Istiel's page

Hanging in there. I just want to go back to the lab and do real work instead of sitting on a computer all day. Makes me not want to do anything.

I hadn't considered that. How many linear meters of bookshelves are we going to need?

Librarian powers, activate!

Imix's plan.

Offer them the opportunity to be treated as multiple entities.

I love Imix. What a reward, to be treated as an individual!

Still here, just tired. Crossbows and following Nat/Drazan sound good to me.

"Yes. The... arrow-tossers." She had forgotten whatever it was that Latha had called them. "With it every one is an archer. We have no trouble with food. We guard the water. For free water, they give us the arrow-tossers. We use it to guard the spring." It seemed like a simple and logical trade to Istiel.

Hooray! Good job.

I've been having some health issues lately and feeling quite lethargic. I apologize for the uninspired nature of my posts.

Istiel grunts when Suha slaps her on the back, casting him a weary glance. "Trainees. Not... monklings." She says, clearly affronted at the idea of giving them such a patronizing term.

Her focus returns to Oios' sister, who seems like she isn't about t do anything stupid much to Istiel's chagrin. "Anayda has the most potential." The monk says to Suuha, as if the other woman wasn't even there. "I will teach her the forms first. There are others. Beastlings. They wish to learn."

Standing from her chair with smooth and controleld grace, she tucks her hands within her voluminous sleeves and thinks. "I leave The Journey to you, Suuha. I will train them to fight. To survive it. When we are both ready we will convene. We will create a new monk."

"At least you understand where we excel." Istiel says in response to Oios' assertion that the monks should be used as special forces. "At Shadeholme we were used as soldiers. A front line. Most died. We are a stone in a sling to be thrown at the perfect moment. Or the finest police." She corrects her posture, sitting up and folding her hands in her lap.

"I will enforce the law as I swore to on the day of my birth. The others will too." She would make sure they did- it went beyond tradition. It was at the core of The Three People's culture to obey or be punished.

Istiel crosses one leg over the other in her seated position and lifts her head up to her temple. She makes a fist and leans her head against it, effortlessly holding her arm paralell to the floor with the same steadiness one would place their elbow on a table. The monk was visibly and purposefully looking bored as her stocism gives way to annoyance. "You are fortunate I swore an oath only to protect the Emporer. Not his name or reputation." She remarks to Oios, clearly wary of his casual blasphemy of what had been a living god, decsended from the father of their prosperity who clesses them even to this moment.

"Then make your council. Get on with it." The monk still hadn't moved from her seemingly relaxed position that surely took great effort to hold. "No matter what is picked we must train. Prepare. Become stronger. You will all need strength. No matter who is in charge."

The monk glances at Anayda. noting the anger in her body. Istiel wonders idly, if the woman burst into violence, if she was fast enough to stop her and put her in a joint lock from this strange sitting positon before she hurt anyone. Finally, a challenge presented itself, and Istiel watches Anayda carefully from behind her mask.

Sorry, not feeling well. Istiel doesn't have much to add here besides sass, anyway.

Also, Suuha's been spending the last month or so tripping balls, so there's that.

I was wondering where he had been. The NPCs get to do all the fun stuff!

Istiel absorbs the information Suuha has provided, mullingit over some several seconds. "You were always better with herbs than me. The master shared with me other changes to The Journey when he died. A way to stay awake. I will share with you later.She inhales deeply through her nose, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. "He always wanted it safer. Made it safer for us." Her eyes look upward, to Suuha. "But the second dose must still kill. The Journey has a Beginning. The Journey has an End. We can change some things. But not all."

The monk tilts her head at the suggestion of moving everyone into the springs. "We are not badgers. The Three People do not live in burrows. We should not, cannot hide ourselves from Aiyda-wedu's life-giving light."

No one but Suuha could tell, but Istiel looks at the (former) monk's scraggly beard with utmost disdain. "No, Suuha. I am encouraging change." She says with an even keel, despite her apparent anti-beard sentiments.

Oh I suppose, even if these politics aren't very punchable.

"We were weak." Istiel responds to Oios' last question, having sat down to help herself to hard tack as Imix goes on about the possibility of different government systems. She has unfastened the lower half of his mask and dropped the veil that covers her mouth, and is carefully selecting the biggest biscuit available. "There were no real threats. The Mountain Men fought each other. We lived in peace."

