A few painted dogs later Corvayne took his own turn with the rapier. For the most part he acted the part of an adult. But he REALLY wanted to try it with [Backstab] too. Walking back to camp, covered in blood, he had to admit that while one [Backstab] was music to the ears, a dozen was a symphony.

Mister I was busy grilling and preparing a slug, a dog, and a fish that looked like a porcupine with how many spikes it had. The paint dog would be done first: the legs looked like giant chicken drumsticks and smelled amazing. Wick saw the three of them and laughed. “Can't leave you alone for a second and you baptize the newbies in blood. Not a cultist my ass.”

Corvayne spoke in as innocent a tone as he could manage. “The weapon works very well.”

Wick looked him up and down and he swore she licked her lips a little. “I wanna mess with the dial too but I wanted to eat and give her a chance to rest. She probably drains stamina like when you use those attacks.”

He followed his gore soaked companions to the stream pouring out of the lake. Corvayne just walked into the water and out. The goblin set his pack down and did the same. Hari handed Corvayne the rapier and looked between the two. “Turn around!”

Corvayne did so, then gave Mosh an elbow and the goblin rolled his eyes and did so. A few splashes and annoyed grunts followed by water dripping onto water later the elf called out. “Better. Had to squeeze the robe out.” Wet but much cleaner, they went back to camp.

Dinner, or late lunch, was fantastic. The slug meat when cooked seemed to exude something like cream. Mister I, confident a healing potion or Mosh could fix him, took the first bite and confirmed it was tasty. It was like the monster ate the ingredients for beef stroganoff. There was also a hint of pear. The dog legs had a little barbeque sauce on them and tasted like chicken in the best possible way. The fish probably just had butter or something instead of blood. The meat had little rough ridges that tasted like bread mixed in too, with the barest hint of strawberry. He had also made mimic strips, and the meat tasted like wood smoked bacon and maple syrup, the meat crispy but juicy. All monsters brought to mind odd flavor combinations that he was almost certain would be disgusting but worked, with exotic textures as he chewed.

Mosh was skeptical. “There's no way some of this stuff isn't toxic.”

Corvayne turned to Hari who was eating her leg, zoning out. “Can you use your skill on meat?”

“Oh, well, sure...” She looked at each of the dishes. “It's interesting. Most monsters are usually poisonous or don't taste good at all. It seems like the saturation in magic has fixed some of the chemical problems in these. The rule of thumb is just don't eat anything that has poison attacks, anything that makes your lips numb, or anything that tastes bitter. Beer Slime excluded from all three.”

Corvayne tried to summarize what she said in fewer words. “Okay. it's safe. Let's eat...”

Mosh didn't wait for more then the word safe and started eating his way though sliced slug. Mister I had packed drinks, water for himself and juice for anyone who wanted it. Grunt popped open a beer. Corvayne declined: he'd take first watch when they camped for real. Wick also waved it away. “Maybe one before bed. I got WORK here... can I get a juice?”

Corvayne helped with cleanup. As did Mosh, who did another invocation. “Lythandies! To the clean we call to you. From the clean we to call you. Order pulls us forward. Lythandies!”

Mosh started cleaning, everything he packed somehow added something else that just sort of ended up in a plastic bag. Mosh arranged everything on the little folding table they brought and the faint smell of sawdust followed him. Corvayne was not sure how the just dipping the grill in the lake got it warm and soapy, but Mister I was impressed. Mosh mimed eating, patted his belly, and gave a nod and a thumbs up.

The monk beamed. “Good! Another meat friend has arrived! Did the young lady enjoy it?”

Corvayne nodded. “She seemed to be decently hungry.” He spotted her sitting on the drop off to the sandy shore, staring at the lake.

“That's good... I worry though. The events that happened... losing her friends... she will need support and attention.”

Corvayne shivered as he thought about losing his own friends. “I thought that Mosh... hey, what's your mending do in regards to her feelings? You didn't like, blast her memories aware or something.”

