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Tancred drowsily listens to the bitter display of curses on show from Skye and Ash. Out of his armour and huddled beneath a blanket, he watches the sky darken and night fall. Raising dead - even small avians - takes it out of you, and the Cavalier settles down to some rest.
"Good night, Karna - oh." Tancred ruefully looks over at his sword, arranged in its' scabbard, and with a small pillow of silk to rest the pommel upon. He watched it for some time, half-drifting between wake and sleep, eventually coming to the conclusion that giving a sword a pillow was silly.
He looks up for one brief moment at the quarelling pair, before slowly leaving the world of the woken.
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