Story I: The Rift

"Thank you Devanis, we don't have a lot more healing supplies do we? We seem to be getting banged up at every turn." Ameera slips her armor back on over her bandages and begins to fasten the straps. "and we didn't discuss how long we planned on staying down here. At some point we will run out of food and bandages and torches, and we best be at the base of the elevator when we do. I don't know how to measure when to turn back. My last time only lasted one day."

"Food won't be a problem - I can forage down here. But you're right about torches and healing supplies. And we can expect more fighting as we go deeper. The newestof these tracks are about two weeks old."

"Not to add to the list, but we've also left some pretty rough terrain behind us. Are going to be able to navigate back? "

We're in the deep now. I'm not opposed to moving forward, but it'll be a rough go. I'd argue that when we reach half of our essentials that we turn back the way we came, getting our treasures as we do. For now, we rest, and the longer the better.

Having said this, Baric leans back against the damp stones behind him and begins to slowly chant a tale of adventure and triumph to hearten those around him. He tells of his first mercenary group, aiding a small town against a band of robbers in exchange for a week of lodging. He sits, a child of wonder again for a short moment in the darkness of his original home, the deep below. Uthr's light. Home at last, and all he craves is the light again.

Ameera is surprisingly affected by the song, though she has been sure up to now that the bards talents were not to her taste.

Pyrrah sits and listens quietly, but says nothing. Every so often she will still be wracked by the occasional shiver deep within her bones, but she does her best to hide it and doesn't complain about it. She'd left in a hurry for the job and had forgotten to pack her medicine box, which was probably still sitting on her windowsill back in Sevarra. There was nothing she could really do about the damage anyway: how did you treat the internal cold except with a fire and a good night's rest? She'd get by. For now, she'd just need to keep her distance if they fought again and lend backup with her arrows...

"I suppose it shouldn't surprise me that our bard was part of a crew. If you're part of a group, what are you doing signing up for a mission alone? "

Ameera chuckles at the thought of the Dwarf a hero saving a town from evil doers. She begins to reassemble her pack. "Devanis, what was it that came through this place 2 weeks ago? It looked to me like whoever it was walked on two legs, so not a beast or ghost. Was someone else sent down here before us?"She adjusts the straps on her armour and boots and places her spell components in their positions for easy reach. Her backpack still rests on the ground. "I'm anxious to continue, and I'm good to go. But... as I said before, the lighting in here makes the watch duty much easier so I'm willing to go with whatever you all decide."

I know it's not ideal, but I think Devanis should stay off that ankle for awhile, and you don't need to put any more stress on that wound today," Erran replies to the Ameera,

"And I'm sure a little sleep could do us all some good. We can decide on pressing forward or returning when we come to that.

Erran begins unbuckling the crossbow strapped to his pack, takes a seat on a sizable rock, and nocks a bolt. "I'll take the first watch, split four, two, and two. Baric, would you mind taking second shift?"

Devanis nods gratefully, and starts unpacking his things to dry out. The bedroll is soaked so he finds a hollow in the ground that's relatively comfortable to sleep in.

"As best I can tell, the tracks were made by a mix of small and medium creatures who came through at different times. Perhaps 5-10 different tracks in total, but again, they were not as one group. The oldest tracks are impossible to determine age, which means well longer than several months, but the newer ones are perhaps two weeks old."

Devanis lies down and closes his eyes.

"Ok then, but count me in for an early watch. I haven't been sleeping well since I was touched by the wyrd, and I am too charged up at the moment to sleep. I want to take another walk about this cave and see if there are any more entrances hiding behind the fungus, and I want to look out for those little worm holes too."

Seraph's blue gem hums softly, peacefully, flickering with gentle, blue hues that mix in with the ambient light of the cave. You hear no words from him.

Still shivering in the coldness of the air with her wet hair still sticking to her neck and dripping, Pyrrah digs through her stuff for something a bit warmer, but she comes up with only an equally wet blanket. She sighs, feeling the day's aches and pains and the sharp cold still hiding in her bones. 'It's just a job, and I'll get through it. Everything will be okay in the end... ' she thinks. "I'll take a later shift, I think. I can barely keep my eyes open... "

Which is indeed the case. Her words begin to drift as she nears the end of her sentence, and Pyrrah barely managed to pull off her bundle of weapons before she falls asleep. She lies curled up into a small ball on the stone floor with her sopping blanket tucked tightly around her, her fingertips just brushing the shoulder of her bow as if to feel safe. The rest of her belongs lay to her other side: a small pack with little gear and her weapons atop it attached to her back sheath.

Even in sleep, it takes a long while for her shivers to fade.

At last his tale comes to an end with the sad death of one of the companions.I'll go ahead and take second watch. Wake me when you need me.

He removes armor and some of his belongings to dry and to sleep more comfortably. Resting his head on his pack and wrapping in his cloak, he whispers to the almost sleeping Pyrrah, Child, I am ancient to you. My companions are lost to the ground, grasping hands returnimg them to this darkness. I am far from the last of my kind, but am one of a few remaining who has been below. All but a handful have been slain by the Lords and Kings who have sent them into battle. My company died weeks later for one such lordling.

Cenerine, give back what is ours.

Devanis has his eyes closed, and his breathing starts to deepen. But he's not quite asleep yet.

Devanis finally drifts off to sleep. He's wracked by nightmares about Father Morgan drowning. Father Morgan eaten by fish. Eaten by worms. Turned into a worm and used as bait on a hook. A hook for Devanis. On and on and on...