Somehow, they made it. But not without great effort, and a lot of fear. Numerous times, Vice was certain they'd get pulled under the waves and drowned in dark water.. and each time his fear took hold of his heart, Tarnished was right by his side. A buffer from the waves, steady and even - later, they even acted as a stepstone that allowed him to get to safety. He was uncertain what he'd done to deserve any aid at all, and was especially unreceptive to the concern showed to him after he dragge...

It wasn't long before he found them again, and as usual Vice heard them long before they would have come into his 'view'. The strange, invisible string that seemed to connect him to this specific party of adventurers was something he'd never experienced before.. yet, he still looked forward to their 'appearance' each and every time. The fact that he could identify them by their hoofsteps before even scenting them was.. maybe borderline stalkerish, if he was hone...

It'd been weeks since he'd been lost to the darkness, cast into an eternal night that he now knew he'd never be able to escape from. Very little memory remained of the Actual Event, but what did haunted even today's hoofsteps. The fear, whatever righteous anger had been fueling him at the time.. all that confidence - and violence - crushed from his very soul by the oppressive forces of the dungeon. Perhaps that was what became of marauders when they took an inno...