DM:

Alright, first and foremost, I need active Perception checks from everyone please.

AMdG

Perception Check:

Guest carried out 1 launched of one d20 (Image not informed.) :

18

+9

_________________

Not all those who wander are lost.

DM:

Okay, your check results have been sent via PM.

Continue.

AMdG

Rosalyn's head perked up as she heard the sounds of boot-clad feet running towards them, the sounds of clanking weapons and armor accompanying them. "Hey guys, we've got company up ahead!" She prayed it was someone from the city, but still had her longsword ready just in case.

Spending 3 healing surges, which puts me back at full HP.

Sastre could feel himself growing stronger as time passed, and he knew with certainty that he would have no lasting wounds or ailments from his near-death at the hands of the demon beast.

He cocked his head to the side slightly, listening, and when he heard Rosalyn's exclamation, he laid a calming hand on the young woman's shoulder.

"Lower your blade, girl," he said softly, relief filling his voice. "Those ahead of us are allies, I'd wager, from the sounds of their voices." As he said this, he made sure to slowly, cautiously ready his own weapons, for even though he was sure that those approaching were not demons, he was still a wanted man by the dragonborn council...

Spending 2 healing surges to bring me back up to full health.

“I don’t know about allies, but they’re speaking draconic, at least,” Willow informed them, a grim expression crossing her features. “But I think we have bigger problems,” she continued. “Something’s happening in the city – can’t you smell the smoke? There’s a battle raging up there.”

With this, the lycanthrope took a few cautious steps toward the entrance, pausing to glance back at her companions, her weapons held at the ready. “How are you faring, master Hunter?” she asked, glancing at him in concern to assess his condition. “Are you fit to jump back into battle, or do you need more time to recover?"

Sounds echoing off of the close walls did nothing more than confuse the Druid. From in front, people were definitely headed this direction. She couldn't understand the language though it nagged at the back of her mind that she should, and Willow's statement made her realize she had heard it in passing in the streets. The echoes garbled what they were saying and she couldn't make out a word. From what Sastre said, he regarded them as reinforcements.

The blue-grey lynx shook her head of the noise. "Sastre, how sure are you that those who come are aid?" She was not willing to put her guard down just yet, and crouched nearer the floor, ready to pounce - or run - if needed.

"I'd tell you what they're saying but it's not loud enough. It sounds like my people but I sure as hell won't be making any promises." The druid looks behind them. "I just hope that whatever that thing is, it won't be following us."

To Willow, the Hunter flashed a slightly pained smile, and said, "I'm feeling well enough to defend myself, if that is what concerns you."

His features darkened a bit, though, when he turned to Mizzely. "I'm fairly sure that those ahead of us are dragonborn soldiers, which would perhaps mean aid for all of you, but..." He raised his readied weapons before him, his face grim. "But I am a wanted man, and I wouldn't put it past them to try and arrest me, for I gravely insulted one of their illustrious council members."

Mizzely laughed, recalling the scene of Sastre and her throwing the dragonborn from the Hunter's trail. "Well, we could always introduce them to our new acquaintance!" She motioned her head in the direction of the massive beast, grinning widely at the joke. "Perhaps they will be more interested in the crying I hear coming from there then you."

She changed subjects, as she wasn't really trying to peak anyone's interest in going back with that last statement. "Well, do we stand here and wait for fate to find us, or do we go to greet it and leave this monster as far behind as we can?"

Sastre furrowed his brow.

"Crying?" He listened harder, wondering at what she was saying. "I hear nothing from behind us, save perhaps the angry growling of our large friend..." Could he be wrong, though? Could his injuries be affecting his perception? If there truly was some poor soul back there, how could he simply leave it behind?

He turned, facing back down the tunnel. He would go back and face the beast, if he had to, if there was someone back their in need.

But he really hoped that Mizzely was wrong...

Perception Check:

Guest carried out 1 launched of one d20 (Image not informed.) :

20

+6