During the walk, Trevor slowly comes to the realization that he didn't ask Owyn whether he was equipped for adventure.
"Say, Owyn, if a fight erupts, as they tend to do, I would prefer if you stay well clear of melee, yes? Perhaps you have a sling you could use to our advantage? Or perhaps Finn let you borrow his favorites?"
When they reach the point where underground is mentioned, Trevor gets a bit uneasy. The simple solution here would be to ask Owyn to stay above ground, but with the griffon around...
"Probably the griffon should come along. Get used to it, gradually?" he offers.
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When they arrive, the gnome takes a tour of the outside of the inn looking for clues. He questions any animals if they have seen or smelled any walking undeath.
When he gets back to the group, he approaches the griffon rider, "Methada, there's a shaft under the inn leading to a tunnel deep underground. It was manned by a ghoul the last time we were here. It was trading with the witch who was producing this red necrotic candy that healed the undead. After we look around, we'll probably head down there."
"The shaft and tunnel were relatively big, but I don't know how Vashrin will react without a sky over his head."
"Illarya is wonderful if you want to leave him up here."
"Oh yeah... Maybe Owyn could stay with Illarya... Owyn, you'd get a chance to see a real dryad up close!"
Ibrox explores the inn and the nearby area, but finds nothing but bad memories and the same entrances to the caverns below through stable and hidden closet, still left open after the previous exploration.
Under the willow, the debate over what to do with the griffon and young boy continues. As it does as small creature apparently crafted of willow sticks and sunflower stalks slides down from somewhere up in the tree. Glowing eyes of late summer green blink and take in Trevor, Owyn, Allison, Vrindel, Methada and of course Vashrin. It deftly drops to the ground with a soft rustle of a breeze blowing through the tree above and offers a deep bow.
"Greetings friends. I am Hobo, servant to Illarya. My mistress is indisposed at the moment, but I have been instructed to see to your needs. " It's voice is small but deep and clearly male in its tone. Stick fingers wiggle and twitch at its side as it rises from the bow and continues. "I have overheard your need for a caretaker of the creature known as Vashrin and the boy Owyn. I will be happy to assist you in this. "
It slaps its hands together creating a clatter like drumsticks beating. Moments later a half dozen similar but smaller stick men drop out of the tree. Three carry a huge platter of raw meat, cut into hand thick steaks the size of Ibrox's chest. Others carry trays of sweet breads, honey candy, and fruit juice.
This elicts a happy *chirp* from Vashrin and a variety of ooohs and aaahs from Owyn.
"I can assure you that both boy and griffon will be quite safe here in the glade under my care." Hobo adds tossing a steak from the platter toward Vashrin who easily snatches it from the air and gulps it down.
Mouth already stuffed with one of the berry filled danishes, Owyn waves to Trevor. "mmmufff..rfff...We'll be....ffruuf...fine." He manages to say past bites. "Won't we Vashrinn." The griffon manages another *chirup* *chirup* as it quickly gulps down one of the raw steaks in two quick bites.
Methada gave a small chuckle as she watched Vashrin act like a cub again. "Thank you." She said to Hobo. "He may get a little jumpy after I leave and he can't find me. A scratch under the feathers of his beak or just behind the wing joins will help him calm down. Those areas are harder for him to get when he grooms himself to they can get itchy, so he's use to getting scratches there." She explained.
"We'll check it out first and if I believe that it is large enough that Vashrin will be comfortable to try it then I'll bring him down." Methada said. "You really don't want a panicking griffon running around."
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"Excellent!" Allie rejoinders as both squire and mount are seen to. With dexterity surprising in one so armored she snatches and devours a sweet-cake before returning her attention to the inn.
"Aha! Undead, I knew it. And the foul candies to boot? Nefarious!
Well, we'll gain nothing standing here, and we must needs see if we can continue to punch them in their stinky bony noses. Onward!"
She hobbles her own horse, then touches her helm, which glows with the power of a candle. She retrieves and lights a lamp, and heads down into the ominous cavern entrance.
Trevor begs Owyn to share one of his pastries with him, but is otherwise overjoyed with the offer.
As he walks away, he recalls the witch and her tricks and pauses, turns to look at the stickman, and checks the bottom of his heart .
