Apologies all for my disappearance this weekend, a bout of illness and this strange thing in England called a “sun”(?) made for an uncomfortable few days.
Here’s a bonus as an apology:
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It was cramped but functional, and the party’s mounts were left trussed up in line along the cave wall. With a few orders to those hirelings staying behind, the group sets off deeper into the cave, led by keen halforc eyes. Wide enough that two could walk shoulder to shoulder and still have enough room to swing a blade, it was easy going for now, a steady incline snaking back and forth into the darkness.
Soon enough, even the least aware can taste the moisture in the air. This was the biggest clue they had that this particular cave led somewhere of note, and during a short pitstop, Embrek announced that so long as senility wasn’t setting in, the path had twisted back upon itself. They were now heading east, and so long as no further diversion occured, it wouldn’t be long before they were under the city.
The party continues walking, and not long after this Urman feels a tingle of magic, not unlike a spell landing near him. Intincts lead to a cry, and weapons are drawn and spells readied. After some moments of staring into the dark, waiting for an attack that is not coming, they lower their weapons.
Urman searches his personage for the source of the magic, and pulls out the messenger ring. It now tingles with fresh energy, and the wizard examines its surface for a reply to his earlier question and is rewarded.
“Too late. Alone. Trapped under.”
Are we playing on American Mother’s Day (5/13), Antony Nicklin?