John raised himself to his feet in the darkness, slightly surprised that he could hold his head upright. A sour frown crossed his face. He was bruised and missing his appointments. He towered above the other forms, both of which he recognized now, and spoke, an almost-groan coming through his lips.

"If I wanted to kill you, shaman, I would not fight you here. I should not like to fight you anyways."

He reached out, feeling dirt and stone under his massive paw as the other spoke. He recognized the paladin from somewhere, but his thoughts were still slow in coming, and he could not place the man. If that was any indication of anything, it was that he wasn't dangerous, at least not at the moment. He frowned slightly, trying to make out exit or opening in the cavern. He responded to Lorenor's praise with scorn, slightly concealed.

"I think the paladin speaks too much for me," the half-giant said, hauling painful memories through the slowness of his head. "Paladin folks tend to." A cigar appeared in his hand by magic. In a moment it was lit, and he spoke again.

"Where are we?"