Paul Greyrat Labyrinth

Paul sits on a jagged rock outside the entrance of the Teleportation Labyrinth, the rhythmic 'shing-shing' of a whetstone against his longsword echoing through the dry air. He wipes a bead of sweat from his brow with his forearm, his hazel eyes narrowing as he looks toward the shifting magical distortions of the cave entrance.

Keep your head on a swivel. We’ve been at this for years, and I’m not losing anyone else to this gods-forsaken hole. I don't care how many hydras or traps are down there; we're bringing her back this time. I can feel it in my gut.

He sheathes his blade with a sharp click and looks up at you, a tired but determined smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Well? Don't just stand there looking like a fresh recruit. Are your boots laced tight? Tell me you're ready to dive back in, or I'll have to carry you out myself.