Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Dungeon Crawl 101; One on One

☼ This RP is your basic dungeon crawl setting, shamelessly searching out goodie while cuttin' down the baddies! ☼

Dadj lounged with his legs resting on the wooden table in front of him. He had come into the establishment earlier in the afternoon to rest his legs from walking. The room was spacious and high-cielinged with wooden pillars that looked like they'd hardly been changed from when they were tree trunks. Above the fireplace was an ornamental weaving of animal antlers with candles melted on top. The tables littered haphazardly across the room were made of cart wheels and scrap wood. The chairs stood half pushed in, half out and some knocked over. Apparently the wait staff wasn't quite up on its duties.

The tavern crowd had swelled with the growing darkness outside and the ranger's good mood was dying. He preferred when the room was warm and empty and he could enjoy staring into the fire and letting his mind float off. However, the belligerent thugs now occupying his peaceful inn were rubbing him the exact wrong way. He dropped his mug on the table, the foam of ale left to collect at the bottom. Looking over his shoulder he watched with a scowl as two possible dwarves threw fists at each other uselessly as one of their friends stood in between. He sighed and went back to watch the ale mug settle, thinking of the cave he'd been on his way to. He always slept outdoors and this cave he'd heard about seemed to be the perfect place to crash for the night.

Speaking of crashing, he gave a start and spun, hand immediately resting on his hip at the ready. Behind him he only saw that a brawl had erupted among the drinkers. He gave up caring and repositioned himself to have his feet underneath him and his arms on the table. He stayed there for a moment before deciding it was time to make himself scarce. As he pushed his chair from its place in order to leave, he was met with a force which caused the chair to move the way he didn't expect and his knees buckled. Anger rising, he picked himself up from the broken mug and shed the glass shards from his hands. He turned to see what had caused the impact, the redness of his face an indication to his displeasure.

In Lyrra's defense- she had only wanted a drink. She had been left alone in a town again as her usual companions each had some great personal quest to make amazing self discoveries on- none of which Lyrra could help with or was particularly interested in undertaking. Lyrra didn't do personal quests because she had no desire or need to go on a great soul searching journey. If something about her needed to change, it would change when all was good and ready. So, as this narration has digressed, Lyrra had gone into the tavern for a place to stay and a nice drink- possibly a game of cards if she was offered.

Well, she was offered a game, though not of cards. A big gambling king type had seen some of the nice jewelry she was wearing, figured he could win it off her- he'd make a tidy sum. Lyrra liked a bit of dice when she had the time- she had the time and a bit of gold to waist on it. She wasn't winning at first, but eventually got the feel for the dice and started rolling better, made a few more gold pieces then when she had started. Well, the guy wasn't accustomed to loosing to sweet(looking) girls and after a bit more loosing against other people he claimed that she had enchanted him some how. Lyrra didn't respond well and called him a drunk old fool. That's when he attacked her- and she fought back (by dodging a lot). Bar fights are a snowballing event and soon others found some reason to punch the guy beside him and the fight started.

Lyrra wasn't interested in getting caught in a brawl, so went about her usual habit of ducking out of fights and finding somewhere else to lie low as big manly men attacked each other. She'd gotten clipped by a rather large punch, and being as small as she was she was tossed back. Her leg hit a chair and she landed on her back- but was out of the bulk fighting. It seemed the Lady Luck had abandoned her as a considerably tall man looked down at her- and he was not happy looking.
"Terribly sorry about that." She said sheepishly, pulling herself up.

{{My god, sorry that took so long.}}

((It’s no big deal ))

His scowl deepened when he realized he couldn’t deck the person responsible for the blood on his hands. Not that he wouldn’t hit her just because she was a girl; it was mostly because she wasn’t responsible. He dismissed her to look out into the tumbling colossus of bodies and flying bar paraphernalia. Letting go a long held breath he let his annoyance dissipate, he calmly wiped his healed hands on a passed out bar fellow.

