Today’s snippet, titled “Sniping”, 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.
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      Her sword arm was as tired as it had ever been; worse, maybe, than even the most grueling practice session in memory. As the group settled into restful positions around the chamber, Rhiallis wondered if today’s trials were anyone else’s first real fight. Somehow, she doubted it.
      I imagine I was the only virgin deflowered on the battlefield this day, she thought, pulling a rawhide packet from the depths of her bag. Rations would not last long, and she regretted having only packed a few day’s worth in the bottom of her backpack. Back in her cell at the Temple, Rhiallis kept supplies that could sustain her for weeks and months (uncomfortably, but she would not starve). She considered herself well-prepared for survival; certainly more so since Navara had started taking her on little forays into the surrounding countryside. Tracking, hunting, finding edible wild foods – all of the skills that it took to flourish in the wilderness. Rhiallis was sorely lacking in these, despite having wandered alone for so long. Thus, fifty-pound bags of powdered dreck strapped upon Never’s back. She might not eat well, but barring the tragic loss of her mule-companion, Rhiallis could hold out until reaching a town.
      That was less certain today. They had walked and fought and carried Anevia and endured Aravashnial’s snark and patiently ignored Horgus’ grumbling and talked quietly to each other. Rhiallis felt that there was already an unspoken bond developing between all these survivors, though she admitted to herself that perhaps it was just situational and may not last once they reached the surface.
      If we reach the surface, she sighed inwardly.
      “Here,” Rhiallis pressed half of the dried beef from the packet into Anevia’s hand.
      “Thanks.”
      “It isn’t much, but-”
      “But we could be down here awhile,” Anevia said. She tore off a hunk with her teeth and began chewing slowly. With her mouth still working, she looked down. “I keep praying that the city survived, that my wife is all right. After everything we have been through. To lose her and to be powerless to do anything…”
      Rhiallis nodded, empathizing more than she could express aloud. She knew all too well what it felt like to be separated, to be helpless, to not know if a loved one lived or had perished. Physically shifting her body, Rhiallis made an attempt to shift the conversation.
      “Tell me about how you two met. Irabeth spoke at the temple not long after I joined. You two seem so different – in a good way.”
      As usual, her natural charm and the disarming way she had of engaging others wrapped around Anevia and though the young woman may not have generally been so talkative, she opened up to Rhiallis as if they were friends of decades, not mere hours.
      “Quit your yapping ladies,” Mickey interrupted, hefting his maul onto his shoulder. “Food is done, we gotta get moving.”
      Rhiallis packed away the bite or two that remained and with Idril’s aid, lifted Anevia once more.
      “I really am sorry,” she said, clutching her bow to her chest as the stretcher swayed with each step.
      “Stop that,” Rhiallis smiled down at her. She was carrying the top end, walking behind Idril, so that Anevia could keep watch ahead as well. “You cannot believe that any of this was your fault, Anevia. I-”
      “Shush! Do you hear that?”
      “Hear what?” Mickey tilted his head.
      Navara hushed him again, peering into the darkness. “There! That – do you hear that?”
      Flies? Rhiallis raised a brow, straining her ears. Lots of them.
      But she was mistaken. It was not a swarm of tiny bugs, there were only a handful – but they were enormous. As big as a dog – though not so big as her poor speckled canine back at the Temple, and she suddenly caught her breath, praying Song was still alive – and slick with ichor, they were almost as disgusting as the larvae that had burst from the corpse of that giant spider.
      Another frenzied battle for their lives ensued; over quickly, but terrifying nonetheless. Rhiallis wiped her blade clean and sheathed it, moving back to pick up Anevia. The girl had managed to fire a shot – and hit! – from where she sat in the hallway.
      “Impressive shot,” she said, grunting a bit as she lifted the stretcher again.
      “Thank you, I am really just glad I didn’t hit Mickey or um – that elven woman.”
      “Navara.”
      Anevia nodded. “Yeah, that’s it. Navara. She’s a strong one – and with that sword, like moonlight on water.”
      Rhiallis smiled at the description and nodded. “I think I learned as much from her as from my instructors. She’s a good friend to have.”
      “She is,” Mira piped up, a step or two behind them. “And so is Emma. And so is Rhiallis. And so am I!”
      Anevia grinned, despite the pain of constant jostling. “I am pleased to meet all of you.”
      A grumbly voice came from behind her and she chuckled.
      “Well, I most certainly am not.”
      “Hah! Horgus,” Aravashnial said. “You should count yourself lucky to have fallen with this lot. Rapier or no, if you were still on the surface now, you’d be dead as the dog that broke your fall.”
      Emma squeaked, despite her composure. Though Rhiallis was certain the elf had calculated his remark to wound both Emma and Horgus, she got the distinct impression that his surliness was a facade, a symptom of the bravado he wore to conceal his own fear. She wished she possessed some spark of the divine magic that could restore sight; Aravashnial would likely make a powerful ally, if only they could get him out of these tunnels alive.
      Trudging through the halls, quietly as a group of ten people – most in armor, several injured – could, Rhiallis was not surprised when they wakened another group of deep dwelling denizens. What she did not expect, however, was to stumble onto a temple here in the darkness.
      “Which God does it venerate?” she whispered, still too far back in the line to get a good look. “Is it evil?
      “Watch out!” Navara cried, yanking her blade from its sheath.
      Idril dropped Anevia’s feet abruptly, rushing toward the enemy that spilled forth. Lucien, nocking an arrow, moved to the side as Mickey and Navara engaged some enemy. Rhiallis could hear Mira’s blades scrape free as well, but the girl hesitated to run into the fray.
      “Go,” Rhiallis urged her, “I’ll stay with them.”
      Mira took Aravashnial’s hand and placed it on Rhiallis’ shoulder, then took off toward the sounds of battle.
      “Well.” Horgus sighed. “Isn’t this special?”
      “Shut up, Horgus.” Disdain dripped from Aravashnial’s voice. “Just, do us all a favor and shut up.”
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Note: Image is “King Jagiello Statue Central” by (Mulligand) from SXC.hu; edited by me