Tuesday, June 19, 2012
You Better Run
"I have no idea, Lynda. I swear it was a scroll of healing. I didn't recognize the diety, but the words, they were right." whispered Chael, as he looked around worriedly. This was an area of the Undermountain that they hadn't explored. In their panic to retreat from the shadows that had ambushed them, the Trio of Steele had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Probably more than one.
Lynda Steele sighed, and rubbed her eyes wearily. This small room that they had found fortunately came with a door that they were able to spike closed. As far as they could see, the room was unfurnished and undecorated. Tristan shifted himself further up on the wall, his face creased with pain. Lynda and Chael both kneeled back down at his side; Lynda undoing the buckles of Tristan's chain shirt as Chael pulled out bandages from his pack. Wadding up a roll of linen, Chael had Tristan bite down on it as Lynda pulled the mail off the fighter, exposing the deep gashes that had cut through the padded undercoat. Tristan hissed as some of the links that had been embedded in the slashes pulled free.
Leaning in close with the candle, Chael peered at the gashes. "They don't appear to be poisoned. With my needle and thread, I can close these back up," he said, sitting back on his haunches. "We'll need to head for the surface at once, however. I'm out of healing potions, and after the scroll, I'd rather not cast any more spells than I have to."
"And I'm no good blind," muttered Tristan, bitterly. Again, Chael wore a mask of shame.
Lynda leaned her axe against the wall, handed the priest his healer's pack and took up the candle. "Well then cleric, get to sewing. I'll hold the candle. We can rest up in here and start off after a few hours of sleep," she said, If the dungeon will give us a chance to rest that is.