“Ah… they went this way,” Hasan called from the right. He pointed to a blue rip of cloth caught on one of the tunnel’s walls’ many rocky outcroppings. “There is no dust on this ripped edge, it is a fresh snag,” the elf reasoned. “This must be the way of the dwarvish retreat.”
But Hasan walked the other way. “One web deserves another, eh, Miklos?” he laughed. And the elf blocked off the entrance–and exit–from the other passageway with magical webstrands. “Remember this passage, Feldard,” Hasan called after the dwarf, who had already stomped off. He himself, the elf knew, would never find his way back to this point in the subterranean maze they found themselves in.
Feldard glanced back towards the elf who had their backs and nodded to himself before continuing on towards the right. The change in tunnel architecture was a surprise. The dwarven and gnomish miners had obviously mined into an older existing tunnel system. It didn’t seem like a wholly natural cavern; however, Feldard was having trouble distinguishing its original inhabitants. It would come to him eventually; he was sure.
Confident of his dwarven friends’ unerring sense of direction in the dark, Miklos continued following him. The light from his stone dances around the low tunnel and he was forced to duck occasionally. Sometimes it was handy being short, he mused.
Miklos watch the elf prince’s magic with interest. There were subtle differences between his technique and the elven one. It was in some ways was more fluid and graceful but fractionally longer in its execution. He could see the logic in the action but he wonder how long the magic would last. But he didn’t question the elf over this. Their magic might be different after all.
Maruc was getting frustrated with the low ceiling. Being one of the taller folk and less flexible in his bulky armour he found himself getting pains in his back with all the stooping. The lights swayed ahead of him and he did his best to keep up, fervently wishing for a taller tunnel so he could stretch for a second or two.
Stephan shuddered at the sound of slimy dripping deep in the tunnels. Most of his warring days had been spent above ground. He noted Maruc’s frustration with the cramped conditions. In a low voice, “Aye. I’m grateful for this helm, at least. Otherwise I’d have bashed my own skull a dozen time already. ‘Tis confined in here. I’ll be glad when we’re out.”
The cramped tunnel opened out into a large natural cavern, where dripping water has formed a legion of stalagmites and stalactites, some of which join up to form slender pillars. Across one part of the cavern a number of these pillars once formed a cage-like screen, but a way has been smashed through.