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Last Knight

Boldly Into Darkness Go

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There are some close calls - the rope is slightly slick to the touch from perspiration and the moisture in the cave - but those transiting it have, thus far, arrived safely at the bottom.

 

((I'm leaving a space for Abigale, Griff, Chance, and Glarif to catch up. Loving the enthusiasm here, just don't want to leave our slower posters behind. By all means, continue to talk amongst yourselves where applicable.))

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John Wesley draws his forgelocks and wanders towards the portcullis. "Uh, not much to look at, is it?" 

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When Sonskyn reaches the bottom he hands her back the flaming bead she lent him "my thanks, but I shall leave this with you once more, until we have need of it's magicks again" Once he had both hands free he refastened his sword about his waist, muttering something in what any not familiar with it, would only guess was the elven tongue. those who do know it would hear it as a complaint about how the cavalry saber hung on his hip,and wishing much pain on the bandit that currently has his sword

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Glarif Stayed above to watch over those decending. "Well time to head down..." He quickly grabs the rope and begins his decent in dwarven fassion Head first facing downward with the rope under his arm.  At the bottom he would ready his crossbow for whatever may come...

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Wolf glances at the stone in Sonskyns palm. "How does it work? Will it burn me?"

 

In response to this, and before he jumped down himself, Sonskyn assures Wolf that it won't hurt him. "The light of Veiloaria's Divine Flame only looks like flickering firelight. It is a blessing She grants to her Xia and Keepers - members of my order who are much more experience than I - to help them light the way when adventuring into dark places. It last forever, is almost as bright as a torch ... and doesn't smell nearly as bad."

 

ETA: Whether Wolf takes it or someone else steps forward, she will hand it off before going down herself, per my next post.

Edited by MatrissaTheEnchantress
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Twisting and tying the leather cord around her right wrist so that the glowing bead is firmly held against the inside, just below her palm, she maneuvers her quarterstaff into her left hand and then peers down into the dry well. She then looks at the staff in her hand and back down the hole and at the rope leading into the darkness. Bending over the rim a little she yells down, "I can't climb down with my quarterstaff in hand! I'm going to drop it on a count of five!

 

She lifts it up over the open mouth of the well and slowly counts, "One ... Two ... Three ... Four ... Five!" and then she drops it. After she hears it clatter at the bottom, (and hopefully does not hear anyone cursing because they got hit) she swings her legs over the rim, grabs the rope and starts downward.

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Abigale sighed to herself as she peered into the poorly lit well. She couldn't really believe that what she sought could have ended up there. Surely there was a different way, but to be honest, it was the depth that she feared.

 

Safe in her room, she never had to worry about dark places, danger, heights, or unknown things of any kind. What she all knew, came from books, but what she lacked most of all was the experience.

 

She sighed away her doubts and fears and firmly gripped the rope. It was still warm from it's previous user. The texture was rough on her soft hands and rubbed her fingers harshly. Carefully, after ensuring the security of her blades, she lowered herself down. In her mind, she imagined this en devour to be as graceful as the others, but this was not the case. Her swords rattled loudly, for she had them poorly tied, her cloak hindered her movement so she never was able to balance herself properly. While barely to the ground she finally lost her grip and fell roughly onto her bottom.

 

Abigale bit into her lip hard, to prevent crying out in pain from the impact. Her swords had scraped the ground and her elbows were cut from the rough earth. This was embarrassing.

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When Sonskyn reaches the bottom he hands her back the flaming bead she lent him "my thanks, but I shall leave this with you once more, until we have need of it's magicks again" Once he had both hands free he refastened his sword about his waist, muttering something in what any not familiar with it, would only guess was the elven tongue. those who do know it would hear it as a complaint about how the cavalry saber hung on his hip,and wishing much pain on the bandit that currently has his sword

 

Sonskyn shrugs and takes the bead back from him. When he starts to mutter and curse in elven her eyes widen briefly in apparent shock and then she looks down and, seeing the others in the cavern, her cheeks flush a little red. 

 

Attempting to regain a little composure, she turns to Wolf (or whoever accepted the third bead), and in a brisk voice says, "You can hold onto that if you want. Just don't lose it please."

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John Wesley hustles over to Abigale. "Uh, are you hurt? Let me help you, uh, up," he says, extending a hand.

Edited by dsmiles

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The pain was unbelievable but Abigale grunted through it. She accepted John's hand and carefully dusted herself off, hoping that her embarrassed grin did not come off as a grimace from pain.

 

"Thanks, I um, lost my footing." She mumbled, "I'll survive."

 

She was starting to doubt her words a little bit.

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Chance gratefully accepts the enchanted bead from Sonskyn. He quickly fastens it to one of the short pieces of knotted cord hanging from his belt.

 

As one of the last members above ground, Chance looks at the remaining others and summons a merry grin.

 

"See you below."

 

Straightening his quiver to make sure he will not lose any arrow in the descent, he lowers himself over the edge.  Years of climbing after sheep (it's astonishing the places the stupid creatures can find them selves in) have left is limbs strong and sure and he steadily lowers himself to the cavern floor.

 

Once down, he strings his bow and goes over to the portcullis.  If he were looking for a wayward sheep, it would have left some wool or brushed some rust off of the bars.  It stands to reason that those they were looking for may have done the same.

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Glarif walks over to the stairs "wonder why they didn't take the stairway down instead of that rope" He walks up the stairs and inspects the door at the top trying it to see if it's unlocked.

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Virgil Ironshaper in his heavy armour is the first to discover that the floor of the cave isn't entirely even under its "thin" covering of water - a cover that turns out to be not quite so thin in some places! Fortunately, the hole he steps into is a small one - barely knee deep - and he keeps his torch dry when the rest of him gets soaked. After his ordeal, the party exercise a bit more caution, as best they can with people still coming down the rope and staves dropping from above.

 

As an especial note to Virgil and Abigale, the water is quite cold.

 

With more light on the scene, it's much easier to see around the cavern. It's about fifty feet around, roughly circular, with the east and west walls much flatter and the north and south much rounder. Tool marks on the stone show where the natural cavern has been chiseled into its current shape by unknown hands in the past*.

 

The portcullis looks heavy - thick steel bars, stout about as a quarterstaff. The damp air hasn't been kind to the metal, which is swelling and flaking, but still looks sturdy enough to hold its own. Since neither Chance or John have light sources, it's harder to see further than just the other side of the bars, but there's a cool, moist breeze blowing out of what looks like a long tunnel, square cut, roughly ten feet wide and eight high.

 

Glarif finds the stairs to be just the right size for a human, slightly slick under his hobnailed boots, and running up about fifteen feet. They're built close to the wall, which is also slick with moisture and a slight trace of moss and mildew. The arched doorway is empty - if there were a door hanging there, it's gone and possibly joined the piles of rubble and debris on the ground now. Beyond it, a narrow corridor stretches for about ten feet, and then more stairs lead up.

 

Abigale is soaked to the bone, and somewhat bruised. The floor was not gentle, but luckily the water cushioned the blow.

 

Sonskyn's quarterstaff seems to have survived its fall intact, although one of the metal endcaps is heavily scraped and slightly dented now. It adds character to a stick that was otherwise as clean as the day it was carved.

 

Wolf is passing by one of the piles of rubble when he hears an odd sound - a sort of raspy, rhythmic, heavy breathing, as of something somewhat large going "hurr hurr hurr" repeatedly.

 

 

 

*Glarif: Not Dwarven work, you're sure. Entirely too sloppy.

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