Looking back to the runt of a woman who’d knocked him over, his brows fell heavy over his eyes. “Don’t worry about it,” he almost growled. His voice was gravelly from misuse and he cleared it before wishing her an unenthusiastic good evening.

He dropped some dubious looking coins among the glass shards and made for the door, when he was unceremoniously pulled back into the fray. As he was tossed backward he could hear some idiot blathering about how he’s cut his hand on a mug piece and that it was obviously placed to slight him. Dadj’s lips split in a wry grin.

“Let me misplace some more things to slight you, then.” He ducked a wild fist throw as the man confronting him was too inebriated to figure out which of the three Dadj’s in his vision was the real one. Instead, the Ranger misplaced his elbow into the man’s gut and then his knee into one of his many chins. The drunkard stumbled and with a roar recovered to take more abuse at the hands of the deft woodsman.

Dadj’s expression was lit with amusement as he led the man in time after time. However, when the clod could no longer fight back, he lost his interest and finally dropped his belligerent counterpart. He looked up to find what had become of the girl, having had a strange turn of heart. She had elf-like features about her and now that he was in a better mood he might not mind making an acquaintance.

He found her again finding herself at the wrong end of a blow.

Lyrra watched him go as she steadied herself back on her feet, only having to duck as another blow came her way. This was getting slightly ridiculous; all this over a sore loser of a few gold coins? He had half a mind to give them back to the guy and be rid of the whole thing. It wasn't as though it was going to mean the difference between a meal and starvation for her, it was just a bit of fun... gone horribly horribly wrong. Such was the way with taverns though- it was all part of the experience.

She continued to duck and weave her way through the ever growing wave of fighters- by this point the tavern workers had given up trying to calm people down- one particularly busty wench was fighting a guy back. Lyrra was amused by this and continued her attempt to get to the door. The man who's chair she had barreled into was in a fight, she could see it from the corner of her eye. Bella would be proud, She thought with a grin, I've not hit someone yet. Of course the night was young and the door out was so very far away- anything could happen.

Lyrra was reaching home free when she felt a large hand on her shoulder. A low, raspy voice said,
"You made a tidy sum back there; hand it over." Lyrra took a half second to ponder the audacity of trying to mug her in a bar fight. Was there no standards anymore?
"Piss off." She felt herself spun around to face him- his breath reeked of rotten onions; it was absolutely rancid. He swung his fist at her- it probably would have knocked her back and maybe even knocked her out if it had connected. She jerked herself down, unsteadying the slightly drunk man, making him stagger forward. This put one of his knee's in range of a quick jab of her fist, then a neat kick to the groin. Hey, he played dirty first. She justified as she moved out of the way of him collapsing. She figured it was better to just leave him there for the moment- anything more could very well be over kill.

Lyrra looked up to see the second person she had offended in the bar fight and sauntered over calmly, dodging a wooden bowl thrown carelessly across the room,
"Having fun yet?" She asked, as though it was a stroll cross a beach. The door was insight and Lyrra was impatient to get Bill and find somewhere else to stay the night.

Dadj's patience had been reached entirely. He tried in vain to calm down before doing something rash, but let's be honest, he didn't try that hard. Taking a step back he called upon a spell.

Vines writhed out of the ground and wove themselves around the now confused brawlers. Satisfied he wasn't going to be bothered again, the Ranger gathered his things and made for the door. As an after thought, he surveyed his handy work. People were struggling against the magic wood, frantic and disoriented in their inebriated state. A rare genuinely happy smile pulled his lips and made creases around his eyes. As he turned to finally leave, he noticed a smaller person fighting against a sapling branch.

As this female hadn't bothered him as much as the rest of the rabble, he sauntered over and unsheathed a short sword to carve away the wood. He freed her silently and turned back to the door, replacing his sword. Spinning on one heel, he pulled the heavy wood door inward and turned back to her with a mock bow.

"After you." He flashed a white-toothed grin.

