Nodding towards the faint trail ascending the mountain, he starts to take a step in that direction, but his leg gives out, and he leans back to brace against the rock, shivering. "My three charges – we were separated when the yeti attacked. I tried to lead it away, idiot that I am. But we can't leave them along. The goliath Mokingo Akannathi is sturdy enough, but the halfling Perilou Fishfinger and the tiefling Astrix weren't built for the hardships of the Cairn... I can't abandon them to their fate..."
Vor looks at the man impassively.
"We're paid to find you."
He seems to want to say something else, but goes rigid.
He remains silent, his knuckles whitening around his crossbow. The device points down into the snow, the veins on the back of his hands are visible, a network of tense lines, like cracks on the surface of a well-weathered rock. His breathing remains steady, controlled, a well-practiced mask of calm.
But to
the observant eye (insight 3 
) there's something held back in his gaze, a storm supressed.
There's a battle waging within him, a monstrous tempest struggling to break free, to shatter the mask, the dam holding back a raging river. His jaw clenches, a brief flicker of pain sparking in his dark eyes. Every muscle in his body is coiled tight, ready to spring, yet he stays still, seemingly calm.
In the dim light of the glacier, his eyes, usually as dark as the deepest part of the Underdark flash dangerously red, a sign of internal war that gnaws at his very soul. A bead of sweat, uncharacteristic in the cold of the eternal winter trickles down his forehead. He reaches up and wipes it away, cracking a strained smile to the group, dismissing any potential worries.
"Sorry, just a bit tired" Lumrolur manages to say, the effort behind his words barely concealed.
"Long day of tracking. Of course we will help."
Despite the struggle within, Lumrolur retains his composure for now. The battle isn't over, but he has won a small victory.
