It was a relief to get back out into the cavern, though she would have preferred a warm spring breeze and some sunshine. Perhaps some birds trilling. Indeed, the need to escape the caves of the Underdark gnawed at her for a moment. It quickly awakened the sleeping geas spell, however. for she felt it tighten around her, squeeze the air out of her lungs like some horrid snake. A clear vision of the Valsharess appeared before her eyes, reminding her quite forcefully that there was something she had to do before she would be allowed to return to the surface.

"Boss! Wait up! Wait for little Deekin!"

Yasha paused, turning back. She was already so far from the Maeviir public house that she could no longer make it out in the gloom. She could make out Deekin's small form scrambling towards her, however, and behind him two more figures she took to be Nathyrra and Valen. Huffing at herself, she turned back away, though she kept her steps very slow now. She moodily grabbed her holy symbol, rubbing it thoughtfully between her fingers as the others approached. Her temper was definitely growing worse. She needed to control it or get herself killed once back in the wilds of the Underdark. No, it was more than that. She was a paladin. She had ideals to uphold. Those ideals didn't include treating her friends and allies poorly whenever a dark mood struck her.

"Sorry Deekin," she murmured, as soon as she saw him beside her. Then, hearing the them close behind her, she turned and forced herself to look each in the eye before speaking. "I apologize," she repeated, loud enough for them to hear.

Nathyrra regarded her curiously. "I understand your reaction, to an extent. Were you not familiar with drow customs at all?"

Yasha winced at herself. If only she could duck behind the excuse of ignorance. "I am, actually. But it is one thing to be told about them. It is quite another to...to..." She shrugged helplessly. "Still, I should have kept my temper better. I just...can't imagine approaching someone and suggesting...encouraging..."

She sighed and made a sour face. Turning towards the river, she starting walking again at a relaxed pace. "And I thought I had bad arguments with MY mother," she said shakily.

Nathyrra took a position beside Yasha with grace and effortlessly kept pace. She raised her eyebrows delicately, glancing back at the Maeviir public house only once before turnign back to Yasha. "You do not get along with your mother?"

Yasha shook her head, regretting her attempt at humor already. It was not fair to her mother to let drow thing so ill of her. "I wouldn't go that far. Not like that. She just...doesn't approve of some of the choices I've made."

"Oh? Would she rather you became a priestess?" Nathyrra looked at her with frank curiosity.

"No. Well, yes, if that meant I would stay closer to home, marry some nice local boy, and forget about wandering about and adventuring. She worries. Too much. Whenever I visit, she constantly reminds me of how dangerous my life is, and keeps coming up with what gruesome, horrible death may await me before my next visit." She paused and gave Nathyrra a long suffering look. "She also wonders why I don't visit often."

Yasha held the mock distressed look for as long as she could, but finally broke it with a tired grin. Apparently uncertain what to make of her, the dark elf smiled back after a moment. The paladin thought she heard a brief chuckle from behind her, but when she looked at the tiefling, his face was coolly neutral. She looked at him with amused suspicion, but only got a briefly raised eyebrow out of his composed expression before being distracted by Deekin.

"Boss? She tells you about nasty, gruesome deaths you might have? Seriously? You mean like being turned to stones by the snake hair lady? That not really dead, though was it? And Deekin thinks it not especially gruesome, maybe."

Yasha froze in her tracks furrowed her brow at Deekin. She licked her lips once, and then, with slow deliberation, turned and walked towards the docks. "Maybe not. It wasn't pleasant though."

Deekin followed, taking the side opposite of where Nathyrra now walked. Peering up at her, he continued, "Oh! What about being torn limb from limb by tiger people and stuffed in a sarc...sarco...box for dead people? Deekin thinks that's pretty gruesome."

Yasha just stared a Deekin for a few paces. What would be least likely to encourage him to continue? "Yes, Deekin," she answered finally. "That would be both horrible and gruesome, I think."

"Or what about that big blue dragon? What if his lightning hit you? You gots big, lightning attracting metal sword, you knows. That'd be gruesome too, Deekin thinking. That the kind of thing she'd say, you think?"

Having arrived at the river's edge, Yasha dropped her pack heavily at her feet. She turned to Deekin, a note of warning hardening her voice. "Yes, Deekin, just like that."

