Doon, please tell me this "sanctuary" is a mite safer than it looks? Ark murmured quietly.
Turning back to the entrance, Ark grabbed the trio of young ruffians from the cart repair team and thrust his sheath of javelins to them. Take these an' stay behind me -- Grr an' I'll take care of any that get through the door, jus' need you to make sure none get behind me. Now let's see if I can at least distract them a bit -- don't fret yourselves at the sound.
The gnome narrowed his eyes briefly in concentration, and the sounds of several panicked people arose just outside the entrance before moving around the side of the keep.
Doon slides a wedge in and force the housing open. Inside are two chassis with the lever set to operate both. One has high tension cable running up while the other has it running down. It will take some work but you feel you can disable one of them, but it's hard to tell what does what because of the nature of the devices cables.
It's possible that both could operate a counterweight ether below the surface or placed above the ceiling.
Ark looks into the darkness and sees a twin pair of stares lead up to the second floor where he sees some windows that seems to have shutter placed over them. The second floor also has a few doors which appear to be barred from this side.
While looking around Ark notices a woman dead on the ground. Her eyes are bloodshot.
Maybe she had a hangover? Though Ark notices her hair cut off between the tiles on the floor. On closer inspection he sees that it isn't cut but has been pulled between the tiles. So have thin bits of cloths and anything else small enough to fit.
The thoughts swirl in his head as he takes his place at the doors.
The front of the pack responds to the sound sending them into a mass of previously untouched mines, but the sounds of explosions are drowning it out for the rest.
Ark nudges Doon and points to the dead woman. Once ya finish up with that, take a look at the floor over there? Might be another trap?
Doon looks down at his feet. The tiles run across the entire room. He can see the tiny space between each tile. The space between runs deep, going down. The craftsmanship is impeccable.
It hit him what the room is now. The room isn't here to just create an airtight chamber. That air tight chamber can be turned into a vacuum. Doon could imagine how it would work, much like the stories of ancient tombs but on a grand scale.
Below the tiles would be a huge slab of stone or iron and below that a long tunnel leading down. The trap would force the stone down through the tunnel dropping the air pressure in the room rapidly.
He heard horrible stories of sea elf divers who dived too deep too quickly. The rapid change caused you veins to pop, killing you horrifically.
He was able to jam a wedge into the chassis with cable leading downward and activate the lever.
The door slammed suddenly with an impressive crunch. Crushing a few zombies who had just then managed to make it to the doorway. Their arms still dangling from the cracks.
The room has become pitch black. The door clips together and cuts off the room from any outside air. Though you probably have enough in this hall to last you. The other effect is that it goes pitch black in the room, not even enough for the gnome to make out anything. Only Doon can see the room.
Though he realizes this is not the first time he has seen it. He was saw it in a set of paintings from a traveling merchant as part of a collection. Realizing this he pieced together what he knew from the other paintings.
Up the stares were the kings chamber and the grand Vault.
The room lights up. Everyone seems relieved, except the blacksmith. He watches the smoke pour off the torch.
"The smoke is just going straight up. There is no wind. First rule of setting up a shop for a smithy is to test ventilation. As much as I like to see I don't think it's a good idea to keep it lit or light any more at least."
The pounding on the other side of the door is barely audible. The huge stone door look like they will hold.
Up the stares are the kings chamber and the vault each on opposite sides of the hall.
As darkness dropped once more, Ark settled in, hoping to settle the refugees' nerves with some distraction.
Hold back an army they will -- these doors are good and stout. Reminds me of that time we were holed up in a old caravan post on the border of Belkzen. Barely made it inside before the orc berserkers were howling at the gates -- I took two of them down before we got to shelter -- and holed up for six days before taking them by surprise and making way to safety. Those gates were not nearly so stout as these, and the orcs much more cunning than a few zombies, so we should be just fine in here, no problem, eh?
Meanwhile, the gnome listened for any sign he might be wrong about the strength of the door like most of what I'm blathering right now; that orc was runty and half-starved, and stumbled his way into a full Lastwall patrol.
The doors are stout, even the sounds explosions barely register through it. Then they die down. Though in a few moments you realize you may be grateful for what little sound there was. The room is completely sealed. Voices absorb into the walls, the air pressure if off causing your ears to ring a bit but other then that their is no noise. The darkness has the humans in a sort of paralysis, like being in a sensory deprivation chamber that druids use to commune with ancient spirits.
Ark looses his sense of space. Memory of the size of the room drops away. Instead it feels as though there are no walls or floor or himself, like he is a conscious adrift- no... falling. Up and down become meaningless as Ark struggles.
Ark cannot tell what the humans are up to.
More bodies lay in wait for Doon as he ascends the stares. To the right is the kings chamber. Peeking in he can see the scene, preserved by the airtight vacuum. At the far end of the room, which is thoroughly trashed and ransacked, is the kings bed. Laying in it is a body with the bloody mangled pillow where a head should be.
On the other is the vault door. Closed but key still wedged into it, dangling.
