Myst tries to stifle his laughter but fails. "Rescue? Is that what you were trying to do? No, there isn't an expiry on heroic rescue but that thing, if it was indeed a human being at one time appears beyond rescue to me."
"Perhaps you are right... but without even trying?" He tilts his head to the side, bi-coloured hair now sprinkled with a fine layer of pale dust -- as they are all beginning to be.
(Was this right? Did rescue happen early or not at all? With, most shockingly, no-one telling the tale of failed attempts?! A surprising bias on his record of past deeds!)
"There might be secrets worth investigating about this transmuting waters. Anyone got a vial?" The dwarf seems to be speaking to non, and to all at the same time, while he stares at the pond of strange water.
"I fear, unless one was discovered since last I asked for same over the gelatin beast..." The voice of the willowy elf is full of shared sympathy.
And then he stops. Heads back towards the dwarf at speed, hand on the brightly decorated scroll case at his hip.
"Ink! I have ink!" His expression darkens some as consequences seep in:
"Sepia ink of finest quality, from master Wittlefinch's apothecary... Will you share the cost of replacement, master dwarf? I would not normally ask, but my finances being as they are... And to be unable to write." He shudders slightly at the very thought!
<Response Muzdin?>
If Muzdin agrees, Antares will extract the glass vial containing the ink and regretfully spill its content by the jutting rock near the center of the room, some ways away from the pool itself.
"Parchment," he murmurs to himself as he carefully, somewhat joyfully fills the newly freed container, careful of his fingers this time, "
I should have used folded parchment to gather the slime of the gelatin beast!" He would- he will do so on their way back, when they went to gather up the bonified remains of the deceased.
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OOC:
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With Muzdin's OK, fill the vial, stopper it tight and then return it to his scrollcase before trotting back after Mysthyr, please.
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The tunnel the creature ran down goes north for a few paces, then turns west, after a few more paces, and finally curves to the right (north). The flickering light of the torches reveals the tunnel continues approximately 30 feet to the north before curving again to the right (east).
Ahead of the group the ghostly skinned creature - still hanging on the wall - has paused to look down at the ground near where the tunnel curves right again. It looks back at the arriving group, hisses again and moves to disappear around the corner.
"Very... intestinal," nervously comments Antares as they progress forward. He is... not at all comfortable with the image of them wandering the constricting interior of some pebbly beast, presumably having been swallowed whole beforehand - a flash of the basement well - unless they entered through the wrong side?!
Ugh. A quick - and much needed - change of mental tracks:
"I think she's slowing herself so that we may follow?" Surely she could run much faster if she wanted to? He accelerates his steps, bruised elbow forgotten for now.
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OOC:
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Antares is not the most suspiscious of fellows. 
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