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Shaking from the efforts of dragging Gell inside, D'Aleen stares, mesmerized, into the flames of the fire created by the cremation of the poor souls caught in the grasp of the evil that struck them during the night. Making a sign across her chest, she whispers a prayer for their souls.
Glancing at the mage she wonders if the others all felt the power of his thoughts...the pull she had felt frightened her for it was so reminiscent of the evil that she felt from the forest.
"The only way to survive is to stay together and keep the minds alert...." she mused.....sighing, "Oh father...we are the last of our kind - I cannot fail you in this....but by the gods above I wish for your stength and guidance now."
Pushing back the memories that tug at the corners of her heart, D'Aleen rips her gaze from the fire to see Darghon approaching and listens to his request.
"We are far enough away from the presence that I still may have a few friends about that will come to my aid! Even the smallest creatures have their uses..." she said, winking.
The elf closed her eyes and a sweet humming filled the air, a soft luminescent glow seemed to come from her as she threw back her head and spoke in the strange ancient language of the gods of her people.
"Ahhh..." D'Aleen smiled sweetly "the miners of the soil, the moles, are searching for your spirit now Darghon. They are hard workers and shall do their best...give them a moment."
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You've been a naughty boy....go to my room!
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