Ark struggled to maintain his cheerful story. So then the orcs...then the orcs...orcs...orcs?! To lead these people out of the zombies' clutches just to have them set upon by orcs in the dark would be truly cruel -- I can't let that happen! But I need light if I'm going to fight. He checked to make sure his sword was in its scabbard while trying to concentrate.
Struggling and failing to remember the words to his spell, Ark called out to his mount, trying to avoid panic -- Grr! The dwarf, Doon, find it! Find it!
The gnome listened as his wolf began snuffling in the dark before setting off -- he could only hope in the right direction to find Doon, and that the dwarf could get back to them before the orcs attacked! He fumbled behind himself with his sword hand, holding his shield up in the dark while he tried to position his back against a wall.
Now, I've just got to stay very very quiet, he told himself aloud, so that I can hear the orcs coming.
The kings room has long since been looted for anything valuable. Tables are toppled, dressers broken apart, and paintings ripped off the wall and torn apart to reveal any hidden vaults.
The king lays still, rigor mortis capturing his final moments like a photo. His hands outstretched, as if to hold off his attacker or beg.
His palm catches Doons eye. He can see the fizzel of a spell on it. Like a dying ember it glows and recedes. It appears to be an illusion spell that is now wearing off due to time, revealing a rune placed onto the king's palm.
Just them Ark's wolf came bustling in, sniffing at the flood until its head butted up against Doon
Grr butted his head against Doon in the dark, then lay down on the floor.
Found dwarf. Found dwarf. Good boy. Master distress. Worried. Master distress. Found dwarf. Stay with dwarf. Worried.
Grr whined as Doon continued to search the room, getting up to follow the dwarf and butt at him again occasionally while continuing to whine.
Doon find the group scattered across the floor, some in the fetal position while others have their arms stretched out as if trying to cling to the floor.
Ark seems to be pretty bad off but not nearly as terrified as the humans.
Stepping back into the room Doon notices the effect of the acoustics. He can hear his blood pumping and he has a difficult time hearing the difference between the words he says out loud and his internal monologue.
Ark cast his gaze around in the dark, extending his hand and trying to muster up calm.
Doon, thank Sarenrae! I think I might be able to get some lights on as soon as I can figure out where m' head is in this mad place!
Sure would be a cruel trick if th' voices in my head are starting to sound like th' dwarf -- I just hope whatever takes my hand still has a pulse.
The humans lay on the ground mumbling and moaning like scared children. Their eyes spread as wide open as they can go, as if it would help them see anything.
Doon can feel the effect the lack of ambient noise is having on him but at least he had his vision to ground him.
Ark is starting to wonder if he had cast the lights or if they had just been sucked up by the darkness. His memories get twisted with his imagination, each seems just as real.
Doon's voice echoes off the walls, crashing back and forth. The humans seem lost. Surface creatures need the light, and it seems like the only thing that will bring order.
Doon's voice crashes in Ark's head, and he perks up momentarily, until silence descends once more. Stars and colors beginning to swim in front of his eyes, the gnome goes slack and slumps to the floor.
A trick of th' mind, then. Grrr didn't find the dwarf. We're lost in here.
Ark blinks in the startlingly bright light of the torch, as the dwarf's face looms over him.
I...Fine, yes, completely, he blusters.
Realizing Doon is unconvinced, the gnome tries to pull himself together and scramble up off the floor.
The humans all stir. Most seem confused but after a few moments they come to, like waking from a dream.
The blacksmith looks up to the large vaulted ceiling "Perhaps a little smoke wont hurt us."
Ark took the torch, somewhat sheepishly, and assembled the survivors to follow Doon up the stairs.
As the dwarf continued to search the room, he leaned over the body of the headless king in fascination. What's this on his hand, then?
Inside the kings room now lit up by lights the paintings can be seen. The king always smiling self confidently showing off his castle and its features. In one painting he camanding the great doors of his castle to open wide, in a larger then life stance, with outstretched hand raised into the air.
Another he is standing in front of the vault, the door cracked open just enough to reveal a pile of treasure.
The king has a wickedly wide smile on his face, like a child that knows something you don't.
Along the wall of his room you can see shattered glass. Behind the blast shutters that sealed off the air was probably a set of windows that the pirates used to get in. Releasing the seal would open this up but also allow the zombies in.
Though no climbing equipment can be found in this specific room.
"I'll give the ol' guy this," offered Ark, glancing over the paintings, "'E's got style. Always with that pose. Open the gates--boom! Behold my riches--boom! Clear the path to the royal chamber pot--boom!" The gnome strode around the room, aping the king's pose in front of each painting and thrusting a palm out in mock majesty, in hopes of keeping the crowd diverted from their situation while Doon found the way out.
"Not that it seemed to work out for 'im in th' last, poor guy." Ark shook his head sadly, contemplating the headless corpse. "See? Still trying that same thing. Begone from my castle--boo--hurk! Sometimes waving a hand in the air is no match for a warhammer; p'raps sire should have invested in a shield."
