You all settle into the evening routine, shifts are established once dinner is ingested and many drop off into a wary sleep and despite the wide-eyed guards, the morning rays split the fogs and plant a blazing mugginess over you. Without even moving the sweat beads across your brow, Nassitch sniffs the air and can only shudder at the thought of a dreary heat-wave, one he knows is coming.
You break camp and Paitsel grumbles to Uiim, "I can travel wit' you fer a time, if ye need a hand. Otherwise I go back." He grinds his teeth waiting for an answer.
Uiim:[sblock]You remember hearing about thin crystal plaques used to vital information, although it was said that only those the plaques were keyed to could access it. That thin crystal sheet that Log-a-Log recovered could very well be something along those lines.[/sblock]
Tau:[sblock]You don't recall anything about the items, although you quickly identify the shiny metal as mithril or truesilver. A sort of metal which springs up in liquid form from rare wellsprings, shaped only through rare magic possessed only by the elves. The faces on the dagger are definately the face of Mythar Seers, the most common uppercaste Mythar.[/sblock]