In a world...

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Songs to sing!
When Morlah saw what had been a very large creature with many eyes lying on the floor, he tried hard not to yelp. He almost succeeded. They had fought smaller ones, sure, but this one was massive. He couldn't help but admire the Firedrake Crew for their bravery and prowess, though he couldn't help but notice that the dwarf lay very still on the floor. Strangely, there was no pool of blood around him indicating a mortal wound, but he was dead nonetheless. Morlah hoped to never fight one of these creatures again, if this is what they could do.
Though, where they were going soon may be even worse. Not like they had a choice, of course, but if he died out here like the dwarf, who would sing of his deeds? He couldn't die here, not in this strange land, this... Astral Sea.. or whatever they called it, with its strange voids and asteroids. But what a story to tell, what songs to sing when he got back! People would scarcely believe this strange place, where metal was everywhere and the sky had no moons. He would be the richest bard on Athas! People would sing his songs forever! He just had to make it back, first.
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The Plan?
Archer angled her view through the cell window as much as possible to try to see if there were any gith coming.

"So Hesh is going to open our cell with the crystal that gith gave him, but Mefse and I will keep the door as closed as possible without latching it again. Then when the patrol comes, Mefse will take one guard, and I'll ask the winds to push the other one to Gae'Al, who will grab the second guard through the bars. Then once Mefse and Gae'Al have killed or otherwise subdued the guards, I'll take the keys off one of them, and unlock all the cells. Is that the plan so far? What do we do after that? At what point do I get my bow?"

Archer twisted, turned, and leaned in different directions as she spoke, trying to get a better view of the other cells. Mefse, still seated on the ground behind her, tried his best to stare straight ahead at the wall opposite him, and not at her ass.
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Tags: Archer , Mefse , Plan , PoV
Thoughts from a Gith Cell
Mefse sat on the ground and leaned back against the wall of the cell he shared with the one they all called Archer. It felt good to sit. How long had it been since he'd had a chance to really rest, without the fear that some new threat or challenge was going to suddenly break out of the darkness? Not since Yathizor, at least, but that hadn't really been him. It had been a long time. Years. Now that he thought about it, he hadn't truly rested since before he left the caravan. Not since Tyr... Best not go down that road, he thought. Just take the rest while you can. Mefse closed his eyes and breathed deep. He was sure that their captors would bore of them eventually, in a few days or weeks when the fights got predictable, and that's when the real challenge would come. For now, it was nice to just be still.

A light breeze touched his face each time Archer passed in front of him. He wasn't as skilled at tracking as she was, but she was making no effort at stealth and even with his eyes closed, he could tell she was pacing back and forth from the far wall to the door of the cell they shared. He figured after a bit she'd settle down. She seemed intelligent enough to recognize the need to conserve her energy, after all. But when it sounded like she'd stopped pacing, he opened one eye to find that she was just standing at the small window to the cell, staring out and fidgeting with the hem of the shift she'd been given instead of her usual gear.

"Abalach-Re's tits, woman, are you ever still?!"

She stopped fidgeting, turned, and faced him. Her eyes were wide with... what? Fear? This was one of the ones that rushed headlong at danger; the one who had supposedly leapt into a mile-deep crevice to rejoin the Crew. Why would she be afraid of some gith-bred abominations?

"Most Athasians don't like it when the wind stands still," she said. Her voice sounded like it came from far away and as she spoke, it felt like the air in the cell thickened and warmed until he was reminded of his last crossing to Urik. The wind on the Sand Wastes could be brutal, but when they stopped, even breathing became difficult...

Archer shook her head, as if to clear her mind, and Mefse found his own memories fading back into his mind. He looked skeptically at Archer, as she crossed the narrow cell and sat in front of him. A trick of his own mind? Or a trick of hers?

"I met her son once, Abalach-Re's; Prince Malakai. Yuan-ti. He's probably the reason we're in this mess." She was about to continue when a tall, thin form moved past their cell. A moment passed in silence.

"Did you hear that?" Archer asked.

"Of course not," Mefse answered with a slight growl. "No one ever hears what you hear."

"It dropped something in Captain's cell."
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The fight with the battal...
The fight with the battalion of Gith in the woods was... well, Morlah would hesitate to call it "exhilarating," considering the condition he was in now, but it was definitely the kind of stuff songs are made of. A small plucky crew of adventurers takes out 50 Gith! No, 100 Gith, maybe even 500 Gith! Now, what rhymes with "slimy Gith"? First, though, these stairs.

Morlah peered into the fog, straining to see the end of the stairs. Nothing but mist. He decided that he would not lead the group going down. Definitely because he couldn't see as well through the mist than, say, that archer. Of course that was the reason.

He thought briefly of the people they left behind. He fervently hoped that they were managing and that they would be fine until the crew returned. He hoped, too, that there weren't too many more Gith going toward that chamber. Really, the crew could only take on so many Gith before they would be too exhausted to continue. He shook the thought from his head. They had to go on, to find a way out, to find the source of these Gith and their evil ways.
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Gith, extra crispy, please
Durth wrinkled his nose at the smell of burning flesh, which wafted through the cavern. The fire spirit had done its work, not to mention the quite toasty Zuzar that they had fished out of the flames. He leaned against a rock with a sigh. The fight had been long and hard, and without the flame spirit they surely wouldn't have made it. Now they had one crispy Zuzar, a whole bunch of slaves, and who knows how many more Gith running throughout the cavern. They also had that strange black building with its lone guard, and of course, that gate. The magic coming from that gate felt... bad, somehow. Wrong. Like it interrupted his own magic. It also may be the only real way out, so of course they had to explore it. Of course. He also had a bad feeling about that unnatural looking building. He knew they had to clear out any Gith in there so they wouldn't be ambushed, but nothing about it made sense. What was so important that a guard wouldn't abandon it, yet only required one guard?

Thinking was making his head hurt. He wanted, more than anything, to rest, bind his wounds, sleep for maybe 3 days. The long days of constant vigilance were starting to wear on him. This wasn't really what he had signed up for, but he needed to get out of here. Thanks to this journey, however, he had found Yathazor, a paradise under the ground that they had somewhat destroyed. It was as though he couldn't touch anything without it withering, and yet somehow he needed to see a green Athas before he died. Life was going to be...difficult.
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