The Final Depths of the Menhir Mines

The corridor was nearly ten feet wide and continued on just to the edge of Maormo's lantern light before sharply turning left. The adventurers carefully moved down the corridor, both Cydd and Poeas wearily keeping an eye out for traps. Cydd pressed himself against the wall where the corridor turned and quickly glanced down the hall.

“All clear,” he reported and he and the others continued their journey.

At the end of the turn, the corridor ended a set of double doors, made of the same silver metal as the last. These, too, were carved with dwarven faces, however these dwarves looked stoic and brave, their mouths not open in anger. Each had a large silver ring through their noses, doubling as both a design ascetic and handle. A soft blue light emanated from under the doorway. Maormo carefully grasped one handle, as the others stood back, weapons drawn. He pulled, and with little effort, one door swung open, revealing the chamber inside.

A large hexagonal room lay before them, the ceiling towering fifteen feet above. The entire room was bathed in a blue light, bright enough to see unaided. The ground was covered in large runes, similar in design to those seen elsewhere, just on a much larger scale. Spaced evenly around the chamber were six large blue crystals, the source of the blue light, each about eight feet tall and cut with great precision. There seemed to be no other way out of the room.

Poeas entered first, enthralled with the chamber around him. He crouched down the the runes, gently running his finger into the grooves they made onto the floor. Behind him, Maormo and Brenton stepping into the room, keeping their eyes open for any threats. Poeas stood and walked over towards one of the crystal, looking it. The light seemed to almost dance and move, as if vague images played out within the crystal's body. Carefully, and slowly, Poeas reached out and touched the crystal.

His body stiffened and his eyes became transfixed on the crystal. Either inside the crystal or inside his head, he was not sure, the images began to reveal themselves. It was if he was floating over a large hilly valleys, soaring past deep gulleys and up towards windswept mountains. Their snowy peaks reflected majestically in the sunlight and he could make out small settlements nestled between them. At first, he could make out little details, just the small dots of buildings against the landscape. Soon however, the image got clearer, as if he were approaching these places. He then could make out vast strongholds, towering castles, and tightly packed walled cities. And among these settlements were countless dwarves, their short, wide stature and long beards unmistakable. Poeas was amazed, he had never heard of large dwarven settlements above ground, yet here, he saw them, a vast kingdom of them, living within sheltered valleys of hills and mountains.

His attention was ripped from the crystal when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned around with a start. Brenton stood there, a look of concern in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Brenton asked softly.

“I... yes...” Poeas stammered out.

“We lost you there for a moment, you weren't responding to us.”

“I apologize, the crystal's, they showed the most marvelous images, they...”

Suddenly the floor shifted with a loud groan and Brenton and Poeas braced themselves to stay on their feet. Maormo moved back into the doorway to join Cydd, his feet crossing the threshold just as the floor began to sink beneath him. Slowly the room began to descend, , the crystals stayed in place however, revealing their true length and the floor lowered around them.

“Come on,” Poeas called to Cydd and Maormo, “don't you want to know where this leads?”

“I'll wait, thanks,” Cydd called back as he began hammering his rope into the ground with an iron spike, “I'd rather not be surprised by the molten lava or pool of acid or whatever else awaits you at the bottom.”

“You have no faith Cydd,” Brenton said as the floor lowered nearly five feet already.

“I do, just a more survival based on,” Cydd tossed the rope onto the floor of the lowering room, “If it does get dangerous, do yourselves a favor and climb up and if you reach the bottom alive, we'll join you then.”

Cydd and Maormo watched their two companions descend ready to join them the moment they needed help or it looked safe. Brenton stood in the center of the room, swiftly adjusting his gaze from one side of the chamber to the next, ever vigilant, softly speaking a prayer to Aristimas. Poeas resumed his studies of the crystal, moving to a second one and touching it as well. For a moment, the images remained the same, but as the room continued its journey, they began to change.