To all appearances oblivious to both Yasha's growling tone and her hard look, Deekin just widened his eyes and continued. "Or what about gettings trapped in the desert and eaten by scorpion people? That would be nasty. Hmm...though the gruesome part comes after the dyings part, so maybe it not count. What about..."

Yasha sighed and crossed her arms. Restlessly, she rocked back and forth from her heels to her toes and back again, trying to block out the descriptions of painful, unpleasant deaths they had either witnessed or been close to experiencing over the last several months. She tried occupying her mind with the study of the dark river before her. It was dark and seemed almost viscous, though that might have been a trick on how the dim light hit the black waters. In many parts, the water seemed almost glassy and calm, though Yasha recognized the tell-tale signs of a nasty undertow.

It smelt of death. It was not even the natural decay of a stagnating pond, but a sharp unpleasant smell that warned every instinct away from it. She felt no flow of true evil in its depths, but still could not shake a sense of near antipathy towards her and other life from the inky waters. She mentally added another unpleasant ending to Deekin's ongoing litany of death – being swallowed whole by such deadly waters. The waters seemed to shift, then, an almost indiscernible giving and redirection of the currents. She thought she heard something in the distance, like the splashing of a fish near the surface, if any fish could survive living in such a body of water. She turned back to Deekin. His voice was pitched high, now, and his words came quickly. For gods only knew what reason, he had definitely warmed up to his subject.

"...sliced up by those nasty spiders with sharp legs like swords - you remember those, right Boss? - then hung upside down and eaten. Or being trapped in the Plane of Shadows and..."

That was quite enough of THAT train of thought.

"Deekin!" Yasha snapped.

"Yes, Boss?" She frowned as he flinched from the harshness in her voice, his tone becoming almost obsequious. She'd done it again. He actually didn't deserve the full brunt of her discomfort, and he hardly knew how deeply she still feared the varied deaths available to her in the Plane of Shadows. Or how one death in particular still haunted her. She sucked in a deep, calming breath.

"Hush."

"Uhhh...right, Boss." Deekin nodded, standing straighter again.

"Thank you," Valen said dryly, after it became clear the Deekin was indeed not going to continue. Yasha tossed a half grin at him, then turned her attention back to the river before them.

She heard the noise again, clearer now. It was several moments before a something emerged from the cavernous gloom, separating itself in her vision from the liquid darkness of the river. A long, flat bottom boat glided towards them. At its stern she could just barely discern a hunched figure, draped in a heavy robe. The figure pushed the boat through the currents somehow, and the river seemed to relent before him.

She turned back to Valen. "This is Cavallas the Boatman that you told me about earlier?"

The tiefling nodded briefly. "It is."

Yasha looked back at the approaching figure. She couldn't help but think of the stories she'd heard of the dark boatman of the underworld navigating the dreaded river Styx.

"Charming," she commented softly. Still, she scooped up her pack again, and moved to wait for the boat on the docks.

"This is where I leave you," Nathyrra said. "I will do further scouting of the Valsharess' troops while you are gone, and see if there is any more information I may gain for you. Please, I ask that you do not take long investigating these rumors. Though they may benefit us, as you argued, the Valsharess and her allies are very real threats. We do not know when her final attack may come."

Yasha nodded. "We'll look into these things as quickly as possible, I swear."

Nathyrra nodded, first to her, then to Valen. "Then I wish you luck."

"Good luck to you Nathyrra," Valen answered. "Take care of..." He paused, his tail twitching once. "Take care."

Nathyrra looked somber, and inclined her head briefly, before turning back towards the drow encampment.

Yasha looked at Valen curiously, but he just motioned towards the river again. "I would suggest caution when dealing with Cavallas. He is... a bit strange, I must admit."

Her eyes followed his motion, and she looked at the Boatman once more. He was pushing up to dock now. Yasha watched closely, hoping to catch some glimpse of the mysterious figure's face or hands, but it was careful to keep itself covered, and the hood seemed filled with only an impenetrable darkness. Squaring her shoulders, she walked up the dock. Before she was able to introduce herself, however, the figure turned towards her.

"I've been waiting for you."

Yasha shuddered, both at its ominous words and at its voice. She couldn't help but think that the low, gurgling noise was exactly like the last sound a drowning man might make. She looked back at Valen, but he looked just as surprised at the Boatman's words as she was.

"You've been waiting...for me?"

