Turn 17. “Suckers.”
The Sinister Secret of Whiterock.
“What is it you spy yonder stout Orc.” Cestode starts up, and is hissed into silence.
“Not that.” Gina snaps, thankfully Grungarak hasn’t heard.
“Not what- stout? Does he have issues with his size? Some sort of regime may be in order, I try to eat half a pig before lunchtime, and I avoid exercise at all costs- bad for digestion.” Cestode pats a belly, he has a few to spare.
“No, not the stout bit, the Orc bit.” Gina whispers.
“But he’s…”
“A Ranger.” Gina finishes.
“No, he’s an Or…”
“That’s right, a Half-Orc.” Twiglet steps in.
“Oh. I see.” Cestode plainly doesn’t see at all.
Over on the far platform, a rickety wooden affair, Grungarak levers himself up and begins to climb the cavern wall- he’s not got far to go, in seconds he’s at a second, much smaller, platform, there was a ladder here once, now there’s just a lever, it can go up and down- it’s in the down position.
“There’s a lever.” The Ranger calls back.
“Good. What position is it in?” Gina asks.
“Down.”
“Then pull it up.”
Obvious really.
GRRRRRIND
Shuddering and shaking, dancing in the air, the chain between the platform rises- all the way up, there’s a hook on the end of it, a very large hook meant to haul something big. The something big it used to haul is alas long gone.
“That’s a puzzler.” Twiglet states.
“I’ve got an idea.” Gina smiles.
Ten minutes later they’re ready.
Or not, as the case maybe.
At least some of them are ready.
“How did they get up and down then, the Gnome things?” Cestode asks.
“Suckers.” Grungarak shouts down to the Dwarf.
“I beg your pardon, I…” Cestode splutters.
“Suckers- they gripped onto the cavern wall and just walked down it- I s’pose.” Gina clears up the mystery.
Grungarak nods, unseen.
“Oh, I see.” Cestode adds.
“Ready then brave Paladin of Moradin?” Twiglet asks, leering over the edge of the platform.
Below Cestode hangs off the chain secured by a loop of rope, a second rope is tied around his waist- that’s a lot of rope, just in case he falls which, in turn, is gripped up top by Gina and Twiglet.
“Ah. Yes, for Moradin.” The Paladin mumbles.
“Lower away.” Gina shouts across.
Grungarak wrenches the lever down, and jiggling into the dark goes Cestode.
It takes a little over thirty seconds for the chain to descend all the way, thirty seconds of blind terror for Cestode, followed by a little more blind terror- he hangs there, in the dark.
“Err… I’m down.”
“What can you see brave Cestode?” Twiglet calls.
Cestode gulps.
“Err… Not much, there’s a ledge- both sides, a bit above me- both sides. But too far away for me to get too. And… er… there’s a big waterfall- somewhere below, I can hear it. And a light- either very small, or a long, long way down.”
Cestode gulps some more.
“Can you get off the rope, on to the ground?” Twiglet calls down.
“NO. There is no ground”, Cestode screams back, “as far as I can see.”
“Okay- we’ll swing you.” Twiglet calls back.
Which takes a while to register with the Paladin of Moradin.
“What do you mean- swing me?”
But by the time he’s finished the sentence he’s found out- the hard way. Cestode suddenly learns a new skill- trapeze artist.
“Hey. HEY. HEEEY.” He feels sick.
“Tell us when you’re…”
THUMP
“I’m there.”
Cestode grips the ledge, hauls himself up. “Give me some slack.” He shouts up, rope loops below him, he eventually unhooks the first rope from the chain.
He gulps again, and heads on in.
“Please Moradin, please Moradin, pleeeeeease.” He whines and with white knuckles grips his axe.
Down a short corridor that ends before a peculiar portal cast of silvery metal. Each of the paired doors sports the face of an enraged giant, maw open wide, as if in a barbaric howl. A raised keyhole is placed at the seam between the two doors.
“Nice.” The Dwarf whispers, “homely.”
Thirty seconds later he’s back out again.
“There’s a door, it’s locked- we need a Rogue, or else the key- do any of you have the key, probably not- waste of time really, I should be heading back.” He calls up.
“Have you tried it?” Gina shouts down.
“What?”
“The door. It might be open.” Gina ends the debate.
“.” Cestode minces back into the dark.
All the way to the door.
Gingerly he reaches out, carefully lays one hand flat to the door, breaths out, then in- and pushes.
CLANG
Behind him a portcullis drops, the Dwarf spins to see.
FWEEEEEE
The mouths of the giant faces on the doors open wider still, it gets very windy, Cestode crouches low, tries to stagger forward towards the portals.
FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
A hurricane is unleashed.
CLANG
And Cestode is sent spinning back into the portcullis, pressed flat against the metal, cruciform, and either side of a pair of dirty great iron spikes, the portcullis is dotted with them.
By the time the wind ends, runs out of puff, Grungarak is down at the bottom of the chain, and screaming at the lost Dwarf.
The portcullis rises, then clangs shut again, standing on the ledge is Cestode- he looks as if he has seen a ghost, or else he’s been hit by lightning.
“Get back over here.” Grungarak’s words arrive at last, Cestode shakes his head, and steps off the ledge.
