The tip of the extended, gnarly staff gently crackled with an eerie sort of energy. A soft light emanated from the crackling, snapping glow, but oddly, no sound reached the ears at all. The staff, carved from an old corkscrew oak branch, was longer than the wielder was high and as smooth as a rarcorus baby's behind. The staff wielder carried a long, unconventionally shaped dagger in the other hand, its handle was in the middle and a blade protruded from either end. Slung across his back hung a large skin of water and an old, ragged, what once might have been a plush leather satchel.
Although the sun was at its apex in the outside world, it did little to brighten the deep crevice in which the small band traveled, quite literally making it difficult to see much of anything past one's outstretched fingertips.
The staff wielder leading the group stepped carefully through the darkened cleft, avoiding the larger stones that might trip a person and the smaller pebbles that could create an unwanted cacophony. With barely enough room for one to walk through without too much difficulty, the remainder of the small entourage followed the faint glow of the staff at indeterminate spacing, allowing their leader of the moment to pick the easiest and the most silent path.
Suddenly a fist shot up from the first in line, and one by one, the four following him went to a crouch, emulating the only figure they could see in front of them. The raised fist then held up three fingers, and the third in line silently waddled to the front to crouch near the staff wielder. The staff then winked out.
In what seemed like a brilliant light after the darkness of the tunnel, the newcomer blinked several times to allow his eyes to adjust to ther change in radiance. A vast cavern, roughly the size of a Tanto Bandir playing field, had opened before them. After several seconds, he nodded to his companion, confirming he was prepared.
Although the shadows of the crevice hid him well, he felt as exposed as a femme dancer did after she made her way around several tales at his favorite tavern, The Dancing Pig. Lavicia was his preferred dancer, the way she made him... The staff wielder rapped him sharply once on the head to bring him back to the present. Rubbing his noggin, and uttering a silent curse, he nodded and swiftly surveyed the large grotto.
A large crack in the roof of the cavern allowed enough filtered light for him to view all but the far edges reasonably well. From as far as he could tell, this was the only way into the cave. A few boulders strewn about from the partially collapsed ceiling cluttered the floor, and a few stalagmites and stalagtites sprang from the roof and floor.
Nothing looked to be untoward, but as he was turning to tell the staff wileder as much, something caught his eye at the base of the dais. It was so small, and the stand blocked most of the object, that he had to study it for several minutes to determine what he was looking at. After assuring himself of what he saw, he nudged his companion and pointed at his left hand and to the bottom of the dais.
Stretching out with the left hand, as if reaching for something just out of the poor creature's grasp, the skelton lay.

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• Science Fiction & FantasyFantasyEpic
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