Satisfied, he eats the pastry as they prepare to head down: "So, Wraith, what do you know about those candies? Ibrox couldn't stop himself from eating them... Yet they nearly killed him!"
The gnome enjoys the feast as if it was his last.
And, he arches an eyebrow at Trevor's comment.
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"I know it sounds crazy, and you probably don't know what I'm talking about, because you probably would've mentioned it by now. But this stuff is nuts! I guess someone ground the stuff up into powder and sprinkled in cookies and sweets then handed it out to children. The Guard had to put down a dozen eight to ten year old ghouls before they traced it back to the source."
Wraiths cocks her head and looks at Trevor, her eyes blinking at about 3000 rpm. "Um, wha? I thought you were there when I...I mean, I could've swore that...."
She looks at him askance a beat more, but then launches in, answering the question. "Um, there was an incident, back home. Someone baked some of this undead-candy into sweets, gave it to kids, and the guard had to cut down a whole bunch of little innocent kid-ghouls.
The whole thing sounds stomach churning. We've got to stop it!
And you say Ibrox ate some? And lived to tell about it? And hasn't mentioned this piece of very interesting information until now? Nah, he wouldn't do that. Go on with ya, now."
Allie chuckles and keeps walking.
"I was? I mean: I was! There, I mean... But is that all? How did they know to send you here? And who's they, by the by?!?" replies Trevor, turning pale green.
Methada slowly turned and looked at Wrath as she explained the situation of kid-ghouls. The very thought of someone doing that to children turned her stomach. If she ever got her hands on said person it would not be a good day for sure. Not for them at least.
Vrindel is strangely quiet during the journey. It is obvious that something is on his mind, and as per usual, he is overthinking things. Fortunately he feels the emerging fey before they appear, and their stewardship of the grove lifts his spirits a bit.
"Thank you Hobo. It is fulfilling to see that the grove is in good hands. We are here to make sure that it stays that way". He watches the others consuming the food, but his knowledge of the ways of the fey make him hesitant to partake of any food offered freely by them... still he lets the others enjoy the feast.
He then listens to young Trevor and Ibrox question the newcomers. He still wasn't sure what to make of them and their timely arrival. This 'Wraith' seemed to eager to insert herself into their trust, and was very overbearing. Not to mention the fact that she cared little for what harm her walking steel cage inflicted on the environment. His experience had led him to believe that those who payed to heed to their effect on the world around them, tended to only care for themselves. That trust must be earned.
He too wondered about the motivations of the Griffon rider. The story while plausible seemed to be conveniently timed... and he still wasn't sure if a beast as wild and unpredictable as a Griffon could truly be domesticated or even is they should be.
He then smiled at the group, and started to follow them into the tunnel. Oh well. He had always been tasked with watching over his flock of friends... this was nothing new.
The lift mechanism from the stable doesn't seem to work as you initially attempt to descend from there. Unable to fix the problem from this end, you are forced to pass back through the ruined inn and down into the cellars and chamber below. Moving past the familiar but still gruesome remains of the previous occupants victims and into the narrow, winding caverns, you return to the small opening that leads into the massive chasm and cavern that drops into the depths of the underrealm.
Ibrox hisses a quick warning, his magically attuned eyes seeing what others would not at the mouth of the opening.
Entering the inn, the gnome tries to put his horrific memories behind him. He treads lightly and cautiously.
"Be careful. There's a trap at the mouth of the opening. It looks like numerous razor thin filaments of magic cover the mouth of the tunnel like an elemental web. I can feel the evocation magic thrumming within the hair-thin strands. Let me try to disarm it." He gets close and to the mouth and spends a few minutes examining it closely.
"Sorry, I cannot seem to disarm it. I guess we'll have to back away and throw something through it to activate it. Hopefully it doesn't reset."
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As Ibrox says that he needs to disarm a magical trap, and then describes it, Allie purses her lips and takes out her notebook. She flips through a few pages before she comes to the section she is looking for.
"Thin filaments, you say? I recall that when Teoriano encountered the Green Suns Of Alunocic, he needed to bioharmonize a zero-point universe.
He did it by supercharging dreamtime waveforms in the non-local face of stagnation.
Have you tried doing that?"