Realizing his commentary may have gone a bit dark for the occasion, Ark tried to refocus, his eye falling on the vault door. "Er, ahem...Now, here's a fine riddle: we're to believe that our fine fellow opened every door in the place just by waving 'is hand in the air. So what's 'e need a key in this one for?" The gnome started towards the vault door confidently, forgetting Doon's earlier comment about not touching anything in his eagerness to put the lie to the king's portraits.
Doon can still hear a slight hum through the doors leading out to the zombies. He can surmise that the kings chamber is in fact along the back wall of the castle and that the broken window glass was probably from the window facing out.
Ark found the vault door, and imposing 9' tall '8 wide mass of steel. On one side it looked like someone tried to break through the wall just at the end of the door, some brickwork broken off only to reveal more steel under it.
At its center was a thick plate with a keyhole placed predominantly. With some lettering scrawled in around it, the language was hard to make out it looked both primal yet sophisticated, each character had so much detail that it seemed like this language was not meant to be written so small.
The gnome's ears perked up at Doon's call, and he left off inspection of the vault door, loosening his sword as he strode over to the dwarf.
"Let me at 'em! Sure you don't want to take a look at that vault, though? Might be something left in there, eh? I can't make heads nor tails, though."
Doon works his tools around the edges but there is no space between. Finally he is able to make an estimation on where the release mechanism should be and he chips away at the stone to get to it. triggering it the butter releases from it rigidity. Doon is able to lift it up and it rolls back into the ceiling. The air bellows in through the opening, finishing the pressure equalization.
Looking out Doon see the vast forest beyond the castle, looking down he see the river as it winds its way in feeds into the moat. It would be a streight drop down into the moat from here. Roughly 8 stories high.
"...unless th' place is also infested with zombie sparrows, I suppose we're safe for the moment. But i certainly didn't pack a ladder this long. chuckled Ark, standing down from his readied pose.
"i don't see any climbing gear,either. Did you say the thieves got trapped in the vault? maybe they've got it with them?"
Doon spys indents into the castle wall where pitons had rested. Doon could see now how they had rested right on the edge of the open area and the blast shutters had closed with such incredible force that they had broken away, driving some of it into the stonework while the rest probably fell off into the water.
Though without proper preservation the rope probably would have been useless due to the time it had sat in the elements.
Clibiming up this wall would be a nightmare, its sheer face left no room for rest on the way up and the wall itself was sturdily built. Doon had to imagine that they had a caster help with the initial line set up for the climbers.
Clibing down could be easy if they had the gear to repel, the sheer face made going down fairly safe. Though the merchant with the lightning burn would have to have special accommodation.
Reluctantly accepting the wisdom of Doon's plan, with one last longing look at the vault, Ark set to helping with preparations.
"Good smith, we'll need some sort of pallet for the injured--and Grr. Could you and your apprentice help fashion something from some of this furniture?
"Doon, perhaps the wolf and I should head down first, followed by one or two of the able lads, to make sure the landing is secure? Once we're all down, we can make a wide circle back to the road and begone of this place."
The blacksmith and his team drag the heavy bed over to the window, each strains and they inch it closer and closer. The sheets are made of silks which help create a harness to carry down the people.
Everyone works together, each helping to prep people to make the drop down. Finally the ropes are set and makeshift harnesses are ready.
Ark is first to be sent down, as he would be easy enough to pull right back up if it were unsafe at the bottom. All of the strongest are set to help with the lowering of him down, rope is run around the bedposts to make a make-shift pulley.
Ark reaches the bottom, fining a patch of rocks to rest safely on. Strangely enough the water is incredibly shallow here, deceptively so. The rocks just under the water have a flat top and jut up.
They run all the way to the other side of the moat. Ark is able to signal the rest to come down as well.
Slowly but surely all make it down. The injured merchant is more difficult but finally he is lowered to the bottom where waiting hands whisk him away to the rest of the group.
Doon takes one last look around the crypt that is the kings room. A gloomy reminder that no height is too far to fall from, with that he looks down a descends.
Doon hits the bottom
Doon understands the stone, it's in his blood. This isn't natural. Doon's eyes follow the under-water steps to the other side of the moat and then back. They had to lead from somewhere. Doon feels the rock-face, finds the crease, presses a release and a door slides open, air wafts down. Death.... and smoldering fire.
A shrill groan from the injured man beckons attention.
He is laying in the field. Drained of color.
"Dwarf! I hold no animosity for what happened. You asked of me and I took the risk. I am a cripple now, I cannot complete my job. I ask only of you what you asked of me." He hold out a letter. "Please... He is a dear friend that needs help. He would not ask if it were not imperative."
Arkivolld stares at the secret door in the rock face, blinking in stunned disbelief for a few seconds before reaching a hand out to the point Doon had and hitting the release to close the door again.
"Let's...not leave that open too long, shall we? Best we just get away from here."
"Hmmm?" asked Ark, seeing Doon's jaw drop. He hopped up on Grr's back to peer over the dwarf's shoulder at the letter, and exclaimed, "Why, Professor Lorrimor of Ravengro! Haven't seen his signature in a while -- what's he say?!"