Beren had taken the opportunity of the sudden, freezing breath to grab at the ripped sleeve still on the now-impassive blade. Frost flaked the cloth, but it didn't seem too damaged other than where it had been severed. He would hire someone to sew it back on, because Evergod knew it was cold enough up here in the wilderness. He barely felt adequately dressed even with his shirt, outer shirt, and the jacket. Luckily the catacombs, while not warm, did not have the freezing temperature or biting wind of the upper world. He shook the frost off and shoved the cold length into his pocket just as Jocasta introduced herself. 

He had vaguely recalled her name being Jo-something, and she had evidently remembered his name. He took her hand and shook it, giving a knowing smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Beren." 

"Are you cold, tired, and hungry Beren?" 

"Yep." 

"Then let's see if we can get out of here," she said, responsibly. The pretty woman thought a moment, placing a finger on her bottom lip. "Depending on if there's another exit and the tunnel is leading due north-west like I think it is, we should be slowly heading along the path we would have taken had we not been attacked." 

"If this tomb-complex has more resting places, then it should have another exit. Then again, I'm not familiar with this culture. What even caused these things to get up?" 

"I don't know, but whatever it is, I don't think it's the same reason or even the same source of power that had summoned the dark army just outside. The runes along these walls are filled with poetic portents, sagas, and soliloquies. There seems to be some sort of latent pocket of fel magics that wants to defend this place very badly." 

"Let's hope we can oblige and get the hell out," Beren grunted, and the two began a small trek forward. The next room was an armory, with withered, old weapons, shields, and suits of mail. A red and gold cape was draped along a wooden bar on the wall. Beren took it and shook the dust off of it as Jocasta rifled through the old weapons. Beren decided to take the cape for warmth, and Jocasta pocketed a rusted but ancient seax with a silver wolfish embalm on the hilt. Blowing on it before putting it away, she found it wasn't rusted but simply dusty like the cloak. There were ripples along the blade that caught the low light in different, glittering facets. 

Beren took a moment to admire the weaponry as well, but soon they moved on, going down winding, baroque stone stairs that fed into a foyer connecting a large chamber with walkways and hanging lights of strange crystals that glowed, casting the ground in pallid illumination. Beren stepped over a line that had been laid as a trap, and Jocasta managed to find the exit by following the pictograms of a marching army along the wall until they reached an archway made of brass and iron. 

Beren stepped in carefully, and when nothing happened, they walked further and traversed three long halls and guardrooms (where they found some old coins and swiftly nicked them) until they found another foyer. Only this one was partially broken, some hard earth poking through the stone and roots winded down the right wall like the tentacles of some monster. More importantly, there was an empty brazier on a stone rise. 

"Keep going or...?" 

"No, I need to sit on my ass for a bit." Jocasta said tiredly. As she went to sit, Beren handed her a small bag he had in his backsack. She opened it up inquisitively and found jerky in there. 

"Not much, but it's something." He told her, and he went to the wall and yanked at the roots that tangled out of the shattered stone, breaking some off and tossing it into the stone brazier. After about nine or ten gnarled, dry roots he grabbed two rocks and began to slide them together, trying to make a fire. 

"Oh, let me." Jocasta said helpfully with her mouth half-full. She got up and snapped, mumbling a few words. 

Nothing happened. She blinked, and then snapped again, and again, and again, and then three times in rapid succession before a flame erupted from the brazier like an oil-fire. She squawked and fell back into Beren, who caught her as gently as he could. 

"Good job," they both said together, and then they said 'no problem,' and then they shut up for a moment as they felt the next words would inevitably be the same too. The room was small, and soon it would be cozy with the flame. Luckily, the catacombs had filters and vents for air in the ceiling, likely more for the workers who made the tomb than for the benefit of the eternal sleepers in the tombs themselves. Beren draped the blanket over his shoulder, and then stretched it to drape over his companion's as well. She handed him some jerky, and he took it with a smile. She took out the knife and looked at it curiously, holding it up in the firelight.

"Do you always meet guys like this?" He asked her, trying to fill the silence with levity.