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<blockquote data-quote="Maidhc O Casain" data-source="post: 3181094" data-attributes="member: 29558">Into the DepthsCerallos makes his way nimbly down the stairs as Athelstan and Deasaigh cover from the top with sling and bow.&nbsp; The two of them make their way down the treacherous five foot descent without mishap, and the faeborn flutters down like some dark butterfly to light on Gavril's shoulder.&nbsp; He carefully replaces the worse for wear peacock feather.The circle of light still does not reveal the sides or ceiling of the room, only the two rows of barbarian inhabited columns stretching into the gloom and the occasional stalagmite.Deasaigh unstrings his bow and whispers an arcane sounding word.&nbsp; The seven foot bow stave shimmers, and he's holding his paired three foot fighting sticks.&nbsp; Athelstan puts away his sling and fumbles in his beltpouch for something.&nbsp; He pops a small packet into his mouth and begins chewing as he unlimbers his flail.&nbsp; Glimpses of his face under his hood reveal that his pale green skin has become translucent, the fine webwork of blood vessels and the working muscles of his cheek somewhat visible under their epidermal sheath.The ice continues to melt.OOC:&nbsp; Hope you don't mind I posted for Skáth - trying to move things along a little.&nbsp; Jeremy's out of town for the weekend, if necessary I'll post for him until Sunday afternoon.</blockquote>

[QUOTE="Maidhc O Casain, post: 3181094, member: 29558"] [b]Into the Depths[/b] Cerallos makes his way nimbly down the stairs as Athelstan and Deasaigh cover from the top with sling and bow. The two of them make their way down the treacherous five foot descent without mishap, and the faeborn flutters down like some dark butterfly to light on Gavril's shoulder. He carefully replaces the worse for wear peacock feather. The circle of light still does not reveal the sides or ceiling of the room, only the two rows of barbarian inhabited columns stretching into the gloom and the occasional stalagmite. Deasaigh unstrings his bow and whispers an arcane sounding word. The seven foot bow stave shimmers, and he's holding his paired three foot fighting sticks. Athelstan puts away his sling and fumbles in his beltpouch for something. He pops a small packet into his mouth and begins chewing as he unlimbers his flail. Glimpses of his face under his hood reveal that his pale green skin has become translucent, the fine webwork of blood vessels and the working muscles of his cheek somewhat visible under their epidermal sheath. The ice continues to melt. OOC: Hope you don't mind I posted for Skáth - trying to move things along a little. Jeremy's out of town for the weekend, if necessary I'll post for him until Sunday afternoon. [/QUOTE]

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