The Secondary Saga

[Roger Smith]

It was always the traps in these dusty old temples....always.

Crow was quick on his feet, even with his impeded physical condition and coordination, and by some miracle he'd been the first one to reach the end of the hallway in his mad dash away from the whatever it was bearing down on them. Unfortunately, even he didn't escape entirely unscathed from the trap-filled corridor. An axe had nearly taken off a leg, claiming a large chunk of his cape and many of his knives that had been strapped to it, and leaving behind a bloodied gash on the back of his leg as a further memento. A stumbling step over a pressure plate had sent him careening into a wall full of spikes...and earned him a handful of new puncture wounds.

They were more annoying than properly dangerous, but for the love of all that was decent, they hurt.

And all the collective noise from the traps and the noise their merry little band had made in their flight had left Crow's ears ringing. Silently cursing to himself, he slowly half-limped around the room, taking in the details. Sure looked like some kind of areana or other...which was a wonderfully morbid thought, especially considering what else was down here with them. On a good day, without all the wounds and bruises to contend with, Crow was fairly confident the assembled firepower of their group -- both figurative and literal -- would have been more than able to deal with whatever monstrosity was currently trying its damnedest to break down the door.

But this was most definitely not a good day.

"Normally I'd be all for fightin' off whatever beastie's knocking," he drawled. "But I think we'd best be thinking smart here; none of us are exactly in top shape anymore." At a suggestion from the good doctor, IRIS flies off to go pull a lever he pointed out. A sinking feeling dawns on the god captain, and he barely has the time to mutter, "Ah, sink me..." before the sound of the lever's activation mechanism kicked in, and the ground fell away.

Crow might be named after a bird, but he was definitely much less graceful in the air than one. He flailed about blindly in the rapidly-increasing darkness, before hearing first one splash, then landing with a rough impact himself. He landed mostly on his feet, but there was a distinct thudding crunch, accompanied by a bloody squelching noise, and a muffled howl of anguish, intermingled with a series of curses that indicated the landing wasn't exactly perfect.

Dimly the sounds of the other two -- the good doc and the Grave lad, along with, presmably, his lady friend -- splashed down somewhere nearby. There was a general round of varying indications and agreements that that was a fucking awful experience, and further agreements that not only was the water they'd landed in cold, it was thoroughly unpleasant to the touch -- slimy and disgusting -- and that it stank something awful down here.

"Well, mates...that could've gone better, aye?" He looked around, trying to get a sense of things, but IRIS -- along with their light source -- was still up above, and he couldn't see much of anything. "I'm all for figurin' out what to go abouts doin' next, mister Templar...but I don't rightly fancy doin' that when I can't see me own blasted hand in front o' me face." He wasn't intending to be as scathing as he was, but this entire adventure was beginning to wear on him a great deal. "Give us a minute to get the taste o' bilge outta our gullet and see if we can't get a picture o' where we are, before--"

The distinct sound of a scuffle from back up above, and the steadily-growing light breaks Crow's focus, drawing his attention upward....only to have his eyes lock onto the torch as it sails down the pit. With their generally awkward posture, no one is in any position to intercept it, though there is a collective sense of a mad scramble to grab it before--

plunk

ssshhh

The area is plunged into darkness, and there is a long moment of silence, save for the sounds of confrontation from the room above.

A sharp splash, as someone no doubt punches at the water in frustration, snaps the effectively-blinded group out of their collective daze just in time for another glow of light to wash across the area and IRIS to arrive, casually commenting on the encounter above.

"Well, glad ye could join us again, me bucko," Crow grumbled. "Let's get a look around while we got some light, before that beastie gets the bright idea to hop down and join us, see if we can't find us a way outta this rotten bilge hold."

With a general sense of unvoiced agreement, the group spreads out, poking through what is revealed to be a pit of slimy refuse, and the occasional slime-covered skeleton. Crow discovered, rather morbidly, that there grooved recesses in the floor of the pit containing countless spikes. Nasty, spear-looking things, long since rusted into place by years and watery corrosion, but it certainly explained the bones.

The general sounds of unpleasant discovery told Crow all that he needed to know about what his allies might be finding. But it was the dear doctor once again that came upon the solution. "And what have we here...?" was the only warning that came from the scientist before there was the sound of another mechanism activating.

And all at once, the walls of the chamber started to grind into motion, spinning about -- and nearly taking off the doc's hand, if his reaction was any indication. "Anyone else get the feelin' we really shoulda gone a different way at that intersection back a-ways...?" mused the good captain, keeping his eyes on the moving walls.

"I don't detect any immediate danger from this particular mechanism," IRIS interjected, slowly spinning in place, as if keeping an 'eye' on something in particular behind the wall. "It doesn't appear to be a trap this--"

"Belay that!" Crow barked, holding up a hand for silence. He listened intently, his eyes flicking this way and that, as if he'd seen something, before he all but exploded into motion, grabbing hold of Richtoffen and Jan by their collars, yanking them toward the center of the room, and bounding over to shove Grave and Alice back toward the center, just as the walls groaned and began to fall inward in sheets, collapsing onto the floor of the room with echoing crashes, shattering and utterly flattening anything in their way, and leaving only a very scarce area in the room's center safe from being reduced to a pulp.

"NOT A TRAP, Y'SAY?!" Crow barked out, over the continued rumbling, coughing on the thick clouds of dust and slimy mist raised by the commotion. "Then what'd ye call that?!"

"I believe I might call it a possible way out!" IRIS responded, the vision of the mechanical construct the least impeded by the obscuring clouds in the air.

"Yes, a way out! Just as I had predicted!" Richtoffen claimed, before succumbing to a cough of his own, waving one arm before him to try and get a clear breath. "Let's get going before somethng ELSE decides to try and kill us!"

There was no argument to the sentiment, and they all filed into the new passage, IRIS leading the way to light the otherwise pitch-black path.