"Rest ?" While it had been a hard job, An-Hasst found himself hardly out of breath. However the fraction of his body signaling him that treatment was required had increased with very uncomforting significance. "Are you sure ?" His eyes virtually tried to nail the dwarf they all had bascially put their full trust in. The left tunnel would not have the Skayleigh's own decision given the fact that the drow, if they actually did dwell here, suspectedly were coming from the right. Heading into the same direction as one's enemy with only a more or less large gap separting them never felt particularly good, especially if that gap by now was doomed to become smaller. On the other hand An-Hasst had to admit that he'd have to stop at some point for his own sake or he'd just break down.

"I know it might sound a tad surprising, but I'd be very grateful if someone could take a look at by back. It... doesn't feel well down there." Having said this, An-Hasst picked the nearest stone of sufficient size to sit down and pulled off his humongously large, wood-clad cloak. The material was sturdy enough that it would survive lying on the ground for a while perfectly and its owner had no reason to suspect that any member of their party would take offence at the sight of his upper body being naked.

There indeed was a rather large gash reaching from slightly above his left hip to close proximity of his spine. Its walls already seemed to stick to each other again and there was only very little active bleeding left, but around the wound was a large mess of it -- dried, crusty and last but not least possibly rather ugly. Both somewhat impatiently and somewhat apprehensively An-Hasst focused in on the small hall with the dwarven statues they had come from. At least they'd have a little bit of an advance warning, even if they had good bows...

@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran@POOHEAD189@The Fated Fallen

"I've got you," Ursaren said as he looked at the wound on An-Hasst's back. Yep, it was nasty alright. Quite nasty, indeed. Ah well, it wasn't something to dwell on for long as Ursaren raised his hands to the wound and placed them just near it, beginning a slow but calm healing spell over the wound. Flesh would begin to weave back in on itself as if nothing had happened originally, only causing An-Hasst a small prick of pain, if anything at all. "I'm mending it back. If you feel any pain, it's working," the old man stated bluntly as he looked on at the forest of mushrooms.

That forest was a pretty breathtaking sight. Never in his life had Ursaren seen something so enchanting and enticing. The glowing facade of underground mushrooms really did a number for how it looked. Ursaren did feel like he'd seen something like this before, way back during the time of his glory days, but it'd been so long that he forgot how good this was. After he was done healing An-Hasst, he'd definitely need to chronicle this in his journal.

In attempts to lighten the mood and get everyone in the mood for just a more relaxed environment, Ursaren thought of something humorous to say. "Do you guys think that these mushrooms are cookable?"

"Why, Settione is there, friend Alice." The Lizardman declared, pointing Sett's way as the pair of them entered the room. She wondered why he had waited for them, instead of running back with news that this was a dead end. More curious was the spectacle in the room here, but now wasn't the time to discuss it.

The three of them rejoined the group and hustled onwards. Slowly as the tunnels flew by the heat faded, until the party reached a junction. Time to rest according to Geradin, though none of the party looked too worn from the encounter.

"I know it might sound a tad surprising, but I'd be very grateful if someone could take a look at by back. It... doesn't feel well down there." An-Hasst announced, sitting himself down. Even by diminishing his stature like this he was still taller than Alice, and as he shed his wrappings he revealed he was probably wider than her about twice over just in muscle. She manuevered her mage-light around the back of him, though Ursaren was already there tending to the injury.

Alice was no medic, but the wound looked nasty. She was shocked that the bleeding had staunched despite the shifting they had been doing to get this far. "I might have some salt, I can heat up some water quickly and we can clean the wound-" she started, before she noticed and then felt that Ursaren was weaving his own spells into the flesh. Before she could even return to her line of thought the flesh had flowed back over itself, moulding as if new. Age hadn't affected the old mans wits apparently. "I'm mending it back. If you feel any pain, it's working," he said before staring glumly into the distance. Could work on his bedside manner though, she'd been tended by Dwarves less surly than that.

Alice retrieved the half-giant's cloak and lay it over his shoulders, reaching up to do so. "Let me help you. It is best not to test new skin like that until you must." she had seen a little healing magic in her time, but that sounded right. She hoped that his inner warrior pride could survive the indigence of letting a small Vrettonnian woman like herself clothe him for his own sake. She might just despair if he shared the same stubbornness she was getting tired of amongst people she was trying to help.

"Do you recognise where we are at all, Geradin?" she held out a faint hope as she called over. "Maybe if we could find a sign or landmark we might know where best to go next." The only other option they had over then nigh aimless wandering was to ask one of their number to pray for guidance, which she didn't fancy trying just yet. The lower you got in the world the less likely it was your pleas would reach benign ears...

...well, that was a sign if ever he'd seen one. Having hidden the stave appropriately, he hustled past Argon and the lady Alice, into the same cavern as the rest of the group, climbing up the staircase after the majority of the group and generally keeping his voice down for the time being. No need to draw attention to himself, especially as it seemed the Skewloy had been severely injured by something or other. Oh, he'd need to offer his- ah, never mind. Ursaren had already taken the opportunity. Excellent. In that case...