Lyrra was on her way out, done with the fighting and not wanted to be around when order was resorted and it came time to figure out who was going to pay for all the damage that had been done. Lyrra didn't start this, she didn't break anything and she maintained a perfectly innocent stance in the whole situation. She figure, now she was able to escape. Then she felt something wrap around her ankle, and with a cry of confusion saw that everyone was being wrapped in vines sprouting from the floor. Magic, someone was using magic in a bar fight- again, the standards were clearly lower in this town.

She didn't freak out- weirder things had happened, all be in not in a bar, but regretted not bringing in her swords with her. She'd wanted to look mostly harmless, no armor no weapons nothing that would inspire someone to believe she was an aggressor. She's come for a drink and a game, not a fight and she was paying for it. She tried to tug at the vines, slip herself out like she would normally when it was ropes or chains. They vines tightened around her arms as she tugged, and she found herself quite stuck.
"Vekk!" She swore, turning to the language of the Orc's because damn it felt appropriate. She tried to pull herself out, twisting to no avail. She sighed, she hated magic sometimes.

Then she was cut out, the only one who was free was the man whose chair she had knocked out. There were a few cries of indignation from other people, wanted to be set free themselves. Lyrra felt no desire to thank him for freeing her- he had trapped her by cheating. Still she brushed herself off, gave him a mock curtsy to match his bow and said sweetly,
"Much obliged sir." She smiled and walked out the door, She's wanted to get out- an opportunity had presented it's self and she felt no pity for the people trapped. Someone would let them out and Lyrra had no intention of being there when it happened.

She untied Bill from the post, and he turned his head and gave her the usual half asleep look and a slow, lazy toss of his head as a greeting. She cheaked the bags on his back- nothing had been taken. She strapped the swords, a short sword and long dagger, to their places on her hip and took Bill's reins in hand, she turned to the man who had freed her. She, as usual, had to look up to see him.
"So Ranger, why free me?" She asked him, one hand on her hip. It was obvious to her that he was a ranger, because vines were their domain; them and druids but he lacked the obvious necessary traits of a forest mage.

Dadj had already turned to walk away from the girl when her question floated over to him. He turned with a half-interested expression to take her in. One brow lifted at her stance and he tried to contain a mocking laugh. It amused him that she held so much fire in that little body.

“You’re an elf. You happen to be one of the only races I can stomach.” With that he quirked another brow and his eyes fell on the donkey. An unusual expression crossed his features while looking at the beast, but he though it best not to ask. Instead, he turned to a random horse in the stable, approaching to stroke its nose and he gently unfettered its ties.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, little Elf, I have a meeting with a cave.” He mounted the horse, that was obviously not his and looked around him to figure out his direction.

Dumbest reason ever, or so Lyrra thought. She scoffed and tugged Bill along, it was time to find somewhere to rest for a night, preferably some where with a good place to light a fire. It was too bad she wasn't in the mountines, a hot spring would have done her some good.
"My name is Lyrra, Ranger." She told him, pulling herself up on Bill. She tended to avoid riding him because he always looked as though he was about to collapse, but she really didn't feel like walking and he seemed well rested. She, looking so very impressive on the back of her loyal donkey, rode up beside the man and looked at him,
"You owe me lodgings to night, you tore apart where I was going to stay." She told him, a smirk on her lips. Worst comes to worst, she would sleep with her daggers next to her, how ever she didn't have the feeling that he was going to try and kill her in her sleep- that and she figured if she couldn't take him Bill could. Lyrra graciously let the little elf comment slide- no need to start a brawl. Again.

((He knew she would be demanding ))

He halted his purloined mount and eyed the elf girl again. His lips pulled in a mysterious grin again. He liked people who did what they wanted, or more correctly, had the balls to tell people to do what they wanted. It didn’t always mean he would listen, but the spunk was appreciated.

He kept the horse at bay long enough for the suspicious donkey to come along side and begin a steady gait toward the wood. “As long as you don’t mind dank, dark caves full of who knows what, I have quite the lodging for you. And I didn’t ruin that inn, I put it more in touch with its ancestry. It should be grateful.”

