Alaïs huffs out a small breath of relief that Briar’s managed to start her way down and tether Broccan, though that breath gets swallowed up by the gust building relentlessly in the gallery behind. She tries to position herself as best she can to take advantage of Broccan’s bulk as a windbreak and brace herself for a few seconds more until the miner can shake off whatever magic’s got a hold on his mind and she and the others can help him down.
In the worst case, she wonders if she can use the force of the wind to aim for the chain dangling its way back down.
For a couple of heart-stopping moments, Alaïs is almost sure she's managed to cling onto the stone by sheer force of will - surely Edrukk's going to be impressed - and then an unnaturally eddying gust takes her off her feet and into the void, bouncing her off the far wall...
and pushing a cry of pain out of her, but she just manages to launch herself back at the rope before she drops too far, and she immediately starts pushing herself further down as quickly as she safely can.
Rosella has no idea if the others can hear her over the rising wind, but it's the best she can do. (She's also not entirely sure she does have Broccan, but she is pretty sure she's the best chance he's got.)
Staggering against the wind, she forces herself forward to where Broccan lies motionless on the stone. Rope. The rope is secure.
She hopes.
She grabs a section and loops it around Broccan's wrist, knotting it firmly. If he's blown off anyway the force will almost certainly dislocate his shoulder, but it should keep him from a fatal fall. Task complete, she braces herself as much as she can against the wind and prays. If I'm going to die in a tornado, please let it be a natural one!
Rosella rushes up, pushing mightily against the wind, and ties the rope firmly around the paralyzed miner's wrist. She can see that Broccan's shadow seems to be desperately clinging to his leg, but is losing its grip—not only on Broccan, but on its own existence, as Briar's strange spell runs out of time.
The winds start to pick up to an even greater intensity, the roar turning into an overwhelming howl.
Somehow, Rosella is able to set her stance and withstand the gale. Broccan, on the other hand...
... finds he can move again, as more than one spell wears off on him.
"I... I..." Kata stares, her mind utterly blank, her mind only repeating the word, No no no no no no..., until Rosella's voice drifts just barely, over the din. Snapping back into focus and unable to think of anything to be helpful, Kata begins descending the chain. Best she just get out of the way.
Kata suddenly freezes midway through climbing, pure panic entering her as she hears the clinking of the chains. Memories run through her in an instant.
... wait. Are these your memories? When did you break a leg? You swear you don't remember that, and yet...
She finds herself at the bottom, having scaled the rest of the chain with surprising speed born of panic. Her heart is pounding as she realizes her hands are raw and bloodied from the rusty chain.
Disoriented by suddenly regaining motor control, no sooner has Broccan realized what's going on than he is sent hurtling down over the edge. The others watch him fly past—only for his fall to be arrested with a painful snap. The rope tied around his wrist has saved him from a far worse landing, though at the cost of a dislocated shoulder.
Seeing that Broccan is in the clear, Rosella scrambles down the rope after Briar and Alais.
The storms rise to a shrieking gale above, but with nobody in the path of the wind anymore, the danger is past. Everyone still in the air is able to reach the ground without issue, sparing Edrukk far below a rather painful landing.
Briar climbs down the rest of the way and takes a heavy seat on the ground, propping herself up with her arms stretched out behind her. ”That was a holy show if I’ve ever seen one. I’m utterly knackered.” She rises as she realizes Broccan is having trouble with his shoulder and Kata’s hands. ”Calistria’s corset, you two look you’re in need of some healin’. Pass me that switch wand, Ed. I’ll fix ‘em up.”
As each person descends the rope or chain, Edrukk checks, ”’r ye ‘urt?” Worry is evident in his tone. Finally, he looks up at the man hanging above, his arm at an unnatural angle.
With a deep breath and long exhale, he says, ”’zella, Ah need ye. Up we go.”
Lightened as much as decency allows, he starts up, hoping that between the two of them, they can free the wounded man and lower him to the ground.
The dwarf scowls at the chain accusingly after he doesn’t even get off the ground, sets his shoulders, and tries again.