'I think, my friends, rest may be appropriate here,' Sett offered, his opinion mostly adding on to Geradin's for the moment, 'if only for a short while. As Madame Alice has said, we ought to try and figure out where we are as soon as possible. We wouldn't want to get lost in these caverns, after all...'

That last comment was meant to be cryptic, but the longer he dwelled on it, the more his internal panic did actually rise. Shit, they really were trapped in some unknown caverns, weren't they? No way back, no idea where to go next, and if they went off randomly, they'd probably get lost for days. Sett, at least, had the rations to survive a little while, and they did at least have a cave full of mushrooms to choose from, but chances were they'd run out of everything in a relatively short time, and then what? The world was doomed, that was what, and oh right, they could be set upon by Dark Elves at any moment, or the Rogs from before, and oh shit oh shit okay, okay. Relax, Settionne. It's not like this is the worst scrape you've been in lately.

To distract himself, he went to observe the work the Old Bear had done on the Skally's back. It seemed... surprisingly good, considering that he hadn't done any preliminary cleaning of the injury. 'Ah, a very good job, sir,' he commented, 'I couldn't have done better myself.' That, perhaps, was almost literally true, since he had no particular healing skills of his own, and his magic was often sketchy to manifest. The risks of being taken under the wing of the God of Luck, then.

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen

"Where we are is a bit of a loaded question, lass." Geradin said, having seen fit to take out his pipe and smoking it, seeing as everyone else in the group had opted not to ask the cleric for help with healing. Of course, the sun of the upper world was shrouded from them, but it had been after midday when the Rogs had battled them, and that had been many hours ago. "Ah' can tell where we are as in, where we are compared to th' upper world. The caverns out of here ah' can help with as well. But couldae draw a map?" He shook his shaggy head.

Geradin was just about to settle on a stone when he saw Lizardfolk of the group smelling one of the larger mushrooms. "Oi! Don't touch that!" The Dwarf said, springing up from his seat. Argon seemed perplexed, and licked the mushroom. "Thissss seems edible."

"It's better for burning." Geradin replied, and pointed the end of his pipe at the mushroom head. "Ye see those purple markings? That shows this has sleeper ink in them. Eatin' it will put ye to sleep faster than you can say 'I just ate a mushroom'."

Beren had seen fit to start hacking away at one of the mushroom stalks, its texture surprisingly rigid as he chopped away with his Baldr axe. The cavern wasn't necessarily cold, but he figured cooking for once wasn't a bad idea. They'd not really touched some of their sit-down foods in awhile. Not that there was much. Just some venison, some onions, a pot and maybe some potatoes. As Beren chopped down the mushroom, Calanon and Brogach rode back down from the raised area of the cavern, the Elf hopping off to address the others.

"The room is like a small valley," Calanon reported. "It would take a minute or two to traverse to the otherside without the mushrooms, but with this ethereal forest I can't say. I think I saw a small river up ahead."

Beren had just finished hauling the mushroom 'tree' over and placing it in the middle of the group. "You guys start a fire. I'll go see about checking the water out." He said, holding up his pendant to show he still had the moon-lit vision they had been gifted back in RiverDale.

---

Meanwhile...

Two female Dorcha, along with three male subordinates surrounded her. Bound and bruised, the edge of the river was mere feet from her face. In their snarling tongue, they had debated on whether they should behead her or simply drown her, and were now flipping a coin over the problem. That is to say, the males were. The two females simply watched. One looked to be a sorceress, with a wand that bore a tainted sapphire at its head, bestial claws clung to a necklace that hung about her neck. The other female did not seem a soldier as the men, but she had twin curved blades, dark as obsidian. Her chainshirt seemed even higher quality than the male's, and their armor was fit for professional soldiers.

All of them had longer, light hair, with eye colors that ranged from indigo to silver. They were attractive in a dangerous fashion, and their pointed ears pierced their thick manes of hair. It was after the sorceress began to get impatient, that the Dark Elves felt beheading was quicker.

Despite the danger, the bickering, the ringing of her head, the cold feel of steel on the back of her neck...Aeryn would hear a rustle across the water. Something the other Dark Elves were too absorbed in their own conversations to notice. If she looked up, the small span of shallow water divided her and the face of a young human, tan skinned and scarred, with dark eyes that were steeled for combat.

He placed a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet, and oddly enough gave her a wink.

The following moments were when the shouting reached the ears of the group around the fire, for Beren's axe had been launched with deadly accuracy, splitting the skull of one of the male Dark Elves. Bewildered, the Dark Elves still shouted orders and called for the head of whoever dare attack them. The sorceress immediately sent a fireball that tore through a section of the forest, Beren needing to dive into the water to remain alive as the other Dark Elves withdrew their swords.
@Stormflyx@The Fated Fallen@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Fetzen

How she had gotten here and into this predicament, she didn't quite know. The whole picture was a puzzle of scattered pieces that wouldn't quite fit together - no matter how hard she tried to align this memory to that. She had just taking a repeated kicking to the head though, so maybe that was the reason everything was falling foggy around the last 48 hours or so.

