Wind combs the rim of the Pit, tugging at cloaks and tall grass alike. Huryol stops near the drop, his fine robe snapping at his legs while the basin yawns far below.
Huryol
I am Huryol. And yes, these are our best things. Finest cloth, sharpest steel. Most tribes have only fur, rags, or worse.
Huryol
We come for the tribes that never leave this basin. The climb is cruel, and the beasts are everywhere.
The blond elf slows his pacing, then folds in on himself a little, glancing at the path and then away from it. The Guide stands steady, listening without interrupting.
The Blond Elf
It is not just the slope. It is the thought of it. So open, so easy to fall, and all that sky making your knees go weak.
The Guide
He speaks true, though he trembles. The Pit takes pride from the bold and patience from the scared. That is why we move together.
For a moment, the group only breathes and listens to the wind. The way down waits in silence, less like a sentence now and more like an answer.
✓ Quest Accepted
Descend into the Pit safely