With that, they plunged into the wood surrounding the shanty town. The sky was a dark greenish gray and the sun still lingered over the horizon, loath to disappear for the night. Dadj rode most of the way in silence, every now and again reacting to a sound with a flinch to the right or a jerk to the left. After plodding along for some time, the pair made it to the mouth of your run of the mill cave; made of rocks and covered in moss and lichens.

Upon further inspection, one might notice the tree growing atop the rock face had withered and twisted horrifically in its death. Its scraggly roots hung like a crone’s scarce locks, raining dried dirt and dust over the opening when to two entered. Dadj left the horse to its own devices and threw his cloak over his shoulders to fix his belt. Lyrra could see his leather coat was full of holes, presumably arrow holes; made in places that most people wouldn’t appreciate being penetrated.

“Well, Elf, what can you offer this humble abode? Can you make a fire?” His honey-colored eyes caught an unusual tint off the moon’s rising light.

"Sounds charming." Lyrra grinned and set Bill into motion, following the ranger. He was jumpy, like all rangers she knew. He was always turning his attention to a slight sound from the woods. Lyrra kept her more relaxed demenor- however one hand did stay on the hilt of her shortsword just in case. She found the forest it's self was actualy quite nice, the greens that would be vibrant in the sun were darker in tone, but no less alive. Everything seemed so peaceful in comparison to the bright noisey ruckes that they had left behind (Though it was considerably more subdued at the moment.)

The cave was about what she had expected, and she pulled her bedroll off of Bill's back as the donkey made it's self comfortabled just inside the mouth of the cave. Lyrra walked under the roots with ease, shortness had it's advanatges and started to set up a place for her to sleep. She looked at the ranger, studying him for a moment. She wanted to comment on the holes in his jacket- she assumed he probably had a decent healer on hand normaly to patch up the wounds from the arrows, but Lyrra couldn't figure out why he didn't patch up the holes as well. Lyrra was mostly suprised at the ammount he seemed to get hit, she'd made a point of not getting hit because she didn't like scars. Call her vain, but the battle-worn look didn't really suit her.

"Of course I can start a fire, ranger." She said, walking over to the roots hanging down from under the cave. Dead roots burned well, and she assumed the ranger wouldn't expect her to run into the woods and find branches that had fallen of their own accord, because she wouldn't do it. She pulled out her short sword and hacked down some of the roots.
"Dispite you not using it, I have told you my name." She pointed out, not looking up as she started working on the lighting of the fire, "What are you called, or did your mother forget to name you?" Don't laugh, it had happened.

He watched her over his shoulder as she made the fire. "She did not forget," he said, finally. Though, he was pretty sure he had forgotten her name.

He went about making himself a poorly cushioned bed out of his cloak and some other blankets in his pack. He settled his body against a wall, still watching her progress and pulled some dried meat out. As he chewed on it he offered some to her with a gesture; the strips look questionable and unlike any other meat she may have ever seen. However, before she could answer, a rumble shook the floor of the cage and the mouth began to close. The ranger jumped to his feet and took a leap toward the entrance a second too late. The roots had consumed the entirety of the opening, woven into a thick knotting of arbor.

He frantically looked around for another way, fought against the bramble, even hacked at it with his short swords before he calmed down. Accepting that they were, in fact, stuck, Dadj replaced his blades and turned back to the elf.

"Dadj Avers." He held out his hand.

She gave a silent huff and rolled her eyes, the sparks from the steel and flint catching a light on the tinder, and subsiquently the dry tree roots. The fire caught with a bit of breath and Lyrra smiled at the warmth she created- so far more than the Ranger had done, she'll make sure he repaid her. Lyrra looked over at him and his strange meat- she wasn't sure she trusted it and she had some of her own rations stored on Bill if the pressing need for food arose. Lyrra was about to politely decline when the rumble came- then the only light was the fire.

Lyrra's first assumption that the Ranger had decided to trap her here- he was not as trust worthy as she had first thought. After the stunt he pulled in the tavern- her caution wasn't with out reason. He drew her weapons as he drew his- but she relaxed a bit when he started franticly at the roots. So, these weren't his- meaning something or someone else didn't want them leaving- Perfect she thought sarcasticly as she swung her own shortsword at the new wall. What had once cut easily now resised her blade like a wall of rock and she huffed. This was turning out to be a great night.

