'Seven thousand fathoms, eh?' Sett repeated, silently calculating that distance in miles and internally balking at the result. 'Easily survivable, naturally, for those gifted with flight... or the power to glide.' And of course, they'd likely have to cross the bridge to get anywhere... for a split-second, it struck him that jumping might just be a quick, easy end to all this; then he shuddered, taking a step back from the edge involuntarily. "L'appel du vide", they called that in Vrettonia, a sudden yet brief urge to do something insanely self-destructive. Not that anybody ever acted on the urge...

'I, ah... suppose, if we have to go alone across the bridge,' Sett began quietly, using the bear-man-hermit's words as a stepping stone, 'then it ought to be the most heavily armed and armoured of us who traverse the bridge first and last. Does it not make sense, after all, that the most well-armed would survive the best if they get ambushed on one side or the other whilst on their own?' That, of course, was all true; however, his motivation was twofold. First, to ensure the bridge would not collapse beneath him after some prior testing; and two, to ensure that he could not be killed as he crossed either first or last. Not that these fellows would do such a thing as cutting the ropes on either end... was he getting paranoid? He felt he might be getting paranoid. Two hours in an effectively pitch black cave were starting to get to him, perhaps.

[@POOHEAD189][@Banana][@The Fated Fallen][@Fetzen]