The Sinister Secret of Whiterock.
“What is it you spy yonder stout Orc.” Cestode starts up, and is hissed into silence.
“Not that.” Gina snaps, thankfully Grungarak hasn’t heard.
“Not what- stout? Does he have issues with his size? Some sort of regime may be in order, I try to eat half a pig before lunchtime, and I avoid exercise at all costs- bad for digestion.” Cestode pats a belly, he has a few to spare.
“No, not the stout bit, the Orc bit.” Gina whispers.
“But he’s…”
“A Ranger.” Gina finishes.
“No, he’s an Or…”
“That’s right, a Half-Orc.” Twiglet steps in.
“Oh. I see.” Cestode plainly doesn’t see at all.
Over on the far platform, a rickety wooden affair, Grungarak levers himself up and begins to climb the cavern wall- he’s not got far to go, in seconds he’s at a second, much smaller, platform, there was a ladder here once, now there’s just a lever, it can go up and down- it’s in the down position.
“There’s a lever.” The Ranger calls back.
“Good. What position is it in?” Gina asks.
“Down.”
“Then pull it up.”
Obvious really.
GRRRRRIND
Shuddering and shaking, dancing in the air, the chain between the platform rises- all the way up, there’s a hook on the end of it, a very large hook meant to haul something big. The something big it used to haul is alas long gone.
“That’s a puzzler.” Twiglet states.
“I’ve got an idea.” Gina smiles.
Ten minutes later they’re ready.
Or not, as the case maybe.
At least some of them are ready.
“How did they get up and down then, the Gnome things?” Cestode asks.
“Suckers.” Grungarak shouts down to the Dwarf.
“I beg your pardon, I…” Cestode splutters.
“Suckers- they gripped onto the cavern wall and just walked down it- I s’pose.” Gina clears up the mystery.
Grungarak nods, unseen.
“Oh, I see.” Cestode adds.
“Ready then brave Paladin of Moradin?” Twiglet asks, leering over the edge of the platform.
Below Cestode hangs off the chain secured by a loop of rope, a second rope is tied around his waist- that’s a lot of rope, just in case he falls which, in turn, is gripped up top by Gina and Twiglet.
“Ah. Yes, for Moradin.” The Paladin mumbles.
“Lower away.” Gina shouts across.
Grungarak wrenches the lever down, and jiggling into the dark goes Cestode.
It takes a little over thirty seconds for the chain to descend all the way, thirty seconds of blind terror for Cestode, followed by a little more blind terror- he hangs there, in the dark.
“Err… I’m down.”
“What can you see brave Cestode?” Twiglet calls.
Cestode gulps.
“Err… Not much, there’s a ledge- both sides, a bit above me- both sides. But too far away for me to get too. And… er… there’s a big waterfall- somewhere below, I can hear it. And a light- either very small, or a long, long way down.”
Cestode gulps some more.
“Can you get off the rope, on to the ground?” Twiglet calls down.
“NO. There is no ground”, Cestode screams back, “as far as I can see.”
“Okay- we’ll swing you.” Twiglet calls back.
Which takes a while to register with the Paladin of Moradin.
“What do you mean- swing me?”
But by the time he’s finished the sentence he’s found out- the hard way. Cestode suddenly learns a new skill- trapeze artist.
“Hey. HEY. HEEEY.” He feels sick.
“Tell us when you’re…”
THUMP
“I’m there.”
Cestode grips the ledge, hauls himself up. “Give me some slack.” He shouts up, rope loops below him, he eventually unhooks the first rope from the chain.
He gulps again, and heads on in.
“Please Moradin, please Moradin, pleeeeeease.” He whines and with white knuckles grips his axe.
Down a short corridor that ends before a peculiar portal cast of silvery metal. Each of the paired doors sports the face of an enraged giant, maw open wide, as if in a barbaric howl. A raised keyhole is placed at the seam between the two doors.
“Nice.” The Dwarf whispers, “homely.”
Thirty seconds later he’s back out again.
“There’s a door, it’s locked- we need a Rogue, or else the key- do any of you have the key, probably not- waste of time really, I should be heading back.” He calls up.
“Have you tried it?” Gina shouts down.
“What?”
“The door. It might be open.” Gina ends the debate.
“.” Cestode minces back into the dark.
All the way to the door.
Gingerly he reaches out, carefully lays one hand flat to the door, breaths out, then in- and pushes.
CLANG
Behind him a portcullis drops, the Dwarf spins to see.
FWEEEEEE
The mouths of the giant faces on the doors open wider still, it gets very windy, Cestode crouches low, tries to stagger forward towards the portals.
FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
A hurricane is unleashed.
CLANG
And Cestode is sent spinning back into the portcullis, pressed flat against the metal, cruciform, and either side of a pair of dirty great iron spikes, the portcullis is dotted with them.
By the time the wind ends, runs out of puff, Grungarak is down at the bottom of the chain, and screaming at the lost Dwarf.
The portcullis rises, then clangs shut again, standing on the ledge is Cestode- he looks as if he has seen a ghost, or else he’s been hit by lightning.
“Get back over here.” Grungarak’s words arrive at last, Cestode shakes his head, and steps off the ledge.