Reaching Broccan’s height and a bit more, he twists his legs and one hand in the chain to hold him in place, then reaches to his friend, gets a good grip on the collar of his armor, and lifts just enough to take the tension from his busted shoulder. ”N’ get th’ rope offa ‘is wrist s’ ‘e c’n shinny down one-‘anded. We need t’ make a plan ‘n see ‘ow ‘urt ’e ‘s.”
Edrukk manages to lift Broccan enough that Broccan and Roselle are able to get the rope around Broccan's wrist untied. Together, the trio descend, Broccan still nursing his injured shoulder.
Edrukk is visibly shaken now that the crisis is past. ”Ever’one, please sit. Gonna need t’ sit ‘n work ‘is out. ‘at ‘appened up ‘ere?”
He, however, doesn’t sit. Nervous energy has him pacing in front of the group as his eye go from Broccan to Briar to Alais and back.
Rosella nods at Edrukk and climbs up the rope again. Wrapping it around her legs and holding on with one hand, she unties the knot and free Broccan's wrist. "Sorry about that," she mutters as she helps him climb down. Since he'd started moving on his own, he might have been able to maintain his grip on the rope without the knots, possibly saving him a dislocated shoulder.
Then again, he might not have, and the fall could well have killed him. No use wasting too much time on what-ifs.
With everyone safely back on the ground and Briar taking care of getting people healed up, she takes Edrukk's suggestion of sitting quite literally. "Hope I didn't get in the way too much up there. I heard Briar say Broccan was frozen, and I didn't think you'd be able to get him down without help."
Not having any idea what happened herself, (beyond 'magic tornado'), she waits for someone else to start explaining.
After hastily slithering down from where she managed to catch herself, Alaïs is relieved to see that everyone’s mostly alright. She’s a bit worried about how shaken Kata seems to be, but she can hardly blame her, and Briar seems to be managing to patch Broccan back up – merciful Elysium, it was a good thing Rosella was there too for when Briar’s trick with the shadows wore off. As Edrukk starts pacing, the elf bard tentatively tests her strained muscles and bruises with just the tiniest hint of a grimace. It could have been much worse.
“That explains the broken dagger, then,” Alaïs says, with a glance towards Briar and Broccan.
“A particularly vicious trap, as you saw,” she explains for the others, clarifying the bits that happened out of sight. “At the end of the passage up there, there’s a carved, screaming stone face. I suppose it must be some sort of door, but there’s a trap before one can get any closer: that howling wind, and a paralyzing enchantment to boot, with distracting lights all the colours of the rainbow. We saw where some previous unfortunate had tried desperately to drive their weapon into the floor to catch themselves…”
She trails off solemnly at the thought of the near disaster, before several other thoughts occur to her. “What did you find down here? If that’s the only way beyond these alcoves, there must be something up there, because that’s a ludicrously complicated trap for a dead end that could easily be missed, but unless it’s keyed to something – one of the lanterns? one’s still missing, after all – I’m not sure how one could get close enough to get past short of shrugging off both the wind and the enchantment.”
Her glance flickers towards Kata, who seems to be the one among the assembled who knows anything about traps. She hopes the details of the problem can serve as a distraction from rather than a reinforcement of the memories that the other bard must be coping with at the moment.
"'msorry," Broccan says quietly, looking at the floor as he speaks. "I though't'I wa'staken pr'cautions wi'the rope'n pit'ns, but'it clearly wasn'tenough. I pu'teveryone'n danger. I'twas stupid o' me. M'thick 'ed counna see noth'n bu'the pretty lights, ann'eh counna move or do ann'thin' useful....'m sorry...".
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Edrukk stomps his feet and turns to face the group, his voice showing some anger. He level a thick finger at Rosella, then at Broccan. ”Don’ be ‘pologizin’! Ye saved ‘is life! ‘n yer preparations ’ere genius. Th’ trap ‘as meant t’ kill th’ lot o’ ye. Yer quick work made ‘t fail. No cryin’ - painful ‘t might be, ‘is ‘s a win. Ye did good, all o’ ye.”