Mosh looked offended. “Boss, if I was a mind-bender I could do that. Mending someone who's depressed is like stitching a wound. It can help it from opening again and help it heal, but it still hurts. I thought that's why you were working her like a horse! Keeping her busy, feeling important, and maybe developing connections with us. Even just venting on goblins... as unhealthy as it is, that all helps heal the wound. Don't look at me like that. My opinion of my own species has dropped a BUNCH over the last week lemme tell you... I think loaning her that sword is helping, as is making the artifact a project. How many days do you think we'll spend here?”

“I talked with Wick, we planned for three or four, but for up to a week. Time moves faster in here, but we're burning weekend in here.”

The goblin sighed, then spoke. “Ok then just keep a steady pace. Taking turns with the sword will help. Let Wick know not to be jealous.”

He thought of the best way to say it without drawing Mister I into his situation. “As we talked about earlier, that should not be an issue.”

“I think you're underestimating yourself and maybe overestimating her.” Mosh finished folding up the little table and handing it back to Mister I. “People convince themselves of things they don't want to be true all the time. Even I had a few years where I thought I was a wunderkin. But after meeting a dozen younger people from all walks of life who put me to shame, it put me in my place a little. Stressed me the hell out, I decided to go into meditation to even things out, then said 'what the hey' and you know, started just focusing on making... Lemme back up, your eyes are going to glaze over like a Burtzchezinan Sponge ran through the kiln a few times. I say, keep Hari busy. Give her some work compliments when she does solid work. You were doing good back in the forest. Oh and one last thing; give her some time before you put the moves on her.”

Corvayne frowned. “It's only been on my radar as so far as you keep mentioning it.”

“Sorry boss. I don't know how you run things.” Mosh scratched his head.

“Poorly. But I'm learning. Thank you for giving me a heads up. I'll try to keep Hari engaged... With work.”

Wick had Corvayne repeat the plan: They had wanted to establish if there were multiple ways up, and now were going to do experiments. They had tested if being apart made the stairs go out to different floors. Corvayne hadn't been worried on that front: a gun and his fire breathing dagger meant he could fight the trees with a large degree of safety, and he was pretty sure Grunt could clear the entire place himself. Those worries about what to do if the party split were for naught, he had agreed to run all the way to the first stairway they had found, 2 cubes away. It took him less then twenty minutes. One odd thing was that it was day on both floor 1 and original floor 2. But the starlight dusk remained on the new floor 2.

Corvayne appreciated that everyone was happy to see him back. Even Wick gave a rare real smile, then quickly let it fade back to a manic grin. Grunt nodded: I knew you'd be OK.

Grunt had offered to be 'bait' with his new boots. They were sitting just inside the stairs down, having backtracked up the hill. Looking over the moonlit landscape, he could see Grunt with a pair of dogs chasing him. He actually slowed down to keep their attention. One was injured, the other was untouched. The group went down the stairs as Grunt jogged the leaping and bounding monsters to the stairway threshold. Corvayne was backing up and saw that the one that was unharmed simply turned before it got to the stairs, and the injured one slowed but then kept running at Grunt. It followed him out into the light then was skewered by Corvayne. Mister I was quick to pick up the body.

The monk shook the painted dog. “Breakfest!”

Grunt tested it a few more times over an hour, with Corvayne as helper and cleanup. Sometimes an uninjured dog would follow, usually one that Grunt had bothered before. Ones that he harmed seemed more determined and would almost always run down the stairs after him. Injured ones didn't like the floor and would usually turn back if Grunt was out of site or too far. They would turn and try to attack Corvayne if they 'lost' Grunt... so they had a sense the monsters knew what floor they belonged on, though with some prodding Grunt found if they ran one down a floor then ran away, it got lost somewhat easily and just started milling about as if to say 'ok, fine, whatever'.

The basic tests were done. Corvayne thought that perhaps a separate trip could be finding out how big the floors were, but they wanted to reach the third floor and rest where there were far less monsters. The second floor (from the previous week with the tilted plate-like landmasses) had less monsters on the path they had blazed before, though at Wick's insistence they did do some detouring to try to find a different down stairway and any chests on the second floor.

