Dayhok exhaled deeply through his nose, calling his small group to a halt under a stairwell that seemed relatively safe. His team was a little worse for wear entering their third hour of traversing the sanctuary; Lassie and Cassandra both wore gashes that tore through their gray fur, the carrion vine was moving sluggish due to an amount of consumed poisoned flesh, the raven had long since flown off, and lastly, Isolde was ready to commit mutiny and elect the Oak Sage as their new leader.
"How could you have managed to botch up navigating the portals Dayhok? You didn't consult the map, you didn't consult the runes and look where we are currently. In the middle of bloody nowhere you tosser!" Isolde stormed past the weary druid to sit moodily on a sheaf of collapsed stones.
Dayhok winced at the reproving venom dripping from her voice. "It was a simple mistake anyone could have made," he set his pack down to retrieve what was left of their supply of healing potions. "Right or left, and I chose right. The map couldn't have told me what portal to take, it's a map."
"If you had just gone around the perimeter of the area and done some scouting for once in your bloody life we wouldn't have run in to this problem now would we?" Isolde took out an arrowhead and small spool of wire to mend a broken shaft. "Map be hanged you never think these things through, and just look at Lassie and Cassandra. You're lucky Phillip has been fixed, otherwise he'd tear you limb from limb and feed the pieces to the carrion vine!"
Dayhok scoffed. "I'm taking care of the wolves now woman, leave it be already. Besides, this whole navigation of the incredibly annoying Arcane Sanctuary would be a lot less daunting if you'd restock the Tome of Town Portal once and a moon."
"We would not have run out so quickly if you'd not keep getting 'over burdened' for every item you store."
"And what, it hurts your womanly guiles to carry a damn item every now and then?"
Isolde glared at her druid companion. "Somebody who actually can fight has to cover your slow reaction to casting."
Dayhok shot her an annoyed look but spared any further words. He began to wrap his wolf's side as the she drank from the red potion with feeble laps. Tying the bandage off, he stood and paced to the edge of their cramped hide-away. He frowned, looking into the black distance. Seven Hells, how many portals can there be? Apparently, the Summoner has a sense of humor. As far as he could see, little glowing red spheres dotted the endless sanctuary. He took out the magically enhanced map and stared blankly at it, scratching his ear thoughtfully.
"Well?" Isolde asked, from that odd cross legged sitting position she favored so much, "I should think the self-proclaimed 'Greatest Druid' in all of Sanctuary could follow a map. It's bloody magical, after all."
"You know what? YOU take a look at the thing." And promptly threw the map at her.
"Looks as if someone missed their mid-after noon nap, little wolf," Isolde smirked at him, catching the map easily with one hand.
He scowled at her and went over to the afore mentioned, pack. In his defense, it was very heavy and the little leather bag was full to the brim with valuable items to sell back in town. Adventuring wasn't cheap, and everything in Lut Gholein cost an arm and a leg. Even the water they filled their skins with cost twice as much as a nice, shiny new, knife would back in Scosglen. Dayhok dug around a bit before pulling out the Tome of Town Portal.
He opened the small blue book and began to thumb through it, searching for an unused page. He went through half of the tome before he looked down at Isolde.
"You did stock this last time we were in town, right Isolde?"
Her pale cheeks colored, and suddenly, her fiery eyes would not meet his.
"Well…um, Waheed was guarding the gates and we… erm, started talking, and I may have… never gotten around to it?" She squeaked the last part out, and looked up at him with a chagrined smile.
"YOU WHAT?" Dayhok roared, "By Tyrael's name woman! The fate of this plane depends on us, and you spend your time philandering with that pathetic excuse of a man they try to pass off as a mercenary?"
"Don't you bloody dare, Dayhok!" she spat back at him, leaping up from the rubble "You think I don't know Lut Gholein is famous for it's brothels? You were practically drooling at the prospect of coming here! And yo-"
The sudden flurry of movement redirected the attention of both druid and rouge. Six goatmen were running, no, charging, at them; seemingly from out of nowhere. In the time it took Dayhok to breathe, Cassandra was on top of the foremost goat man. An instant later he heard the familiar twang of Isolde's bow. The silver tipped arrow whipped past his head and embedded itself squarely between the lumbering monsters red eyes. It dropped dead at the feet of its other charging comrades with a final bray and gurgle. Almost humorous, really. The remaining five monsters seemed momentarily taken aback. Dayhok seized the opportunity to whack the nearest goatman soundly on the head with his club, before another of Isolde's arrows landed in the creature's gut.
Two goatmen came stampeding towards them, and Dayhok sent out a chilling blast of air that froze the things solid. The remaining demons were quickly killed through the combined efforts of Isolde and all three wolves. One of the frozen goatmen began to twitch slightly, but remained frozen for the time being.
"Do you think there is a bottom?" Dayhok asked, leaning over the side of the platform.
Isolde looked thoughtful for a second, and then smirked,
"Why don't we find out?" And with that, she gave the now braying, half-frozen goatman a push. They both stared down into the deep black, and watched the creature grow smaller and smaller, until finally, they could see no more.
"Well," Isolde was still peering down into the darkness, "that's just delightful".
"Mm, indeed."
They pushed the remaining goatman down after its comrade, with the same result. Dayhok sighed heavily, and turned to face his small band. The three wolves were sniffing at their dead foes, and Phil took the time to relieve himself on a goatman carcass before the carrion vine started to eat away at the dead flesh. The oak sage was floating tranquilly by Isolde, who stood with her hand on her hip, staring out into the horizon.
"When I find that bloody raven, I'm going to make us the finest roast you've ever tasted."
Dayhok had no doubts about that.