He takes a deep breath. ”Ye ‘ad me worried. Ah shouldna yell, but ye got n’ reason t’ be sorry. N’, ‘ow do we find ‘at they be ‘idin’? ‘zella ‘n Ah found th’ box ‘ill turn. ‘t raised ‘n entry t’ somethin’ o’er ’ere. Ah’m thinkin’ th’ box ‘s a key some’ow. Let’s rest up, eat a bite, and make a plan.”
With that, he sits by his pile of gear and retrieves some rations.
Everyone now sees the roughly five-foot cylinder that has risen beneath the yellow lantern, where the sarcophagus now points. Doors within have opened, revealing a space people could step inside.
Blinking, Kata comes back to the present, and peers at her companions. Everyone seemed to be present, and alive, and for that, she couldn't be more grateful. "I think I should go first from now on. I can focus, and with a little luck, find the puzzles before they find us. Also... I got lost in some memories just now. I'm not sure they're mine though. I remembered the sounds of chains, of rattling metal. Climbing, slipping, falling, the feeling of a bone breaking beneath me and white-hot pain searing through my leg. But thing is, I've never broken my leg."
Collapsing back into her memory, Kata's eyes are vacant. She waves her hands for emphasis as she talks, and you see her left thumb is disjointed, pulled out of the socket. Wincing, the elegist frowns, once again back in the present. "Also, I think I hurt my hand climbing the chain back down. I think it is dislocated? Can anyone set it back?"
Sighing as Briar uses the wand and her pain eases, Kata nods, "Thank you." Her thumb is still mangled and dislocated, and Kata winces each time she puts pressure on it.
"Let me take a look at the cylinder before anyone else goes in."
Briar slots the wand in her belt. ”Happy to help, Kat.” Her smile fqdes as she hears Broc feeling guilty. ”Sorry I shouted at ya, Broc. Was just frustrated and it was so loud. No need to feel bad about it.” She places her hand on her hip and nods along to Ed. ”We’re all more-or-less intact. Let’s crack on like he said, eh?” She saunters over towards the now open cylinder. ”Good job finding that, Ed! Now we’ve got an easier way to go.” She peeks into it with her darkvision.
Broccan takes a cue from Edrukk, and pulls out one of his ration packs. He eats a bit of cured ham and an apple, then puts the rest back.
"So, wha'does't do? Looks like'h wardrobe'r'coffin."
Rosella takes Kata's hand and takes a look at her thumb, wincing a little in sympathy. Without saying anything, she suddenly jerks it back into place. "Sorry. It's easier if you're not expecting it." She examines the thumb again, then lets Kata's hand go. "Should be in place now. Just take it easy for a bit; it'll be fine."
"Not going to pretend that I'm not sorry if I hurt you Broccan, but Edrukks's right. I tried my best, and you did too. Everyone did." She lays a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Everyone's alright, which with a trap like that sounds like nothing short of a miracle. We all did good."
"So yeah, the box turns. From what Edrukk saw earlier I think the green and indigo alcoves will have similar cylinders. Don't know what they're for though." She follows behind Kata and Briar, eyes serious. "I'll check the first cylinder out with you. From now on no one goes alone, not even for a little bit."
Edrukk tucks into a bit of food, watching the others. ”Ah’m thinkin’ we’re rushing’. Th’ thin’ ‘s, turnin’ a box ‘ere made somethin’ ’appen clear o’er ‘ere. ‘o’s t’ say turnin’ a bit more doesn’ do somethin’ up ‘ere? Alais, ‘n yer lookin’ ‘t th’ art ‘n th’ walls, didja see anythin’ like th’ box ‘r th’ tunnel ‘p top? Mebbe th’ face ye saw?”
He shows no inclination to stand yet. He is focused on crafting a solution and gathering clues.
I’m thinking that we’re rushing. The thing is, turning a box here made something happen clear over there. Who’s to say turning it a bit more doesn’t do something up there? Alais, in your looking at the art on the walls, did you see anything like the box or the tunnel up top? Maybe the face you saw?”
