Underground stronghold - Below Aquilo mines

Despite everything there was no denying the beauty of the underground room. It was clear that it was not a a cave and was men made. The smooth polished stone around the maw in the ceiling that spew a torrent of water twice every hour. The sharp edges of the pool in the middle of the room whose water seemed to ebb away slowly somewhere underground, before being refilled again by the waterfall above.

Whoever built this stronghold was much more technological advanced than the pastoral warlike clans that now lived above ground and shun these places, kept away by superstition and taboo. Who turned their back on their past and history. None of you could stop from wondering why.

Alexis - Although Fang reminds you much of Garrah, there is nothing like this back home. Although dotted with iron mines, across the land, the clans have always lived above ground and there are no ancient underground cities or ruins in the deepest reaches of Garrah's mines for you to explore. You keep an eye on Tarmen and Voah who appear to be acting a bit erratic.

Voah - - The headaches are soothed by the falling water and the coolness of the cyclopean room, as well as by your censer fumes. You are sure that moments before the water rushes from the ceiling to cascade to the pond below, you can hear ominous whispers coming from above. You notice no one seems to hear them.
~Maybe Cambena's voice.~ you ponder.
Your eyes dart between Gonyaul and Alexis. You see the furtive glances and shy smiles they cast at each other when they think you are not looking. You ball your fists trying to control your emotions.

Gonyaul - There is a unique beauty here that does not escape you. The room and the luminesce flowers, the icy blue water that falls from the ceiling into the pond in the centre if the room. You understood the others came down here to explore, and you consider maybe you should help and not just carry equipment. Who knows when you will have another opportunity like this in your life. ~Live the moment.~ you think.

Tarmen - You sit with your back to the wall keeping the others in your peripheral vision. You pulled your whet stone from your backpack and start to sharpen your trusted machete. Nothing else you trust more than your blade. Your blade doesn't whisper behind you. Or plot behind your back. And the others... Well, you are sure they are planning something. From where you sit, you look across to the north curved wall wondering where it leads. ~You should leave them here to rot...~ comes a voice that you cannot be sure is the imp's or your own.

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