[Kransha]

Idruil looked around, almost in a daze. The place he and the group now occupied was indeed barren and bleak. The rock was simply more depressing, jutting out bluntly around him. The cold palette of color was comforted only by the gentle warmth of the fire. Despite that soothing warmth, Idruil was sitting farther from the fire than most others, humming quietly to himself and indulging his own thoughts.

He whistled for barely a second, realizing after that that the shrill sound was not very pleasing when shrouded by the mists of this dark place. His tone changed back to humming an old and more melancholy tune under his breath, not entirely caring who heard him. He hoped that snatches of the calming verse would elevate or at least stabilize his own dampened mood. It was another of those mistrel-worthy ballads heard in the fief of Lebennin. Some more mournful tale about the ever-caustic theme of all lost glories and time in a state of decay. Many of the words to the piece had long slipped from Idruil's aging memory, but he did not need the lyrics to hum. Considering, actually singing the dark ballad would not have been helpful at all.

The man had attempted and generally succeeded in making conversation with the group’s leader, Maen. The others seemed ready enough to talk with him, but he honestly hadn’t tried to strike up other conversations. He was curious about each member of the crew in turn, but found himself strangely reluctant to speak with them. He supposed he would merely try to do so later, once he had found an appropriate topic to talk of. For now he was content to sit and contemplate until he had discovered more for himself about them all.