Its hooded nodded once. And a robed draped armed gestured towards the murky waters behind it. "I hear the Dark River's voice. It whispers secrets, like the dying gurgles of a drowning man. I know why you have come."

Yasha couldn't help but shift uncomfortably as the figure described the river's voice with the words that had, just a moment before, passed through her mind to describe his.

"You seek to destroy the Valsharess; her death is your release. I can help you with this. I know the secrets of the islands; the Dark River whispers them to me when I glide across her waters."

"I...I see." Yasha focused on the hooded creature fiercely. Despite the unpleasant appearance and demeanor, she could not feel the presence of true Evil from it.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked finally.

"The soul of the Valsharess is black and cold. She hungers to conquer, she yearns to rule every inch of every corner of the Underdark. Even the wild currents of the Dark River. Her power is growing, and soon she will enslave the Dark River itself, bending its untamed waters to her whims and will. That cannot happen. That is why I will take you to the islands."

Surprised and concerned, Yasha glanced quickly at Valen. He had been most insistent that the presence of the deadly river at the encampment's back had been one of the best ways to maintain its defensibility. If the river itself fell to the Valsharess' will, then they would certainly be over- run. From the scowl on the teifling's face, she knew he realized the same thing.

Yasha cleared her throat. "Tell me of these secrets, then."

She listened closely as Cavallas told her of the islands of the river; of an ancient tower of a golem creating duergar called the Maker and of a mysterious town that appeared out of nowhere. She furrowed her brows as he described the inhabitants as winged elves. The avariel were not known for loving the depths of any cave.

"But there is something else on the island, as well," he continued, speaking the strange elven village. "Something magical. I can feel its power as my boat floats by the shores, though its exact nature is hidden from me.I suspect this magic is the source of the town's strange appearance. If you could harness such power you could use it against the Valsharess."

That seemed the most promising lead. Besides, her curiosity insisted on knowing what had, quite literally, brought the flying elves so low. She nodded, making her decision. "Take me to the island with the strange town."

They stowed their gear in the center of the odd boat, and took their seats, Yasha claiming a place near the prow. As Cavallas turned the boat about, her gaze lingered on the scattered lights of the drow buildings. Despite the unpleasantness of nearly half the occupants, it seemed much more welcoming than the unyielding darkness that dominated where the Dark River met the lightless caves. She leaned an elbow on the edge of the boat and peered down at the roiling depths. Sense kept her hands well clear of the water, however. No matter how closely she looked, however, she could see nothing but liquid blackness.

"Might we speak?"

Yasha started as the tiefling's voice broke the silence. She blinked at him, surprised. She had not expected him to strike up a conversation. Perhaps he would be a more talkative companion after all.

"Certainly, Valen. What would you like?"

Her hopefulness faded into discomfort as she met his eyes. His stare was intense. Though he obviously chose his words with care, she was suddenly fairly sure it would not be friendly small talk.

"I wish to know," he began, "what makes you so special?"

She blinked at him, caught off guard by his odd question. "What do you mean?"

"I speak, of course, of the fact that you have replaced me as the leader of our forces. I have kept us alive for months, and suddenly you appear," he made a slash with his hand, "and it is over."

She titled her head at him, raising an eyebrow. "That's a little dramatic, isn't it?"

"According to everything I've been told," he replied dryly, "being dramatic is one of my specialties."

Despite herself, Yasha grinned at him. So he did have a sense of humor after all.

He maintained a serious face for a few moments longer before finally sighing and rolling his eyes. "Very well. You are probably correct... I am making too much of this. I would still like to know your thoughts."

Yasha sighed and stretched her legs. Shaking her head she said, "I didn't ask to be put in charge."

His fierce blue eyes narrowed. "That's true. But you are in charge now. Does that mean nothing to you?"

So, if she seemed eager for the responsibilities, she was over-reaching herself. If she claimed to not have wanted it, then she didn't take it seriously enough. He seemed determined to see fault with her either way. She considered a moment. "It's a duty I shall see through to the end, I promise you."

He studied her thoughtfully. "I... am glad to hear that, if a little surprised. You barely know us, and you've no reason to accept such a duty gladly."

"I may not be overly fond of many in House Maeviir, but I am honored to help the Seer, if I can. Believe it or not, my mentor Drogan included quite a bit of information on Eilistraee and her followers as part of my training. Though, mostly he taught me as part of a bigger lesson, I think."