A piece of hard tack disappears under Istiel's veil, and she speaks while she chews. "So we must be strong. We waste time speaking of what could be instead of becoming stronger. We have Lady Bellet. Let her rule while we deal with threats." Istiel swallows, turning her hazel eyes to the noble woman whose house they occupy. "Still, there must be change. The monks were unable to teach The Forms until the student had taken their new name. The Emperor forbid it. Yet The Forms do not lead to Ascenion. The Journey is not needed to fight. The Journey is to take the first step to godhood. Many come to me now seeking strength. They want to fight. To protect. I cannot teach them The Forms until they take The Journey. But many will die. Too many." She leans forward, putting the rest of the biscuit in her mouth.

"If we are to fight, I must teach. If I am to teach, this must be changed. The one in power must change it. I will not break my vows to follow our laws. But the laws I follow can be changed." Istiel address the Lady, before looking to Oios and Imix. "Old Ways or New Ways. We must decide quickly. Change quickly. Lady Bellet is the quickest."

Istiel grunts at Oios' assertion it was not for them to decide, and though she is wordless at the moment the old man can feel the tenseness of her formidible shoulders under the black silk robes.

She listens to the pretty words and the reasons for choosing of new leadership, stoic behind her lacquered mask and in apparent, silent consent to the handling of transfering the flight's leadership.

But at the time frame given to decide what their next course of action should be, she gives a Oios an incredulous look. "A week?" The monk begins, voice the timbre of smoldering coals. "One of ours was killed by the Storm Readers. A priceless long ship destroyed. The beastlings suffered many losses. Their hunters are dead!" The coals spark and grow in color, from a deep red disagreement to a bright orange anger as Istiel raises a scarred and bruised fist to chest height.

"Our brothers. Sisters. They are under attack. We are under attack. We cannot wait a week! We cannot wait at all! They will send more to kill!" She shouts at Oios, unafraid of challenging him in front of the entire settlement. "You know we must do this. You. Me. Imix. No one could stand up to the Stormreaders until now. But we can! We will!"

NOt many in the way of elders left, but that is certinaly the THree People way of doing things.

Sorry she isn't more involved with the whole society thing, but Istiel cares not for the government or ruling.

==================
Arodus 2
==================

Istiel meets the contingent of soldiers and senators with folded arms, her tall and imposing frame at the front of their guards when the beastpeople make land. She does not move as the soldiers spread out along the banks, weapons bristling, caring not to give them room. Nor does she immediately comment as Latha explains the situation while two hazel eyes bore into the fox's own.

"There is only one solution." The monk finally says to the assembled beastlings, ignoring the murmurs of the crowd behind them and Lady Bellet's call for a change of leadership in the flight. She would let Oios handle such matters.

"We make the Stormreaders pay the same price. One dead for every one of ours. No... talk. No negociation. We destroy them if they do not accept this price." She says harshly in her stilted Tkoyah before gesturing with her head towards Orix. "Latha, tell him. We are the Children of Damballah. You are the Children of Damballah. It is simple. We will defend each other."

Istiel continues to rip into the creature's foul hide, her fists striking so hard they make puncture holes in some places. Even as the undead tentacles cease their writhing and its entire form starts to deflate she punches, making as sure as she can it was not going to get back up. The voices in her head all sing praises to her skill and celebrate the glory gained by defeating such a potent foe.

Her eyes catch the carved script set into the creature's flank, and not only does a sneer appears behind her mask, but the voices in her head all turn angry and vengeful. "The Stormreaders attacked US." The monk states loudly at Latha's remark. "We were protecting your people. Our people. Then they send this to kill. Destroy. Intimidate."

She clenches a rotten-smelling and oily fist, and looks to Oios. "We must answer this!" Istiel starts to walk away from the re-dead thing, her entire body still covered in obscene amounts of mud.

Okies, kraken dead, now you've got like 2 or 3 tons of undead sushi on your levee.

Gross.

Yes, I believe it is time for the moot. Oios can give up leadership and then we can go FULL murder-hobo, starting with the Stormreaders.

Round 4

Istiel pounds at the creature's hide, opening pustulant and sending giblets flying all around her. Her fists are slicked with the oils of rotting fats, and at one point she punches so hard she ends up elbow-deep in the swuid-thing, retracting her arm with a fistful of organs ripped from its depths.

