My Type of Divinity

While I may not have the divine power of a cleric or paladin, the Huntress always rewards her hunters. As we opened the door and began the descent into whatever madness that Cross had sent us to, we prayed. We prayed to our gods for different things, asking for help and luck. The cat even found faith in the depths of a waterlogged dungeon. I didn't pray for luck, Llanowars don't ask for luck, we ask the Huntress for a good hunt, and no matter the feeling of calmness or nothingness that comes after our prayer, the hunt will be a good one.
 
The puzzles of the dungeon were here long before Cross had come the first time, so at least he gave us the solutions. We opened the doors quickly, jumping in and following the feeling that the cleric got from the dragon god. The cat was very put out by walking through the water, but I tried not to laugh as I moved first, standing in front of them like Reinys had asked.
 
As the water ran down one ramp and into a small room, the electric feel of my skin charged, a feeling of excitement that came before a fight. A small hydra lay in the corner, and for once it seemed that the party wished to fight. A clay pot of oil shattered against the creature as I threw it, and from there, the others joined in with their fire.
 
The battle was quick and I saw no need to tap into the bubbling rage that was also so close beneath the surface. I hacked with my blade and when the inspiration struck, I punched at the last head, watching as the shape crumpled to the floor. The others looked on in awe. Not many can say they have killed a hydra and even fewer still can say that they have punched one to death.
 
From there the water flowed into a whirlpool that we could only assume was a drain. It fell to me to dive into the pool, tied with a lifeline. But once under, I quickly realized that the lifeline holding me was only hindering me. I untied myself and dove deeper, following the natural walls of the tunnel to a room where seven hydras and their fangs awaited me. The statues seemed to be another puzzle, one that I was sure I could solve.
 
As I swam up for breath, I scared a fumbling dragonborn as he flailed in the dark water. I raised my head above the swirling pool, took a breath, and dove back in, not bothering to fill in the others. With some coordination, eventually, we figured out the puzzle of the hydra statues, but not before I realized that our group was lacking in culture. So few of us spoke Elvish and the puzzle took far longer than necessary, but now we found ourselves faced with another question.
 
A pillar stood for sacrifices, items left for Syracuse, the demi-god of the hydras. I did not know what the others would choose, but my choice was made.