The pastoral images shifted before his eyes, and soon cities were burning and castles were under siege. Vast armies of dwarves stood on opposite battlefields and charged at one another, carnage and death surrounding them. The castles shifted from the architectural beauty of dwarven design to the drab and harsh look of defensive fortification. After a moment these images changed as well, and the grand settlements were but a shadow of their former selves. The cities appeared smaller and the walls higher and thicker, strongholds and castles lost any artistic design and became pallid defensive structures. No longer were dwarves fighting each other on battlefields, but instead they were huddled behind their walls as orc hordes moved down the mountains and laid siege. Again the images changed, many cities were now smoldering ruins and the pastoral villages were no longer seen, all that was left were castles and towers, keeps and strongholds and yet these were not even safe. Ogres, Trolls, and Giants were attacking these places, storming the gates and drawbridges, hurling massive bolders that crumbled walls. Some dwarves fought back and they were savagely torn apart by the montrous creatures. Again the images shimmered to something new, the final buildings lay destroyed and overgrown and the remaining dwarves were shown fleeing into caves carved into the mountains as dragons roamed the skies overhead, snatching up those not quick enough. The dwarves moved deeper and deeper into the dark, avoiding their latest threat. Then the images faded into soft blue.

Poeas felt the floor shift once more under him and realized the room had stopped its descent. He pulled himself away from the crystal and saw Brenton looking at another set of doors set into the eastern wall. These appeared to be exact copies as the ones the opened to this room far above. The rope dangled a few feet above the floor so Poeas estimated they must of descended around fifty feet. Looking up he could see Cydd and Maormo slowly making their way down to join them.

“Back with us,” Brenton asked.

Poeas nodded. “Yes.”

“And what did you see?”

“I'm not sure, a lost dwarven clan perhaps, an ancient history, though one I have not heard of. Whatever it was, there was much pain, much suffering, but someone felt it important enough to record it.”

“And how did they manage to record such things in a crystal?”

“That, I am not sure of, magics that I'm no familiar with, that much is certain.”

Cydd and Maormo dropped to the floor behind the two, joining them in front of the doors.

“Either way,” Poeas continued, “there is much more to this place then simply some bestial creatures.”

“Well that's all fine and good,” Cydd chimed in, “but our concern are those kids.”

“And killing those bestial creatures that we see now, we'll leave finding out the other stuff besides them to you,” Maormo added.

“And none of that will happen if we just stand around here,” Brenton said, pulling open the door in front of him.

The door opened to another large chamber nearly forty feet across and half as long, here the walls and floor had several holes dug into them, each the size of a man. The floor was littered with bundles of mushrooms and fine crystalline powder. Across from them, the room opened into darkness, the loud roar of a waterfall heard beyond it. It smelled of cooking meat and Poeas could see the red glow of heat beneath a pile of mushrooms on the floor.

“Looks like no one is home,” Maormo said quietly as he entered the room.

“Don't be so quick to judge,” Poeas said, following him, an arrow nocked in his bow. Just then, his eyes caught a glow of heat from within one of the holes in the walls. And, ss Maormo's light illuminated it, the glow began to stir.

“We're not alone,” Poeas called out to his companions.

Five of the blue creatures crawled out from holes in the floor and walls, hissing at the intruders. They reached for their hook swords and javelins and began to charge. Maormo, already battle set, ran to meet them. Brenton pulled his hammer free from his hip, secured his shield and followed at Maormo's side. Poeas stepped back, raising his bow, sighting down the arrow at the creatures. Cydd eyed up the five creatures, then the four of them and turned and ran back into the crystal chamber.

“Cydd!” Poeas called out to him but did not take his eyes off the enemy.

Two of the creatures met Brenton and Maormo halfway into the chamber. Brenton swung his hammer in a low arc, catching one the creatures below the jaw with enough force to lift it off of its feet. Its head snapped back with a loud crack coming from its neck as it crumbled to the ground. Maormo directed a glancing blow of the second creature's sword to one side with his shield, exposing the creature's stomach. In one swift swing he slashed the creature deep across the stomach, bring the sword up in a wide arc and down again into its collarbone in a crushing blow. The creature gurgled in pain as Maormo pulled his sword free and watched it fall to the ground dead. Two more of the blue wretches charged forward behind their fallen companions.

