<br/><br/>The somewhat sarcastic-tongued Jelde Asturien, former Knight of Myth Drannor, was lingering in the doorway of his office on the hall left of the sanctuary, bidding off the priest who was just leaving to give the morning sermon. The somewhat large-featured, dark haired and none-too-handsome Jelde smirked and nodded as he marked Randal's approach. "Color me unsurprised. As usual," he grinned. "I wagered you'd survive, Randal. Literally, I mean. I'm ten gold richer for it. If you've still an itch to go stick the old watermelon 'twixt the jaws of dangers, I've overheard Iseel," he named a female acolyte whom Jelde was widely suspected of serial, furtive kiss-and-cuddles with, "Gossiping with a fellow 'lyte-lass that some Tymorans are going about our halls - spank me across the Shaar if it's come to poaching in each other's houses! - speaking on about a dragon! Further north than the Haunted Halls, at least - one old ruin I've nae set foot in again!" The rarely-serious priest shuddered; the named site had been his own first indoor or underground foray as part of a charactered adventuring troupe, as he had a knack for slipping into conversation with lasses such as Iseel, but despite the tone of such conversations he was clearly uneasy with the memory.<br/><br/>His manner brightened again when he noticed that Toria seemed to be speaking and walking with Randal. "<em>More</em>than survived your mission, I see! Made new friends...?"<br/>