Mara heard the woman mnetion "home". "The way you speak makes it seem that you two are not sure how you arrived. We awoke here in a cell without anynof our belongings except these ratty clothes. For the most of ofmus the last thing we remember is looking into a mirror or surface that relfected images. After that it is as if we were abducted and brought to where ever this is."

The crone looks a little taken aback. "It has been some time since I've used a name." She comments, taking a seat. "Well if I recall correctly I was the lady known as Trallia back in the day." She brushes a bit of her scraggy grey hair out of her field of view. "We can go through my life story in a bit, for now I just need a minute."

The two young elves return after a moment with some clay bowls. Two of them have water in, and the other two seem to have a mixture of dead beetles in. The crone looks to the two elves. "Thank you, dears." She says, taking a couple of the bugs and eating them. She looks to the others. "Feel free to have some, I'll start my story while you dine."

The crone gets herself comfy while the group has access to some food (in the form of bugs) and drink (in the form of water). The group notices again that there is no reflection visible in the water, seeing straight through to the bottom of the bowl. As they rest (feel free to have a short rest if required), the crone talks.

"I have been stuck in this place for a very long time. I have lost track of the days, months, years, that it has been. I had a similar start as you did, trapped in a cage and breaking out to find myself stuck with a small group of bewildered adventurers, lost in this place. There were six of us, but I'm the last one now. Those two are the children of the two elves that were in our group; I'm taking care of them as their parents asked. They're not talkers, so probably not the easiest of company, but I understand them."

"This place from what I can tell is a land until itself, like its own plane of existance, wrapped inside impenetrable walls with no windows. That 'field' you were in? Just a small part of the bigger land. Those creatures of stone and wood out there, they are unliving, unrelenting guardians of this part of what the locals have called 'The Tower'. They don't barter, they don't stop, they don't show mercy. They catch who they can and take them away. From what I have heard those unlucky to be alive when caught have been put into some sort of slave camp. The place you were in, it is connected to some of the other floors of this place, people unwittingly getting caught up in this war between the guardians and little groups like us."

"Reflections... Until you mentioned them I had completely forgotten about them. About seeing my own face... I suppose I look like a hag nowadays. We're just living out our days, attempting to scavenge what we can without being caught by the guardians outside. We sometimes come into conflict with others lost in this tower, usually meaning we expend resources at the chance of gaining theirs. Oh, I guess I've been rambling again. You had questions, I suppose it is your turn to speak."

The crone looks to the group, before taking a light sip of water. The two elves during this have kept themselves busy, letting the group rest and listen without disturbing them.

Enthralled by what the crone said, Dark gladly takes the bugs and water as offered. “What is your name?  What was your life like before coming here?”  As he listens, he calms his spirit and tries to rest and recover from his injuries.

Mara listens to the old woman and frowns as that sounds like what had happened to them exactly. She frowned more as she realized she did not know the fate of some that had orginally been with them. She feels that death would be a better fate then ending up a slave. "You will not find us with any good equipment. What we have mamanged to scavenge ourselves has been something one would expect to see in use by goblins or the like. I assure you that as longnas you do not pose a threat to us then it is fair to say we will not pose one to any you. For now our goal is to either find some way out of this place or at thenvery least to survive as best we can."

The bugs are crunchy, but seem to have a gooey centre to them. Not horrible, but not the best food you've had either.

The crone looks to Dark. "I already said, I think I was Trallia at some point, but that was long ago. What little I remember before this place was of grand cities where people of all sorts would walk around together and society was not survivors needing to take what they can." She chuckles at Mara's words. "If I wanted your gear I would've left you to the same fate as those who stay in the sweet fields and just taken it after."

Mara nods as she finds herself still wary of the woman if not even more so then she had been before. She will turn to the others and hope that the look conveys that they should tread carefully with the old woman.

As soon as there is another chance to sit down Rumble, the earth genasi waste no time finding another corner to do so and largely watch again in silence. Aside from a brief few sniffs and odd looks at the offered grub, he digs into them without thought or care of further consequences.

Killian, sits and listens intently to the woman. Looking at the two elven children (Insight check to figure their ages: 14 ) thinking about their parents being able to raise two children in this place and the time frame involved. 

"Have you ever been to any other parts of this tower? We had met a gnome couple, Marishal was his name, lower in the dead wood as he called it. We've also noticed, as we have had some unfortunate events, this place reacts to death in mysterious ways." He thinks for a second and continues, "you've been able to survive here for sometime, any advise or tips you can give us on those sentinels, or how to avoid what happened to our friends here." Gesturing to Rumble, Dark and Leo. 

"Wait, that old gnome's still kicking?" The cone says. "It's been a long time since I saw the gnomes that far down the tower. Thought they'd be gone by now."

Killian:

 The crone straightens her back a little. "The guardians are pretty stupid. They seem to have patrols and they stick to them. You can be standing five feet behind them and they wouldn't know as long as you keep quiet. As for the sweet field, I think it is something to do with whoever is in charge of the guardians. People who don't leave there long enough become addicted to the sweet grass, fattening them up. The eyes in there can get into your head, learning everything that they can from you." She looks to those who were brain-dead for a short while. "I'm sure you felt the probing effect that many have when stuck in that room. It seems to have a maximum range though, so you shrug it off after getting far away enough."

Rumble stops chewing for a moment, seems to consider the crone last few words, and then shuffles around so that he no longer faced the group. It isn't long after that the soft pitter patter of stone can be heard from he sat, followed by small cracks and pops of the same being crushed to smithereens.

"What about the halflings, they seemed to live there, and you spoke of other small groups, are they further up the tower? Have you traveled far from where we are now?" 

Killian hears rumble turns to look but only sees his back towards the group.

Mara quietly listens to what the woman said, glad that she had not tried eat the strange grass like others of the group had. It seemed that this place was only getting more and more strange.

The crone seems to ignore Rumble's actions. "Those halflings? They got addicted to the sweet grass. Been there for a while, gotten delusional. We reached out to them a bit ago, but they didn't want to leave. As for travelling, I've been up and down a few floors, but not for a long time. Looking after two young ones and getting a bit of a bad back doesn't really help with your travelling plans."

Dark starting to feel better after his rest says, “at this point I have no intention of staying here permanently.  When we are all ready, will you show us the way to the next level?”

The crone nods. "I've not been up there for quite some time, but I can show you the path." She says. "It's a pretty hot place in the next area, basically a desert. Take as much water as you can with you."

The two elves seem to be sitting on a hammock, attempting to listen in to the crone's conversation with the group.

Killian, leans into the old woman, "How much longer do you think you can survive down here with them, shooting a glance at the two elves. do they have any skills or do they solely rely on your assistance? I don't mean to be so straightforward and harsh, but there is a dark reality here in this place." He leans away from her and looks at the two elves to gauge if they understood or heard what he said to there caretaker. 

Perception: 16

The crone sighs. "They are young, and still inexperienced." She says. "I've attempted to show them basic combat, and they have some weapons, but they're not soldiers. I cannot ask them to fight in this."

The elves seem to be listening in, not saying a word. It is probably because this is one of the few conversations they have had a chance to view.

Simmeat looked at the ground and continued to scuff the dirt with his foot. 

What help can I really be to these people? I'm no warrior or hunter or anything, really. I just know stone. 

"No way out..." the dwarf whispered to himself.

They've been here for years... What hope do we have?

Killian

(OOC: Would Killian hear Sim talking to himself?) 

"We may not have chosen to be fighters but we do need to do what is necessary to get out of here alive. When the moment comes they will decide to sink or swim."