Rum wiped his face with the arm of his robe, removing both Royath’s spit and his forehead’s sweat. Behind Royath, Rum could see small and large rocks had been pushed out from the sides of the earthy mountain walls further back, and used to block the passage just behind them. The new wall of rock looked as massive, and as imposing, as the tunnel would ever allow. And in-between the cracks there, Rum could see hints of the red robes of Jorteg’s witches, their cloth moving about under faint torchlight. When the signs of cloth soon disappeared, everyone heard the cackling laughter of several women, and the triumphant giddiness of a few men.

With his torch in front of him, Rum walked up to the new obstruction, peering into it for a moment. A few seconds of looking passed, before he stopped investigating. Standing in front of stone, he yelled with magic: “Muscles Grow, Body Thicken, Skin Toughen!” As Rum’s body morphed into a hulking shape, he handed his torch over to a nearby elf. The transformation complete, he put his right shoulder and left hand against the wall, beginning to push. As the other elves watched, Rum's face slowly turned red, and he grunted with pained effort. “Urvanom” he whimpered as he struggled to move the mass, “come help me with your levels of strength!” The old elf, who’d also been carrying a torch, handed his over to the same elf Rum had given his to, and then flexed his arm muscles a coupled of times, as if trying to remember his own power. When the elf arrived at the wall next to Rum, the mage took a little break. He took the elf’s hand, and breathed out “Muscles Grow – huuuh! – Body Thicken – huuuh! – Skin Toughen – huuuh!”. Together the 2 of them started pushing against the stone. “NNNNNG! ARE-YOU-PUSHING-URVANOM!? NNNNNG!” Urvanom’s face slowly turned red with Rum’s, and he squeaked a “YES!” as their hulking shapes, with 4 massive strong arms, proved no match for the new, improvised, but heavy and hard obstruction.

“Stop” Rum wheezed, and the two just stood there for a moment, breathing in deeply. “Okay” Rum said, apparently to everyone, “hand your torches over that guy!” Rum pointed at the elf currently holding the two torches, “And come over here and help! Drop the shields too, we’ll need every elf we can spare for this.” What followed Rum’s request was one elf trying carefully, but with significant difficulty, to hold on to 5 burning torches. All while 11 elves and Rum were infused with the magic to become small giants of muscle. Together, the elves and Rum formed a strong but chaotic front. Like a small sea of spears, their hands pushed jointly against the rock. Still, even with Rum overcharging his spell to reach the upper limits of strength, they managed only to make a couple of cracks very so slightly larger.

Sitting on the ground, again wheezing, Rum let out a tired declaration: “It’s pointless. Whatever–” he gasped deeply, “–they did, it was with magic. Muscle won’t do.” The elves around him sat down too, all leaning against the tunnel walls, or just straight down on the ground like pancakes in the dim torchlight.

“What do we do?” Udevi quietly asked the damp air.

Rum looked over at Alkiath. “You don’t happen to know how to speak to stones as well, do you?”

Alkiath frowned, looking offended. “Stonespeak?”

“Yeah”

“Rum” Alkiath sighed, “We’re elves! Not dwarves!”

“Alright, just wanted to make sure.”

The elves around Rum looked tired, a couple of them already miserable. Rum looked into the blue for a moment, sighing to himself.

Alkiath looked over at Rum again, a hint of expectation in his face. “What are you thinking about?”

“I just realized” Rum began, “that there is a 3rd option.”

“3rd?” Alkiath looked at Rum quizzically.

“Yeah. Remember this morning? I said there were 2 likely options? Either they didn’t know we were here, or they knew but were too weak to strike. I realize that there might be a 3rd likely option.”

“Which is?” Alkiath queried.

“To lure us inside, trap us where we can’t escape, and then kill us one by one until we’re all dead.”

Alkiath’s face instantly became like the rock that had just defeated them. His only response a deadpan, emotionless stare.

“I was inspired by this theory due to our...” Rum paused to look around, “... current predicament.”

Listening to this conversation, the number of miserable faces in the crowd of elves gradually grew to become the majority. What little hope there had been in their faces was now, one by one, becoming extinguished, as they all collectively went from a mood of adventure, to a mood of silent despair.

“COMPOST!” Yelled an elf, angrily.

“What? Where?” Rum looked around, curious and confused.

“No-no, Rum” Alkiath began, “it’s just how we elves express frustration – strongly.”

“Oh” Rum responded, and then looked at the other faces of the elves. Most of them looked at him with either the same misery, or a new disappointment at his ignorance. Yet, a couple of them afforded themselves brief smiles at his stupid reaction.

One elf stood up. It was Urvanom. “Now now, this is not an attitude to have among dungeoneers! Don’t you all sit here in passivity. There’s still one way we can go – onwards!” Urvanom threw a pointed finger towards the further depths of the tunnel ahead, to where they’d yet to step foot. The various elves perked up, one by one, and watched their fellow elf, all ears listening. “Perhaps this is a setback, but it’s but a small one. Remember, we are 11 elves, armed and ready to fight! AND WE GOT THE GREAT MAGE!” With both hands and an overwhelming, beaming sincerity, Urvanom gestured at Rum. Embarrassed, Rum felt his cheeks flush a little. “We haven’t even fought a single skeleton yet, have we?” and Urvanom looked into each one of their eyes, his rhetorical question reverberating in each of their minds. “So, did we not come here to fight? Did we not come here to fight this dungeon’s minions, and secure wealth for our people!?” Gradually, the mood in the tunnel started to change. A new infant bravery appearing amongst the crowd. Alkiath stood up next, nodding firmly at Urvanom. “He’s right” Alkiath said, ”we did not come here to sulk at mere rocks. Let’s get up, let’s get ready, and let’s find a proper fight – and win!” There was no cheering crowd, no standing ovation. But most of the elves smiled, at least a little, as they too stood up. Urvanom meanwhile, beamed broadly enough for everyone present to feel it. He nodded firmly and with expressed conviction at his fellow elves, appearing positively intoxicated by the energy of his own speech.

The party once more formed their line of descent: Alkiath first, Rum third, and Urvanom last. Standing before his companions, Alkiath shouted with a raised bow: “We have skeletons to fight!”, and thus the march continued, now with the beginnings of a new, defiant spirit.

“I’d would just want to add something though” Rum said in a quiet voice as the march began, “I would suggest – just for all of you – that you redouble your efforts at–” and he slowed done for emphasis, “–not dying.” He continued in a normal voice: “I think that's important to stress. As your one, and only present healer I must ask of you all: please, do... not... die. Injuries are fine, but... no dying.” He paused to look about and into the elven faces, each one raising their eyebrow in response. “Just... That’s all.”

The two competing messages, Alkiath’s defiance, and Rum’s caution, produced an awkward march. Ahead of the party, Alkiath produced a little sigh, then grunted un-elven-like. He said nothing, but in his noise was an aggression, and newfound determination. This was an elf on the path of war.