Into the pit (Mature, Low-fantasy RP)

((This is intended to be a serious, mature, low-fantasy roleplaying adventure, centered around a group of adventurers exploring an underground labrynth, a long-buried city of unimaginable grandeur. Perhaps the promise of plentiful treasure has lured you here; perhaps you are a wise scholar who has followed the expedition in hopes of gaining some understanding of a lost culture. Or perhaps you have some other reason that draws you to these tunnels; the choice is yours, within limits. But one thing is certain, all is not as it seems in this shadowed underverse. Romance and deep character interaction are strongly encouraged. Please, humans-only, no God characters, and no overt magic [think Tolkien here folks.] Post a character profile here before joining in so we can get to know you, doesn't have to be formatted just like mine. Let the games commence.))

Name: Airne Iceheart
Hair: Sandy-blond, neck-length
Eyes: Blue
Height: 6"4
Build: Heavy bone structure, but a little too lean. Could use a few weeks of rest and heavy eating.
Facial features: Handsome, in an angular, rawboned way, but somewhat pinched, as if he is either in pain or is bone-weary. His skin is deeply sun-tanned and he has three long scars down his right cheek and jaw.
Clothing: He is dressed for travel, not for battle; he wears an old blue woolen tunic, faded to the color of the sky, a thick grey-green cloak, ragged hose, and battered thigh-length boots. By his left side he wears a sturdy broadsword, and tucked between his belt and the small of his back, a hatchet. A haversack with a small pot, dried meat and hard bread, and a few tools are all that he carries with him.

Iceheart hacked away at the thick, thorny underbrush with his hatchet, growing more and more worried that he wouldn't be able to find the entrance again. In the three months since he had discovered it, the pathways he had cleared had disappeared entirely, as if he had never been through there at all. It would be just his luck to have to turn back empty-handed, after all these weeks of preperation. The band he'd brought with him wouldn't be happy about it, not happy at all.

The sweat ran down his furrowed brow as he cleaved deeper and deeper into the thicket, each swing a little wilder than the last. And then, as if a hole had been opened in the earth by the merciful will of the Gods, he nearly fell headfirst down a flight of incredibly steep stone stairs. He only saved himself from an almost certainly fatal head-over-heels plummet by flopping ungracefully onto his rear end, straight into a hawthorne. He rose quickly, a few dozen inch-long thorns embedded in his hindquarters, barely kept himself from yelping, and barked in a high northern brogue "I've brought ye tae the revel, now we'll see who'll dance. Last chance tae turn back."

Name: Mystlyn
Hair: Waist length black hair
Eyes: Tri-blue
Height: 5'5"
Build: Slender yet muscular
Facial features: A scar runs over her right cheek marring her once pretty features
Clothing: Once white shirt and a pair of dark green pants.
Age: 25

Mystlyn slowly climbs off a crevice, more falls off of it. She had slipped on a wet stone that she was trying to pass. A loud thud sounds and she looks around, seeing nothing but more stone and some bushes. She growls at herself and pushes herself up to her feet.
Mystlyn begins to walk again, sighing softly. She had been walking for awhile now, lost count of the hours, and was getting slightly tired, but she wouldn't let that stop her from going into the labrynth. Her father had told her about it and wanted to go himself, but he died three days ago.