Rosella, Kata and Briar examine the open cylinder. It's completely empty, apart from a thin layer of dust.
Reaching down to the sides, Rosella notices a faint breeze. This confuses her until Briar suggests is due to some air magic below—perhaps providing propulsion up and down.
In sum, the three adventurers think that this is some kind of lifting device. Or a deathtrap. But probably not a deathtrap.
Wincing as her thumb is set back in place, Kata then smiles and gingerly waggles it a bit. "Thank you, Rosella. That's an old healer's trick - I've seen it used by the followers of the Lady of the Mint after a battle. Still, I wasn't expecting it one bit. Bet you're a heck of a card player."
---
"So," Kata says, brushing a smear of dirt from her breeches. "You step into the cylinder, and the doors close, and you go down. Probably."
"How'many'f us kn'go innit a'twonce?" Broccan asks.
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”None yet. Le’s be turnin’ th’ box agin ‘n see ‘at changes first.”
"Aye, 'sa good'idea," Broccan replies with a nod. "When'eh'y'wan't star' push'n again?"
"Aye, that's a good idea. When do you want to start pushing again?"
Edrukk dusts his hands and reassembles his pack. To Broccan, he replies, ”Bes’ be ready t’ leave quick, aye? Get yer gear t’gether ‘n les’ give ‘t a push.”
Before moving to the sarcophagus once more, he asks each of the others, singly or in a group, ”Be watchin’ n’ listenin’ fer thin’ movin’ ‘r changin’ while we turn th’ box, aye?”
Broccan repacks his backpack. Once he has it secured to his back again, he moves over to the sarcophagus, and braces against the side of it, waiting for Edrukk to give the signal to push. He pushes against the frame of the box until Edrukk tells him to stop.
Briar stands back and watches people get to work moving the sarcophagus unless asked for help. ”Now what’s that word? Ah, there it is. ‘Ellocution.’ You two lads ever heard of it? We survive this and you two are gettin’ a free lesson. A bit more e-nun-ci-a-tion would do you two good.”
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Briar stands back and watches people get to work moving the sarcophagus unless asked for help. ”Now what’s that word? Ah, there it is. ‘Ellocution.’ You two lads ever heard of it? We survive this and you two are gettin’ a free lesson. A bit more e-nun-ci-a-tion would do you two good.”
Edrukk glares at the snark, ”’at’s what ‘t’s worth, too. Gorum understands me jus’ fine.”
He turns to the task at hand, ”Brocco lad, ‘t only turns th’ other way. Move t’ th’ other end, ‘ere ye go, ‘n push slow and steady ‘n three. Jus’ push t’ th’ nex’ alcove.”
Edrukk takes up his pack and sets his legs before giving the sarcophagus another push. ”One, two, three!”
Briar throws up her arms in surrender. ”Just offering. Not tryin’ to start something. Truth be told, probably forgotten most of the lessons anyways.” She clears her throat, then suddenly begins speaking with a more posh and elevated version of her typical brogue. ”The rain in...someplace...falls mainly on the plain.” Da and Pa would not be happy to hear her speaking with such rough diction. They honestly would not be too happy with any of the roughness she’s had to pick up over the years. Holding on to the ability to switch back into elevated register is just one of many ways she holds onto their memory.
While bantering, she does as Ed suggested and keeps an eye out for anything changing as the sarcophagus moves.
Edrukk and Broccan put their backs into it and push at the sarcophagus. It slowly grinds to rest pointing at the green lantern and clicks into place.
A second after it does so, a cacophonous creaking of stone against stone emerges from the ground below the lantern. it sounds like machinery at work, but far louder and more full of general pandemonium than the previous cylinder.
Briar will draw her dagger again and double check the straps on her shield. ”Somethin’ coming you think? Doesn’t sound like the kinda sounds somethin’s supposed to make.”
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Briefly overcome by self-consciousness over the way she just realized she pronounces "supposed", Briar notices nothing of note.