She remembered that she had been minding her own business when she was accosted by this vile group of Dorcha who had immediately recognised her as a halfling. After that, it didn't take them long to suss out who she was. They had their fun with her for a while too - the largest and ugliest of the group had been the one to enjoy kicking her around the most as they wrapped the chains around her wrists and neck. Why was it that the biggest males of any species, seemed to get the most pleasure from beating small girls? It was a pattern. Compensating for something.

She tried to fight back, but that bitch Sorceress was dangerous, and she had very swiftly knocked Aeryn around with a couple of debilitating spells. "We can sell this sword and these knick knacks of hers for a few coins - and we'll take her body for bounty..." one of them sneered as he snatched away her sword and dagger. The beating went on for a while longer. It wasn't anything she hadn't experienced earlier in her life. This was just the Dorcha way, if there was something even slightly different within site - beat it up, enslave it, or sometimes eat it. The latter being a very rare sometimes.

So this is what it had come to - being led through these strange otherworldly caverns, to a flowing river, a prisoner of a ragtag group of Dorcha scumbags. Their own crimes were likely to be far more spectacular than hers. They bickered incessantly over how to kill her for what seemed like the entire trip to the river. It was a surreal feeling, that death was coming now.

With a light shove from the smaller male she was pushed down onto her knees at the edge of the river. The water was cool and refreshing as it splashed at her face, and began to seep through her trousers around the knees.

She drowned them out, and looked down at her own reflection on the surface of the water. Her eyes narrowed in disgust at her appearance. They had scrubbed dirt through her braids, her taupe skin was flaring in purple in red across her cheek where the quieter female had given her a hefty slap, her eye was bloodshot too. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that she was about to be sliced up, and ended.

Her fists were a ball with the tips of her sharpened fingernails digging into her palms in anger, her face hot with frustration, nostrils flared - and then - she saw another reflection flicker across the surface of the water. He didn't look like a Dorcha - and there he was, winking at her. She curled a lip, showing her teeth just a little bit, like a caged animal that had been poked just that one too many times. Then it all seemed to happen, something was thrown and the next thing that Aeryn felt was a spray of hot liquid gush out and onto her back, and the steel of the sword on the nape of her neck slide down to the ground beside her. By some miracle, it hadn't cut her at all.

The human dove into he water. An opening.

The rest of the troupe had drawn their weapons and the Sorceress had already fired off her magics. Aeryn saw in her peripherals the shadow of the big bastard who had tormented her the most, they had seemed to forget that she was there. After all, there was not much more that Dorcha hated than a human. She waited until he had crept ahead of her, and then she leapt into action, jumping up and landing on his back, her arms wrapped his thick neck.

She was rather quickly flung off of him, but she had his attention now - and while his cronies focused their attention on the human - she would have her revenge. He skulked towards her, smirking. She stood up, and performed another jump, this time landing a forceful headbutt on his nose, and then he fell back, stumbling over a mossy rock and into the shallows of the river to what would be his violent demise. Aeryn crouched over him, her face close to his, a devilish grin on her face. Like a viper she struck, her teeth clamping down hard into his cheek, tearing at the flesh there. Her bound hands clutching his hair as she repeatedly smashed his head against the ragged edges of rock. The current began to carry away and dilute the blood flowing from the back of his skull. It was beautiful.

He only struggled for a few seconds.

When she came up for air, she used the back of her still bound fists to smear the blood from her lips. In hindsight, taking a chunk from his face was probably not the way to go about killing him... She was about ready to make her escape from the scene - leaving the rest of the Dorcha to kill off the human when the Sorceress clapped her with another spell, sending her backwards into a tree with a loud thunk, close to where the mysterious human had just been standing.

"If this is how I die, at least I took out your fat minion..." she slurred to herself as she tried to get herself back to her feet, looking for the human at the same time.

"Everyone! Company!" Ursaren called out as he drew his shield and trident, taking the blunt of a fireball directly on the metal shield. He felt his animal instincts surge through him as he resisted the urge to go full on bear-form. The resistance was successful in that aspect, but it made him angry with power and violence. Anything he was doing was effectively auto-pilot at this point. He was gettin' in there and gettin' these dark elves killed with his bare hands, and if that didn't work, his bear hands would.

The water was up to his knees at the most shallow point, but as he kept his shield high, the old man did not falter. He trudged through the water and readied his trident for throwing. One of the dark elf males ran up to him and proceeded to try and cut him down, but as the old man stood there unmoving, the shield was bashed against the skull of the elf, knocking him over into the water and allowing the old man to continue. "Comrades! Assistance would be nice!"

Heavens above! Had they really just stumbled upon a group of Dark Elves so easily? Honestly, he'd tried to make that part a joke in his mind, but- damn it all, he hadn't even had time to start secretly blessing the helmet he'd grabbed earlier, let alone make sure he was fed properly.

