Sweat dripped from Rylie's nose and the overwhelming humidity caused his clothes to cling to his body until he felt like he was swimming through the sunless tunnels. The maddening silence in the lonely all-compassing darkness had stretched on for hours as he followed the unconscious forms of his former adventuring party. Well, them and the party of vicious, and heavily armed, underworld elves that carried them to Alilili knew where. Rylie used his full training in the stealthy arts to keep his damp clothing from swishing and his sodden boots from squeaking. All the while remaining, somehow, out of sight of the supernaturally lithe and unearthly beautiful creatures, that would have to be covered in pots and pans and tied to a screaming cat to make any noise as they traipsed with an indifferent ease through the stone corridors.
At one point he had put his hand in some unidentified slime causing an involuntary weak sigh to escape from his weary lips. A slight soft exhalation of breath that even he had struggled to hear. The pointy eared villains had stopped immediately and drawn wicked blades covered in an oily black substance that could only be a deadly poison. Rylie froze like a deer in headlights, whatever those were. Their teeth were perfect. They were perfectly pointed and razor sharp. There gorgeous faces turned to murderous masks in seconds. The bodies of Thorbis the burnt out wizard and Nealo the priest of Alilili were on the ground in an blink. Somehow silence still echoed through the corridor. If Rylie could have moved or spoken in that instant, he would have cursed their unending perfection. Like a stalking spider they crept with demoralizing speed down the halls toward Rylie's hiding place.
This was it. Rylie felt an emptiness in his stomach. Thorbis and Nealo were going to be sacrificed to some nubile demon god. He wouldn't be so lucky.
Visions of his death danced with a cold clarity through his mind. The cruel kiss of a dagger. The passionate torture of a poison running its course. Beauteous features filling his vision, while vile claws cradled his face, as he coughed up the last of once vital fluids. A shiver would have run up his spine, but he held as still as stone.
Somehow, someway they stopped short. The sound of a elf's dismissive sniff echoed like thunder through Rylie's head.
Then, with the unconcerned nonchalance only an apex predator can muster, they scooped up the prone forms of Thorbis and Nealo and padded away into the creeping gloom with a grace and beauty that would have made a ballerina cry. If the fear of losing the trail hadn't been so paramount Rylie would have curled up into a ball and had a long and cleansing cry. But, now more than ever the others needed him. Why he felt such loyalty to them he didn't know. No one deserved whatever fate awaited the prisoners of these fay fiends he reasoned. With a quiet yet ragged breath he pushed off from the wall and set off into the damp and gloom. Come what may, he would see this through.