Limping and bandaged three figures stumble their way through a grassy landscape, the only sounds distant birdsong and the whispering breeze undulating the flora. For a moment the plain takes on the appearance of a green sea with three castaways adrift in the landless expanse. Forlorn in their failure, driven by a desire to make right on the foul deal that was struck to preserve their lives. Even the usually chipper Barley had become rather sarcastic before lapsing into a sullen silence. Navarre trod ever forward with a determination only found when honor was at stake and evil deeds its only preservation. The crisp uniform of Kalif was stained, his armor seemed to clunk rather than ching, and he seemed to be in a shadow as though it was cloudy. The three adventurers seemed to all be realizing the depth of the bond they were under the spell of. They all seemed to be thinking “I made a deal with an evil person, my life is forfeit if I do not deliver to them an object I know is evil and would only serve to make that person more powerful.”
These thoughts weighed heavy on the adventurers as they scouted for a place to make a short rest to gather themselves for the remainder of the trek back into Greenest.