AnoYi let Silus tend his wounds as best the equipment available let him as the Coyote listened to Gutou ramble.  It seemed that cultural knowledge disappeared from the skeletal creature's memory under the weight of aeons as readily as it did from the Temple's sand-eroded facade.  That seemed all the more sad, really.  This lone sentinel of an age long past; one that doesn't even truly remember the Emperor it was cursed to eternally serve...

  "[color=ed1c24] We're here to get the Flute, not mount an archeological expedition.[/color]" the Swordsman argued. "[color=ed1c24]But I can't argue with the logic of not leaving any unknowns or surprises behind to catch us on the way out...  We must be wary of dwindling our resources unnecessarily tho.[/color]"
  He wasn't sure [i]exactly[/i] what kind of supplies the Automatons might need, if any beyond what he assumed was a limited ammo supply, but the flesh and blood amongst the expedition would certainly need food, water and, importantly, light.  Alaerin could make his own but the rest of them couldn't.  AnoYi had grown up in the desert, albeit on a vastly different world, and knew the environment could be just as deadly as a monster.