Half of me is half of you. All of us pointy-ears. But you are late. Setting off in long strides, the almost seven foot tall half-elven assassin strides further into the heat and dark as Djarjak and Hest grudgingly follow. Dunbrek's cell is a large one, spread with woven mats that few doubt are stolen.
Lanterns light the place, and a small chest sits in one corner.
Bargains with demons have kept the place intact, and few would risk what awaits them to contest it. As they enter, she looks up to them, her face grimed and solemnly set. Hest smiles to her and stammers a bit. I b-brought him, like you asked. Her expression lightens slightly and her lips curl as she nods.