They found stairs down at the bottom of the islands gentle slope, tucked into the rocky walls that hedged floor 2 sections in. The group stepped out of a cave into a configuration that actually looked a lot like a mish-mash of the trails around the park, rendered with the yellow sky and teal trees with red and blue bark with small cracks crossed by bridges. In scouting for fifteen minutes they figured out that there were small predatory salamanders that patrolled the floor. Wick wanted to look for a door and while searching Corvayne spotted a large biped watching him from behind the trees. A bigfoot. He waved, and the creature flinched and looked back, then, it waved back, then pointed. Corvayne nodded at it. Pointed, then waved once more. The creature then turned and vanished into the underbrush.

Wick blinked. “Was that...?”

Corvayne nodded. They were thinking beings. “Let's try not to kill any more of them.”

The rest of the journey to find a door out took another half an hour of following trails down to a place where three creeks all ran together to form a little pond that then ran off the edge of the island. There was another door with pictograms on it, the same 'go up five floors' instruction.

They hiked back up. Mister I was the most animated, taking pot-shots at critters that looked to Corvayne like heavily armored crickets. The monk took one of each thing. He must have felt the weight of all that meat climbing up, because he asked politely if Mosh or Grunt would be willing to carry some. Mosh took a cricket-thing that couldn't have been twenty pounds, and Grunt just accepted another lump of weight onto his mostly undiminished stock of baseball bats and huge bag.

The second island of floor two had repopulated only a little after Corvayne's slaughter. Indeed, there was a section of grass where there was a circle of broken weapons and bones around a tree. Mister I went over to the tree. “A great battle happened here... yet a tree still sprung up. I want to observe this! Hold on...”

He sat on the ground.

Wick tapped him on the shoulder. “Mister Icariii, uh, the battle was...”

The older man held a palm out to Wick. “Shh. Five mintues.”

Corvayne sat and looked at the tree. It was just the one Wick had hid in while he killed everything... oh, maybe they left out the tactics of fighting large packs on their first time. Still, he calmed himself and tried to do as Mister I was doing. Just thinking about the fight he had there, and the view of someone who didn't know what the carnage looked like when the blood was fresh. Hmm. Did it rain on these islands? Wait... there was something in that tree. A blood red fruit.

He stood up and walked over to the tree and pulled it off. Mister I saw him and gasped. “I didn't see that! It must be a natural treasure!!”

Corvayne gave it to the Monk. Wick groaned. “If it's worth something, we should divvy it up.”

“He found it, if not for stopping I'd never have looked.”

Mister I immediately ate it.

Everyone watched. Mister I's eyes widened a little. He had a look of supreme relaxation go over him. Then he slapped his knee.

“It tasted really good! Kinda like a blood-fruit. Thank you for letting me try it!”

Wick seemed disappointed. “I was hoping he'd start glowing or something.”

Corvanye shrugged. “Can't all be artifacts. Let's keep going, it's been a long day.”

The sloping islands of floor 2 didn't yield any treasure with the cursory examination they gave the nooks and crannies around the 'drain' where islands came together. They found another down stairs. They walked out into a floor 1 that looked to be organized in vast straight valleys, probably in a grid. The sky was blue on this shard and grass green. The natural looking greenery went down and up to hills at the center of a vast grid of what looked like square pillars a mile high, still carved out of blue rock. Looking up, he could faintly make out huge cubes in a regular grid in the cloud streaked sky, mirroring the floor they were on. The roots winding their way up between ground and the first grid (or coiling down?) were miles and miles long.

Hari sighed. “I feel like my luck was terrible. Had we not been ambushed... maybe my group would be seeing this too.”

“If things came down to the worst case scenario I'd rather that at least someone made it out. Your companions were avenged, and I'd be surprised if the way out doesn't sort you out to where you belong.”

She stopped, looking a little shaken. “I'd be alone in the middle of the ruins...”

“You're helping us out. We'll try to get you things that will allow you to make it out of your dungeon safely.”

