Throughout the many trials the dungeon had thrust upon them, they had pressed on and diligently so. Even in the wake of bordering insurmountable exhaustion and failures, they'd continued to walk. After the tomb-like prison, the group had continued on if not a bit more wearily. Well, Arcturus and Prismatic looked to be no different, but Petrichor and Thaumiel walked a bit heavier than before. It was only right after the strangeness of the hardly contained skeletons.

Maybe it was the harshness of the day in that final room that had done them in at last, but they did all come to the same consensus that some rest was needed. They had no planned campsite to make peace in, but they did the best they could with the material they had which wasn't much. Prismatic at some point moves closer to the duo and leaves Petrichor by himself in his own section of the cavern's small hideaway. It was a small reprieve for the hermit.

'I know you grow tired, but I think there may be something of interest, little storm. Follow me?'

His head snaps up to follow Riot's trajectory as the tiny wisp arcs over all the party member's heads and over the small expanse over to another opening. It felt like Petrichor did little more than heavily sigh these days as he heaves himself up to his feet once again. Curious eyes follow him and he gestures lightly over to where his charge is guiding them.

"I think Riot has something worth noting. Perhaps it will be something worthwhile for us all before resting? Something to at least drown out the image of the last room." His suggestion is taken hesitantly by one and casually by the rest, expectedly. They all rise to follow him, and he can think of no lasting reason to bring the stuff they'd just lay out again. So, they leave.

The pit that the wisp guides them to holds tiny trinkets and sprinkles of treasure about. It was nothing to write home about, but it would at the very least sell well once they got out of here. Their failures wouldn't all be for naught. Sure, it still didn't bring home the ones they lost, but it was something other than constant battering and mental gymnastics.

Sending a small thanks to his Lady, he pockets some of the coin and lets Riot guide the gang back out of the corridor to rest with their stuff. Well, rather, it was meant to be like that except it seemed they'd garnered an unwanted bunch of thieves.

Thaumiel steps forward before all of them and tries to find reason with the adventuring group of stealing scum, but it does little to hinder their quite frankly abhorrent behavior. Petrichor can feel a twitch in his eyelid as one of the ruffians badly jostles his bag of herbs and the carefully picked plants drop to the stone only to then be trampled on by clumsy hooves. His patience was great, but he had reached the end of his chain very quickly after what today had put him through.

'My promise still holds true. I stand with you, my champion.'

Her reminder is the catalyst. The leopard courser had had just enough of constant failures. He drew the line at losing all his hard-earned work from past and present dungeon dives. At their constant refusal to see reason, he stamps his hooves and draws lines into the hardened rock and dirt alike, nostrils flaring as his line snaps.

With the fury and knowledge that nothing would be able to hurt him badly, he charges in. Behind him is the support of the older mare as she navigates around him with impossibly perfect coordination. Leaving the others no chance to back out, they join the fray in their attempt to take back what is now lost to them. 

If he was going to be robbed, he was going to go down swinging with all his might. Riot is a lovely distraction for beasts, so it was time to test if other coursers were just as foolishly dense as the mindless creatures that haunted the place. In the back of his head, his Lady laughs in morbidly contagious glee.