|DM - ARC|
The party walks away from the tracks and strikes out along the edge of the river looking for a good place to cross. The detour eats up the rest of your day and you find yourselves returned to the crag just in time for dusk to fall. The shadows of the dark holes deepen and the passages seem to extend into forever, you know it's just a trick of your minds but it's unsettling as it is. Out if the darkness echoesloud bellowing in an old dialect of Skald. "Mynt mín! Aftur mynt mínum! Ég vil mynt mínum! Ég mun finna þig þjófa og þegar ég geri ég mun draga þig í djúpum og hátíð á hugaður eins og þú drukkna!"