Nonetheless, battle had been called, and Ursaren obviously expected his allies to follow him into the fray. With an unhappy sigh, and the internal observation that there was a distinct lack of places to sneak up on his foes like last time, Sett left his bag on the ground and ran after the were-bear-shapeshifter, or whatever he was. At least that might help him shake off his nervous energy, and besides, he had a valdium sword to work with, didn't he? Readying himself to draw the weapon if he had to, he tried not to get too close as he saw... well, there had been six, but there were now only three. The Dark Elf men were dead or dying, which left the Dark Elf women. One of whom had apparently killed one of the men, being bound as she did so... how odd. A foe of theirs?

That left Sett's options for combat limited. Of the other two, one was apparently quite a skilled fighter, and the other was a mage... aaaand distracted with attacking the tied-up female! He could kill her and make himself seem even more useful! Was this what they called a god-given chance, Fineki's way of working the world? Either way, he made good use of it: he charged through the river directly at the mage's back, drawing his weapon and thrusting it out in front of him, an effort to spear through the mage woman's body. Without yelling a war cry, of course, because that would be attention-grabbing, and what would that do for his efforts?

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Stormflyx

Ursaren's cry boomed out across the chamber, Alice had just enough time to scramble into line of sight before seeing a fireball break itself upon the old mans shield. Damn! She never had any luck at fighting other magic users and she had already expended a great deal of her own reserves before this point. Despite this Alice knew duty called, and though she was no knight it wouldn't do to deny it.

Alice quickly cast a light and raised it high over the river, trying to illuminate and thus allow the party visibility of the riverbed as a stumble could prove fatal at this point. Especially if the legends of Dark Elf sorcery and speed were to be believed. After her instincts as a comrade had passed it was time to rely on her instincts as a student. A sage voice sounded in her head going over the procedure on how to combat other wizards, and reminding her that once again she was out of her depth. Do not waste a single ounce of strength. First ascertain how defended they are, and get a good grasp on their strength. so Alice closed her eyes and cast detect magic once again, quicker this time than in the chamber. Interestingly the flora in this pseudo-valley radiated a small amount of magic, just enough so her vision was relatively unchanged and confusing her for a moment thinking she'd failed the spell. Soon enough though the bright patch in the shadows not only let her know she'd been successful but also where the sorceress hid herself, drawing her energies and focus for another attack.

The Dark Elf sorceress hadn't lowered her wards to hide, which was a mixed blessing. It kept her from being vulnerable to Alice's attacks, but it also revealed that the sorceress had taken to hiding as a reaction, not as a strategy which meant the party had surprised her. Unfortunately if the wards and the residue from the fireball were anything to go by the Dark Elf was far more powerful than Alice, and would be a challenge even for Geradin. The latter was certainly something Alice didn't see often.

Alice couldn't beat her, but she quickly formulated a plan that it might be possible to scare the Dark Elf off. Dwarves often spoke of the 'Dorcha' being a cowardly race at heart, though when you drank as much as the Dwarves did you probably considered every other race to be cowardly. Never mind that now. The Vrettonnian dropped her wards to hide herself from the sorceress and to reserve that little bit more of her strength, she would need it. With more of her willpower freed up she began preparing herself to channel her power through someone who could afford to be distracted, but was well enough back they could be seen by but not easily targeted by the enemy sorceress. The first step of turning the enemy magic user's surprise into panic, no sane magic user would face unknown variables.

She let her senses drift forward and eventually focus on... The priest. She wished she could have warned him of the tactic, and the side effects. If he was lucky his god would intervene and bless him to bypass most of the symptoms such as clashing emotions, disorientation and even hallucinations. But the effect on the enemy sorceress would be far more interesting, as it would appear like Settionne was a being of pure power, like a demon or even a god's incarnate.

Alice began funnelling all of her power into one mighty spell that would hopefully do the trick to finally scare off the Dark Elf, she just hoped that Settionne's god was okay with this sort of trickery and that he wasn't blessed with any powerful magical items by his church that would attempt to break the link. Neither of those grim scenarios would end well for any involved

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Fetzen@Stormflyx

The moment the fireball impacted upon Ursaren's shield An-Hasst, just having started to enjoy the blessings of the old man's healing, let go off the Rog captain's halberd. A loud, reverberating bang followed suit as the metal made contact with the rocky ground. It probably would have been a lot louder if it hadn't been for the soft, spongy and highly absorbing surfaces of the giant fungi around here. Eating something ? Skipped, definitely.

What the Skayleigh didn't tell the party was that he didn't encounter any immediate angry feelings against the Dorcha. Sure, these were humanoids which had no trouble at all with doing evil things, but still there wasn't true hatred right now. How could one hate something one had so puny bits of information about, if any ? There were certain, small people around here who had already managed to make clear that they were mean, obnoxious, deceptive individuals, but those dorcha, at least for a quite noticeable bunch of seconds, had earned his desire for their deaths by the mere fact that they had started the attack.