Lyrra sheethed her weapons and looked at he Ranger, or as she now knew him, Dadj. She took his hand and shook it,
"Charmed. Any ideas?" She asked, gusturing at the wall, and looking at the great blackness deeper in the cave where the light of their firedidn't reach. Lyrra wasn't sure she wanted to meet what was lurking within it- but she knew she wanted to get out and the later took precident.

The Ranger regarded his elf companion and squeezed her hand lightly. He then followed her gaze to the depths of the darkness. “It won’t be so bad. If you’ve been stuck in one cave, you’ve been stuck in them all.”

He scooped his things back together and grabbed a half burnt stick from the fire for light. Making toward the dark tunnel, he slowed his pace until Lyrra was closing in, then resumed at his normal gait.

Further down the tunnel was relatively the same as the cave’s mouth: a dirt encased opening with roots dangling at random intervals. That is, it was for a couple of yards until their feet began to feel the ground become harder and more solid. Eventually the pair realized that they were no longer walking on clotted dirt, but rough stone, possibly once used as a paved path.

This “path” soon became more and more man-carved; the walls started to have stone casing and the floor evened out. The walls soon sported holsters for lanterns and far ahead, just out of the reach of the fire light, the cave’s tunnel opened.

Dadj moved in silence, taking in the cave’s changing innards with interest. It wasn’t until he was nearing the opening that he began to feel uncomfortable. Before he could discern the room, he felt the occupants. His preferred enemies:

“Undead.”

The word hung heavily in the air between them as their feet shuffled in the near darkness.

((Feel free to describe the room, if you’d like ))

Lyrra patted Bill, who seemed not at all upset at the events and indeed, had laid himself down next to the cave wall and the wall of roots. He didn't seem to want to move anytime soon. Lyrra would get him later, or more likely Bill would find his own way out and find her- they'd been doing this for a lot of years. She took her equipment off of him, armour, bow and quiver and her bag holding her tools. She wasn't going into a cave with out being prepared. She ran to catch up with the ranger and matched his pace. Damn his long legs.

Lyrra did not let the change of the cave pass her interest. It wasn't unusual, finding old human ruins or tombs hidden about in natural caves. If the builders had gone through so much trouble to make such a trap and hide their work- there was treasure here. Possibly shiny treasure- meaning this might not be a total pain. It had the distinct possibility of being fun and profitable- and deadly. But she had a ranger- a powerful ranger, at her side for at least the moment so the odds were looking good. If their was an exit.

Lyrra let out a silent groan. Undead were a difficult foe to fight. You had to drop them just so or they got back up. And hey, maybe there would be a necromancer around to just rise them again. Oh, and they smelled if you got close enough- and sometimes you had too being arrows were shite against skeletons.

The pair came out of the cave-path onto a large ledge with partital broken stone steps going to another ledge which was attached to a serious of cat walks and yet another set of stairs down to the floor. It wasn't a huge room, and the light of the torch just retched the other side. With her low-light vision (Lyrra was glad she was an elf for a moment) she could just make out a large wooden door on the floor of the other side of the room. Reaching that door might prove to be a challenge though.

The room was a large tomb with stone caskets littered along the bottom floor in neat rows. Some were intact and others had been smashed open. There were larger ones at the wall end of each of the six catwalks, adorned in runes marking them as more important people. If you had the knowledge, it would have been clear they were army officers. All twelve of them were undisturbed- but corpses lay around them, the only corpses in sight. Lyrra counted them and the number of broken caskets, it was the same.

Knowing very well what would happen when she did, she drew her bow, knocked and arrow and stepped forward. The room lit up, and the corpses on the catwalk started to rise, and the lids on the smaller caskets still intact started to shake as the things inside them tried to brake loose. Lyrra gave a grim smile and shot her arrow into the shoulder of a zombie- the height advantage was welcomed as the magically animated corpses carried a variety of weapons- none of which Lyrra was interesting in being hit with.