{ When you take the Help action to aid another creature’s ability check, you can make a DC 15 Intelligence (History) check. On a success, that creature’s check gains a bonus equal to your proficiency bonus, as you share pertinent advice and historical examples.}
Ibrox is ready to give up on disarming the magical barricade when Allison's mention of the Teoriano effect triggers the gnome's own recall of experiments conducted within the deep halls of Neimhiem. Experiments the gnome figures are best left unsaid given the rather reactive and heroic nature of some of his companions. No matter the source of the solution, between Allison and Ibrox, the filaments are disabled and the opening onto the narrow ledge that circles around the chasm to the lift is once again open.
Perception with Darkvision.
Vrindel can't see too well from the back of the party, but he remembers this area.
"Well last time I took on my Spider form and shuttled several of us up and down. Perhaps I could climb down again, taking a rope with me, then assist everyone else down. I could bless Clankity Clank with my Spider climb spell and she could assist, as I'm not sure how well you can climb in that cast iron pot".
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As Vrindel peers into the darkness, Wraith flips a few more pages and says "When Neliuseu encountered the Charismatic Choirs of Creuthor, he had to be reborn by the quantum matrix.
Just remember that inspiration is the knowledge of intuition and put yourself in the non-dual flowering of curiosity.
It could help.
+3 and Advantage.
Perception
Vrindel rubs his eyes and wonders what language Wraith is speaking, as he tries to penetrate the darkness.
"Wait a minute. I can see the contraption we used to lower and raise ourselves last time over on the other side, but there seem to be some rocks or something that weren't there last time... No... not rocks one of them just moved. Looks like that creepy dead thing from the last adventure might have some friends".
With those words, Methada took her bow out. "Are you saying we've got company?" She asked Vrindel as she tried to look the same way he was. "How far off does it look?"
Trevor blinks as Wraith just keeps babbling nonsense, then shrugs and prepares axe and shield for battle.
"These have proven tough. As Ballalalla once said: 'Don't take chances.'" he offers, making up some name as Wraith does.
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"So let me get this straight. There's this great big hole in front of us. And the only way to get from here to a platform that can easily raise and lower us (or a 'lift' as one might call it) is to cross a narrow 5 foot ledge.
But over there, you say, are some moving rocks, which might be guardians? Perhaps guardian golems of some sort? (The queen uses them. They're cool.)
Okay, here's the plan. Imma go sneak over there and plug up the path so the golems can only come at me one at a time.
Then you guys try and get their attention. Here, try and throw these as close as you can to them."
She bends down and picks up three ordinary stones. She says some words and they all begin to glow with a candle's illumination. She hands them to whoever wants them.
"Or whateves. Make them come to us along the Narrow Path of Death. Then Imma stomp 'em one at a time while you guys...Idunno, you good at bows and stuff?"
The plan laid out, she touches some gew-gaws on the arm of her armor and her feet...make a weird clacking sound.
"Also, someday you're gonna have to tell me who this 'Clankity Clank' friend of yours is."
She puts down her lantern and touches her head, turning off her light.
Seeing only by the illumination of the grounded lantern, she stalks forward, moving impossibly silently for so great an armored warrior.
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Once in place, Wraith gets out her alchemy jar and selects the 'oil' setting. Once the others start to get the rock-thingys moving, she plans to dump it out.
Maybe she'll keep it there, making the path slippery, or maybe she'll light it up. Not sure yet. She doesn't know if fire beats rock, but it probably won't make 'em happy.
Her lantern resting just inside the mouth of the tunnel to provide some kind of light along the ledge, Wraith begins to sneak along the narrow ledge. She works her way along the fifty foot stretch to the opposite side of the cavern. The ghoul guards don't seem to notice the sneaking arcanist, but they do take action against their ancient natural enemy...light. Standing from their crouched position, they throw back moldy cloaks to reveal a crossbow each. Two crossbow bolts zip out of the dark across the way and strike Allison's lantern. The bolts shatter the glass and send the light tumbling and splashing burning oil all about the tight confines of the tunnel. Within moments the oil burns itself out but now the area is filled with smelly oily smoke and darkness.
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"Son of a WHORE!" Wraith screams in a very non-stealthy way as her favorite lamp goes careening and flailing and splashing and breaking.
Of course she had always wondered if an active lantern would have martial applications. As her teammates go running trying to dodge the flaming oil, she finally has her answer.
"Oop. Sorry!" she yells, as if she had anything to do with shooting and breaking the thing.