Understandably, the creature turns its clouded eye towards her. Though no one else but the undead and Istiel shared the moment, a smile blooms behind her mask as she stares back at that huge man-sized globe, basking in the glory of being recognized by such a formidible foe.

The strikes come quickly, and while the monk is unable to step out of the way in time, she still knocks two of the three blows to the ground at the cost of rattling blows to her forearms. The third tentacle hits her right in the head, a blow that would have separated her neck from the rest of her body had she not leaned back before it struck. The glancing blow claps her left ear, but she only staggers briefly before powering through the pain and stepping back towards the huge undead.

With a rallying cry Istiel sinks her fists back into her foe, punching with such strength its entire hide quivers with every blow.

Indirectly, you made this monster. Istiel can't hit for s~~* though; she's all damage really, so it's a good thing she has a lot of attacks.

Round 3

Istiel is smashed across the chest with a blow that would have crushed any regular human being into an unrecognizable mass of gore. But as she feels the undead arm strike her and knows she cannot possibly push back, she does something no regular human being would do; the monk lets herself fall backward into the mud, her heels acting as a lever.

She hits the bank with a loud SPLAT, mud erupting all around and over her body as she is forced into the beach. All the air was knocked out of her lungs, and there was a least two broken ribs in her chest, but she was alive and staring up at the cloudless sky.

Istiel sees a brief vision of herself struck by the tentacle in another time, where she tries to push back. She is immediately folded in two and launched halfway across the island, dead on impact.

Healing energies wash over her prone body, and she picks herself with a sucking sound while leaving behind a monk-shaped cavity in the surf. Covered in mud from mask to feet, she lumbers forward and ducks under an errant tentacle swing, lifting her fist and smashing it into the undead's rubbery hide. Like lightning Istiel strikes again and again at the creature, borrowing both her own lifeforce and time from the future to power an incredible series of blows.

I wanted damage, cause I had done none.

I fought the squid, and the squid won.

I fought the squid, and the squid won.

At least I didn't bother with barkskin.

Round 2

The bubbles around Istiel, and the naturally muddy nature of the water, leaves Istiel briefly confused as she thrashes about for any sign of the creature that attacked the keelboat. After a few moments she kicks upward and breeches the surface in a much less dramatic version of the squid doing the same.

Rivelets of cursed water run down her lacquered mask and into her eyes, but she can tell with her ears the fighting has moved to the shore- without hesitation she kicks forward through the water, and within seconds is crawling along the mud of the beach, head just above the water.

It would be difficult to notice amongst the chaos, but Istiel was briefly swimming in slow motion- a small moment of localized interference with the flow of time takes place as she taps into the powers of her mask and her Master's blessing. Water droplets are kicked into the air and lazily fall down behind her, while the waves she makes are as melodramatic and drawn-out as some of the most popular theatre Cornucopia ever experienced.

Looking as much of a deadly creature herself, the muddy, dripping monk launches herself from all fours out of the shallows with a predatory cry with incredible speed. Time snaps back like a willow sapling in an effort to catch up, and Istiel seems to move quicker than the eye can percieve.

Round 1

Though Oios calls for Drazan to help the person that fell, the Man from Fire Peaks is not sworn to protect the Three Peoples- but Istiel is.

With little regard for the longboat that was being crushed by some strange and huge beast (which certainly catches her interest despite the fact it is not a dragon) the monk sprints down the length of the dock in a matter of seconds before leaping into the air.

During the moment of free-fall she throws her arms out in front of her in an attempt to cut through the water. The black blob of her robes sink into the cursed depths of the Selen as she tries to spot the person in the slow, but muddy flow.

Uhhh

*Looks at notes*

I'm thinking a punch-based economy, for starters.

okay, I honestly don't know what you mean, is this in the settlement rules?

Like I said this isn't Istiel's forte- she punches stuff. She'll be teaching OTHERS how to be punching stuff, now. Well not exactly- she'll be training them to be warriors, condition their bodies, learn meditation and use normal weapons, but she can't teach them her martial arts until they've been on the Jounney, which is probably gonna kill a bunch of them... if she can even make the substance correctly.

BP, if you want we can work together to make a ritual for the whole thing; It could grant the survivors a level in monk or something.

As for general actions, I'm still for building a settlement on Damballah's Gift, which I think is a totally cool town name.

Istiel really isn't a civic planner so she's not going to be involved in all this stuff, but she agrees with the general outline of Latha's plan.

As a player, I say we move everyone over to this island ASAP and start making it a permanant home. It's not going to get much better than this.

