M’s pale nails assigned irritated canals through Bar’s sheared torso, much to the annoyance of the sorcerer. It was unlike a gent of unparalleled narcissism and abusive natures, to dig like an animal through a corpse. If Brim truly knew the feng-shui of the man’s mind, the actual dictator that heralded over the lineage of his frantic movements, diving into sinew, ligament, and bone, with such rancor, for a man bereft of muscles himself, this would be a mere moment of contemplation. The goliath pondered, out of ignorance, the duality of such a despoliation marred and contrasted against the exactness for his minimalistic purity, as the muffled vizier eventually arrested his activities and finally gestured him towards the perilous ledge. Perhaps this was the manner of mute mystics. Everywhere. To torture all by hand signals. However, the pain of these charades would steal likely minutes from both their brief lives. [i]Was he that ravenous for silence that he would risk miscommunication?[/i] [b]“M….”[/b] He paused, a slow, Parkinsonian thought wormed across the expanse of nerve clusters and his direct knowledge of the particularities of this mild, miniscule director of progress. His eyes slid over in a cool glance, curious, caught, hooked upon the subtle implication, frustatingly questioned by his own lack of whispered baritone. [b]“I don’t know what you’e talking about.”[/b] An unassumingly, harmless sheaf of rope, enlisted by the mental shaman, was offered for the perpetual descent below. [b]“Wope?”[/b] The nose turner grasped hold and buckled it to his belt reflexively as he looked with piercing eyes further into the depths of the cave. The next level below was distant, clear, spiteful and riddled with intentional harm, if someone was not careful. After some lengthy deliberation, the fetid giantkin released his hand from his chin and began to wave his arms in a methodical crux, as he attempted to chisel a stairwell, or ladder, if too cumbersome, propelling the carved stone upward next to the desecrated carcasses, hoping not to spill any silt, tipping off any circuiting patrol. He hissed softly once again. [b]“This will be betta to cwimb down.”[/b] [Hider Mechanics] Brim will employ Mold Earth, if possible, on the cave’s stone. 5 feet of earth every 6 seconds, to make a makeshift stairwell or ladder. [/Hider]