Valen looked at her doubtfully. "And what lesson was that?"

She looked back at him sadly. Thinking of her lost mentor still made her melancholy. "To not judge others too quickly." She sighed. "It was a difficult lesson for me to learn, I'm afraid. I got my knuckles switched so many times, I couldn't hold my sword for practice for two days."

"Oooo!" Deekin exclaimed from his seat behind Valen. "Deekin thought Drogan was such a nice dwarf too."

Yasha laughed briefly, though it sounded humorless even to her own ears. Drogan had not been a follower of Torm himself. When her teacher had learned of her inclinations, however, he had gathered many books on the teachings of the church, and had been most eager to install in her the Penance of Duty. She thought perhaps he agreed with the lessons they taught more than any other parts of her personal oaths to Torm. "Drogan ordered the lesson, but an...ally of his actually gave it. I don't believe she was a follower of Eilistraee herself, unfortunately." She rubbed her fingers at the remembered pain, and focused on Valen once more. "I've sworn an oath to aid and defend all those of goodly faith, regardless of who they are or where. I have also sworn specifically that I would help you and the Seer. I take my oaths very seriously."

Valen was silent for a long minute, seemingly troubled by his thoughts. He didn't comment on her revelations, but seemed to comment instead on where his thoughts had quietly gone. "The Seer believes what she believes. Her goddess leads and she follows without question, and this has been enough... so far."

Surprised, Yasha turned around in her seat to fully face the tiefling."You don't believe in her visions?"

"I believe that the Seer has visions. I believe it may even be that her goddess sends them. I am a being of the planes, however, and I ascribe no infallibility to gods and goddesses."

She crossed her arms and frowned at him. Torm certainly didn't teach his own infallibility. Indeed, that very fallibility was the heart of the Penance of Duty. Still, she couldn't deny that the tiefling's open lack of faith troubled her.

"The Seer believes that you will lead us to victory," he continued, unfazed, "but nothing is said of what such a victory might cost us." He looked at her pointedly once more. "Some costs, I think, are too high."

"Meaning what?" she replied coldly.

"Meaning that the Seer assumes that you are here to help us. I make no such assumption." His stare was still very intense. "I have led these people through every danger so far and kept the Seer safe throughout. I won't see them betrayed."

Yasha turned away, struggling to keep her temper in check. She was not used to being accused of faithlessness, and it rankled. On the surface of Toril, any ally who knew of her faith, of her vocation as a paladin of Torm, trusted her implicitly. Still, if she were in his shoes, she would understand his feelings. He knew nothing about her, after all. How could he even be sure she was what and who she said she was? He was only trying to protect the Seer and the people he had adopted. She remembered also her very recent decision to resist the first impulses of anger. "I admire your dedication," she admitted finally.

"Thank you." His stance did not soften. "But that is why I must have an answer on this."

Yasha scowled at him and shook her head. "You think I would betray them?"

"And why not? You've no loyalty to beholden yourself to the drow or the Seer. For all I know you may see the death of any drow as a good thing."

Yasha shook her head. "If you don't trust me so much, then why are you here?"

"Because the Seer asked me to assist you, and you said you needed that assistance. Why? Have you changed your mind?"

She sighed and turned back around. She planted her elbow on the railing of the boat, and leaned on it heavily, staring out into the darkness around them for a long moment before turning her face back to him. "No. Have you?"

"I said I would help you and I intend to do so faithfully," he said with renewed steel, "but I intend to watch you, as well. I don't trust you, and it is as simple as that."

Simple as that. Crossing her arms, she looked away from him again and frowned sternly at the darkness ahead. Eventually, her insulted anger faded into a rather morose melancholy. The discussion, after all, was just another reminder of how far she was from all she knew and was familiar with, and from any friendly and welcoming face. "Welcome to the Underdark, Yasha," she said to herself. "Why thank you. So happy to be here."

"Boss? You talkings to yourselfs again?"

Her mood lifted somewhat. She turned around and stuck her tongue out at the little kobold. She had at least one friendly face with her, even if it was reptilian, and she would be thankful for that. She would also, she swore, earn this warrior's respect and trust, and thus prove herself above his suspicions. Thus, with a renewed sense of purpose, she settled in to ride out the boat ride over a river of death.