"Okay, you guys pour on the hurt. Imma go woop dem in da buttocks."
But first she adjusts her armor to start bending light around it--something she can do even in the dark. She might be crazy.
But she's not stupid.
Splinters of glass barely harmlessly hit the gnome.
He quickly covers his mouth against the smoke and calls upon the Void powers of his Patron. He calls out a command word in a stern voice, "Ibrox."
Methada quickly put her arm up to cover her eyes from the shards. "Alright... Good thing I can still see." She commented to herself before she took aim.
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Yumyum the ghoul looked out across the chasm to the smoke filled tunnel as he calmly reloaded his standard issue crossbow. The Imperial Crest stamped on one side, the skull and lantern symbol of the Fuligin Legion on the other. He couldn't believe old Stonetoes had been right. Mark these words rook. Whoever broke in and whacked that rotted meat below, they'll be back. He'd said while they worked to repair the lift and relight the boilers. Blasted surface dwellers can never leave well enough alone, so it'll be up to us to teach them a lesson when they try to sneak back down here. He and most of the others simply scoffed, chalking it all up to the sarge's usual paranoia. But now Yumyum knew the old ghoul had been right. I guess a hundred years fighting in the legions taught you something besides how to be a hardcore bastard after all.
He looked over to Weezer, another veteran of the invasion. The ghoul caught him looking her way an she angrily gestured back toward the tunnel.
"Keep your eyes on the prize Yummy." She said lifting her own crossbow. "They'll be coming through soon enough."
He hated being called Yummy. But actually hated the name Yumyum even more, but once you were labeled by the Imperial recruiters, you couldn't change it. Not without performing some major service to the Empire or having some powerful darakhul sponsor you. Neither of which he'd achieved so far. So the label stuck. All because he'd woken from the fever and was so ravenously hungry that when given the raw leg by the recruiter he'd made some sort of yum...mmm...yum sound as he scarfed down the severed limb. He'd no idea it had belonged to his own brother, taken at the same time he was only the fever killed him. The others had gotten a big laugh out of the whole thing and labeled him Yumyum from that point forward.
He was just about to reply to Weezer when the voice erupted in his head like a Carnessian Brain Worm. "IBROX!" was all it said. The foul word echoing across the withered remains of his rotted skull.
"Wizard." He hissed through gritted teeth. "They've got at least one damned spell slinger."
His companion simply nodded, her eyes glowing redder as an arrow flew out of the opening and shattered harmlessly against the rock wall several feet away. She fired back into the mouth of the tunnel and calmly reloaded with a grunt as the sound of her own bolt cracking ineffectively against stone echoes back.
"Sounds like another one on the ledge. Already mumbling some arcane mojo. Better drop the stones Yummy. The sarge'll need to know we've got company."
"Aye. Akmu's Black Breath comes for us all." He says, adding a quick gesture to the God of Death before reaching into a pouch and grabbing two red stones and one blue. After a moments thought he added another blue. There must be more than one sword and board type with them. He thinks to himself and then tosses the round stones over the edge of the ledge and into the chasm.
"Looks like they are content to trade missiles, which will take time with all this smoke. Trevor, Methada, would you please take the fight to them. Help the armored one and her master plan." The gnome warlock observes and suggests.
"Vrindel, maybe spider can could bring some light for Trevor and lookout for reinforcements?"
The gnome warlock calls upon the Void powers of his Patron and targets the same ghoul with a command word in a stern voice, "Ibrox."
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'The guardians are talking...WHY ARE THE GUARDIANS TALKING?!?' Wraith thinks with no small amounts of concern as her own form begins to flicker with great and greater occurrence, cycling up the distraction.
Talking or not, none of this plays to stop her plan of killing them until they die from it.
Wise enough to know that traipsing along bare rock edges next to a sharp drop in the dark dark is a bad idea, she taps her head and the candle-watt light springs up, illuminating enough to move by.
'Let's get our game face. The gentleman callers are a-waiting for us.'
Her helmet comes forward and encapsulates her entire face as she jazzes her forcefield. The twin fists shift weight forward to make ready for battle, and the armored form stalks forward.
"I don't need light. She does, I think... Ok, ok, getting there to help. Right away then!" Trevor says as he throws one of the rocks Wraith had pointed out for them to theow, then hirries carefull down not to break his neck.
