Meanwhile, in the makeshift quarters in the northwest section of the complex, Vanzaren's tiny hut spell fades before finally winking out of existence as the last of the magic dissipates, consumed by the Weave.

Gundren stands up and stretches. Noticing his brother still fast asleep, he gives the dwarf a firm kick in the midsection. "Huuuuh," grunts Nundro at the rude awakening, rising to a seated position with a sour look on his face. Not an ill word was spoken though, and the others began to wonder if this is simply how Gundren wakes his brother every day.

Sildar was the first to speak, addressing the party: "I wonder if my friends and I might impose on you good people to share some of your food," he asks meekly. "I know you have already done so much for us, but those bugbear brutes were not too concerned with ensuring we had much to eat. They wanted us to remain weak and compliant. Although, they did supply us with a dirty bucket filled with water from the underground river..." he says, motioning towards a container in one corner of the room.

(OOC: While it does not really apply to NPCs, Gundren, Nundro and Sildar are essentially suffering from the equivalent of 2 levels of exhaustion.)

"W..wait a m..minute" says Garet. He pulls number of leftovers collected during few past meals. While using basic knife and his pan he smashes them into sandwich paste that he proudly spreads on few pieces of bread and gives to dwarfs

Using: Chef: Special Food

'Orcs huh?' Marcon thought tiredly before reaching out a hand to pat the skeleton collarbone. 'Hope you were able to go down swinging at least' His attention then drifts downward to the skeleton's items, and after some brief mental deliberation, took the rings and wand before swimming his way back to shore with artifacts in hand.

Though his intent after taking up the torch was to plop down on nearby steps and chew on some rations, failure to find any in his pack led Marcon to look confused at his bag, then sighing and rubbing at his face. "Right... last bit was at that Harlen fellows... Tch. It's fine. Needed to go on a diet anyways." He murmured as he took to studying the rings for any engravings that might shed some light on their previous owner's name at least. But regardless of whether that yielded any results, Marcon pouched them, slipped the wand in his pack, and began the long trek back to the others with the intent of at least checking up on them.

Ronk wakes up from where he'd sprawled out and stretches, feeling various joints popping and cracking. He shovels some of his rations into his mouth and mumbles. "Think Marcon died out there?"

The rings, despite being attached to a rotting corpse at the bottom of the underground lake for an unknown number of decades, were nearly faultless. Their white-gold finishes gleamed brightly, even under torchlight, leading Marcon to believe they were made of platinum. Both were simple round bands, with no adornments and for a moment, Marcon pondered why someone who was also carrying a wand would be wearing two plain, identical rings...he wondered if their purpose was something other than fashion. But the thoughts were fleeting and quickly dissipated from his consciousness.

Marcon trudged back to where the others had made camp and wandered through the doorway, soaking wet and looking even more disheveled than he had the day before. Everyone stopped what they were doing and a "what-the-hells-happened-to-you" expression simultaneously crawled across all their faces.

"..." Van looks around at the others. "You... did you get any sleep?"

It took Marcon close to half a minute to even register the question. But with a bit of a start, followed swiftly by a half-hearted glare at Vanzaren, he looks away without answering to focus on his pack and digging stuff out of it. Except as he's rummaging around it, the ex-farmhand suddenly stills, purses his lips, and seemed to be studying empty space as if weighing options.

".... Tch... Already been this many hours. Why not one more." He said deresively underbreath, and with a huff pulled out a potion bottle filled with a strange liquid, the wand, and the rings. "While ya'll were getting ya precious shut-eye, I found these while scouting out some tunnels. Don't know what any of it does, but figured since ya'll are now bright-eyed and bushy tailed ya'll aughta be able to sort it out. So here." He holds them out.

As soon as they leave his hands he then quickly says, "And in case any of ya were wondering, ya know that bugbear we conveniently forgot to untie 'fore bedding down? Dead. Throat slit or some such from what I can tell. Isolda's work probably. Probably not. Either way, while ya'll are sorting that, I'm gonna head back in the other room and get myself sorted." He looks more pointedly in Sildar and the dwarves direction. "If any of ya feel the need to, there's plenty of bugbear weapons and shields ya can try to adjust and fix to ya 'fore we make tracks."

Garet immediately recognized the bottle of strange liquid as being identical to the one he had in his own pack…a potion of vitality.

