<strong>Kirrillim, Raven Prince<br/><br/>Making way down, scattering a helping hand.<br/>Tagged: Giselle, Luminita, Edgar</strong><br/><br/>The metal-masked Kir took the steps going down and ahead of him with caution. He was no fool, and the people at the gate had been<em>awfully</em>keen on getting him down here, along with a couple of others the Raven Prince had barely had time to register or even talk to. Which was a shame. He wanted to know more about the types that were willing to venture down to the depths...<br/><br/>There was a fight.<br/><br/><em>Already. Gods. They weren't jesting when they said this important. Either that or the explorers ahead were just bait...</em><br/><br/>Kir loosened his talons on his wrists, and mentally ran over the first ritual-spell he may have to cast. The good thing about using the talons in combat was that it left both sets of fingers free to weave his shamanistic spells.<br/><br/>Picking up the pace now, towards the sound of metal scraping against metal and cries of various sorts, the audible bolero of battle in the dark, Kir began to make out shapes. There was the cleric-girl he thought he had spotted earlier, and the Drow woman. He didn't know much about dark elven types, but he figured them to have good eyesight.<br/><br/><em>Good. Let's hope she stays on our side.</em><br/><br/>There was another. A white-haired fighter (<em>what's his name...Edwin? Edgar?</em>)was engaged in a fierce swordfight with a...what, chunk of obsidian? Kirrillim couldn't make it out, but he knew it moved and had a large weapon, and was therefore an intimidating heavily armed...enemy.<br/><br/><em>I believe I'll start there, then.</em><br/><br/>Alone and unchallenged, Kir had the oppurtunity to set up a ritual. A minor one, invoking slowness and delirium in an opponent. Kir didn't know the mental aptitude of Edgar's opponent, but he didn't know a better time to find out. Taking out a tiny waxen doll from his pouch, Kir poured an ointment over the top of it, then heated the doll's feet, melting them, and stuck them to the ground. All the time, Kir mumbled...<br/><br/>"Make my enemy slower than a flower's blossom. May thoughts rise unbidden to his mind, running wild and unchecked. May he find his feet leaden, and his arms as heavy as tree boughs. Make him open to attacks, like a ripe coconut succumbing to a chisel. Slow him. Bend him. Break him.<em>Slow him. Bend him. Break him.</em>"<br/><br/>Kir felt a flare of primal power, such as he'd become addicted to in the past, rise in his belly as his words took hold. Edgar white-head should have no problem dispatching his opponent now, and Kir didn't even have to draw his sword.<br/><br/>His ritual finished, however, his eyes flicked around for other threats.<br/><br/>"Ahem. Take that as my greetings to my fellow intrepid adventurers. Would anyone like to give me a report on current events?"<br/><br/>The Raven Prince had become arrogant with the success of his ritual. He wasn't too bothered that speaking up in a new combat situation might make him a target. He rather hoped it did, in fact. He heard a smattering, the sound of liquid hitting stone, and saw the Drow woman sawing through the head of some...well, it was hard to tell what it was, anymore. The dark woman's twin blades had made short work of whatever it had been.