Sir Exsixten stares down at the green fog, swaying slightly for several moments.
THIS WAY, CITIZENS! he says, as though most of the group isn't already past. When he reaches the bridge, he slows down, then, peering at the acidic froth below, drops to his knees.
BRAVELY, SIR EXSIXTEN CROSSES THE GAPING CHASM OF DOOM. BEING AFRAID OF NOTHING, HE DOESN'T FEAR FALLING INTO THE ACIDIC PIT WHERE HIS CONSTITUENT COMPONENTS DISSOLVE INTO RUSTY SLAG, HIS DEATH UNWEAPT AND UNMOURNED, NOT EVEN A SHARD OF METAL TO REMEMBER HIM BY. NO! HE FEARS THIS NOT AT ALL, HENCE HIS HEROIC AND IMPRESSIVE CROSSING OF THE BRIDGE.
Which is what he tells himself as he craws on his hands and knees, every once in a while starting to tip, flailing his arms, and clutching at the rope desperately for several seconds.
When he finally finishes, he leaps to his feet, readies his weapons and marches quickly onward, as if trying to forget what just happened.
CITIZENS, LOOK, METAMORPHIC ROCK, THIS IS REALLY GNEISS!
He quickly succeeds.
[sblock=Athletics 24]Athletics 1d20+11=
24.[/sblock]
OOC:
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Thanks for the rope; if that had been acrobatics, Sir Exsixten would be drowning in acid right now.
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