Garet blinks few times looking at the potion. "H..h..Hey m..m.Marcon" he tries to stop barbarian from wandering away. He puts the new potion in his pack "T..Thanks.. I have drink that will r..ree fresh you" and pulls the other potion from his pack 

Garet whispers to Ronk "He..needs to drink that..for h..his o.oown good. If needed help"

OOC: Garet will give the other potion of vitality he has in backpack to Marcon to avoid ex-farmhand mumbling about not wanting to use thing he found

With his other offer made, Marcon had been halfway into turning to leave when Garet makes the suggestion. He scoffs however and dismissively waves a hand without really over and says, "Eh, save it. It ain't much, but I still got enough water." On that note, Marcon intended to carry on his way back to the other chamber to collect a shield and at least one of the bugbears club for his own keeping. "Just finish whatever ya'll need to do so we can get going. Time's a wasting." 

Ronk whispers back to Garet. "What am I supposed to do? Pry his mouth open so you can pout it in? He'll probably bite."

Garet nods with totally straight face "i know" and moves fast to stand in front of Marcon trying to use his whole towering firbolgness (+Ronk bugbearness) to convince the barbarian

"D R I N K  I T  B O Y"

OOC: Persuasion test 11

Though Marcon looked a touch surprised in seeing Garet (and Ronk?) suddenly in front of him, their "strongly worded request" wakes him up enough to glare up at them and cross his arms. But he doesn't say anything at first, but rather even in his exhausted state seemed to try and weigh his options...

-Persuasion(DC 11): 16.(3) (Burning inspiration to make it a flat roll)

... and with a heavy sigh born of hours of bearing a greater mental load than most seemed to care to consider, he holds out a hand for whatever skin, potion, or drink the Firbolg had to offer. If given it, he'd stare at the vial for a long moment, and for a second in his tightening of his grip, it looked as if he might shatter the vial out of unadulterated spite. But then the moment passes and in as quick a motion as could be mustered, he popped the cork and downed its content with a grimace.

A grimace he held no matter the actual taste of it. If it's magic did as Garet hoped, Marcon seemed to finally breathe easier and stand a little taller. Yet as the potion's effect dons on him, Marcon... looked absolutely horrified. A little angered too, but moreso horrified as he stared at shaky hands...

In the span of a few seconds, the potion of vitality caused every bit of tiredness and exhaustion to drain out of Marcon's body. His senses immediately returned to normal and he could feel his strength surging back...he knew he would be able to think clearly and fight at peak performance once again.

Van takes at look at the wand and attempts to figure out how it works.

Arcana:

25

Garet lets the air out as he was nervously holding his breath whole time, ready for some brutal action from heavily exhausted barbarian. 

He turns back into good old smiling polite giant and asks Marcon with small guilt in voice from what he had to do "F..friends r..right?"

Inspecting the wand, Vanzaren effortlessly identifies it as a wand of magic missiles. 

Marcon jolts at the question and looked up confused initially at Garet. However, if given a few moments more to process it, the ex-farmhand appeared torn between sadness and guilt before looking again to his hands.

"... My Pa used to tell me that... that real friendship isn't something ya just wrap up in words 'n call it a day. Deeds and mutual understanding aughta speak the loudest... and I..." He trailed off frowning, then after a sigh looked up to Garet with a tired look that went deeper than the physical. "Just promise me one thing. All of ya. A-and I know it's a big ask, but if... If I lose it -- like, REALLY lose it and look as if I'm gonna harm any of ya or the kid, I need you put me down."

Everyone startles as Gundren's weapons clatter to the ground as he walks over to Marcon. "Listen now, and ye listen good son...ye done saved me life and that o' me brother and Sildar here, not once but twice! I don't know what darkness be rumblin' around in that thick skull o' yours that'd make ye say such a thing as that, but we all got some up there. Everybody's got demons son, ye hear? But what I'm sure of is that I owe ye me life, twice over...that basically makes ye family and on my family's honor not me nor anybody else will be repaying you that kindness back by takin' your life from ye..."

Gundren takes the man's hand in his own. While he was nearly two feet shorter, the dwarf's meaty hand nearly swallowed Marcon's in a firm clench. "Yer not thinkin' clearly son...not sure if it's the road or the fact you ain't slept or ate in days, or maybe somethin' else, but how bouts ya just let ol' Gundren here do the thinkin' fer ya for a little while, hmm? You don't need to try an' figure nothin' out, just kill what I tell ya to kill...and let live everything else. You do that, and we'll find this missing child, rid this place of it's evil and when we're done, we'll all go to the tavern for a drink."

Gundren then points at his own eyes with two forked fingers and says, "Just keep yer eyes on me son, do what I tells ya, and this'll all work out just fine. We gotta deal?"

Van is holding the wand in one hand while listening to all of this. "Why on earth would you ever think something like that would happen?"