=============
Imix & Istiel, Erastus 11 and 12
=============

"Yes." Istiel agrees with Latha's assessment of the situation. "The three peoples will stay here. At Damballah's Gift." She looks to Imix. "We will guard it from the Flame. Start over here. When the flame has burned out above we will climb again. Take back our homes."

=============
Imix & Istiel, Erastus 11 and 12
=============

The underwater explorations were exhausting for Istiel, who was the least suited of the group to be swimming in the pure, cold waters for extended periods of time. Anyone less stubborn would have given up after an hour in the frigid waters, but Istiel said nothing and pressed on, sometimes barely able to feel her fingers as she helped to scrape aside dirt and moss and lift stones.

As they discover the bowl she is the one to first grab the slab of masonry and heave it upward, assisted by the flow of water from below. The monk loses her footing as the impeded water blasts forth, and for a brief moment she is listlessly spinning upward in the water, bouyed by its power. Though unseen behind her mask, a rare look of wonder crosses Istiel's face.

"Praise Damballah!" She bubbles loudly while frantically trying to right herself, swimming downward towards the source. "We can survive here. Flourish." Istiel looks to Imix, her eyes bright with excitement. "We must keep this from The Flame. We must guard it. This is for the Children of Damballah alone."

Holy shhhhiiiittt it's a freaking magical fountain of endless water. This is huge, yes we have to appropriate errr safeguard this island. We can give a big ol middle finger to the stormcallers now.

We should still work with the beastlings and give them a fair deal, but we're sure as hell going to be the ones controlling access to the fountain.

Will post tomorrow.

Istiel is really big into the "fight me to prove you're worth training" trope.

Also regretting not getting her Ki Metabolism now. WOuld have been useful for holding her breath for 16 hours and joining the diving team. Iforget who, but didn't we meet some aquatic creatures that would give us underwater breathing if we asked? We should find them for this endeavor, Imix.

=============
Imix & Istiel, Sarenith 28 - Erastus 7
=============

"Yes." Istiel intones simply as Imix provides a better explanation of her idea. "We guard it. Live here. Protect. The water is for all of Damballah's children. It is a clear blessing." She glances at the srroundings- the withered trees, the fetid waters of the Cheya. Even the sky seemed to hold some kind of taint, evidenced by the swarms of mosquitoes constnatly menancing everyone and only kept at bay by their smokey campfires. "The Flight may not stay anyway. This is not a land we are used to."

=============
Imix & Istiel, Sarenith 28 - Erastus 8
=============

Istiel had found a excellent rock to train on after their survey of the island. A boulder of limestone sticking through the ground, yellowed and smoothed from years of wind and rain. She smashed her fist into it over and over, and was making much better progress at actually destroying the outcropping than the harder stone she had found earlier. Bits of bone-white rock chips fly off as she punches the rock, and by the time sucker-headed beastling approaches her with a group the monk has made a very noticable dent in the limestone, a white pocket that was tinged red with her blood. You are close. Focus. You must focus! One of hte voices in her head encourages her. focus. just as the master taught you. your ki must flow perfectly. Another says as the unneeded advice flows from all the voies in her head like the Cheya after a heavy rain.

Turning as the beastlings approach, Istiel takes a moment to actually understand what he... she... it...? Was saying. "You want to be strong?" She asks simply, trying to communciate. "Or you want to fight?" Istiel shifts her posture, now facing them completely and tucking her hands within the sleeves of her robes. "Or both?"

Hazel eyes briefly size up the laborers. She had wanted to know how tough these beastlings were since first encountering them. Oios' sister was a poor sparring partner and required intense instruction, though she was learning quickly and could soon be trusted with a real spear.

"Come." She says to the sucker-fish, posture unchanging. "Try to hit me. Spar. I will judge if you can be taught."

=============
Imix & Istiel, Sarenith 28 - Erastus 9 - 11
=============

"We should bring the water-spirit here." Istiel agrees with the Suriname's sentiments. "Such a child of Damballah will be welcome in these blessed waters." With a tilt of her head, she inquires. [b]"Is this the one that used the magic to let us breathe in water? I would like that magic now. I wish to join Ganton in exploring."{/b]

=============
Sarenith 28 - Erastus 7
=============

Even with the Beastling's animal statures, Istiel kept up with or bested most of them in terms of strength and endurance. She moved the biggest snake chunks, often insisting on doing it single-handedly. By the end of the day she was sweaty and exhausted, but if anyone questioned her fitness they were disconnected from reality.