Yumyum the ghoul looked out across the chasm to the smoke filled tunnel as he calmly reloaded his standard issue crossbow. The Imperial Crest stamped on one side, the skull and lantern symbol of the Fuligin Legion on the other. He couldn't believe old Stonetoes had been right. Mark these words rook. Whoever broke in and whacked that rotted meat below, they'll be back. He'd said while they worked to repair the lift and relight the boilers. Blasted surface dwellers can never leave well enough alone, so it'll be up to us to teach them a lesson when they try to sneak back down here. He and most of the others simply scoffed, chalking it all up to the sarge's usual paranoia. But now Yumyum knew the old ghoul had been right. I guess a hundred years fighting in the legions taught you something besides how to be a hardcore bastard after all.
He looked over to Weezer, another veteran of the invasion. The ghoul caught him looking her way an she angrily gestured back toward the tunnel.
"Keep your eyes on the prize Yummy." She said lifting her own crossbow. "They'll be coming through soon enough."
He hated being called Yummy. But actually hated the name Yumyum even more, but once you were labeled by the Imperial recruiters, you couldn't change it. Not without performing some major service to the Empire or having some powerful darakhul sponsor you. Neither of which he'd achieved so far. So the label stuck. All because he'd woken from the fever and was so ravenously hungry that when given the raw leg by the recruiter he'd made some sort of yum...mmm...yum sound as he scarfed down the severed limb. He'd no idea it had belonged to his own brother, taken at the same time he was only the fever killed him. The others had gotten a big laugh out of the whole thing and labeled him Yumyum from that point forward.
He was just about to reply to Weezer when the voice erupted in his head like a Carnessian Brain Worm. "IBROX!" was all it said. The foul word...
[occ]Just so great. Thanks![/ooc]
Vrindel seeing that the jig is up creates a tidal wave or water behind the sentries hoping to wash them into the pit.
"Why don't you personally deliver the stones".
"Take the fight to them?" Methada asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well I'm normally ranged focused but this is closer quarters."
Thus she followed after Trevor, or at least tried to.
The malevolent word "IBROX' roars in the ghouls head once again and it bends over shaking its head and grunting in confused pain as the gnomes magic rattles around in the undead's mildewed brain. Just as it finally shakes off the otherworldly magic a rumble reverberates through the cavern and it turns just in time to sea a ten foot wall of water churning toward it. Eyes flash toward its companion, but there is little help to be had there as the undead soldier is washed over the edge of the cliff and disappears into the darkness below.
Desperately, the ghoul grabs at the tip of a stone poking up from the ground. The leverage is just enough to keep it from joining its fellow in the long fall to doom. While it recovers, it watches Trevor and Mathada creep out onto the ledge. The knight offering the griffon rider a steadying hand as the shadow fae starts to slip on the difficult surface of the ledge.
Drenched and barely recovering from the magical wave, the ghoul fires off a quick shot toward the nearest armored surface dweller. But between the magic surrounding the foe and the ringing in its head the bolt clatters harmlessly off the wall.
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"We'd best hurry, but feel free to fire from right here if you prefer." blurts Trevor, his cheeks glowing bright red from having held hands with Methada.
He waits to check on her reaction, then proceeds with her in tow, happy for her hand in his, or, if she opts to stay behind and shoot, hunched behind his shield, asking Khors to bring His light.
"Thank you." Methada said to Trevor as he helped her not slip. "I'll give it a try." She agree before she got her bow ready.
The smile of the cheerful gnome broadens first when the Trollkin tidal wave sweeps a ghoul down the drain and second when the new girl shows some respect at least to Vrindel.
The gnome warlock targets the last ghoul and calls upon the Void powers of his Patron with a command word in a stern voice, "Ibrox."
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The shadow fae's arrow strikes Yumyum in the leg, the black feathered shaft vibrating for a few moments following its impact. Moments later the armored...thing...finishs crossing the narrow ledge and is now only a few clicking, clanking strides away. Not far behind is another surface dweller. This one carries a big axe that suddenly flares to life with a radiant white light that sends chilling tingles up and down Yumyum's spine. A curious feeling that the ghoul can't remember having since before he'd acquired the fever and his current state of undeadness.
At the same time the foul voice echoes in his skull once again. "IBROX!" But this time the ghoul is prepared and shouts back "YUMYUM!" which has no effect on the arcane foe, but seems to ground himself enough that the growing pressure in his head recedes and causes no further harm.
