Petrichor had been walking a while after the last encounter with the skull. Not a moment of it was boring, but it certainly lacked a certain burst of excitement. Maybe that was what was to be expected of the upper layers of the dungeons. Ever faithful now, his Wisp lit the path ahead and kept him from tripping over grooves in the rocks several times. He wondered what plants he could collect from this strange place. Would they grow strong in the sunlit meadows of his surface home? Or we...

Deeper in he went, the walls wrapped in dark green foliage and the odd flickers of fire light emanating from the air itself it seemed. Nothing in this place made true sense and the depths of its magicks knew no bounds. On the surface, the others would balk at just the very few things he already encountered. Then, perhaps, they'd call him insane. Maybe he was beginning to understand why the other adventurers spoke so little of their ventures. 'Follow me,' she whispers sweetly....

Stepping below the surface felt euphoric and strange. It was cold but there was a heat emanating from somewhere he couldn't quite pinpoint. Whatever presence that had led Petrichor here in the dead of night hadn't really left but it was clear it would offer no help the deeper he crawled. Even for him, this was impulsive and stupid, but the feeling was quickly transcended by wonder as the caves welcomed him in further. From every story he'd heard as a child, there were treasures, unlike...