In turn, she eats about twice as much as the rest, as fish and vegetables disappear beneath her veil while they put up shelters, eat, and rest. "You can free yourself from the Storm Readers." She states before taking a long draw from her newly filled waterskin. "Use this pool. Do not give them more tribute. Do not give them more people. They only seek to use you." It was quite clear that Istiel did not trust the Storm Readers, and would gladly test her mettle against their Seer if given the chance.

"We can move the flight here." The monk suggests to Imix as she rolls up her veil and begins re-buckling her mask. "We can protect the water. Farm the fish. Share with the Beastlings."

In this case Istiel will act as Imix's bodyguard and go where he goes. Once I know where that is (the island, or the Senate or whatever) I will post accordingly.

No problem BP. When your book makes it big just remember your old friends on the Paizo forums, and how they'd love to never work again.

Istiel guffaws at Orix's question, the first sound and movement she has made throughout the entire proceeding. "No. The Three Peoples are not safe here. Until your Hidden Enemy is dead we should both protect our own." She states simply, casting her piercing hazel eyes upward to the Speaker.

"They have taken ours and yours. We will assist you." She takes a moment to glance at the otterlike beastling, whose stare seems as strong as Latha's bolt-thrower, and meets it head on for several seconds. The monk had never fought a beastling... that one looked like a good start to see how strong they are.

Her gaze slowly, casually, moves back to the Speaker. "I pledge the wrath of Marinette on your Hidden Enemy."

Punch rocks

Istiel, begrudgingly, hauls the huge snake out of the underground cavern. Even she pants and struggles besides their beastling guide, but she doesn't complain. "Damballah provides to his children." Is her only answer to Latha's question about the source of the underground lake.

--------------------

As the group enters the senate chambers, Istiel stands stoicly nearby, arms crossed over her chest. She had plenty of time to mend her robes as they waited outside, and the monk is once more completely cloaked in (slightly more beat up) black silk cloth.

Her mask turns slightly to the Suriname and Oios as the Speaker asks for their discoveries., waiting for them to deliver the news.

Istiel pauses at Oios' sentiments, causing water to stir around her robes as she turns to face him. "There is no time." She states firmly, but respectfully. "We have until Ayida-Wedu's death to prove our people's innocence." She points to the narrow hole they had to crawl through in order to arrive here. "It will take hours to move them."

Her hand falls back to her side, still holding the massive serpent fang. "There is no time." Is repeated once more, with an added warning. "We must go. Or we will have to bury all our people."

Once the bodies are removed from the snake, Istiel doesn't mind following Imix's fussing about water quality. She stands back from the rest, holding together her torn robes with one hand as Oios and the others inspect the bodies and reach their conclusions.

"Our lead died with the hunter." The monk says suddenly as the beastling is identified. "But how did the bull boat of guards without the hunter? Someone put them there." She shrugs, unable to puzzle it out. "We have our evidence. The Three Peoples did nothing wrong. We must return to tell the Senate."

With that, Istiel sloshes forward towards the snake, and opens up its massive jaws with a grunt. Balancing its open mouth on her shoulder, she strikes one of its fangs once, twice, three times, each blow cracking the tooth until it breaks completely free.

"Proof." The monk explains if asked, picking up her torch before both it and the trophy away towards the exit of the freshwater spring.

Istiel is out of the snake's grasp as soon as it starts to die, the monk gasping a much needed, yet very painful, breath of air as she slides feet-first into the water. Stumbling and splashing about briefly, she still manages to keep the sooty flame of her torch above water before briefly righting herself. The rip down the left side of her robe exposes the monk's usually moon-pale skin beneath, now a bruised red-blue from being crushed under the snake's grasp.

As Oios gives orders the monk suddenly doubles over, coughing loudly and uncontrollably for several seconds. It ends with a few more heavy gasps of air, at which point she turns around and starts towards the snake in a lurching motion. Water and blood slosh up around her legs as she approaches a fat section of the snake, churning the once pristine pool into a frothy, reddish mess.

She nearly collides with the side of the snake while stumbling forward, and starts to grope for the flint knife on her belt. Drawing it, Istiel leans against the dead creature and drives the sharpened rock in deep. Pulling it towards her body in a sawing motion, more dark red blood spills out and down the incision, pouring across her hands and wrists. Withdrawing the knife she unceremoniously sticks the end of the torch into the incision, making sure it stands upright.

