flame at the fleeing trio, who were now barely fifty feet away.
"Ah don' know, mon," the trolless replied, her voice shaking with suppressed fear, "an Ah don' know what ta do."
Heavy, mailed footsteps sounded in the road behind them. Both of the Horde's soldiers turned, their weapons ready for anything.

"Give me one good reason not to," the diminutive woman snarled, staring daggers at the greenskin standing before them.
"Ye don' know wha's behind 'em, do ye, lassie?" the paladin said, swinging her blade free of its sheath on her back, and looking past the two figures, trying to see the creatures that burned her Light-guided senses.
"Well, neither do I," the rogue said, adjusting the wide-brimmed hat atop his head and squinting, "so do indulge us."
"Demons, lad," she said, dread tricking into her voice, "or somethin' close enouf ta be one."
The small woman sighed, turning her angry gaze to the dwarf. "Every single time," she muttered bitterly, "you always manage to ruin my fun. Fine then, where are they?"
"Close. Too damn close," the paladin said, her golden-brown eyes narrowing. She lifted a mailed hand up to her fiery red hair, tossing the single braid over her shoulder and moving forward. The other two followed her, with the warrior glaring heatedly at the orc as she passed.

Wonder what her problem is, Fronai thought as the gnome shifted her attention away from him. The three of them crested the ridge... and stopped dead in their tracks.

"Well," the rogue said, his eyes wide in surprise, even as his voice stayed unusually calm, "that explains a few things."
The massive demon-things were some forty or fifty feet away, and chasing a trio of Horde that were closing in fast, panic covering their faces. Well, two of their faces. The third in the center was nothing more than a pair of blue-green motes of light, but there was fear even in that dense shadow.
The center figure swept his had towards them and away, like he was brushing something aside, and shouted in Orcish. A touch on his shoulder turned the rogue's face.
The shaman was pulling him away, gibbering a stream of unintelligible words that brimmed with panic. He wasn't a linguist, but he knew body signals well enough.
They needed to move. Now.
"Break for it," the human said, already taking a few steps backwards.
His companions didn't need another word. The gnome turned, making sure to avoid the orc with her gaze, and the dwarf lingered for a moment, balling Light in her hands.

"What the hell is she waiting for?" the orc woman shouted.
Kalderin recognized the spell shortly after the face. "A clear shot," he said as he surged forward, frightfully devoid of fatigue from their desperate bid for escape.
"Den she bettah hav'a damn good aim!" Rajas spat, his frail body panting from the strain of prolonged and intense physical activity.
One of the creatures behind them shrieked in pain as the paladin let loose the energy she held. He felt the presence muddle and lag behind the rest, the burst of Light slowing the near-demon to a crawl. Satisfied, the fiery-haired dwarf turned and ran, leading the three of them to the others.

Eleam hung on her heel for a moment, looking back to the ridge just as her friend came running from it.
"Move, lass!" the Claris ordered. "I think I made 'em mad!"
The warrior grinned, her hands itching for a fight as they drifted to the hilts at her side. All she could do was hope, though, and she continued to follow the Horde soldiers, albeit grudgingly.
The air behind her parted with a sudden jolt, and the troll shouted something ahead to his companions. The orc stopped, confusion painting his face, and the mage shouted again, the same phrase, then amended it with something else. His face clearing into a knowing smirk, the warrior produced a crate from his pack and set it on the ground before running onward, up the mountain trail.

The blue-skinned mage ran with them, but stopped when he was twenty-five feet away from the crate, eying it with a patient, angry look. The shadow and his other charge- the gnome's stomach lurched again at the sight of green skin, even if it was female- ran past it without a second glance.
As the demon-things neared it, however, the mage chanted in a set of short, clipped words, and threw both of his hands toward them, palms out and vertical. A column of flames erupted on the crate, which suddenly exploded with a violent force, blowing great chunks of flesh from the beastly things. The debris glowed with magical energy that crystallized within moments of hitting the air, rooting them to the ground for a few seconds.
One part demolition, one part arcane havoc. Something within the gnome giggled with joy at the genius innovation from the Hordelings, but her overwhelming anger squashed that feeling out as swift as it manifested itself.
Orcs don't deserve my approval, she reminded herself.
That's what yoooooou thiiiiink, the voice replied in a childish fashion.

The trap had worked perfectly, and Kalderin sighed, still running. They would break free any second, but by then, the combined parties would be out of sight and sense.
They huddled near an empty cave, Horde and Alliance crouched together in an effort of combined survival. The figures that occupied the space near him made the human uneasy, but not because they scared him.
No. One misspoken word, one lucky glimpse, and they could blow his careful ruse wide open.
Still, a distant half-smile formed under his mask as his eyes ran over the figures. Two of them he knew relatively well, and he was glad to see that they were still alive.
Shyla opened her mouth to speak, but the human held up a finger and twitched it towards him. She leaned in and whispered, "Choo tink we'ah safe yet?"
He focused, trying to find the mutated things, but his demon-sense found nothing within the immediate area. He expanded it, trying to focus his tracking, but he had too much arcana pulsing in his body right now to get anything useful.
"Maybe," he admitted honestly. "I can't really tell too much, but we're fine... for the moment."