With so many people already rushing forward An-Hasst decided to stay behind and not try to rush over the flowing water and find some decent space for wielding that halberd. There were other means available that could do a decent job and, while being slower and seemingly much more clumsy than a bow, could be prepared and then kept ready without expending one's stamina until the moment was right.

The Skayleigh jumped for the nearest cover and used his foot to tension his crossbow. The non armor-piercing bolt would suffice, wouldn't it ? At least for a female dorcha's underbelly -- no need to even try and aim for her heart or even head. Much too risky to aim with such precision in a situation that could include a fireball being hurled at oneself at any moment. Another bunch of seconds later and with Alice's spell already taking effect the weapon was ready. An-Hasst moved out of cover aimed for what already was becoming a darker and darker shade in the cavern, seemingly running away or at least pretending so.

The projectile zipped by his companions at uncomfortable speed with equally unnerving sounds emanating from it. A soft noise of impact followed, not the hard one would expect from a miss and subsequent destruction at a random point of the cavern's massive walls. The bolt had punched right through and dumped most of its kinetic energy into her body, ripping through her guts and ejecting bloody debris in front of her eyes. Maybe she'd survive long enough for questions being asked, but that had not been An-Hasst's intention.

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@The Fated Fallen@Stormflyx

The fireball that was cast exploded against Ursaren, singeing his skin and knocking him back. If it wasn't for the water and the shield he would have been killed! He knocked aside an enemy Dorcha who was a bit too surprised and water logged to get his bearings, but Ursaren's flaw was that he did not finish the Dorcha off, as Dark Elves were known for their trickery. The Elf went down in a heap into the water, only to surface seconds later with a gash on his head but still able to move and fight. He was disoriented, but he buried his sword in the back of Ursaren's leg, attempting to knock him down to then stab into Ursaren's back!

Beren surface within the flowing river, the blood from the Dorcha Aeryn had slain covering his face and body as it had flowed with the current. He saw the female prisoner sneering at the sorceress, and the sorceress answered with a curse and a scathing remark in her black tongue, before she pointed her staff at Aeryen. The warrior monk had no idea of the significance this Dorcha prisoner had, but he was going to find out. Using his intense focus and brutal muscle, he leapt from the river to skid onto the rock of the shore, scooping Aeryn up in one arm and stumbling to the side as a lightning bolt suddenly slammed into the mushroom she had been leaning on. The Dorcha sorceress was not pleased to say the least. What's more, an arrow flew out of the forest to strike the Dark Elf sorceress...or it would had it not been for her various magical wards, the missile causing an invisible shield to suddenly shimmer around her.

The weapon's master Dorcha waded forward, eager to bloody her blades. She even knocked aside a second arrow from the forest with a lazy flick of her swords, a wicked smile on her face. Her mirth disappeared when she saw a hulking armored reptilian emerged from the mushroom forest and challenge her with a terrifying hiss, slither-running through the river as fast as he would on dry ground to meet her blade to blade.

Calanon leaped out of hiding and continued to fire at the sorceress, until he saw the Dorcha attacking Ursaren. This one had no means of magical defense, but superb armor. Calanon took aim and fired into the Dorcha's exposed neck, ending him before he could harm their elderly ally any further. Geradin ran up, having been the last into the fray because of his stubby legs. He halted next to Beren, Calanon, and Aeryn. Needless to say the Dwarf cleric was taken aback when he saw that Beren had saved what looked to be a Dark Elf, and would have had an aneurysm if he knew he'd done it twice! Calanon the Wood Elf was also confused and uneasy about Beren's decision, but he knew he must have had a good reason and would not question his comrade.

Meanwhile, Settione had managed to make it across the river in relative obscurity. Thankfully the mage had been quite busy with her magical attacks and her own defenses to not pay any heed to the diminutive Vrettonian, much to her misfortune when Settione stabbed at her. Had it been a regular blade, it would have harmed but bounced off her wards. However, Valdium was a step above such weapons and it pierced her already weakened shield. However, she had a second, more personal one around her form that protected her vital areas. She cried out from the sharp pain of the small poke he managed. She pointed a finger at him, and if he did not suddenly flow with power that filled her mage senses, she would have ended him with a single word of destruction. As it was, she was blinded and disoriented for but a moment, and with a mysterious crossbow bolt ripping into her side (courtesy of the Skayleigh), she decided she must retreat. Settione would see her grabbing a ring on her slender finger and twisting the gem on it, which suddenly caused her and the Elf battling Argon to disappear in a flash. Even with blood trickling from her belly and her mouth, she smiled wickedly as she faded away...
@Fetzen@The Fated Fallen@BCTheEntity@Gardevoiran@Stormflyx

As the strange individual scooped her up, she cringed and tried to thrash away, had it not been for the slight dizziness and her bound hands - she would have gone straight for his eyes with her fingers. She settled for a hiss at him. As he let her go she backed up, flinching at the crack of the lightning which hit the spot she had just been at. Still, this one couldn't be trusted - especially not since he had alerted his varied party of far stranger individuals.

