<div class="floatleft">(http://s27.postimg.org/47l5lspvl/Duke_Pantarei_full_452999.jpg)</div><br/>Dalvarien was quickly adjusting to the low light conditions, noting that it would have been worse if the place was pitch black. As long as there was even a little light, he could see twice as well as a normal human. Shaking some more dust off of himself, Dalvarien caught a shape in the edge of his vision, and he moved to investigate, curiosity piqued. The shape resembled a giant closet, though it seemed to blend in well with the wall, as he neared it, that identification became a certainty.<br/><br/>His slender hand reached for a handle, and he soon found one, whilst his other hand found the other. Dalvarien pulled the towering cabinet's door open, coughing as a veritable cloud of dust enveloped him from head to toe. Blinking rapidly, the fey yet again attempted to rid himself of the airborne grime, his gaze settling on the armour and weapon contained within, after the cloud had mostly dissipated.  Thoughts racing, he noticed with little surprise that the armour was caked in rust and mostly useless, apart from bits that may have been salvageable.<br/><br/>It seemed that he would have to find what he could make use of from amongst the decayed clothing, though Dalvarien wasn't exactly an expert on such things. Salvaging what he could, and separating the rusted, useless metal of the armour from the tattered leather and chainmail, in a somewhat crude fashion, Dalvarien was able to fashion for himself chainmail padded with leather- along with the metal chest-piece, combined with the remnants of clothing he already had, lest he suffer the trouble that chainmail digging into bare flesh provided.<br/><br/>Though it was patchwork, and the evidently worse for wear scraps of noble clothing contrasted a fair degree to the ragged leather, tarnished chainmail and corroded metal, what Dalvarien wore was better than nothing. Though when it came to armour of the type such as chainmail, he preferred lamellar, since that was both more comfortable and better at protecting the wearer. Though Mithril chainmail was pretty light and easy to wear, suiting those who desired protection and agility at the same time. Usually, he stuck with light armour, and utilised his magic to summon weapons and teleport, avoiding having to take damage head on whenever possible, since a tough brute was far from what he was.<br/><br/>Refocusing his thoughts, Dalvarien then took the rusted hand-and-a half sword from its place in the closet, his hand closing around the hilt before lifting the weapon into the air experimentally. Though it was not exactly forged to his particular preferences, it was usable, if only to an extent. It would probably crumble to pieces after a small amount of punishment, but there wasn't anything the fey could do about that.<br/><br/>Thinking that there probably wasn't anything else of value in the small alcove of the subterranean place Dalvarien had found himself in, the pale and seemingly young man made his next decision. He advanced towards the exit, now somewhat better attired, his feet at the moment better protected against the harshness of the cold rock upon which the half-breed stood.<br/>The voices grew louder, and Dalvarien's right-handed grip tightened on the hilt of the bastard sword, before he warily, yet elegantly, stepped out of the alcove.