Today’s snippet, titled “Monotony”, is a piece I wrote about my PC in Mark’s new (Good) Pathfinder Campaign.
      Be forewarned, there are mature themes and naughty language below.
– – – – – – – – – – –
      Hours later, with the Temple of Torag freshly cleaned and consecrated by ancient words of power, and a few hours of sleep under their belts, the ten survivors were on the move again.
      Rhiallis felt like she knew more about Anevia than about any of her other friends, after just a few hours of talk. The young woman hadn’t spilled all the details of her childhood, but she did speak tenderly about Irabeth and their wedding. She had gratefully curled up to sleep in Emma’s bedroll, so Rhiallis had invited Emma to share hers. It was hard to rest with all that beautiful silver hair in her face, but at least Emma did not hog the blanket like certain people were known to do.
      Tempers were frayed; a day or more trapped beneath the earth, fighting for their lives constantly, with dwindling resources – it was to be expected.
      Rhiallis would never say it aloud, but she was tired of swinging her sword already. The hours since The Fall had been both so full and so empty. One minute, adrenaline sang in her veins, the next, her arms felt that they would fall off, for even though she shared the burden with Idril, Anevia was not a light load.
      The Crusades are not quite as advertised, she thought to herself. Haven’t seen a single fiend down here; lots of large insects and those things in the temple, but no demons. I think we’re more likely to be killed by in-fighting or poison or starvation.
      The in-fighting had not turned violent – yet – but Rhiallis and Mira had their hands full with Horgus and Aravashnial. The rich man and the elven spellcaster were fundamentally at odds and very little rational discussion occurred between them. Mostly it was juvenile sniping back and forth.
      Poison was a very real danger. It seemed like everything that lived down here just lurked in the dark with a venomous bite. Without her kit, Rhiallis felt naked and was at a loss to help anyone so struck.
      Starvation was not quite immediate, but they had just a few meagre days worth of food remaining. Five, six tops. Rhiallis found herself praying that they would emerge onto the surface well before that.
      “It feels like a million years since we killed that dwarf what almost killed Anevia,” Mira said quietly. “Do you think we’ll ever get out of her, Rhiallis?”
      “By the Herald’s Grace, I do so pray,” Rhiallis glanced back at her friend. “You take twice as many steps as I do, your feet must be killing you.”
      “Not so much.” Her smile was contagious and the gleeful way she met life’s challenges shone through even here in the dark. “I’m pretty light, after all.”
      “Are you quite done complaining up there?” That was Horgus again. “First it was the temple, then it was all those stupid sad statues, now its your feet. Get a grip girl, we’re all sore and tired.”
      Emma, dear Emma, came to her defense. “Just because you were not touched by the sacrifice of those men and women, sir, does not mean Rhiallis should not have been. So what if she cried like an orphan at bedtime? She’s entitled to some tears.”
      “Bah.”
      The rhythmic shuffling of footsteps on stone began to drive her a little bit batty. The constant, swaying weight of Anevia’s stretcher made her arms feel that they would pop out of their sockets and disengage from her body at any moment. The dark monotony grated on her nerves, but at the same time, she knew that any excitement they stumbled upon down here would best be described as dangerous, desperate, or deadly.
      “There’s a slope up here; goes up. Way up.”
      “Can we climb it?” Navara inched up behind Mickey to get a better look.
      “Its steep. But there are pitons and stuff. Yeah, I bet we could get up.”
      Rhiallis and Idril gently set Anevia down, moving forward to peer up the shaft. He rubbed his biceps, then windmilled his arms. Rhiallis followed suit, then took a moment to rub his shoulders. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
      “Yeah,” he said, the sneer on his handsome face. “It is nothing.”
      “Anevia doesn’t think so.”
      Idril glanced at the girl on the stretcher, then back at Rhiallis. He shrugged, but she thought she detected a smile this time.
      “Well,” Navara said, sheathing her blade. “Its at least sixty feet up. We’re all exhausted. Maybe we should just, rest here, get some sleep, and then try and conquer the climb.”
      No one spoke it out loud, but everyone glanced first at Anevia, her broken leg preventing her from climbing, then at Aravashnial, whose eyes had been destroyed by Khorramzedeh’s electrified whip.
      “…yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Lucien said, shouldering his bow.
      “Right.”
      “Sure.”
      Rhiallis stretched her arms above her head, palms toward the sky, and then nodded as well. “Good idea. Definitely. Good idea indeed.”
– – – – – – – – – – –

Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me