“Tell us,” Abia says, a gentle hand on Old Mossy’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem calmed, though — almost more animated.
“There’s traps and beasties both in the depths,” he says. “Dunno who built ’em, dunno why, but they’re down there.” Old Mossy holds up a hand, from which he’s missing two of his four fingers. “This one got bit by a steel trap, teeth like wild. Tried to grab a gem, y’know,” he says, letting the rest trail off.
“A gem? We’re after,” Shyan takes a deep breath as her vision swims. “Mushrooms?”
“Mr. Jashenzizok?” Fassn asks no one in particular.
“Mushrooms, yeah,” Old Mossy says. “For the antidote. Looks like you and yours got quite the dose.”
“Most unfortunate,” Cang drawls.
“They’s down there too. Shouldn’t be hard to find them glowing caps.”
“All right,” Shyan says. “Thanks for your help,” she continues, as she stumbles off into the cave.