Med places his dagger and sack of darts against the foot of the bench carefully so that they will not spill over and make a mess. The hike up to the chapel was quite breathtaking, figuratively and literally. The skill that was used to create this place humbles Med as he removes his hat and mops his brow with a cloth. He looks at some of the ancient stonework and to a language likely long forgotten that is scattered among the beautifully carved stone. The beauty of the place stirs Med's faith. Tonight while on watch he will offer up a prayer to Leeta.
He has a seat on the bench with Pral and leans over and says to Pral, "After we dine and before bed I have need of your aid. I have a spell that I have been unable to discern it's effects. I will cast it and afterwards if you see anything different let me know. If you see nothing different you can try tossing a shoe or stone gently at me. Should that fail to discover anything I will try to speak to you or examine some of the old writings on these ancient halls. Hopefully, we can figure out what this spell does together. Then I will take first watch and study my spells as you rest. Fair enough Pral? So far it's been an easy way to earn our pay, do you think it will continue?"
Med reaches inside of his robe to make sure there are a cigar or two easily reachable for after dinner. Adventuring hasn't been too bad so far he thinks to himself, I haven't had to go days without a meal and I still get to enjoy my evening cigar.
Pral looks up at the sky, watching the clouds scudding past in the wind outside the sanctary he is now standing. He looks down and sees Med taking off his weapons and slumping to the bench. Pral was just beginning to enjoy the exertion of the climb up the stairs when they reached this placed. Pral removes the enormous broadsword and leans it against the wall. He takes the sweat stained leather bandolier of throwing axes from his broad chest and hangs it indelicately on a carved figure set in to a recess in the wall. The figure; its hands set in prayer and face locked upwards in search of either deliverance or redemption, gains nothing from the addition of the leather strap. If Pral has caused offence, he clearly knows nothing of it. Indeed he even fails to notice the figure of Aaron reach across and remove the item from the figure before it causes offence and place it at the foot of the broadsword.
Pral sees Med fumble within his robes and bring forth his cigar holder. He likes it when Med lights the aromatic leaves and smokes the cheroot, perhaps he'll do it now as he takes the vacant place on the bench next to Med. He listens as Med talks to him trying to understand all that he says, but knowing that most of it he will fail to remember in two minutes. As Med speaks, Pral regards the lines on the walls. He's been told in the past that lines on certain things can speak to you, but despite many hours staring at lines on paper, in dust and scratched on slate; no lines have ever spoken to Pral. He knows Med understands the lines and hears what they say though. Pral saw him with a sheet with lines on during the stop at the inn.
"It has been easy so far, much gold earned for little work" Pral regards the red-faced and sweating Med beside him "although perhaps Med deserves more money as he worked harder than Pral!" The smile creases his face easily and Med winces with the joke, feeling every word to be true in his aching body. "I cannot cast spells, but will help you with your magic." The familiar pause for sentence construction "You tell me what I need to do, I trust you and want to help." Then after a final pause for thought, "promise you said we do this 'after' food?"
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