The Mind Ripper's flames burned quietly, casting overlapping shadows across the stone walls.
Their warm glow drove away the Underdark's familiar chill, creating a fleeting illusion of peace within the cramped space.
The three found places to sit. Balin leaned against a relatively flat rock, Renato sat on the edge of a toppled stone pillar, and Tristana curled up in a corner, keeping her distance from both of them.
Fortunately, gaps riddled the rubble, allowing enough air to circulate that they would not suffocate.
After taking a bite of white bread, Renato asked, still unwilling to give up:
"Balin, can you still contact the Rockborer mech?"
"Sending was a one-use spell. I can't contact him." The old Dwarf glanced at the dim mithral bracelet on his wrist. "Besides, Whitebeard's mech can't dig through loose rubble like this. If he fell down here, he'd have trouble saving himself."
Balin spoke with certainty:
"Don't count on the Duergar. In the Underdark, you can't rely on anyone... Get your strength back. We'll have to do it ourselves in a bit."
Balin pulled a piece of jerky from his Bag of Holding and chewed it in large bites. Food that was normally salty and tough tasted exceptionally good now that hunger had taken hold.
The female Drow carried nothing but weapons. The mind flayers clearly had their own system for managing slaves. Even if a slave managed to escape their control, they could not get far without supplies.
Tristana looked utterly haggard after going so long without a drop to drink. Her lips were cracked and peeling, and dirt stained her white hair.
Yet she did not ask for any supplies. In fact, the female Drow had already seemed dazed while moving the rocks, her movements mechanical. Now she sat in the corner, holding