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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.

 

((Fixed that for you - her name ends in an 'n' not an 'r' ^_^ ))

 

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.

 

((Actually, I think Chance has one of the flame beads. Wolf climbed down before having the chance to take one))

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John Wesley calls back to Glarif, "Not much to see without a, uh, light, but there's a breeze coming out of the, uh, portcullis."

Edited by dsmiles

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Taking note of the slight flush that came to the elfkin at his words he smiled,and continuing in elven responded "Ah, you speak the language do you? My pardon for the words I chose." Switching back to the common tongue he turned towards Glarif 

 
"Master Dwarf, I would guess" He said quietly, "that either our predecessors did not know there were stairs down, or that somewhere along that route, they are collapsed. That said however, I am willing to scout that way a bit and make certain. An easier,and mayhaps safer, exit would be no bad thing to know of before we delved deeper into this place."
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"Agreed, though not alone. This place looks to be made by children with all the cracks and space in these joints. Even Dwarven children could build better than those who built this place. I wouldn't be supprised if half this place has already collapsed." Glarif pulls a torch from his pack and lights it. Then beckons to Daneir "shall we be about it then?"

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"We should tread carefully down that portcullis way," Abigale suggested, pointing towards the path. She quickly put her arm back to her side, remembering that it was probably too dark to see her pointing, "This most likely opens up to a larger area of some sort....I assume."

 

For some reason, Abigale was suddenly worried about bats or other flying sort of creatures. She hadn't really prepared herself for the worst case scenario or even slight bump in the roads. Maybe all of her books didn't prepare her for this after all.

 

Every time she shifted her weight on her legs, a sharp pain would surge from her bottom to her lower back and thighs. She was just glad she didn't break anything, but the bruise would be something she'd never forget about.

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Grinning at Abigale, John Wesley suggests, "Judging by the, uh, rust that'll be forming on Virgil's legs, we should, uh, tread carefully everywhere. The next puddle might not, uh, be so shallow."

 

John Wesley glances at Virgil and says, "Uh, you're going to want to dry those off, and, uh, sooner is better than later."

Edited by dsmiles

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"gather on the stairs and dry yourselves off, especially yourself Miss Abigail" he suggested before nodding to the dwarf and drawing his sword out. His intention to go on ahead just far enough in the glow from the torch for his keen eyes to see.

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Abigale simply nodded and sifted around her bag for a dry cloth. She managed to find one and proceeded to wipe down her skin and armor.

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Glarif follows Daenir to the end of the hall holding the torch in one hand and his crossbow in the other. He is prepared to drop the torch if needed and bring the weapon to bear. "After you good sir" he says to Daenir. "Lets just start with seeing what's at the end of this hall, We probably shouldn't be outside of a shout from everyone in case there is anything there that requires our assistance."

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John Wesley, seemingly dry enough to forge on, wanders aimlessly about the circle of light. Forgelocks in hand, he peers out into the dimly lit portions of the chamber, hoping to spot the glint of gold, as his purse is a little starved of the metal at the moment.

 

((LK has a good idea, bolding names. I think it makes them easier to pick out.))

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Sonskyn looks around the cavern and then carefully starts to pick her way towards the bottom of the stairs but then she notices that Abigale is walking a bit stiffly. She changes direction slightly in order to approach the other young woman as she is trying to wipe herself as dry.

 

Lowering her voice a little and leaning in she says "Abigale, right? Did you hurt yourself when you fell? Would you like me to call on Veiloaria's Healing?" Then, smiling a little conspiratorially, she nods towards the men and boys milling about the cavern and moving towards the stairs and add, "Us girls, we need to stick together. You know?"

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Chance, seeing that the consensus seems to be exploring the area up the stairs, moves carefully to the center of the chamber.  From there he can cover both the entrance to the stairs and the portcullis.  There is no sense in leaving a possible avenue of attack uncovered.

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"John, Chance, do you see any scrapes or bright metal on that portcullis that would indicate it has been moved recently?"

 

Wolf examines the pile of rubble more closely, trying to determine if there may be an open space behind it.

 

"Everyone, i heard some noise from behind this pile of rubble", Wolf says indicating the pile with his bow and arrow.

 

 

 

(( Daenir had returned one of the fire beads to Sonskyn, can it be said that I borrowed that one?))

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John Wesley moves back toward the portcullis, and asks, "Uh, can I have a little more light over here? I, uh, can't get a very good look at it." Edited by dsmiles

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(( Daenir had returned one of the fire beads to Sonskyn, can it be said that I borrowed that one?))

((No problem, we'll say Wolf received one of the beads after they got to the bottom of the Murder Hole. ^_^))

 

Wolf crouches down, unwilling to kneel in the water and get his leggings even wetter than they already were. It's just over ankle deep in this area, call it the northwestern corner of the great cavern; off to his left, he can see lights dancing as John and some others go to check out the portcullis and answer his question.

 

(Chance, who had already been there trying to see if he could find anything snagged on the tines, can tell - as more light comes into play - that there doesn't seem to be any sign of fresh metal, nothing like the rust has been scratched away. There's some fur, though - maybe from a cloak? It's a greasy fur, not quite like anything he's seen before - not coarse enough for a wolf or bear, very fine and almost silky... kind of like an otter's pelt, maybe, but he can't think of any otters so big they'd scrape themselves on an opening this big...)

 

Hurr... hurr... hurr... The breathing, again. He looks closer at the rubble; yeah, it could be hollow... it's just fallen stones from the ceiling, mixed with... hmm. Looks like rougher stone, too, looks like it had been hacked out - by a pick axe or something. Wolf looks at the walls again, but can't see any holes chopped in them, no signs of digging. Anyway, there's dirt - mud, really - mixed in with it, and it looks like moss and some sort of algae growing on top, binding everything together.

 

Hurr... hurr... hurr...

 

Snap.

 

When he was younger, his father had taken him to visit one of his warehouses in the poorer parts of town. He'd wandered off while he was there, bored with listening to merchants bicker back and forth... into the warehouse, out the back, into an alley. There'd been a cat there, playing with something by the wall. He'd wandered closer - and heard it. That heavy breathing, that odd sound. The cat had begun to back away from its toy...

 

A sewer rat. A big one. Maybe it hadn't been all that big, really, but it had looked it - especially to his young eyes - because its fur had been all puffed up, and it had been breathing hard, making a weird, echoey sound...

 

This sound. Only this has got to be ten times louder...

 

Black orbs the size of his thumb reflect the light of the fire bead back at him - just before the thing attacks.

 

Gullywater gray, the size of a small dog with incisors like belt knives, it lunges out of the rubble pile with eerie speed, its weight hitting him hard and bowling him backwards. Its claws skitter along his leathers as it snaps at his face - like he's a St. Dunstan's Day candy ball, and it's bound and determined to get to the chewy center before the other kids get a chance...

 

 

((Why yes, I did spend some time this morning looking up what an angry rat sounds like...

 

 

John Wesley and Chance can see what happened to Wolf quite clearly.

 

Abigale and Sonskyr can hear it, but their view of the fight is impeded by the heaps of rubble between the stairs and the corner in which Wolf is fighting.

 

Glarif and Daenir have left the room, and can neither hear nor see what has occurred - at least at the moment. I will cover them in my next post. Actually, they might still be on the stairs - in which case, same as Abigale and Sonskyr, above. If they've left the room, then stand by for update.

Griff may still be up in the ruins above...

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