Not long after this all happened, the commotion was over - and her previous assailants had either been killed or had fled. So why did Aeryn feel so much like she was out of a frying pan and into a whole new fire? Each of them had an upper hand here. She had no weapon, she didn't have full use of her body - and she was tired. The last of the adrenaline was wearing off. If she was going to do anything, it would have to be fast.

Now a Dwarf was staring her up and down, and then glancing to the Monk, and then back at her. This slight and subtle show of body language told Aeryn all she needed to know. That the danger wasn't over for her. So what would it be? Fight or flight? There was a Wood Elf that seemed less likely to be an aggressor, but still untrustworthy. Maybe chewing off someones face off like a rabid dog wasn't exactly the way to show anyone that she was... not a bad guy. She preferred her previous captors. Afterall, the devil that you know is better than the various devils that you don't. The devils that just made mincemeat of Dorcha.

So, Aeryn, what will it be? There's an escape here she thought to herself as she let her eyes dart back and forth across the scene - and then she saw it. The glittering silver of the key to her freedom, washed up against the side of the river in the shallows, floating in a pool of blood. There was just a wall of people between her and that key. It would only take one quick stunt for her to get past and to the key, and to freedom. Without the limitations of bound hands she might stand a chance of escape from them entirely. After all, she was a Master Thief. This should be child's play...

Ursaren winced as he felt the fireball singe his clothes and skin, but he quickly stared back towards the assailant that threw the fireball and simply laughed. He had felt the fire of dragons against his beard before, this was merely a sting compared to that! Ursaren rushed forward towards the sorceress before he saw her figure fade away, along with the other elf that proved to be a nuisance in this area. As shameful as it was for Ursaren to admit, it was likely for the best that he didn't continue on. He wasn't exactly what he was before, even if he had tasted the flaming passion of a dragon's breath.

The old man kneeled down on the ground, raising his hand to his wound as he winced again, the flesh weaving back onto itself like a knit blanket. He was definitely running out of juice at this point, what with the healing and the transformations. He needed a bit of a break if he was going to continue, or else he'd have more than just a burn on his chest.

Glancing over his comrades, he decided that he was the man who got the most damage inflicted, so he deserved the healing the most. He wouldn't mind passing it up onto someone else, but he really did need to handle himself before others, as painful as it was to be selfish."Is everyone alright?" the old man questioned as he noticed the one remaining Dorcha among the crowds, moving over towards the 'prisoner' carefully as to not make his wounds any worse. After all, he was just patching it up for the time being. He already spent his good spells on his allies, and he was more fond of potions in any case.

Ursaren gazed at the Dorcha before he simply smiled and returned to tending to his injuries. He felt something about her, though he didn't know what that was exactly. Maybe it was fake? Maybe it wasn't. Only time could tell.

Curse those magical powers of hers! One layer of warding was already a nuisance that he might not have pierced if it weren't already weakened, but two?!

And then, as she pointed her finger in his direction, he was struck by a wave of power that sent his mind reeling with, with, with Fineki knew what sort of momentary emotional madness, extremes of rage and depression and glee all at once, enough to leave him staggered by the aftershock as its effects vanished a moment later. By then, the mage he'd tried to stab inexplicably had one of the Skal-loy's bolts in her stomach, and before he could act again, she twisted a ring on her finger, vanishing in a flash of light, with a cruel smile plastered on her face despite her wounds.

'...I knew I should've just stayed back,' he muttered to himself, sheathing his sword and shaking his head to clear the last of whatever emotions had been forced into him by the witch. After responding to Ursaren's question with 'Just fine, my fellow!', he took a look around to see that any surviving Dark Elves had vanished along with the sorceress - save, of course, the prisoner. Approaching to a decent distance for a somewhat closer inspection, it seemed she was badly beaten and bound in chains, and yet for that, her hands and mouth were smeared in blood. Smart, then: both able and willing to use the natural weapons at her disposal - good traits to bear, as he knew, yet a nuisance if she managed to figure out how Sett was playing the others in his group so far.

And at the same time, she was very skittish, glancing around between the members of their party, especially at Geradin. Though come to think of it, neither Calanon nor Argon were the most likely customers to seem like friends of hers. How unsurprising, then, that she seemed unhappy with her situation; he wouldn't be shocked to learn that she planned on running away immediately.

A moment passed before, Sett realised, her eyes had locked on to something. Following her gaze casually, he in turn espied something shimmering within a pool of blood, blood that had somehow diluted to yellow where it made contact with the water. He didn't claim to be an expert on why blood did what it did, but he reckoned yellow wasn't quite the usual colour. Still, strolling over to the puddle, he gingerly picked the object out and shook it clean, finding what appeared to be a key...

Ah, a key for her chains! Well, that put him in a good spot. He moved back over to where he'd been standing previously, perhaps a little further away just to be safe, presenting the key to her in one hand before closing a fist around it. He wanted naught to do with her, honestly, but he needed to make sure she didn't kill them on the spot. Which required... tact.