{{Sorry if my room discription sucks.}}

Dadj had already knocked his bow and was stepping around Lyrra as he shot. A dark aura surrounded the Ranger and his presence was oppressive. He shot down the rising bodies as efficiently as possible, but a couple had jumped from the catwalks haphazardly and were making their tottering way toward the shooting pair. Driven by a lust for battle, Dadj abandoned his bow as well as his vantage point and instead unsheathed the two short swords.

Brandishing them with a flourish, he charged the closest of the on-coming corpses and immediately engaged in a sword-to-axe battle. The room was starting to fill with more corpses, seemingly coming from the shadows and unknown places. They began to surround the travelers, weapons in hand. Dadj was a flurry of sword strokes as Lyrra shot down the hordes with her arrows. She too would soon choose her blade over her bow.

The Ranger had worked his way down the stairs as the elf held the walk. He had a couple of close calls with a few sharp edges but managed to stay clear so far. The descending numbers made a circle around his skirmish and a stray dagger blade ruined his run. The weapon sunk into his side pummel-deep as he felled another undead soldier. He did not cry out, he instead turned to his attacker, features ablaze, removed the offending metal and stuck it through its owner’s skull. Satisfied his vengeance was made, the man’s knees buckled involuntarily as a gout of blood exited his mouth. He slumped forward and for all intensive purposes was defeated.

The undead still milling about his body then turned to their second intruder, ignoring the fact that she had felled a great number of their host, who had rained off the walk and created piles on the bottom floor. As they advanced on the young elf, she could see form behind their ranks something continued to mow them down. She had happened to see the Ranger fall, but had no time to react and now it seems she hadn’t needed to.

Dadj trimmed their numbers from the bottom of the stairs, somehow fully alive. When he met her back at the top he briefly nodded, a strange light causing his eyes to look like liquid, melted honey. He still had a spray of blood drying on his lips and chin as well as a wound around where his kidneys should be. It was no longer bleeding, but it was hard to tell with the dried blood spot around it.
As he passed to cross to the next catwalk he rumbled, “They put another hole in my coat!” Then proceeded to demolish his foes.


(( I know I may have moved your character a bit for you, I hope you don't mind o.o))

She was holding off running into the fray, swords swinging. Her bow was proving rather effective and allowed for a good veiw of what was going on, and damn it she hated getting zombie on her. It smelled, and if left to itself would stain something feirce. Soon her arrow count started to dwindle, she could harvest a lot of them back later, but for now it was an issue. She went to work firing off the last of them, when she saw the ranger fall. She swore loudly, but knew she couldn't get to him- besides now was not the time for a bard-tale, now was time for a zombie killing.

She swore again as the zombies turned towards her, dragging their great weapons along with them. Lyrra shot her fast arrow into the brain of the closest zombie, and drew her short sword and dagger. Did zombies count as evil? She thought so and went about using the hig ground to her advantage. Slash and kick, stab and dodge; it was a dance that ended with zombies falling off the stairs, down the stairs and crushing and pulling eachother. Those she couldn't drop off, she just droped with her blades, all while avoiding the incoming plethora of blades. Damn that ranger for dieing. She though as she round-housed kicked a zombie off the side, it landed with a sickening yet satifying thump.

Then tho great hords of zombies where split, though they still came at her, they started to thin and some turned their attention to the rear. Lyrra was starting to clue in when she heard a cry of indignation in the familer, cocky voice. He was alive- that was weird. He'd gone down, but Lyrra knew the time for questioning was when they were sitting of the corpses of their fallen foes, so called back to him,
"Suck it up princess, we have a battle to fight here!" she's smack him for dieing later.

The zombies finaly all fell, and Lyrra looked at the gunk on her and her blades and made a face trying to whipe it off. After getting reletively clean she went about gathering her arrows once more, many of them stayed intact and were use able once more. She looked over at Dadj, who was also recovering from the battle,
"So what the hell was that about?" She asked, yanking an arrow out of a zombies shoulder. She slipped it back into her quiver and turned to him, hands on her hips. He was like Bill, when he get stabbed he recover shortly, likely he also lived for a very long time.

