Gods but they were ugly folk.
And it was rather unsafe to be waving those torches about in such a careless manner. One should be careful with fire. He should know, remembering a particularly amusing harvest festival with too much ale and too little sense on his part.
These men seemed to be quite angry. As if this was all a deliberate plan to antagonize them. Oh, really, it was beginning to look a bit dramatic.
One, the leader by account of his pretentious air, leaned in close and almost seemed to bristle with displeasure as he took in the blood pooled on the stone, and smeared against its sides.
Yates felt a wave of indignation as one man reached in and roughly dragged Karigan up into a sitting position, ignoring the yelp of pain as she attempted shift weight off of her leg wound. The indignation turned to helplessness as she was bodily lifted, despite her loud objections, and carted into a dark corridor. Her voice and that of her would be rescuers, faded as he frantically looked around from his limited vantage point.
'Meorrow!'
Yates stopped and looked directly down into the eyes of a suspiciously smug white cat.
He hated cats.
The creature, however, seemed rather pleased with his surroundings and proceeded to rub its back against the stone of the tomb, a look of feline ecstasy on its face. The sensation against the stone he inhabited felt rather like being batted in the face with a feather duster.
'Enough now, my dear, you have teased him long enough,' an amused female voice interjected.
Yates carefully angled his vision towards the source of the voice and fully met the eyes of a ghostly apparition. A very attractive female one wearing a sword on her hip.
Oh did he have a weakness for those.
She arched a brow, 'How long did you intend to remain in an old sarcophagus?'
Yates was absolutely flabbergasted. He didn't have limbs to walk, a mouth to speak, and was not even sure he was actually using a set of eyes.
The woman rolled her eyes and stepped forward, reaching out to grasp at the sides of the sarcophagus, and pulling back with two familiar looking arms in her grip. She scoffed and pulled harder, the rest of Yates' body appearing as his world realigned itself.
Wiping her hands in slight distaste, she tossed her braid over her shoulder, 'You are as you perceive yourself in this existence. I gave you a little help.'
Yates stared down at the transparency of his hands, 'So I really was a box.'
'You were actually one with the box,' she affirmed, sticking a hand out. 'Name is Lil Ambroidhe, we had better move a little faster than your intellect if we are to assist Karigan, hey?'