Out of Moves

Garand was quite surprised the elf girl would willingly put herself in range of an armed stranger. Admittedly, he felt a sort of unnatural calming sensation roll over him as he stared into the elf's eyes. Maybe it was sorcery, or maybe the Half-Elf needed to get out more. Nevertheless, she had asked him a question. Garand fought to control his breathing so that he could speak.

"I-I tumbled down...into the darkness......my leg is...broken,"

He had not yet put his blade away, but figured that if these people had hostile intentions, there was no way he was getting out of this alive. He had no love for either Humans or Elves, but this one...she was different. Deep down, he felt almost as if she knew he was different too. Then again, what wasn't, especially down here?

She had formed some sort of barrier between himself and her band of strangers, meaning she had gone to some extent to ensure that he wouldn't attack her, or what he assumed to be her friends, gods, he sure as Hel didn't know. If these types traveled with a full-blown elf, he felt he was probably in the clear as far as being attacked himself, due to his race. Blast it then, threatening these people in his current condition was going to get him nowhere. He dropped the blade, and with an exhale that did well to audibilize his reluctance, Garand reached out for the strange elf girl's hand.