6th of Frost, 120
The sewers weren't a pleasant place. The ambient rush of fluids, dripping on metal, and a chorus of rats squeaking were the sounds that made up the background noise of the delve. More predominant was the groans of pain, the sobbing of the bereaved, and the cries of anger and loss that accompanied the gathered nameless. The sounds weren't the only unsavory characteristics of the sewers, however. No. Every surface was either damp with gods-only-knew what or caked in grime ages old. Exposed, rusty metal decorated most of the walls; places where storm-drains connected to the body of the sewers, built-in ladders, and the like. Even worse for others was the darkness, which veiled all the horrors and suffering that the tunnels hosted that night.
Asmodei and Fayeth were the only two that carried torches, and they moved between the gathered groups of wounded to see to their needs individually. Without any tools or medical supplies, the help they could offer was minimal, nearly entirely morale-based. That was until Arkash and Haldir both arrived late in the night, nigh the next day's morning.
Both he and Haldir were torn and bloodied by various wounds, though Arkash's had long since coagulated, Haldir's were a lot more fresh, recent. "Fay!" Arkash called through his haze of exhaustion across the broken souls that littered the dank walkways. Her pale features turned to him in the light of the amber-burning torch, and she proceeded to the rathor from across the way. Meanwhile, Asmodei was otherwise busy with the wounded.
"Arkash?" She asked in her refined accent, and tilted her head to peer at the two. "You look like hell, both of you," she crossed her arms.
"...I saved e'ryone I could, bu'... Cyrus got 'urt tryin'a defend me an th' boy ova' ther'," Arkash motioned with a point of his bloodied claws to the nameless they'd saved together. At which point, Arkash snapped his claws together to steal her attention, then pressed a claw to his open palm and drew a circle there before motioning his head to Haldir. In response, Fayeth widened her eyes and looked to the human in a mixture of surprise and caution.
"It's been some time, Doctor Faust," she spoke with just as much caution before directing a glance of her eyes to Asmodei. "What's happened in the past couple of months, hm?" She asked, almost accusing with her tone.
"Whe's the ova? Th' one wiv th' arma'?" Arkash asked with a crane of his neck to look up at the elf.
"Alexander?" She asked and followed with a shrug. "Around here somewhere, I suppose," Though she spoke to Arkash, her red eyes were locked firmly on Haldir. "How severe are your wounds, doctor?" She asked at last and took a step toward him.
With that, Ark excused himself with a bow, and proceeded to the gathered broken people. Some were almost completely unharmed, while others were missing extremities, senses and all sorts of other things. Some of them were dead, even. Bodies laid breathless on the dirty floors of the sewers, slipped away without anyone's notice.
Fayeth must have eaten something on the way to the sewers; there was no way she should have been able to resist the bounty gathered there otherwise. "Alex?" The rathor called with a hushed whisper as he traversed the darkened pathways. "Where's 'ew at, fella?"
