Hmm, so is there something murky at the Community Centre? Are the pickleballers secretly drug runners, passing shipments of Fentanyl to each other by swapping pickleballs at the end of each game? Or... are you just encouraging me to return to the lost children of Sixticton and their machete-wielding cave-divers? :)
The murk Samual carried the coiled rope around his neck, on his shoulders: 500m of rope, intended to provide a safety rail around the edges of the spiralling pit staircase, weighed over 30kg. It bulked out his shadow and made him look like monstrous, which in turn made him slightly more nervous, but he returned to the first house with nothing more than a little sweat. He dropped the rope through the window before climbing in himself, as it would have a struggle to get through while still wearing it. Before Tomasz could climb in Lord Derby had laid a hand on his arm. "We should tie the rope out here," he said. "A tree, I should think, or a large rock. Something that would have trouble fitting through the window if the weight on the other end suddenly increased." "What do you mean?" said Tomasz as Samual leaned on the windowsill and asked, "What are you expecting?" "Expecting nothing," said Lord Derby. He shook his head very slightly as though disregarding an annoying thought. "But we have time for planning now and we may as well use it. Thinking of these things while they're happening is almost always too late."
The rope was tied to a large lump of limestone that Tomasz and Samual together couldn't push out of place and then wound around a tree that was part of a pair. Tomasz was stationed there and several coils of rope brought back to him; he would be the last brake they had before they were depending only on the limestone boulder's weight. The rope fed through into the puzzle room and Samual was instructed to sit on the floor with his feet braced against the wall that held the door and to hold firm to the rope. "It wouldn't make sense to put a lock this complex on a door if it was easier to break the wall and just go through," said Lord Derby. "So the wall will take our combined weight and more... it might even take the impact of that boulder if it comes smashing through the window." Samual paled and swallowed. "You won't get crushed," said Lord Derby. He started tying the rope around himself, a complex harness of some kind. "You'll have been pulled into the pit with me before the boulder gets that close." "That's only slightly reassuring, milord," said Samual. "I'm surprised it's reassuring at all." "At least I'll be with you milord," said Samual. "If anyone can figure out how to avoid being crushed by a hurtling boulder while in a pit leading into magical dimensions, it's probably you." Lord Derby's smile was thin but genuine.
The pit proved to swallow light; Lord Derby walked down the wall as though abseiling, paying the rope out hand over hand and stopping every ten steps to try and look around. His pocket torch, magically enhanced, showed only stygian murk, a blackness that was practically oily. It also proved as shallow as he'd expected. After 102 steps his feet touched solid ground and now when he turned the torch on the area was illuminated up to a little less than five centimetres above his head, where the darkness swirled like water.
Greg - as far as I'm aware, the pickleballers are not drug runners. But it would not surprise me if they were.
Great details in this piece bring it to life. I am pleased to see Derby making it to the bottom without incident. Not sure how long that will last, but still...
Morganna - ooh, this is good. My head is swirling with possibilities now. Nicely done :D
3 comments:
Hmm, so is there something murky at the Community Centre? Are the pickleballers secretly drug runners, passing shipments of Fentanyl to each other by swapping pickleballs at the end of each game? Or... are you just encouraging me to return to the lost children of Sixticton and their machete-wielding cave-divers? :)
The murk
Samual carried the coiled rope around his neck, on his shoulders: 500m of rope, intended to provide a safety rail around the edges of the spiralling pit staircase, weighed over 30kg. It bulked out his shadow and made him look like monstrous, which in turn made him slightly more nervous, but he returned to the first house with nothing more than a little sweat. He dropped the rope through the window before climbing in himself, as it would have a struggle to get through while still wearing it. Before Tomasz could climb in Lord Derby had laid a hand on his arm.
"We should tie the rope out here," he said. "A tree, I should think, or a large rock. Something that would have trouble fitting through the window if the weight on the other end suddenly increased."
"What do you mean?" said Tomasz as Samual leaned on the windowsill and asked, "What are you expecting?"
"Expecting nothing," said Lord Derby. He shook his head very slightly as though disregarding an annoying thought. "But we have time for planning now and we may as well use it. Thinking of these things while they're happening is almost always too late."
The rope was tied to a large lump of limestone that Tomasz and Samual together couldn't push out of place and then wound around a tree that was part of a pair. Tomasz was stationed there and several coils of rope brought back to him; he would be the last brake they had before they were depending only on the limestone boulder's weight. The rope fed through into the puzzle room and Samual was instructed to sit on the floor with his feet braced against the wall that held the door and to hold firm to the rope.
"It wouldn't make sense to put a lock this complex on a door if it was easier to break the wall and just go through," said Lord Derby. "So the wall will take our combined weight and more... it might even take the impact of that boulder if it comes smashing through the window."
Samual paled and swallowed. "You won't get crushed," said Lord Derby. He started tying the rope around himself, a complex harness of some kind. "You'll have been pulled into the pit with me before the boulder gets that close."
"That's only slightly reassuring, milord," said Samual.
"I'm surprised it's reassuring at all."
"At least I'll be with you milord," said Samual. "If anyone can figure out how to avoid being crushed by a hurtling boulder while in a pit leading into magical dimensions, it's probably you."
Lord Derby's smile was thin but genuine.
The pit proved to swallow light; Lord Derby walked down the wall as though abseiling, paying the rope out hand over hand and stopping every ten steps to try and look around. His pocket torch, magically enhanced, showed only stygian murk, a blackness that was practically oily.
It also proved as shallow as he'd expected. After 102 steps his feet touched solid ground and now when he turned the torch on the area was illuminated up to a little less than five centimetres above his head, where the darkness swirled like water.
Misty gloom
Underlies all our dealings
Real thieves trust no one but
Kin is different, right?
Greg - as far as I'm aware, the pickleballers are not drug runners. But it would not surprise me if they were.
Great details in this piece bring it to life. I am pleased to see Derby making it to the bottom without incident. Not sure how long that will last, but still...
Morganna - ooh, this is good. My head is swirling with possibilities now. Nicely done :D
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