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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Goonalan" data-source="post: 4274426" data-attributes="member: 16069">Turn 16. “Dwarves were never meant to dabble in the athletic arts.”The Sinister Secret of Whiterock.“What is it?” Twiglet is quickly to the Gnome.“They… It’s… I mean, who…”, Gina wipes her eyes, sits up, then shuffles over to poke through the rags of one of the dead- the hands warped, fingers twisted into tripod fleshy claws, and suckered. Face and body hairless, teeth sharpened to fangs, eyes unused to natural light- milky white, the pigment gone- just, just like her Uncle.“What is it Gina? Are you alright?” Twiglet asks again and levers the Gnome up to her feet.Cestode and Grungarak have secured the chamber, a passage leads to the south, and directly over from where they entered another passage leads on a little way to a heavy door, rotten with age.“Nothing, nothing.” Gina adds wiping her eyes still, “only next time let me talk to them, at least try to make sense of what they are.”Twiglet looks from the corpse to Gina, shrugs then smiles.“We cannot turn back, our way is clear, ahead- the door yonder, surely that is where our destiny lies, far portal stands alone between us and our fate, tremble at this auspicious…” Cestode is off again.“There’s something down…Aaarrghhh.”Cestode swivels, Grungarak has decided to check out the southern passage, which quickly leads him into another darkened chamber, a maze of oversized gears, pulleys, rusting chains, and rotten rope. Everything in the room is coated in dust and blackgunk, that is until the contraption springs to life- a metal piston arm lances out and thumps into Grungarak’s midriff laying the Half-Orc low. Gina and Twiglet rush to the scene, leaving Cestode alone with the door and his speech.Grungarak is dragged back, out of range of the wheels and pistons that lurch and lunge from the strange machine. The noise is deafening.“WE MUST BRAVE THE DOOR.” Cestode shouts as the three come skittering back into the chamber, the Dwarf points.“WHAT?” Twiglet shouts back.“TAKE THE DOOR.”“TAKE THE DOOR? WHERE?”“WHO KNOWS WHERE IT MAY LEAD, TO OUR FATE SURELY.”“I’M FAT?”“NO, FATE.”Twiglet looks confused.“I’M FATE? AND DON’T CALL ME SHIRLEY.”“NO STOUT WARRIOR, YOUR FATE.”Twiglet turns to Gina, yells over the noise, “AM I FAT?”Gina yells back, “NO”, then waits for Twiglet to turn away before adding, “not for a Dwarf.”“NO, YOUR FATE.”Twiglet strides over to the door wrenches it open and walks in, signalling for the others to follow, a damp and dirty passage way continues to a corner where it turns to head south, it’s much quieter here.“Now what did you say?”“I said we should take the door?”“What door?”“That one.” Cestode points to the door they’ve just passed through.“Take it where?” Twiglet looks confused.Silence erupts.For a while.“Doesn’t matter.” Cestode, crestfallen follows the passage on, the others fall in line, there’s a set of stone steps leading further down a little way in, the passage continues. They note the spot and head on, the noise gets louder again, much louder, they head round a corner and back into the room with the very active machinery, actually they pull up short, Cestode uses hand signals to usher an about turn.They’re back at the stairs down.“Do you hear that?” Gina asks.The other three strain their ears, finally Cestode breaks the silence.“No.”“Oh.” Gina remarks and points the way.Cestode non-plussed heads down.“Fear not…” He starts up.“Got it.” Gina finishes and shoos the Paladin of Moradin on into the all encompassing darkness.“Ooo that’s my toe.”“Sorry.”The stairs wind their way down through rough, but flagged, stone passages, its good craftsmanship, just a little the wrong side of ancient.“Good sturdy stuff”, Cestode thumps a wall, “Dwarven- probably.”“Mmm.” Gina keeps her own counsel.The new noise gets louder, as they emerge.Onto a platform that reaches out over a dark crevasse. The walls of the cavernfall away to either side, vanishing into inky gloom. Across a roughly six-foot gap stands another platform.A massive chain descends from the ceiling down the centre of the chamber, between the platforms. From below can be heard the rumble of a thundering waterfall.“Blimey.” Twiglet looks impressed.There’s a sudden flurry of squeaks, followed by flapping sounds.“What’s that?” Gina asks.“Stirges.” Grungarak states, and looses and arrow, the first beast to emerge from the gloom is now sans much of one wing, the Stirge flaps, spirals down and is soon out of sight.FWUNGTwiglet’s crossbow sings, the second Stirge is hit, no more than a scratch but enough to send it on its way again, back up and out of sight.The third Stirge is however through their defences and onto Cestode in a flash, actually a smash, the thing hovers for a second and is then batted out of the air, it lands a few feet away a crumpled wreck.Silence, only the forlorn flapping of the first Stirge, vainly trying to control its descent, and below the dull rumble of the waterfall.Silence some more.“Dangnation, thwarted- Moradin hear my prayer, so close and yet to be met by the impossible, the gap, the gap-“ Cestode starts up, moves forward, a little- wary of the edge, he points at the terrific gap between the two platforms- as I say, probably six feet. “Too far, too far- Dwarves were never meant to dabble in the athletic arts, like jumping, or climbing… Oh.”FLOPGrungarak lands on the far side, a perfect leap, the Half-Orc mooches off into the darkness, he’s spotted something on the far wall.“Oh.” Cestode confirms, and shrugs.</blockquote>

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