One...two...three...four...five to one. Not good odds." Yumyum thinks to himself. Red eyes flick toward the closest armored figure. and then toward the lift ropes leading down into the tunnels below. It'll take time for the others to get here, if they even decide its worth the risk. More likely they'll just wait down below. You're on your own Yumyum so better find a way out fast.
Raising its crossbow, the ghoul points it directly at the approaching armored figure and holds it there for the briefest of moments. Then it tumbles backwards and dashes to the lift. With a surprising grace it leaps the platform machinery, catches the rope and begins to slide down into the darkness. The sound of the rough woven fiber grinding away at Yumyum's thin leather gloves whistles through the darkness growing higher pitched as he picks up speed and the gloves give way to the meager remains of the rotted flesh on his hands.
Yumyum HP: 73/93
Vrindel sighs and steps closer to the edge watching the creature descend.
"Let me help speed up the trip a bit".
Produce Flame
Fire Damage
"Coward!" mumbles Trevor as he reaches the shaft a little late.
He looks around to see if there's a better way to go down than climbing the rope...
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"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Allison shrieks and the sound echos from the enclosing helmet like the wail of metal twisting until it screams.
Having no plan for either continuing the attack, or descending at a fast enough rate to make it matter, Wraith too looks around at this contraption they have won control over.
The gnome looks at the huge armored, uninjured shrieking lunatic and arches an eyebrow. He examines the area to figure out the best way to evacuate the smoke down here.
When nothing looks possible, he starts magically cleaning the air with Prestidigitation one cube at a time.
Methada took the chance to take a show at the slow ghoul.
After she stopped and looked to Trevor. "So, the group as encountered this creature before?" She asked. "I mean it seemed to know Iborx's name after all."
"No, the one we 'met was similar, but not the same. Did it know Ibrox's name? Really?! I didn't pay attention, but now that you mention it..." replies Trevor while trying to figure out that mechanical contraption in his hands.
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A trollkin steps out onto the ledge causing Yumyum to hiss and curse as he continues his slide along the rope. He hated trollkin. When he was still among the living and dwelling above ground, several trollkin raiders had passed through a nearby village. They pillaged, plundered, and took slaves, including the young girl he was hoping to marry or at least have the good fortune to spend a few evenings in the barn. Alas she was carried off north and never heard from again.
Following his undeath, he'd only seen the devastation wrought by trollkin upon the 8th and 3rd Centiles of the Marrowrich. They'd been rounding up Krakovan rebels along the border with the Wolfmark when the reavers struck. A few of the mad dwarves, but this clan was apparently mostly made up of trollkin. The 8th was nearly wiped out and if not for the arrival his Centile and a two companies of ghost knights from the capital the 3rd would have been completely exterminated. As it was the carnage was appalling. Ghouls torn and ripped apart everywhere. The occasional still active torso crawling along the ground in a feeble attempt to escape the Imperial foraging parties. Nearly two hundred legionaries lost in one fell swoop. But the eating that night was good.
A flame appears in the trollkin's hand breaking Yumyum's train of thought. Another curse escapes his lips when the flame suddenly appears at the top of the rope he's currently sliding upon. It flames quickly consuming the the highly flammable rope.
Desperately he swings toward rock side of the chasm. Leaping away just as the rope snaps, Yumyum claws at the cliff trying to grasp and maintain a handhold. Any kind of hand hold. But he was truly a cursed ghoul and the stone of the cavern too loose to hold his weight. He screams once again as his last tenuous grip gives way and he plunges further into darkness. The orange and yellow dancing, gloating wisps of the trollkin's flame the last thing he sees before the fall carries him far into the depths.
The lone remaining ghoul disappears into the depths of the cavern. As its final screams echo in the dark, the smoke slowly dissipates between Ibrox's magic and the normal airflow. A little while later and everyone is able to make the passage along the ledge with relative ease.
Allison examines the device to find a fairly sturdy and well crafted lift mechanism powered by a series of gears and most likely a steam engine at the other end of the now severed rope. Of course, without the heavy rope, the device is now of little use.
There is little else here. The previous tunnel leading to the area below the ruined stable has been collapsed leaving the only way in or out, the narrow ledge and tunnel just traversed.