The lack of need for restorative power left the primal outsider in tranquil meditation. In some ways there was great thanks that they did not need the potent magic, as it would afford them more time and surely grace later as they ventured further and further in these depths in pursuit of the cult. This call to arms, this least of lesser crusades, would need such healing on tap if the moment turned dire. There was no reason to suspect it would not, for the enemy had a sizable and great dragon aiding them, let alone what well could have been one of its offspring acting as a guide for the army they were facing.

The [i]Pale Lady[/i] had whispered her subtle directions to bring the man, and beast as well, this far. Her strange and secretive Wiles had only magnified the connection that existed between the three in the course of a mere few days, to the point that now there was even so much as the chance to conjure the cool ethereal power. No longer was it an effort to dig to the depths of the soul to find that spring, now the font of divine healing and health bubbled up under its own volition. As it all derived from the same lunar blessing, there appeared to be little potential limit for it at this rate. What was to come next in reward for banishing the darkness with pale light?

Brannor's revere lasted until their breather ended and the others were back on to their feet. So did he follow, rising up from kneeling and allowing the ghostly light to shed from his hands. The opportunity to heal was now over and as he took up sword again, the reminder that conflict was first and foremost his tole returned; the soothing moment turned to the hunt. This time without the interference of the bats, which their small band slunk by without rousing much to their fortune and the journey continued.

Yet one thing penetrated the darkness far more effectively than those whose eyes could see through the blackness and that was a pungent odor. It surprised the well armored hunter little, these creatures were reasonably as filthy and as stained in such a way as their souls, so to find what appeared to be where they might have deposited their refuse was almost expected. Still the man's nose wrinkled and he grimmaced with disapproval, staring down the lonely, pitted spear until the priestess slowed. Lost somewhere in her thoughts, she clearly had something in mind...

[@Hekazu][@Ryonara][@Zverda][@Lucius Cypher][@Norschtalen]