Wick looked between them. “Yeah. Tomorrow is going to be about exploring and finding more treasure. If we need to delay leaving to secure more stuff, it fits with what we were thinking about doing anyway. Push comes to shove, it was 2 hours to a day or so, we could explore for a couple of weeks and have you kitted out.” Corvayne was secretly pleased that Wick thought similar to what he did about helping the elf.

Corvayne turned to Hari. “I agree. Wick was saying it wouldn't break us too bad if we stay longer to find an item that would help you escape your dungeon.”

Mosh said “As long as you don't wanna stay on the goblin cannibal floor I'm down! Just don't take too long, I wanna meet friends for my birthday next week.”

Corvayne sighed. “I will also consider you want to return home for your birthday. Being teleported from your bed to another world sounds like it would be longer than a week to get back, but the last two weeks or so of my life make me hesitant to say there's no way.”

Mosh laughed. “Ahaha, you're so careful! Just say I'm full of shit Boss. I can read between the lines.”

“I try to keep it civil, but noted for future use. We might come back here though... the grid to me suggests that those hills are points of interest.”

They hiked back up the stairway that was a very obvious impossibility from how the entrance was nearly the entire face of the rock at the top of the hill. It was creepy even though he had come to accept the impossible as matter of course from the hours spent in the tower. Corvayne wished he had spent more time in the physics section of the village library. Or maybe had Spaces along to point things out. The only villager he'd miss.

Floor three was glorious to see again! The air was cool. The vast landscape felt more natural.

Wick walked ahead of them. “We'll change the way we go when looking for a camp. Night falls on this floor too, it looks like we have at least a few hours to find a spot.”

The path had split a few times on their long journey the first time on the floor. Entering the dimmer under canopy, Corvayne could see the group relax. Grunt had a small smile looking at the scenery. He mimed daintily picking up a tea cup, then eating something with both hands. Good place for a picnic, Corvayne was pretty sure was the message. Hari's grip on her blade eased a little. Mister I especially was pleased. “Perfect weather! The previous floors were too warm.”

Wick laughed. “It gets really freaking cold at night. That's why we had you pack blankets. Eh, we'll need to do something about the newbies.”

Grunt had brought two huge fleece blankets and lifted the flap of his bag to show them off. Wick looked at him. “That still leaves us one short. Gah. Maybe the dungeon will provide one if we find another chest.” Grunt looked between her and Corvayne, and then put his pointer finger out. Corvayne was willing for Grunt to NOT make a screwing motion. Don't suggest it Grunt. Don't do it. Then he took his other hand, and tilted his head a little: Don't do what? This? He put both pointer fingers together and gave Corvayne an innocent look. He turned to Wick and did the same motion without the snark, somehow, and then mimed sleeping.

Corvayne noted that Wick glared at Grunt, then looked at Corvayne. “Grunt, why! Are you asking me to arrange for Corvayne to bunk with you?”

He rolled his eyes. One finger up. He mimed a ball and chain, then mimed stabbing, choking, machine gun: Dawn would not approve. Two fingers up. He mimed cupping a chest, then swinging his bat four times one direction, then patted his crotch and turned around and mimed swung once, but shrugged with a head tilt: I prefer women mostly but not exclusively; Also your attempt at a barb doesn't phase me one bit. Three fingers: Points at Corvayne, then hits his chest. Crosses his arms then mimes swinging a baseball bat, crosses it again: Corvayne is a bro. Not that kind of love, lady.

Wick folded her arms. “So why shouldn't I be offended that you're making assumptions about me and Corvayne?”

He rolled his eyes. He pointed at Wick, pointed at Corvayne, then held up a single finger. He was miming faster, face locked into a glower. Arm folding, his head tilted like a disapproving adult. Mimed throwing something in the air, then striding along and getting hit by it. Mimed firing an arrow, then pointed at his own heart and jabbed it with his finger, made a heart sign. At this point Mister I had stopped trying get Hari to try his bow and Mosh was just watching the exchange and Corvayne.

