<div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Info for DM</div><div class="spoiler_body">(http://i1232.photobucket.com/albums/ff375/Zwraith/For%20RP/MiniZaynePic-1.jpg)<br/>Character Sheet (http://plothook.net/RPG/profiler/view.php?id=10950)<br/>Perception: +6<br/>AC: 10 (Flat: 10, Touch: 10)<br/>Saves: F:+5, R:+1, Will:+9<br/></div></div><br/>With a headache reminding him of some rather poorly lost sparring matches back when he was a novice, Zayne looked around the room, blinking until his vision cleared.<br/><br/>His arms were trapped beneath him, manacled, but that was nothing new. What was new, was his surroundings. For quite some time, he had awaited trial with these three others. Quietly he had been confident the Church would speak out for him, defend him, but not one of his brothers or sisters had even come, and he knew, it was their fear. For most of his life he had walked the Empire, guiding and building and healing, believing in it. he had even spoken up in it's defense, against those who were railing against it's 'tyranny'. But he had been rounded up, just like them, and thrown in a cell for a perceived slight against the Emperor.<br/><br/>Now here he was, in Avernus, a place for criminals too dangerous to be trusted to remain in the Empire. Atop his back was one of the catgirls, but face down in the dirt, his beard becoming even more brown than usual, he could not see which one. He had done what he could, when the guards were finished with them, to heal their wounds and calm their spirits, as best he could without a holy symbol to channel his patron's power through. Their actions, and the sham of a trial the four of them had received had settled his spirit and his heart, and he used them, like bricks and mortar, to build himself back up. Even if they were in a sulfurous stinking hellhole, he was not giving up. He could feel how worn and aged the manacles felt, his divine power focused each day on chipping away at them. So even here, he had hope.<br/><br/><strong>"Everyone all right?"</strong>he called out, accidentally breathing in half a mouthful of dirt afterwards, which he attempted with mixed success to cough and spit back out again, his aged voice calm and controlled in spite of their circumstances.