Story I: The Rift

"I'm gonna take a look around while this armour is still up, but I'm pretty banged up and don't think we should test our luck again before we all rest. Maybe this caves a good spot since there is some light. We can all take a watch." Ameera stands and walks away from the group with the familiar on her shoulder. As she moves into the cave she waves the creature into the air, with two flaps of its leathery wings, it fades from sight.

Baric sets down his sopping pack and starts to dry out his things. It's been quite the day. Lots of adventure already. Are we breaking camp for the evening or for a shorter time than that?

"Resting here for a time is probably our best option at the moment. I feel as though if we push our luck much farther today, we may regret it."

Erran stands a ways back, but facing the shore, shaking the water from his slender, armored frame while hoping whatever that monster was isn't amphibious.

"I can take first watch should we decide to settle down here for the evening. I don't require much sleep to remain efficient."

Pyrrah sits down besides her pack on shore and pulls back on her sword, bow, and arrows, drawing some degree of comfort from the weight of the weapons against her back. She'd left her torch behind, but at least there was still enough light to see by, even with her unreliable human eyes.
"As much as I'd like to say that I'm fine, I can't. I nearly collapsed earlier, and I'm pretty sure I can still feel that coldness wafting through my blood. Humans can only go so far until they drop. A rest might not be such a bad idea... "

Devanis bandages up his ankle as best as he can. He winces when he tries to put his weight on it, and limps when he tries walking. When the others suggest a rest he sits back down, relieved. He stares darkly at the lake as he shakes the water out of his boots, his injured leg propped up on a rock.

Seraph had saved his life. If the annoying sword hadn't intruded on his thoughts down there who knows if he would have shaken that image of Father Morgan that thing had planted in his mind? He unsheathes the weapon. "Thank you, Seraph."

"Hum? Me? Did I do something good?" Seraph asks, the blue gem in his pommel flickering happily, "You're most welcome!"

"Well, it might not have been your intention but you sure helped me down there in the water." Devanis studies the sword in his hand, admiring the deadly craftsmanship. "Hey. I've heard stories about swords who can speak with their minds. Soundlessly, you understand? Telepathy, I think they call it. Are you one of those swords?"

"Yyyees." Seraph says with a hesitant tone, as though he is unsure.

Ameera hastens back to the others with Zubie in tow. "Hey, I think we should move closer to the tunnel over there so we can keep watch on it. There is a open area where we can rest." She hesitates, as if unsure of her next words "Strange as it sounds, I think someone else has been down here, there are some kind of tracks. I can't tell how old or of what, there is not much call for tracking in the city so I really am not sure. Maybe it's nothing."

Pyrrah shakes her head tiredly, but slowly rises to her feet and throws her pack over her shoulder. "It's a good idea. I'd rather not be surprised again. "

She walks over to Devanis and hoists his pack as well without asking so that the added weight wouldn't hamper his injured foot.

"I've no doubt there are other things down here, though. That book I borrowed is full of creatures that move through the darkness. I'd be more surprised if we were alone. "

Devanis doesn't protest when Pyrrah takes his pack. He rises and follows, limping barefoot, his boots in one hand and Seraph in the other. So how does this work, Seraph? Can you hear my thoughts?

"We can only hope it's nothing," Erran says as he looks over his person, making a tally of his gear.

Moving with the party, he stays close enough to Devanis to assist him if needed, but allowing him breathing room in order to not seem belittling.

The ranger's years sure haven't diminished his fighting spirit."

Placing a gloved hand over the pommel of his secondary blade, Erran looks back at the pool once more, yearning to see the surface remain still.

Once they reach the level area, Ameera points out the tracks that she saw earlier. Finding a spot to unload and unpack without disturbing the old spoor, she begin to attempt to drain any water and wring out her cloak. She carefully unwraps her cards from their protective pouch to see if any water reached them, shuffles them and carefully packs them back up. Out of her small pouch, Ameera takes a small burnt branch and shakes the water free, a small chunk of tree sap wrapped in now soggy paper, and her thieves tools in a leather sleeve. "I wish we had some wood for a fire. I don't like much being damp in leathers."

She almost empties her pack to let her gear dry as much as possible, she leaves the bag propped open with something from the inside. "What do we have left for healing supplies? I could use something on this wound where one of those damned worms bored a hole in my armour "

Devanis studies the tracks. Then he sees to Ameera's wound.