Neve Nevergreen - Smallfolk Rogue
Neve ran a finger along the molten rock, tracing the undulating contours and rivulets while her skin prickled at the catalyzed remains of the acid.
She did NOT want to meet what had done this . . . And yet.
Pacing the width of the atrium circling about the altar, the taker frowned. Taking. That was the key. There was no body. No bones. While acid that might dissolve stone would wreck ruin upon a body there would be some liquefaction, some putrescent stain to mark the dissolution. And there was none.
"I think - " Neve said aloud, pacing herself through her own thoughts. " - that the Witch was interrupted during the ritual of the altar. Ankhegs surprised her during the invocation; drained by the altar she couldn't fight them off. She either fled into the deep so as to draw the beasts away from her wards or, unable to resist, she was taken to be fed upon later."
"I vote we try. It's a poor death, if it has not come for her already, and were she dead I think we would have more sign. If it prove beyond out mettle we fall back, we make what offerings we can to the altar and then give the childer a vote upon their future."
Casting a steeled glance down the molten corridor, Neve squared herself. Testing the weight of her rapier in her hand, she nodded to no one in particular.
"Me out front by a half score paces beyond the good Sister's weirlight, then Edgewicke upon the light's edge, the rest following? With any luck they'll think me less than a mouthful."