He toes the body with his boot, but from the enormous axe wound in its chest there is no way the slim drow could still be alive. "Drow." His voice is strained with loathing. "Their hearts are darker than their skin. How many more might there be in this place? Are they houseless rogues, or do they act as the far-reaching arm of a matron mother?"
The surface elf keeps one hand on his sword as he turns to the party. "Where you see one, there are sure to be a dozen who escape your notice. There are few foes more dangerous to have slinking around in an unfamiliar place. And these led by a cunning wizard, and allied with an archfiend... This place is more dangerous than I believed." His eyes flick from one corner to another, as well and scan the ceiling. "We must tread carefully if we are to proceed."
Erevain catches Vincent's eye. "It seems there are two paths forward from here. Perhaps your specter might let us know what lies ahead of us?"