'Ma'am, you are in luck,' he uttered, his tone as soothing and charismatic as he could make it, in part for the sake of fooling his allies. 'It appears to be the case that this key-' He pointed to the clenched fist. '-is the one you need to unlock your binds, and 'tis a good thing too that it was not lost to the river. Now, I am a man of the gods,' he explained semi-truthfully, 'and as such, I am not a judge of people, regardless of their heritage. I would hope, in turn, that my compatriates-' Another gesture, this time an open-handed wave at the other members of the party. '-are equally as open to ensuring that those who do not deserve punishment do not receive it - and I am inclined to believe that you are not deserving of whatever punishment your captors had in mind for you at all.

'That said, we are engaged in matters of importance. To have those disrupted would be... ah, unfortunate.' He hoped that didn't reveal too much. 'So, before I or anyone else unlocks your chains, I'd like to get your assurance that you won't attack any of us after they are unlocked. That way, we may all get along without further injury, which I reckon we'd all like after a fight of this sort.' He left the rest unsaid, mildly concerned that he'd already implied too much to keep himself safe - the party were obviously far better armed than she was, and outnumbered her massively, enough that Sett himself likely wouldn't need to get too involved if it came to an execution- ahem, "battle".

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@Stormflyx

With a final flick and frustrating smirk the enemy sorceress disappeared. Alice allowed herself a moments respite, the light she cast above the river extinguished itself as lowered her focus to the running water. That could have been far worse, she reflected, It's a shame the gods have too much sense of drama to let us never see the likes of that one again.

She plunged both of her hands into the water and let her mind go blank for a while. It had been quite a day so far, to say she needed a mental rest was an understatement. Alice closed her eyes and focused on nothing, allowing reality to seep back in at it's own pace. The rocks she supported herself on. The cold running over her forearms, the slow force of it. The sound of the running water. Finally the mish mash of river bed rocks and her two pale limbs stuck into it. The soft glow of the mushrooms.

She hauled herself upright, becoming aware of her comrades crowded around a captured dark elf. They'd captured a prisoner, that might help with the whole lost situation.

Alice felt good. Her senses had returned to her. They were telling her she was tired and about ready to give up on this whole endeavour but she kept returning to the conclusion that things had just turned out well, despite adversity. Alice looked down at herself and took inventory. Things might've gone better though she thought as she inspected her dilapidated clothing, the marshes battles and travel had taken it's toll. This wouldn't do her state of mind any good at all. She looked over at the party once more, deemed them in control of the situation and moved to a more concealed position to change into one of her spare dresses.

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@Fetzen@Stormflyx

It took a while, but ultimately the party which by now was standing on the other side of the miniature river could hear the outburst of the one exception that still was behind. An-Hasst had reached for one of the bajonets of his crossbow and rammed it from right to left into the the trunk of an oversized mushroom. He blissfully ignored the fact that there was strange and supicious smelling fluid seeping out of it and decided to clean his blade by slashing right into another plant that looked different.

"Those drow bitches!" or so was what could be understood, anger being the obvious companion of his muttering's tone. Now who would still dare to talk about their foes in a sense of superiority, believing that they were on the same level in general as their rickety, half-assed smithing goods that could be considered an insult against every dwarf ? Not many understood the art of teleporation, and even fewer knew how to compress it into a tiny item like a ring. The Skayleigh strapped his weapon onto his back again and thudded through what was barely able to flow over the top of his feet.

It appeared that Settionne was already busy doing what he could do best: Wrap every unexpected newcomer into a layer of... how to call it ? Anyway! It was way too thick and ugly! Yet quite a bit to his surprise the small man didn't opt for opening her chains unconditionally. Yet again how would they be able to find out if whatever she'd answer would be the truth ? With regard to that matter An-Hasst would have preferred leaving her chains locked at least until they were out of this mess and even moreso he would have preferred leaving this particular place as soon as possible instead of acting like diplomats.

He couldn't help but try to imitate Settionne's soothing tone, but as if by magic it immediately turned out to be exactly the kind of utter, sarcasm-infiltrated failure he had hoped for: "If you allow I'll add in some other measures to make sure that, independent of the lady's response, we're as safe as we can assure ourselves to be here." Having made this kind of announcement towards the man, he started probing Aeryn's clothing and body with his giant hands, checking if there was any hidden weaponry. Of course, if there should turn out to be such, he'd try to remove it from her immediately.

@POOHEAD189@Gardevoiran@BCTheEntity@The Fated Fallen@Stormflyx

Geradin felt a sense of duty toward the wounded and tired Ursaren, as he was a cleric and had sworn an oath to aid the party. However the Dwarves were infamous for their never ending war with the Dorcha. The fact that the other Dorcha seemed to hate this halfbreed was the only real reason he wasn't already caving in her skull and being done with it. That and even he could tell she wasn't full blooded. Within moments, the Dwarf decided there were enough eyes on her already and he went to cast some healing spells upon Ursaren, invoking the name of the Dwarf Goddess, Hertha, to heal his wounds.