He tried to review what he assumed the rather fast gestures Grunt used. Wick and Corvayne were one? Or maybe blurting out that Corvayne had only ever slept with her. He wasn't happy about that. Wick had done something careless? Or she wasn't thinking about consequences? He was thankful that everyone else was missing context. Grunt was currently miming something like a mixing bowl: No clue here.

Wick seemed to understand. “Well, Grunt, I'm not a damn kid, and he isn't either. I know he didn't put you up to this because he looks horrified. I wish you had his usual poker face though, because you've been FUCKING obvious about it from the get-go that you're trying to...”

Corvayne stepped between them and did his best to adopt a tone that mimed his father sorting out two Watchers having a dispute. “Grunt. Wick. Thank you for both sticking up for me. I want to talk with you two, just the three of us, about your points. Later. After we set up a camp and have time to think about what you think is happening, and how that makes you feel, we'll step out of camp. We are ALL tired. We are going to have people staying up to watch. So the entire staying warm problem will not require anyone sleeping with anyone else. We did good today.” He looked at Wick, then Grunt. Both seemed a little annoyed with him, but he kept going before Wick could open her mouth or before Grunt started miming opening a can of worms. “You two are essential team members. More importantly you are my friends, my first ones.” He gave Wick a look in the eyes. She was fidgeting furiously, but looked down and away.

“Fine. I'll hold off on this.” Wick said with a sigh.

He turned to Grunt and gave him the same double barreled stare. Grunt sighed and nodded. He looked a little sheepish. Corvayne fist bumped his chest at Grunt. He turned and did the same to Wick. She rolled her eyes behind her glasses and made a really annoyed face but put her fist against her chest. “You're really a pain in the ass Corvayne.”

They resumed walking. Grunt and Wick were still giving each other room as they walked through the forest. They took the left fork in the path near the entrance this time. This fork lead to a pair of shallow streams with rocks affording a crossing if they stepped across. There were more broken walls on either side of the path now. The yellow sky was still bright but the dot had moved closer to behind them. They had been in the dungeon now, thirteen hours? Fifteen? Maybe more. It would take them to dusk to backtrack to the entrance now. But the walls had what looked like collapsed homes near them, so he hoped to find another comfy spot to rest at.

Corvayne crested a hill that he expected would be a pass into another vast forested valley and was surprised to see the path turning from packed blue dirt to grass matted stones ahead. A ruined village spread out beyond that, homes visible as well as roads where the brush hadn't climbed so high. There was a square with a fountain housing a scraggly tree, houses covered in moss and vines, and even a collapsed bridge across a stream that he could see winding through the ruin. There were maybe twenty or thirty dwellings. What drew his eye, aside from forest, were the ridges that formed huge impenetrable walls on this floor met at a gap. It looked like there were fortifications up there, but he'd need to get closer to see what was beyond a stone arch he could make out over the trees.

In stories, ruins would always be silent places, full of mists and dangers and shadows shifting. He was relived that the tower didn't throw that at them. There were no skeletons laying about, though they did defeat some furry slugs. Mosh even tried to help in a fight by spraying salt at it. While it did irritate the monster he had to then run from the creature as it glided after him, trying to bash him.

They were duitiful about checking the collapsed homes for chests too, moving as a group. He had Wick teach Hari and Mosh the Collective words for 'Clear' and 'Help' and 'Yes' and 'No' so they could at least start expressing themselves. They didn't find any treasure, but the lack of anything lurking there was worth it.

Corvayne motioned ahead. “I want to look at the gate ahead, then we can come back and set up a camp in one of those ruins with most of the walls intact.”

The paved road continued through the trees and opened up to a large stone arch over a long stone bridge reaching out into the yellow sky. Two tower-shaped gate houses flanked it, stone and overgrown with vines but still standing. He guessed the structures, despite their squat profile, were at least thirty feet high. Between them, a rusted gate made of bars hung open. The structure was like a dark gray line into the void. He had guessed things more than a few miles away didn't block the ambient light. Near the horizon line and under it, the yellow had started to take on a deeper orange color as the light set.

Corvayne turned to the group. “Hari, do you happen to have methods of detecting traps?”

