Burbur seems disoriented as well. He looks at Kimber and as she talks he frowns deeper. None of them have ever seen him confused and unsure of himself.
"We really have to get out of this place. It's not magic that brought us here. I think.
I can feel my God... distant. I still have the powers he trusts me with, but ... they come through a cacophony instead of a ... I can't explain it. I'm no elf.
This place is bad. We should go. "
He doesn't take part in the brewing hostility between royalists and rebels except to huff in annoyance.
That is something all of them remember him doing often; even the captives that met him briefly when he checked for diseases before the transfer.
"Can't we just agree to a truce while in this cursed place?" He growls to the gnomes. To Van he replies. "I'm a dwarf priest of Moradin, that has been alive before the king's great-grandfather took the throne and started the dynasty you want to overthrow and I'll be alive after your grandkids die. That is, if I don't die in this hell because you and the royalists refuse to work together."
Ken of Ghastria wrote:
He scans the area for soldiers, wild animals, or other predators.
In the dark, he can't see far. The dark shapes of the trees, like the slender legs of a huge centipede, stand foreboding but don't seem to hide any danger.
His sense though, the sense of a blessed warrior against evil seems to be picking up corruption everywhere. It seems as if the land itself is a carpet submerged in evil.