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Blinking, Kata comes back to the present, and peers at her companions. Everyone seemed to be present, and alive, and for that, she couldn't be more grateful. "I think I should go first from now on. I can focus, and with a little luck, find the puzzles before they find us. Also... I got lost in some memories just now. I'm not sure they're mine though. I remembered the sounds of chains, of rattling metal. Climbing, slipping, falling, the feeling of a bone breaking beneath me and white-hot pain searing through my leg. But thing is, I've never broken my leg."
Alaïs settles in to watch the more mechanically-minded folks poke about the cylinder raised from the yellow alcove, trying not to get underfoot. What Kata said about foreign memories is a bit alarming, but there’s nothing to be done but wait and see, probably. One bard hears strange voices, another sees? feels? things that she really shouldn’t… Hopefully we’re not going mad, or if we are, it’s only us, as if we had bad luck with Idris’ Chair. Or we’ll notice before it strikes all of us.
As she watches, she considers Edrukk’s question.
”Alais, ‘n yer lookin’ ‘t th’ art ‘n th’ walls, didja see anythin’ like th’ box ‘r th’ tunnel ‘p top? Mebbe th’ face ye saw?”
“I don’t think so, though I might have missed a bit of a curve to the stone the face was carved on at that distance, before the trap went off. And it was just the face: probably human, by my reckoning, though there weren’t any other cues to go by like the full figure of this fine fellow,” she says, indicating the lid of the sarcophagus.
The elf bard sets to thinking about the trap’s magic again. If there are three tubed passages – yellow, green, indigo – could that be some sort of key? Or just blue, to match the particular tunnel? Or red, because it’s the odd one out, for lanterns? Or the whole spectrum after all? Her thoughts chase themselves in circles, not least because it’s a hell of a risk to experiment while the trap’s still active. If she were one of her brothers, she would just look up a spell to slow her fall, but that’s not her style of magic. Though she’s sure there are ways, and one hears rumours among more magically curious bards, which makes her think… “Kata, have you ever heard of Arrowsong’s Laments? To be sure, they’re not the hymns that I suppose are the sorts of songs that are part of your repertoire, but I thought I’d ask. I’ll also have to Allustan, and I may have to send to Galduria or Magnimar as well.”
Before she can engage in any more shop-talk , though, she gets distracted by Edrukk and Broccan setting to and Briar’s teasing. She’s amused and impressed, since she wouldn’t have the nerve herself, after an incident or two on the way to Varisia that, at one point, involved some quick, well-chosen words to narrowly avoid a drink to the face. Accordingly, one of the first entries to Alaïs’ journal for the trip includes a note not to observe when humans’ (and presumably others’) accents are quaint. (Even if they are, especially when they’re speaking Elven.)
And then the green lift, if that’s what it is, starts making an awful din, and she can’t help but wonder if it sounds like something safe to travel in.
"Back 'way! Ready yerselves!"
For his part, Edrukk has readied his shortbow and is looking back and forth from the yellow to the indigo alcoves as he assumes the rest are watching the one making noise.
Not sure what he should be preparing himself for, Broccan takes his cue from Edrukk. He pulls out his light crossbow, cocks it, and loads it with a bolt.
"Ready!" he replies, once he has the weapon braced on his shoulder.
"Maybe we're supposed to be doing this in some sort of order? Like stop at yellow, then indigo, then green?" Rosella is not at all happy about the noise coming from the green alcove. From her limited understanding of how machinery works, those noises make it sound like something is breaking. "That might be why the tree was there; to indicate it was supposed to be the last one."
(She has no comment on the discussion of accents. Her own is very...rural.)
"I'm going to keep moving it and see what happens." Unless someone stops her, she puts her shoulder to the sarcophagus and tries to shift it so it faces the indigo lantern.
Rosella begins to turn the sarcophagus. The clanging and rumbling continues as the sarcophagus of the nameless figure turns to point toward the blue-lantern passage, then the indigo passage.
When the sarcophagus clicks into place facing eastwards, there is a low rumble, and another cylinder rises promptly from below the indigo lantern.