She shifted her weight a little. “I have something that I can use to evaluate hazards in a space, so yes. It exhausts me... I am sorry It's something that... had I used it more... maybe they could have...”

The mend was wearing off. “Can you check the towers? We really appreciate your help. If they are safe we can claim them and have shelter for the night.”

She nodded and held her hands up, stepping to the tower. “This area is blue... weird.”

“Blue good or blue bad?”

“It's safer than most places...” Hari looked about. “Give me a moment and I'll take another reading.”

She stood before the other building. “Blue as well. You get blue in safe inns, some temples, places warded... I'm just confused...” She took a deep breath. “Mind walking with me back to the village? I want to see if the reading there is green or yellow.”

That felt like a reasonable request. They wouldn't too far not to be heard if they started shouting. “Ok... do you guys want to explore the buildings while I take Hari back for a reading?”

Grunt nodded and cracked his knuckles. He made a small cupped hands, then a big cupped hands, then wiggled the fingers. He then punched his palm, grinning: I really want to kill some giant spiders!

Corvayne laughed a little. “I hope for everyone's sake there are no giant spiders in the tower. I'll be no more than five minutes anyway.”

Mister I waved. “Later I want to see Hari fire a bow!” He mimed it.

“I heard him say my name... he seems convinced I should try my hand at archery.” She looked back.

“The elves in stories are almost always supernaturally skilled archers. I must admit, I'd love to see a master archer doing things such as splitting another arrow he shot in midair.”

Hari put a hand against her face to block it off from Corvayne. “I am sorry, I only really practiced with magic aiming...”

Corvayne nodded as she trailed off. “You are fine.”

They reached the edge of the village. She once more held her hands up. “It's yellow. That's usually safe enough to camp with a watch....” The woman stopped and bent over, putting her hands on her knees. “Sorry.. can you... give...”

“Do you need to sit?”

She nodded and he lead her over to a wall with a gap. She had to push herself up to reach a spot to sit and didn't quite have her balance right. Hari started to slip backwards, hands reaching out to try to grab the brick around her perch. Corvayne caught her arm and her waist and pulled her forward to try to stabilize her, and she managed to avoid falling forward with a huff. He let her go and she started crying. Oh no. He should have seen this coming. Corvayne crouched near her.

“Hari it's okay. You're safe here.”

She was a mess. “I'm sorry. I'm trying. I didn't see the ambush. It was my, I deserve...”

“HARI.” He'd yell her last name too but he honestly had forgotten it.

She looked up eyes red. He softened his voice to be gentle. He had learned that from Spaces. Sometimes the man would just tell him facts in an even, low voice, and the flow of words would smooth everything out.

“Hari, I once asked my father why I ended up with him, instead of my mother. I was particularly angry at him. He was always angry at me. He looked at me and said 'Bad luck.'. Did you have issues in the ruins you were exploring before you came here?”

She was confused. “No. We at worst had a few mild injuries and some burns from slimes, but nothing serious.”

Corvayne kept his confident tone of voice. “Your team knew what to expect, and was prepared for it, and you were trialing with them, right?”

“Yes. They had mentioned I did my role well. I sensed a trap that had spawned in the way before anyone ran over it.”

Corvayne nodded. “They knew the risks of the dungeon and matched it with expertise. You understood what was going on too. You discussed what to expect in the ruins, you learned from it. Once you walked through the portal, you were all stumbling blindly in the dark. What happened to you was bad luck: Something unexpected and awful happened to you and you had no control over it. You had no reasonable way to find out that you'd get moved to a different world. You might go back and prepare for it now but there was nothing you failed to do before. Can you think back to your mentor? You mentioned someone teaching you to be an investigator.”

She nodded sniffling. “Lady Undine.”

“Did she try to talk to you about the risks of doing your job? Of working with adventurers?”

Hari nodded.

“What did she say about when disaster strikes? Did she give you advice?”

