<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/0y8wEtc.jpg)  </div><br/>Zabeth examines the murky water, trying to pick out the shape of the switch, or handle, or whatever lies at the bottom of the dank pool.  She has seen complicated mechanical traps disguised as corroding stone before, so she tests every surface stone for density, and she surveys the ceiling with care.  "Alright..."  she sighs, glances sidelong at the group.  "I say we send the kobold."  She glances up, deadpan, to meet the gaze of the little creature.  "We can tie a string around your waist.   It'll be like fishing."<br/><br/>Humor is often her crutch in the worst times, but it's been so long since she's smiled that she can barely let the expression rest on her bow-shaped mouth.  "Sorry.  Gallows humor."  The glint's gone from her eye and she sets back to staring into the abyss, readying herself.  "Not to sound like an opportunistic<i>thief</i>she says quietly, "but fire and food would be good, because the water looks cold."  She closes her eyes, and though her culture doesn't accept nudity as freely as most, she seems to throttle her regard for modesty as she reaches under the cotton shirt and pulls it overhead.  "Also, I'll trade these rags for some leather or chain-- anything that doesn't slow me down."<br/><br/>Her body is pale and sinewy, and with the shirt overhead her breasts teardrop against her lean, stretched torso, two jutting pink nipples pointing at an upward angle, before they settle as she squats to slide off the ragged breeches.  Her ass is as toned as the rest of her, but her trim waist gives her lithe body a lovely violin-shape as she bends forward, and she hairless from the waist down.<br/><br/>She has tattoos of many sorts on her skin-- deep blue under her creamy skin, in whorls and jagged slashes to speak of her rank among thieves' guilds, and more than a couple of pale- and even a few fresher pink- scars on her legs, arms, and back.  The most obvious of these is a criss-cross of seven lines that span from the backs of her shoulderblades down to the crack of her bottom when she straightens up.  "Please be ready to stall any mechanism that may spring up to close this well."  She takes a few deep breaths, expelling them from her lungs, and easily climbs up onto the well's rim, her bare feet dangling with a faint splash as she sits and breathes deep, like some berserk mermaid, the breath visibly swelling her ribs and rippling her whole body's muscles.  "I'm clean, don't worry.  I won't foul the water."  She grins, then slips feet-first down, hanging by her hands as she's partly immersed in the shocking cold well, takes one more huge breath, and drops down into the darkness below the water's surface.