He raised his voice just enough for the others to hear him. "Don't say my name right now," he told them, caution in his words.
"Why no'?" Rajas hissed, his overall irritation coming back double-strong at the human.
"Because they know me," he shot back, his own frustration building. At least the arcane energy was draining from him.
"So?" the Mage asked, glaring.
"I'm hiding from them, genius," Kalderin spat, returning the look. "And if they know I'm alive-"
He glanced at the group, the words caught in his throat. The human and the gnome were glancing back and forth between the group, but their eyes always returned to the dwarf, whose face was watching them with a growing certainty.
The rogue shuffled in his dark leathers and leaned to the paladin, running a gloved hand down the scruff of a blond beard on his chin. "What's wrong?" the boy heard him ask.
Kalderin scanned her eyes when they locked gazes, searching for a specific trace of something. A magical pulse that ran from her chest to her eyes, mouth and ears, the same as the residue left in the empty glass bottle in her hand.
The same pulse that emanated from the five identical vials in his hip pouch.

"We're leaving," he said to his companions flatly, rising to his feet.
"Why?" the warrior asked, giving the Alliance soldiers a wary look.
Inclining his head at the kneeling paladin, the rogue spoke. "She's got Tongues. It's recent, but I don't know how much she heard."
Claris blanched and swore audibly. She'd been caught... but how? The stranger exuded a magical aura much like a forsaken, but he lacked the smell of the grave they carried.
"Great," the trolless groaned, standing. Almost on instinct, she looked over at the other blue-skinned figure. "Don', bruddah. Ah know wha'c'hoo wanna do, an' Ah'm tellin' c'hoo righ' now, don'."
The mage glared between his sister and herself, a fury burning in his eyes. Apparently, he wanted to kill the three of them here and now.
"She's right," the orc said, moving to restrain the Troll just in case. "Leave them be."
They all gathered at the mouth of the cave and made to leave. The words burned in her throat; she had to ask.

"Kalderin Rhode," the paladin said, a half-question, half-statement to them all. "Have ye seen 'im?"
As one, they turned to her. They're still looking for me, he thought.
A true smile threatened to cross his lips.
"We've 'eard of 'im, yah," the shaman said, her expression unreadable.
"Where?" Claris asked.
Shyla turned to the others with a shrug; she was out of ideas already. As much as it galled him to do so, the rogue had to bend the truth far enough to throw the three of them off.
"Last I heard," the human said, his voice harsh and grainy, "his name was being spoken by the Horde, passing through Ratchet and Booty Bay."

The other rogue nodded, looking at the floor with a thought, speaking soft, and the dwarf translated his words fot the others. "Not surprising that he's staying in neutral grounds," the human said, "but how have the Horde heard of him?"
"Missives he leaves on dead warlocks," the Orcish woman told him through Claris. "There's no face to put with the name, but it's the same methods, the same handwriting each time."
"But that was... how many months ago?" the warrior asked to no one, scratching his head. "Seven, eight?"
"That sounds about right," Kalderin replied.
"D'ye 'ave any idea where he could be now?" the paladin asked.
Shyla shook her head with an apologetic shrug. "A'int been but t'ree mon's since de seen 'im last. Mebbe 'ee's 'idin, buyin time?"
"I sure hope so," the gnome said, a bare hint of her softer voice breaking through. The past two years had not been kind to her, but when her tone quavered like that, it reminded Claris that there was still something left of her friend's old nature, buried beneath her hardened and furious exterior.

The dwarf stood, glancing past them and out the mouth of the cave. "All clear, fer now," she told them in Common.
"Let's go," Kalderin said, inclining his head towards the empty road. His senses traced a burning path in the earth away from them and back down to the valley they came from.
The five of them stepped silently from the cave, walking eastward, up the path to Sun Rock Retreat. They had only been walking for a handful of moments when all of the previous excitement caught up with the human, whose knees buckled and forced him to a sit on the road, winded and a little nauseous.
Shyla was crouched beside him in an instant, already feeling his arcane aura flex and ebb erratically. Without a single word, she lifted his right arm and slung it over her shoulder, helping him to a shaky stand.

"Figures," he muttered weakly, reaching up to reveal his face, "it has to wait until right now to hit me."
"Can choo make it back, mon?" the Shaman asked in a soft tone.
The rogue shook his head. "Not without support. My body's been overloaded, it's not responding right."
The trolless nodded and took a firm grip on his arm, leading his other to her waist to help steady his weary form, and continued to walk.
"This makes twice you've had to drag me along like a flour sack," he said with a smirk. "I really need to pay you back for these one day."
"Ah got an ideah fo' dat," she whispered into his ear. Her voice told him that it was strictly business, but it took a good measure of his body's self-control to keep a shudder from running up his spine. He glanced at her, trying not to think about the unusual circumstance.
"But Ah tell ya latah, mon," she concluded, turning her attention to the road again.