Turning her knife paralell to the snake's body, Istiel plunges it in and pulls it across the beast's strained gut, making a shallow three-foot long slash. Flicking her knife into the bloody water, she returns it to the leather sheath on her belt and puts her fingers into the sides of the wound. With a heaving noise the monk begins to pull apart the flesh of the snake, ripping open its side with her bare hands.

I didn't think it was actually going to die! Oios even did the "you will die now!" thing and that never actually works!

Paul Stanley- Live to Win

Live to win, 'till you die, 'till the light dies in your eyes

Live to win, take it all, just keep fighting till you fall

Day by day, kickin' all the way, I'm not cavin' in

Let another round begin

Round 3

As the snake's grip increases around the monk's stocky frame, she starts to feel her own ribcage squeeze her lungs and heart like a man's fist wrapped about a grape.

She couldn't breathe, and both her head and legs felt filled to bursting with blood, giving them the odd sensation of being far heavier than the rest of her body.

The bizzare numbess that followed, the black on the edges of her vision, and the incredible pain did break her inhuman concentration. Her mind and body were one, and Istiel's mind was still clam and functional- it forced her body to do things no other person could do in this situation.

She fought on, one heavy arm bashing repeatedly into the side of the snake, her rapid and concentrated strikes having worn down the scales and skin to bloody white muscle beneath

Round 2

Istiel feels the sharp pain of one of the snake's sword-sized fangs tear into her torso; the monk does not flinch, but her ripped robes catch on the beast's teeth, whip her to the side, and make her easy prey for its almost slimy, diseased tail.

Struggling to free herself, she claws at the beast's hide with her fingernails, only serving to ripe off decaying scales and release a horrible stench into the air. Coughing from both the miasma and the pressure of the constriction on her chest, it was all she could do to keep the torch above her head and provide light for everyone else.

As her vision blurrs from the lack of air, Istiel has a sudden realization even as the creature's pointed head turns on its seemingly easy prey.

The snake was right where Istiel wanted it.

Every time the creature attempts to strike her immobile form to finish her off, she lashes out with an expertly timed fist straight into its nose, the force of the blow knocking its deadly fangs aside.

Round 1

As the snake's fangs glance off the protective magics surrounding her body, Istiel seems to recoil from the blow, her body twisting down and to the left. Yet it rapidly turns into a spin, and the monk's right leg launches out of the water to perform a roundhouse kick aimed directly at the offending reptile's putrid head.

Her torch sputters and water is thrown up into the air as she spins, and as her leg finds solid ground once more a balled fist follows through by smashing into the snake's hide. Again and again she drives her ragged knuckles into its body, which yields much easier than the rocks she had been training against lately.

Istiel points to the boot prints as she sees them, sqautting next to the tracks for a better look. "Hamfatten." She says simply, squinting briefly before taking to all fours and crawling a short distance along the trail, face only a few feet off the ground. "Beastlings. Why did they all come here?"

Hopping back to her feet, the monk stalks through the brush, noting the game trial and the destruction of the tracks. "Something big... very big." She says with an edge of wonder and excitement on her voice. Though it wasn't said, someone could probably guess what she was thinkng; Could it be the dragon? Istiel didn't know if dragons slithered through the mud, but she was willing to find out.

The heartslocke is no surprise- Istiel gives it a cursory inspection before moving along and following the giant slightering thing.

She is the first into the den, digging her leathery, scarred hands into the dirt along the sides of the tunnel and crawling like some kind of mole. As the others pull themselves into the cavern she is lighting one of her few reamining jute-wrapped torches with a tindertwig, mixing together the old ways of the life they left behind and the new discoveries they have made along their journey. The sap-soaked torch gives off a thick black vapors, and she has to hold it high above their heads to prevent them all from being choked out by the acrid smoke.

She continues to lead through the waters, at one pont dipping in her hand and washing the mud off of it with a few quick sweeps. In the same motion she brings a cupped hand to her mask and pours it into the open hole of her mouth, tasting the water. "Fresh. Could be a spring." She mentions as they plod along the tunnel.

As the snake's scales glints in the torchlight, the monk stops, stunned. It was no dragon... no, but Istiel had no idea a snake could even reach such a size.

What a glorious kill this would be.