Beren knelt down to eye level with Aeryn, gazing at her cuffs and the manner of damage she had on her body. The muscled young monk didn't necessarily want to mistreat her. After all he had saved her twice, and she seemed more like a wounded panther than a coiled serpent. But he still didn't know her, and they needed to understand why she was being executed in order for them to fully trust her. Meanwhile, Calanon had nimbly climbed atop the nearest mushroom and leaped to a taller, second mushroom to gaze across the dimly lit cavern as the other's gathered around Aeryn.

"Oi, what are you doing!?" The Dwarf scolded gruffly at Settione as the man offered to give her the key. Argon had since stepped out of the river, red and water dripping off his thick, tree trunk-like legs as he stepped on land. His clawed feet 'clicked' atop the stone.
@Stormflyx@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@BCTheEntity

As much as she wanted to uphold her cold stare, and remain as quiet and intimidating as possible, the second that the Skayleigh put his hands on her she crumpled down, trying to tuck away herself while trying not to laugh. She was ticklish and An-Hasst was not so small that she could just shove him away, she had no choice but to submit. She wondered if he knew. he must have known this was her weakness. He must have known. Why else would he poke and prod at her in this way - and with those giant hands. It was... unspeakably cruel.

"..Ssss... Stop it!" she shrieked out in between squeals of laughter and in a slight shock - waiting for the strange tickler to take his hands away.

Mortified, and feeling like she had well and truly lost any kind of upper-hand, she looked to her right, then to her left, and then to the character holding the key. Truth be told, she hadn't been in any kind of situation like this. In fact, she hadn’t really been in such close proximity to this many different breeds of folk. So far they hadn’t clubbed her, hit her, or cast any magics on her. In fact, they had really saved her life. Or at least, one of them had. He was obviously her best bet.

He was tall and rugged - and human. He looked well travelled and strong. His whole posse looked well travelled and strong. He was clearly the leader - he had that air about him.

Finally, she looked upon the holder of the keys again, her expression suddenly meek now that she had weighed up her options. “I… I will not hurt you” she uttered softly, almost under her breath. This one was short, but she was still shorter. She took a small step towards him, holding out her hands to his fists, locking eyes with his.

“Just… let me on my way.”

As Settione unlocked her shackles, Aeryn would feel relieved of the weight of the cold iron, and hear the clack of the shackles as it hit the stone. Argon's tongue flickered out as he gazed down at the Dorcha half breed. "Friend or food?" He asked, his voice echoing with a guttural undercurrent. Geradin finished healing Ursaren, his hammer becoming a beacon for a short moment, waving it above his wounds, sealing them together.

"Neither," the Gruff Dwarf said, glancing Aeryn's way, obviously a bit too stuck in his ways to accept her at the moment. "She wants to leave, and I agree."

Calanon the Elf hopped down from the Mushroom, and with an impressive leap, cleared the river without touching a drop of water and landing lithely onto the stone. His feet made nary a sound. "Coast is clear for now." he reported. Brogach the Elk stayed close to him, the mount still somewhat perturbed by their underground location, but a bit less scared with the low illumination of the fungus around them.

Once Aeryn was free, Beren crossed his muscled arm and let out a breath and spoke to Aeryn. "You're free." He said, even giving a small smile. "But if you're hungry, we were just about to eat dinner until all hell broke loose. We have some jerky if you'd like." He said. The tanned monk glanced across the river to the spots of blood and altered his posture, placing his hands on his hips. "Besides, something tells me you'd be in the mood to help us out a bit."

"Oi, don't go telling her our quest!" Geradin growled, his beard bristling as he shouldered past An-Hasst and Settione to square up with Beren. What followed was Beren giving a gruff reply in Dwarvish, to which Geradin spat back in the same tongue and Beren, by his tone, gave a witty retort that had Geradin growling in defeat. "Fine!" The Dwarf declared, walking back to their small makeshift camp, with Calanon joining him to grab a towel for Alice. Beren shook his head at the departing Dwarf and sighed. "Once you get to know him he's not so bad." He said with a grin to Aeryn. "So how bout it?"
@Stormflyx@Gardevoiran@The Fated Fallen@Fetzen@BCTheEntity

Gradually regaining her senses more and more, Alice became aware that moving away from the group just after a fight may not have been the best idea. She resolved to be as quick as possible, ignoring her mocking inner voice singing the bawdy Andred song about how Vrettonnian noblewomen were quick to get their dresses off. I'm so glad, of all the things, my inner monologue has returned.

She had saved her best dress until last, it being the least practical and the most expensive. She always saved it in case Geradin and her were required in a formal environment on short notice or, apparently, emergencies like this. At the very least she made sure the hem didn't go to the ground, and it's style was a lot more conservative when compared to most of the articles seen in court. And she had always been fond of the deep purple material it was made of. All in all, if she ruined this one she really would be mad.

With a few splashes of rosewater she made her way back to the group, tentatively holding her skirt up at the knees to stop it from getting wet as she picked her way across the river and trying tune into what was left of the conversation as she did.

@Stormflyx@Gardevoiran@POOHEAD189@Fetzen@BCTheEntity@Mortarion