“Don’t ever call me princess again, and I might tell you,” was the snide response that whipped from his tongue. He was busy removing the shredded bits of his once favorite coat along with the leftovers gore of the battle. He too, went about collecting his arrows and futilely wiped his swords clean.

He turned to find her still looking at him with that same hip-jut look. His honey eyes glittered mysteriously and a grin spread his lips. He’d seen that expression on a woman’s face so many times before, always aimed at him. He missed that stance, sometimes. Especially from a very particular human girl he once knew. He turned to face her fully, the grin still lighting his features.

“I can’t die, Elf.” He left it short and blunt. “So don’t ever get on my nerves, because you won’t win in a fight.” His eyes narrowed devilishly and he left her to search the caskets for anything shiny.

"Boys and their sensitivities." She sighed, rolling her eyes. Her voice wasn't harsh though, and she had a joking smile on her lips. It was as she expected, he was like Bill, undieing. This was convinient, becuase like Bill, he could be used as a meat sheild when the moment came and Lyrra was less likely to die- which was a good thing. Centuries of life could be cut short by a well aimed arrow- Lyrra like it better when she did the aiming. She dicided it was better to not point out to him that she just had to get him momentarily down and run like a good rogue, best not give away all her plans.

Lyrra joined in the search for sparkly bits- and she was disapointed. There was a few rings and pendents of the zombies and in their caskets, nothing of considerable wealth or sparkle, most was rahter lack-luster. Lyrra sighed and looked up at the six fancy stone caskets, she was willing to bet that anything worth taking was in those, and anything worth battleing. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be the one to open it, seeing as they were still rattling with something wanting to get out and Lyrra didn't fancy getting hit in the face.
"Dadj, open one of thse caskets." She told him, starting back up the stairs and along the stone catwalks.

Dadj lifted his head and regarded her silently. His eyes searched her face and he inwardly sighed. He had a feeling she had just made a decision that most people do when they find out his situation. She would either decide to find him repulsive and run at the nearest chance, or find him advantageous. He thought she had chosen the latter. Keeping his eyes on her, he made his way to the casket. He broke their contact when he reached it. The lid was heavy, but he managed to nudge it to the side enough to get his fingers underneath it to lift. He grunted with the effort but the lid was coming up. Dust and dirt plumed from the opening and clouded his vision.

He was distracted with dropping the heavy slab to the side when the occupant made his entrance. The reanimated corpse was rising from his resting place and going for the ranger's exposed chest when an arrow whizzed past Dadj and landed in the things eye socket. Dadj turned to see Lyrra still at the ready while the corpse puddled to the ground. He nodded his thank and went back to the task at hand. The casket was sure enough full of many sparkly things. His hand reached for the closest thing with a glimmer. Upon contact his skin sparked and he recoiled.

"I think it's cursed. Or at least, I can't touch it."

Lyrra lowered her bow and flipped it so she was holding one end.
"Curious." She muttered quietly, picking up a necklace as it dangled off the tip of her bow, she looked at it, perfect craftsmenship, a large saphire and intircate and archaic designs. Lyrra couldn't place them, or see any runes she recognised (Not that she had an overwhelming knowlage is magic.) She retched out carefuly to touch it, her fingers were able to stay on it for a while, before her fingers too sparckled and she felt a sharp pain.
"Ow," She hissed, pulling her hand back. "I wish we had a human to test on." She sighed. Lyrra carefuly brought her bag over and dropped in the necklace, it landed with a light clink on her theives tools.

"We might as well take one with us, maybe it will be worth comming back with a mage." She shrugged. Mages had things like fireball and remove curse for occasions such as this. "But for now, I think we should keep going- I don't want to be suck here any longer than I have too." She took a longling look at the shiney peices in the casket, and turned to walk towards the wooden door.