Corridor

SPACEThe cave grows warmer with each passing moment. The fire’s blaze creates comfort for all of you, drying your ocean-beaten bodies, cooking the fresh fish, and lighting the otherwise dismal atmosphere.

SPACETharg cooks four fish that he has skewered to a long stick. He downs them quickly, sitting cross-legged in the sand. He approaches Alliandra, still standing at the chest with Gahiji, Conner, and Alasdair.
SPACE“Tharg need drink,” he replies. “You have some?”
SPACEAlliandra hands off her wine bottle of purified water for Tharg to enjoy. Looking about the cave, Alliandra analyzes priorities.
SPACE“Cook more, Tharg,” she says. “Everyone here will need some food.”
SPACEConner walks to the barrel of fish and retrieves two armfuls of fish. Following Tharg back to the fire, he pokes the same frying stick through some more of the slippery supper.
SPACE“You okay?” he says to Tharg.
SPACETharg smiles and hums an out of tune nursery rhyme to himself, sounding like a little child.
SPACEAlasdair wanders over to the fire, approaching Conner where he sits waiting for Tharg to finish cooking more fish. He looks down at the barbarian with a smile.
SPACE“Pardon me, but would you mind lending me that sword so as I can...”
SPACEThe look on Conner’s face could almost be classified as a snarl.
SPACE“What I mean,” Alasdair continues, clearing his throat, “is (ahem) ‘You give me sword. I make good staff. Give sword back.’ Okay?...”
SPACEConner continues his snarl through fish-filled mouth, almost like a dog protecting his meal.
SPACE“Use this,” Alliandra says to Alasdair, a small skinning knife in her outstretched palm. “It will probably work better anyway.”
SPACEAlasdair takes the knife and begins widdling away at his makeshift staff of driftwood.
SPACEGahiji makes his way over to the fire and begins cooking a fish-kebob of his own.

SPACEAs Tharg continues cooking the feast, Alliandra crawls over to where Garn is passed out and tends to his knee. She takes the knife back from Alasdair just long enough to start a cut in the stitching that holds the large red cross to the front of her priestly robe. She hands the knife back to Alasdair, who watches her intently. As does everyone at fireside. For a cleric to purposely deface her robe is nearly unheard of.
SPACEThe compassion that Alliandra exudes is immense. Not to mention the beauty. She takes the cloth cross and ties it about Garn’s knee, setting him up against the coral wall. She then moves to Grant, also asleep beside the fire. She cleans the blood from his head with water from a wine bottle. He awakens slowly from the cold of the cleansing liquid. He grunts once and moves to a more comfortable position in Alliandra’s lap. His eyes flicker open, and then…
He smiles.
SPACEThe smile of a dwarf is a sight to see as it makes each and every crack in their faces show up with the crinkling of their cheeks. Not to mention they don’t do it very often. Grant’s crinkled face is weathered and sun-beaten like leather. He eyes flicker closed again and he begins to snore.
SPACELoudly.

SPACEAlasdair looks to Garn who is still passed out near the fire. He turns to the others at the fire and says, “These footprints Garn found worry me. None of us wear boots, yet the footprints were booted.”
SPACE“I agree,” Gahiji replies. “There may be survivors from the crew wandering about. That could mean danger.”
SPACEAlasdair awakens Garn with a few pokes.
SPACE“Could you tell how many people made them? Just one? A couple? More?”
SPACEGarn coughs twice and then answers. “Too hard to say. More than one. No more than five.”
SPACE“Were they recent?” the bard continues. “Did they walk in a straight line, showing someone strong or did they show a more hesitant movement, like someone wounded or exhausted?”
SPACEGarn attempts to stand. “Too hard to tell.”
SPACEAlasdair grimaces at Garn’s lack of information.
SPACE“You can’t stand yet,” Alliandra instructs him, leaving Grant to help Garn.
SPACE“Sable needs me,” he grunts. The pain and swelling have caught up to him, apparent from the clenched teeth he speaks through.
SPACESeeing the determination in Garn, Alliandra takes his arm over her shoulder. “Then I’ll help you.”
SPACETogether they make their way over to the still unconscious elf at the other side of the cave.

SPACEConner also stands, taking a long stick of fish with him. He pats Tharg on the back and smiles.
SPACE“I be back.” He follows Alliandra and Garn over to where Tarsis and Sable are resting at the other side of the cave.
SPACEAs they approach the two elves, Tarsis stands and faces them.
SPACE“She’s dying, I’m afraid.”
SPACEGarn leaps from Alliandra’s assistance to lay beside the fallen Sable’s dehydrated body. Tears fill his eyes and stream down his face to fall silently onto Sable’s head.
SPACEAlliandra moves passed Tarsis to comfort him.
SPACE“I really don't think there is anything that we can do for her.” Tarsis rises and, with her head bowed to hide the tears in her eyes, whimpers, “I’m sorry.”
SPACE"She’s not dead yet,” Alliandra says, pulling her necklace out of her robe. It’s a leather necklace with an iron cross hanging from it. The iron has red stones set into it. A circle holds the cross together at its intersection. Alliandra grasps it and kneels down beside the limp body of the blonde elf. She begins to pray.

SPACEHanding the fish to Tarsis, Conner smiles. “You eat,” he says, trying to look a little softer than his hard exterior belies. They begin to walk towards where Tharg has joined Kavan at the back of the cave.
SPACE“Me Conner,” he says. Pointing to Tharg, he says, “Tharg.”
SPACEThumping his chest, he bows up for the pretty elven girl. “You ask, we help.” Confidence fades as he can't think of anything more to say. A little nervous, Conner turns to see what Kavan has found.

SPACEGarn looks on as Alliandra lays her hands on the unconscious elf’s head. Speaking in a language he does not understand, Alliandra both impresses and confuses the burly warrior. The tears on his cheeks turn pink as Alliandra’s cross illuminates. It casts a soft, red glow upon the faces of the three survivors, creating soothing tones of pink against the coral wall behind Sable’s head. Alliandra prays and begins to sway back and forth.

SPACE“Tu waffa, ain loc tu waffa… Tu waffa, ain loc tu waffa… Tu waffa, ain loc tu waffa…”

SPACEThe glow becomes more intense as she speeds up the chant. Garn closes his eyes and buries his head in Sable’s hair. The rest of you watch in amazement as the low chanting becomes louder, almost yelled.
SPACEThen, without warning, Alliandra falls back slightly and the glow subsides slowly like hot coals cooling off.
SPACEGarn lifts his head and looks first at Alliandra and then at Sable. No longer the raspy scrapings it was, her breathing is restored. Her face, not so pale as it was, appears warm and comfortable. Garn smiles first, then lets out a laugh. He smiles again and then stares at Alliandra in wonder.
SPACEAlliandra begins to walk away, but Garn stands and stops her.
SPACE“Thank you,” he says solemnly. “I can’t begin to understand how, but thank you.”
SPACEAlliandra only nods, obviously exhausted from the feat. She wanders back to the fire where she collapses in a heap, rolls over for comfort, and falls asleep.

SPACEYou are all feeling extremely tired and give in to exhaustion, falling asleep where you rest.