Hari bobbed her head again. “She said that death throws darts in the dark. Endlessly tossing and missing. Then one day, he'll hit one, then miss for years, then he'll hit another, then miss for years, then one moment he takes three or four or five darts in his cold palm and flings them at the board carelessly and they all stick to the board it cannot see it's winning or losing or anything it just reaches for the next one, a rain of time and chance. Idiots live all the time, and there's never going to be a shortage of good dead adventurers. She told me that when one dies, or everyone else dies, I should...”

She put her head in her hands. “She said I should go home. See my family. Start one. Go drinking with friends. With my rivals. Embrace life.”

“Ok. I'll get you home. To your family, friends, rivals, and your mentor too. Maybe see that half elf again.”

She looked miserable. “I cant... he was... uh... set to be married.”

“Did he tell you that when you went out for drinks? Or was it after you... set the record straight.” He shouldn't pry but she brought it up.

“He waited until afterwords. Like, right afterwords! I was just sitting there, half drunk, in a strange inn bed trying to figure out what happened. It was also... my first time.”

Corvayne looked around at the stone walls. Too much information. He understood that she needed to talk to someone, but he couldn't look her in the face while he tried to think of what to say, and just started talking when that didn't come up.

“Well, you had no way of knowing. After a bad first outing, I'm sure things went better?” Corvayne saw some sort of danger sign as he spoke. Shame crossed her face.

“No...”

Corvayne nodded. The way she said it quietly filled him with anger, some at himself for an idiotic question, and more to the monster that he had already killed. “I want you to be here, present, with me now. You're safe. We will keep you safe. You've more than helped us with your skills. I will get you home. I killed that monster. Whatever... happened it isn't your...”

“Wait wait wait! Hold up Corvayne! I didn't... do that with a goblin!”

Is that what breaks her out of a funk? He had been worried for her. Patience hat. She literally couldn't talk to anyone else. Leader training: Leading is the worst job everyone wants to do. If you hate doing it, you probably understand why.

“You were hurt when we untied you. Are you OK?” Calm. Gentle. Firm. Understanding.

“No, but not just because of the monster... I felt like I deserved it. See... no... it's that... the friend I slept with... was the party leader. I met him a few days before we went out to the ruins. I didn't know he was engaged. I thought that it was fate. And I really got to know his bride, Floowine, on the patrol. She kept showing me the ring, and she was so happy to see another woman in the group because she wanted to talk about how they were going to get married and maybe settle down with something safer. She had a lady asking for her to be her court mage and thought that Khorkos marrying her meant he was ready too.”

He thought of the dart board metaphor that she had described to him. In combining both 'This is my last job then I'm out.' and 'I'm going to get married when we get back from this adventure.' was like jumping up and down on the board with a flare yelling 'Death! Death! Over here!'.

“And I liked her! He acted distant from me and Floowine joked that he was so worried about making sure she didn't get jealous of me... She invited me to the wedding. Right before the last attack she was telling me we'd get out of this together... and now she's... I can't even tell her what I did to her...”

He knew there was guilt at being the one person to walk away from a slaughter. One of the cooks would sometimes need to leave the building and be alone. The story was that a trader's caravan was attacked by a roc. The huge birds knew to stay away from the village, but attacked traders, and it was eating them when the patrol arrived. The bird took the cart with it when it scattered, with people inside. The group followed it to it's roost in the deep desert. The cook usually broke down if he was telling the story there, whatever happened in the deep desert weighing on him. Others would always add that he had come out of the desert covered in wounds, blood, and had a living trader's daughter in his arms. The monster flying off was the last Roc anyone ever saw to the day he left. Corvayne had always longed to be seen with even a fraction of the respect every warrior gave that broken cook.

“Hari, look at me. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't know. She would have forgiven you. You are young. This is going to hurt you, but you will get better. You didn't give up. You're a survivor. Someday, you'll be better. Ok? It's going to hurt. You'll find people who can share that burden.” He heard snapping sounds. Then relaxed when he glanced back and saw Grunt was gathering firewood bare handed. “Come on, let's get a fire going and warm up, and get some sleep. There are better days ahead.” He decided this time to not pose it as a question.