And alas it was over, the spoils of battle won. To the victors the bountiful harvest of the experience, culminated thus so. They had ventured into the Inferno and returned prosperous ever more. Or at least those that survived. Picking through the bits of Bar that littered the floor, the psion mentally scoffed that he could not tell the difference between the bones the orc and those of his trophies. No one else had the will to get on their hands and knees to muck through the mess, bloody carnage swayed their stomachs to avoid the messy work. But for an orphan, digging through the piles of garbage was the very thing that kept you alive. Thus the mute was no stranger to the finer arts of corpse looting, picking up the undertaker's craft, checking for all the valuables left like a carrion crow (No offence to the Kenku). The hefty coinpurse for example dangling beneath the belt was appreciated and purloined so underhandedly out of sight from the rest of the Party. A sum of ten gold coins, that which was promised to them for the entire journey, to which the barbarian's death could have well ended the journey here for the orphanage manager. This small fortune could feed them for a month or more!

Yet he was a man of his word, and a sense of moral justice. Those ten coins belonged to the party now, and he'd need to claim his own pay later from either the dead corpse of the dwarf that hired them or the living man himself. A twist of the hand sprang the wrist-mounted blade which slashed through the discarded backpack. What small satchel of rations and waterskin Bar had carried along for the journey was also liberated from the pack, and a coil of rope that would perhaps be useful. There was a hunter's beartrap that the orc carried for some reason, at which given the human lacked the brutish muscles of the larger idiot, it would be left behind here along with the orc's camping gear that smelled of unwashed arse. They'd all thank him later for his essential grave robbing, the rope and provisions would probably aid in a rescue effort. The food and water for a living captive, and the rope to haul a dead body back to town.

The wolves on the other hand were another issue. They lacked pockets, well at least ones that the psion cared to stick his hands in, and thus there was little to offer but their meat and hides. The dire wolf fur would have been quite a nice cloak or duvet for the orphans after mending a few slashes, and the smaller wolves maybe a new pair of boots. Yet every moment wasted here was a greater chance of a patrol finding their guard dogs dead. This was no time to properly skin the bodies, even with all of Bar's sharps so readily available to skin. And they had topped off on rations and thus had little use for wolf meat to butcher. That and their resident butcher was butchered by them. It would be ridiculous to expect the lanky psion to lift Bar's greataxe to hack and chop the wolf bones apart. Even if a dire wolf head probably fetch a decent price as a decorative piece.

Casting thoughts of maximizing the spoils, there was a geologic curiousity in the back of the wolf den noticed as the silent one rose from the bodies. There was a crevice, small and narrow, tight enough for a single soul to just squeeze by. A pass that bore the pile of bitten bones, wmarks of scratches below, and stains of dried blood along the walls. A feeding pit it appeared, for these wolves though the clean-picked bones suggested they had no food come to them for so long. Maybe someone more athletic or acrobatic could scale the rock-face walls and venture to see what fed the beasts. Yet if there was indeed something that fed the mongrels, then, would it be so wise to venture up a pass where the master was?

As he returned to the group, the mute caught sight of the darkness deeper within the cave, going to the rippling rush of river water blind was ill-advised. They had been lucky so far no one detected their arrival, it was better to keep it in such a way and sneak about. Though the darkness was not suited for human eyes, the fact the goblins had no signs of light beyond the mouth of the cave suggested it would be a strange sight for them to see a torchlight within their cave. In fact, did any of the goblins they had killed carry torches as Bar had? The psion couldn't recall any, and what better way to signal the goblins they had guests than with a light in the darkness? So perhaps the perilous ledge would have been the best recourse after all.

Thus, it was settled and eyes gazed at Kiki & Adriane before looking down at the Kenku, they looked the sort to be limber enough to crawl through the crevice. Then there was Seethe who was probably not willing nor up to the challenge, similar to the psion himself who were men of the mind rather than outright muscle. Thus remaining was the stinky stone sorcerer, the one who spoke with his lisp and all the enthusiasm. Now he was a man of muscle, like Bar, bulky but biceps plentiful. Surely he, with his earthen affinity, could climb the stone cliff if anyone in the party. With his mental assessment calculated, and nose prepared for the stench, the mute beckoned the Goliath over with a hand. Another hand pointed over at the narrow pass as the game of charades began, sure it would have been easier to use telepathy to communicate, yet the less the others knew about his powers the better.

Ah now the rope would come in handy. All the sorcerer had to do was climb up with the rope, and the rest could use it to shimmy themselves up. Or better yet, if the sorcerer was smart enough in using his powers over earth demonstrated earlier in burying the dead. If indeed he had sway over stone like he had dirt, Brim could cut a ladder-way out of the rockface and save himself all the trouble of having to climb. Yet the rope was produced regardless and gestured at Brim before pointing upwards towards the food drop chute. Time for a test of Brim's ability, and more so how smart the sorcerer and party was in using their brains beyond their brawn. It could be easier if the psion made himself leader and directed everyone into doing what he willed them to, but that would be rude to do to newfound allies.

[hider=mechanics]
Investigation Roll for Loots: 1d20+5 = (18)+5 = 23
Sleight of Hand Roll for Loots: 1d20+2 = (20)+2 = 22
[/hider]