He takes a moment to assess the sins they've paid for {the level fives}

Nevah stared at her empty hands, not quite able to believe what she was seeing. Her blade, the one constant in her life (at least... this life), gone in an instant. She felt a surge of rage flow through her, and although it was suppressed with a couple deep breaths, it didn't stop her from expressing a fraction of that anger willingly. Especially not after hearing Respite scream like a baby at the first sign of anything close to danger. And certainly not after he had pushed them well past their breaking point. After he had urged them on even when they had only just managed to fend off the gnolls. Or after a couple of them were badly injured trying to open a door. Or even after being attacked by ghouls. None of them had complained, not really at least. Sure, they grumbled, because that's what they did. But no one had really bothered to step up and demand rest. Until now, that is. All of them were worn, and as the stupid Tiefling urged them on yet again, Nevah could feel something in her snap.

She rarely spoke, that was something that she had made clear to the group. Sure, Nevah spoke when spoken to, and liked to keep things brief (when she wasn't in a chatty mood). But unless it was necessary to get a point across, she prefered to hum, to moan, to groan, to signal. Anything other than use words, because they felt so damn limiting. One could express a myriad of emotions through look and non-verbal sounds, so why limit oneself to words? But in this moment, it seemed that no other way would get through the damn (no longer really a) demon's thick skull. So as he tried to get them pressing forward again, Nevah glared at him and spoke for the first time since leaving the Oasis. "We are resting." It was not a question. It was a command. And when he tried to start speaking again, she held up a hand (a barren hand, lacking the very thing that made her whole). "We are beaten and bruised, bleeding and broken. We. Are. Resting." And as the others settled down to get their first real rest since leaving the tavern for this damned job, Nevah wrote down all that she had seen and heard, capturing emotions both threw crude drawings and halfhearted words. They weren't going to be the best way to capture the feelings she was trying to evoke, but she was a bard without the tools of her trade. This would have to do until she found a replacement. Then she would compose a grand ballad for the group. But until then, they'd have to live with some words scrawled in a leather-bound journal.