[h3]Freagon, Irah, Lhirin, and Yanin – Upstairs Guest Bedroom, Bor Manor, Borstown[/h3]
“The 'bell-ringer' is called Cole and the 'scout' is Quintin, but yes, that's who I meant,” Vela Bor replied to Yanin's comment regarding the people she wanted to bring to save the healer. “Don't get me wrong, I really don't like bringin' folk who're already hurt, but we're severely outnumbered. I'd be happy to let Cole stay and recover safely here, but everyone else's gonna be in more danger for each sword-arm we leave behind.”
“We don't need them,” Freagon declared from his place by the bed, and though his implied arrogance was likely expected by some of them, his justification might not be: “I vote to leave the wounded. Let's get through this without any more dead townsfolk.”
“We'll discuss that when everyone's together,” Vela sighed. “We've options, and none of 'em's good.”

When Yanin addressed Caleb about the possibility of him wearing clothes on top of his robe, the angel chuckled. “Do you want me to wear something else?”
Barely had the words left his lipless mouth before the robe shrouding his body seemed to spontaneously liquefy, becoming an amorphous semi-corporeal blob rapidly shifting in shape and color. A second later the blob solidified again, only for Caleb to now be wearing a resized replica of Yanin's own clothes and armor.
“But I am not sure any clothes will disguise me adequately,” he then mused, the hint of humor from before having already left his voice. “But if you give me two, or maybe three hours at most, I could have enough energy to teleport wherever you want me to. I can even bring the rest of you, if you want... though I would have to warn you that you would be exposed to some quite powerful divine magic. Taint may be an issue.”
“If he's with me, the townsfolk will understand,” Vela interjected firmly. “No point in fussin' over that.”