One fish, two fish, green fish, blue fish you think to yourself in some sort of obscure rhyme and you watch as the marks left by your sandals seem to slip towards the center of the room. No! it is not an illusion the sand is actually moving towards the center ,being pulled at the changing patterns need more of the silicate to create new and interesting patterns and cartographical references. “How many fish will it take” you wonder? Will it require more than just the floor to create what it needs?

 Dlarumei motions towards the green glowing hallway with her fingers, you can sense the urgency in her command.  Looking behind her you can see many of the part still slowly making their way towards you though they are quite the distance and they seem to get further away the more they try to advance.  You move, stepping lively, tight to the wall and hunkered down in a most uncomfortable position. The sand at your feet tugs like the current of a small stream slipping past the toes of your sandals.  Now, perhaps only but five scant feet from the hallway’s entrance you see the wall above the hallway move! It’s a door! A heavy stone slipping down into the opening which will soon block the passage for you.  A quick glance around at the other openings would tell you the same story, and the rest of your party sees the same distressing event unfold.

 Urutlen notches an arrow quickly and fires across the chamber to one of the open doors. The arrow is consumed by the vortex of sand in the center of the room. He then fires five more arrows in rapid succession, so quickly that it is hard to believe that he didn’t just shoot them all at once. Two of the arrows make it through and you can see he is contemplating something. Jenge, at the very back of the line, shouts something not intended for the three of you and turns and bolts for the blue passageway closest to him. Nesh and Deshnah leap after him and run full tilt in that direction, staying somewhat close to the walls side. Almodhim and Churisan confer with Urutlen as you turn to reach your emerald entrance. Dlarumei, pushing you forward with all her might, almost tripping over you, her muscles straining to get to the doorway, is most anxious. Though she does not speak you can see the stress on her face and the determination in her eyes.

 The three of you run, full tilt towards your destination.  Leaping through the passageway with great effort to beat the stone door before it seals you in the chamber. When the door hits the floor its vibration makes you tingle and the sound is defiantly final, all noise is sealed in the chamber as well and the silence feels odd in your ears.  You are basking in a green glow produces by, what appears to be some sort of plant or stone or….  You are not sure what it is and it almost has a liquid appearance to it as well. The walls are smooth and cold to the touch and you lean against them to settle your spinning head.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:15, Mon 01 Sept 2008.

Dlarumei sit quietly with her back against the wall, she holds her right forearm with her left hand and lets out a sigh that has the slightest hint of a whimper as she leans her head back against the cool stone.

Shih unconsciously opened his eyes wide, the muscles on his forehead contracting so that he could feel his ears.  At every turn, the path behind seemed to close impossibly.  Perhaps the three could slip through as a stream of particles ... that stuff that he now called flesh.  What must Ssrivan now be thinking?  His scribe, on whom he so depended, now gone.  Perhaps the path that they chose would lead to freedom.  He had little illusion though that the three of them had chosen correctly.  But, to what end?

Reaching out with a part of himself, he tried to communicate with his environment.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:20, Tue 02 Sept 2008.

 The sweat sing-song of silence rings echoingly in your ears, the still so deep that it seems painful and oppressive. The slightest breath sounds scream out and the minutest rustle of cloth is easily heard. Enhanced these sounds are not, but that the still is so oppressive they seem amplified. The monochromatic texture added by the light source does not seem to help lessen the effects.

 Dlarumei’s voice, though hushed, rings out loudly. "Noble Shih" her dry lips summons, “there is something here that makes healing my arm difficult, I would invite you to come and try to help me.  Perhaps both of us working together would create what I need to heal from my injury.” You see her clutch at her arm in a frustrated fashion obviously annoyed at her predicament.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:12, Tue 02 Sept 2008.

Looking around to verify that metal is not immediately present, he tries to cast his lowest level healing on Dlarumei.

“To heal is to be of good thought. To think well is to consider the objects best interest.  To consider the objects best interest is to remove oneself for the place of supreme importance.  To do such an act is to sacrifice ones place in the hierarchies of trivial importance’s. Such a sacrifice is to be of good thought. “

 Words written on a scroll Shih recalls from a younger part of his life, a time in his early encounters with what would become his craft, his calling.  Why such words creep back into his conscience thought at this point seems a trifle, and yet possibly, not something to be ignored.  The heat that his hands begin to feel as he connects with the necessary element to create the healing spell, are the first warning of a less than desirable casting environment. Pushing himself just a bit more, as is always his custom, the burning intensifies to the point of pain.  He relinquishes his attempt and moves close to Dlarumei to consider her injuries.

Cursing herself Dlarumei hisses between clenched teeth, “I am such a fool!  I saw that I was falling wrong and still put my arm out to brace myself! As though I have never had any training at all!!!”

Shih examines her forearm, and though not broken, it is not well either.

Ssrivan carefully looks around the passage while Shih is at work.  It would not be good to ignore some other danger while resolving the immediate problem. . .

"We are surrounded with unaligned metal.  The nature of your injury surprises me.  We seem to be cut off from everything here."

If a bandage will help, given our nature, then he'll apply one.

"We must move."

“I agree,” Dlarumei says through clinched teeth.  .  “We seem to be surrounded by elements that make us inert in our abilities. My arm seems to be twisted or wrenched or, I am not sure what!  It has been so long since I was last injured I can not compare this to any recollection. I agree with you, we need to move forward.”

The three take a few moments to adjust themselves to their surrounding.  Heavy stone walls, smooth to the touch but not without many imperfections. A gouge here, a nick there, a few scrapes along the way.  The hallway seems to travel away from their position for at least 200 meters, maybe a bit more and then it appears that it turns.