[Regin Hardhammer]

"What do I say?" Ishkur squatted on the ground and retrieved his sack, which had fallen into the mud at the same time that he had been thrown into the pit. He gripped the cloth bag in two hands and began wringing it out. His vigorous wringing produced a considerable stream of water that spilled over his hands and splashed onto the ground.

Looking sideways at Gwerr with an expression halfway between a grin and a grimace, Ishkur ruefully intoned, "I say go for it. It's better to die trying than to lie down and take whatever they dish out. If we don't attack, we're goners......just like my poor sack." He stared at the bedraggled canvas bag and frowned, "Either we get our necks wrung like dead chickens, or we drown here in this pit. I don't know if any of you idiots happened to notice but things are getting a little damp."

Ishkur pointed towards the pile of rocks at the back of the cave. Water was beginning to seep in from the outside; at least five inches had accumulated on the cave floor, and the level was slowly rising. I hate swimming," Ishkur snorted in explanation. "I'd rather take my chances on the outside."

"Well, Makdush, what'll it be? Care to give one of us a hands up on your back?"