[i]
Tolled

Only for payment I shall ferry,
Boating you across to paradise,
Offer me one when you are buried,
Lower the body to lower the price.
[/i]

May the dead bury their own dead. The psion watched as the earth sunk and swallowed up the beheaded bodies. It was a curiosity that their resident smell stone sorcerer had the gall and grace to give goblins a grave. Missing heads in their shallow beds, unmarked but far more than what an enemy deserved. Still, there were no last rites to commend them to their goblin gods, merely unceremonious executions. And of course the former street-rat knew better than to leave such warm bodies unmolested. Not in the way of Hymn-Adriane and Kiki, but rather with an intent to search their corpses of whatever useful things before the goliath finished his mounds of earth. Slim fingers lifted two silver pieces from the dead target, and a thought considered if he should pick up the discarded goblin blade. Twas either the blade or bow and arrows left behind, and a blade was far more fetching than sticks and string. Another weapon to be added to the growing collection, as the mute affixed the new piece to his belt and tucked the coins into the man's coinpurse. Perhaps he could fancy himself now as one of those warriors from ([s]Hammerfell[/s]) the western desert with their curved swords.

Now that the scavenging was completed, the silent watcher considered the next course of action to be done as the loam and gravel covered the remains away. Three goblins to sentry was adequate, but their lack of vocalization was worrying. Did the greenlings believe a force of three could take the five lot of them? Bar the smoldering wizard who seemed to contracted either apathy or hydrophobia, their party had the numbers. So why did these cretins not call for backup? True they had nearly killed Kiki, but given the nature of the changeling's and the rogue's budding affections, it would only incite more than just vicious words from the tiefling. 

[i]
Kiki has a bard in this wretched place
Ardiane is the singer in the band,
Kiki says to Ardiane: girl I like your face,
And Adriane swoons as she takes Kiki by the hand.
[/i]

Yes, being the silent one had its benefits, set aside in solitude did allow you to people watch. Watching how their little party had begun to interweave as one cohesive unit. Each having their particular place and partner as it seemed, though the stragglers were just as dangerous as the Bonnie-&-Clyde's. Certainly he knew they had been wary of his silence, and so had he been of their words. For what was not said bore secrets which intimidated the mind, but what was said could also be a lie, with acts done to deceive. Of course they didn't know his name, but he knew theirs unlike the nameless corpses lying low and under now. And the more you knew about one's enemies, the better, but the more you knew about one's own allies? Well, even better still. As it is said in the east: know your enemy, know yourself.

Into the depths of Hades, threading the trickle of the Styx, the rushing sound of its waters running over the stones as shoe-clad feet stride across the rock. The resounding footsteps, prated by the very cave telling of where and when. Not as so much a stealth operation as a stroll into the cave, keen to take the observation in what little light left lingers behind them. The shadows of Nyx unto Erebus, darkness along the path unpierced by human eyes, but alas they had amongst them a walking candlestick to illuminate the path should that sooty snooty Lordsmen take the lead. And yet by placing the wizard there, to be a neon light advertising their decent into the fold, was to ask to be riddled by arrows from all sides. Hence perhaps it was a blessing the fiery mage was a step behind thus far. If perhaps the bird could care to blaze ahead, and tell of what use a ranger has in settings un-urbane, for the psion was only versed in the city alleyways and slums not repulsively pungent goblin caves. The smell of damp molds stank like guano, or perhaps goblin feces turning the olfactories away from inhaling such foul spores. Oh wait, a moment, it was the be-lisped goliath who made such offending odor, albeit perhaps it was the orc as well? Either way one of the boys would most likely have announced their arrival beyond attempts to muffle their walk into the cave. Of which, why bother thought the psion as he simply walked inside with nary a reason to so excruciatingly conceal his presence with every step.

[hider=Mechanics]
Investigation Roll for Loots: 1d20 + 5 = (13) + 5 = 18 -> 1 Scimitar, 1 shortbow + 20 arrows, 2 sp.
Take 2 sp & 1 Scimitar.
Stealth Roll with advantage to amble into cave: 2d20k1 + 2 = ([s]7[/s] + 8) + 2 = 10
[/hider]