And it was indeed later, much later, for the walk was extraordinarily slow. Between Kalderin, Rajas, and the orc woman, the demon scare and subsequent flight had left them sapped of energy; the rogue could see it in their every step, the heavy, tired gait they both shared.
They already knew that they would be staying the night here, as Fronai had already rented rooms for them shortly after his landing. It seemed unusual for them to be returning now, in the middle of the day, but with only two of their number capable of the required heavy activity, there wasn't much choice all in all.
At the desk, Fronai paid the small price for a fifth room, turning to the woman behind them. "We never had a chance to get your name," he said, the slightest of smirks crossing his face.
"Well, with that much happening at once, it's easy to lose track of things," she admitted warmly, scratching her head. "It's Juna."
Under the shadows, Kalderin's face scrunched in thought. Why do I feel like something's wrong here?

The door swung open as the human gave it a feeble push, and Shyla steadied him enough for him to hobble over and flop onto the bed. With an unsteady hand, he reached to this face, dispelling the darkness again with two motions of his hand.
"Too kind of you, as usual," he said, nodding to the trolless. "Now, what was it you wanted to ask of me?"
Her voice was sheepish when she spoke. "Well, dis be a selfish 'ting ta ask choo, mon, but..." Shyla trailed off, unsure how to ask.
Kalderin watched her, leaning back on the bed, his face calm and patient.
Finally, she decided to just spit it out. "Ah wan'choo ta teach me Common," the Shaman blurted. It sounded a bit stupid after she said it, her cheeks flushing with embarrassed heat as she thought about it.

The human cocked his head to the side a bit, locked her gaze for a brief moment, then looked around the room, rubbing his chin. He muttered to himself in something that was definitely not the tongue of the Alliance, obviously thinking out loud.
He sat there, considering it for what felt like a small eternity to the trolless. She looked around for something to sit on, to stifle the slow, dull throb in her legs, and finally caught sight of a small stool. It barely rose past her knees, but it was better than nothing.
She picked it up and set it near the bed, resting her weight on the fresh wood and stretching her legs out beside the bed's frame. She waited, still blushing a little, until the rogue finally turned back to her.
"Common, huh?" he said, looking over her. "I guess those potions are hard to make, then?"
The shaman looked away, focusing on her ankle-wraps.
She heard the slight smirk through his words. "Ah, what the hell. Sure."

Shyla's head snapped back up to him. "Really?" she asked, sounding almost child-like with surprise.
"Really," the young man replied. "Since I know Orcish, I guess it's only fair."
The trolless grinned, and with a burst of energy, tossed herself at the human, hugging him. "Ah didn't tink choo'd do it, Kalderin," she beamed, squeezing her arms around him.
He hissed even as he placed a hand on her waist, the only thing he felt comfortable with doing in return as his body tensed. There were two reasons; the obvious one was his wound, which he still needed to bandage. But with her being so exceptionally vibrant in close, almost intimate proximity to him was sending up red flags in his brain, his conditioned instincts flaring up to keep his emotions in check.
"Well, thank you," he settled on saying with a hint of warmth, "but could you let go? I'm still wounded, you know."

Shyla released him in an instant, covering her mouth with a hand. "Oh, damn! Ah'm sorry, mon!" she gasped, laying her other palm gently on his shoulder.
"It's okay, Shyla," he said, now smiling in honest, even if it was a small one. "I just need to patch it up."
"C'hoo wan' me ta 'elp c'hoo wit' dat?" she offered.
Kalderin shook his head, already getting his bandages ready. "Not right at the moment, no. I'll be fine for a bit," he said.
"If choo say so," the Trolless sighed, standing. "Ah'm goin' t'mah room if ya need me, mon," she said, "i's de firs' one on de lef', near de stairs."
The rogue nodded as she opened the door. "I'll keep that in mind," he told her.

When the door closed with a quiet click, the human finally let himself relax, damning the heavens for his luck. Whether she knew it or not, the shaman was tripping reactions in his body that were only reserved for... that one incident he'd rather not think about.
It brought back feelings of hopelessness, anger... and fear.
She doesn't have a clue what she's digging up, he thought, his mind beginning to cloud with a red haze. I have to keep her from-
No. Don't think like that, Kalderin, he quickly chided. The fact that she doesn't know is proof of her innocence. It's not her fault. It took a moment, but the human finally calmed himself, heaving a long sigh in the process.
After a few deep breaths, he began to remove his armor. The wound still pulsed, crying for his attention.
"Allright, allright," he muttered to no one. "Calm down for two minutes, and I'll get this done."

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