The other prepared to launch a javelin toward Brenton. Poeas acted fast, letting loose his arrow just as the creature was about to throw. The arrow struck it in the thigh causing the javelin to arc wide and miss Brenton by a few inches. Maormo and Brenton continued their charge with Brenton lifting a knee into one of the creature's stomach. It doubled over, caught off guard and Brenton brought his hammer down on the back of its head, splitting it open like an overripe melon. Maormo spun on his feet, driving his sword behind him and into the chest of another of the spindly beings piercing its heart, he pulled the sword free as his momentum carried him around to face forward again, right in line with the last creature. Another arrow whizzed past him, barely striking the creature in the side, knocking off rings of rusted chainmail. It furiously tugged at the arrow in its thigh and looked up in time to Maormo bearing down on it. Before it could react, Maormo's blade sank into the creature just inside its left shoulder carrying down deep enough to almost split it in two. It fell quickly to the ground.

“Is everyone alright?” Brenon asked, gently kicking the creature at his feet to confirm its death.

Maormo wiped blood off his blade, “Just fine.”

“I'm fine,” Poeas added, lowering his bow.

“I'm good,” Cydd's voice came from behind Poeas. Poeas swiftly spun around to face Cydd.

“Where were you?” Poeas asked, accusation in his voice.

“I went to make sure we weren't being ambushed from behind,” Cydd answered calmly.

“You moved pretty fast for just covering our backs,” Poeas countered.

“Well, the faster I got there, the better chance I had to cut them off.”

Poeas glared at Cydd but Cydd's eyes matched his and he did not back down.

Poeas spoke in a low voice, “don't think I don't know what you did, the others may have not seen it and I will not tell them this time, but I won't forget it.”

“Guys, you might want to check this out, but you're not going to like it.” Maormo called out, standing in front of a small pit where Poeas had noticed the red shimmer of heat. He had kicked aside several of the mushrooms to reveal a small pit of smoked meat. Brenton and Cydd moved closer to investigate while Poeas, in an effort to distance himself from Cydd, began to explore the room.

“It that what I think it is?” Cydd asked, looking at the smoking pit and the large pieces of meat resting on it. One piece was still covered in a pale flesh.

“That's human flesh, by Justicia's graces I hope that's not the children!” Brenton took a step back, reviled. Maormo kicked the smoke pit in disgust, scattering its contents across the chamber floor.

“Hey, I think I found something much better,” Poeas called out. He was standing against the far wall and at his feet was a shield and a small pouch. He had an old yellowed scroll uncurled that he was looking over and in his hand was a hollowed out femur bone.

“Found these hidden behind that gap in the wall,” Poeas told the group as they approached, “the shield's magic and has more of those runes.”

Maormo quickly snatched up the shield, it was a steel kite shield, its silvery metal polished to an almost mirrored shine, around its edges were familiar runic symbols.

“These,” Poeas handed the scroll to Brenton and pulled another one out of the femur bone, handing it over as well, “call upon divine powers to do something or other, can't fully make it out.”

Brenton looked over the scrolls, as Poeas said, they continued scripture calling upon divine interventions. They glowed in his eyes with a holy essence and he knew invoking these scriptures would have those requests answered, much like the divine powers he held within him. He carefully stored them away.

Cydd had already opened the pouch, counting out five small gems and thirteen pieces of platinum.

“I already counted it, don't get any ideas,” Poeas told Cydd as he tucked away the pouch in his backpack.

“Now, isn't it Brenton always telling us to have faith?” Poeas said reassuringly, “I don't believe that horror cooking behind us is the children, so let's press on.”

Brenton smiled, “Well said, we cannot give up hope.”

Maromo, already equipped with his new shield, was moving towards the dark hall on the other side of the room, lantern held at arm's length. The others moved to follow him as the light revealed a rocky outcropping that dropped down into a dark abyss. Nearly thirty feet across from them a large waterfall plunged into the darkness below. At their feet, a rope ladder followed the falls.

“We must be below that platform we rode,” Brenton said, looking up

“And it looks like we'll be going down deeper still,” Cydd added, looking down, “Maormo, you go first.”

“What?” Maormo shook his head, “no!”

“You're the heaviest, if it can support your weight, then it can support ours.”

“But what if it doesn't support my weight?”

“Then we know not to use it,” Cydd smiled.

“I don't think I like that plan.”

“Give me and Brenton your hands, we'll have you if it breaks, the kids could be down there.”

Maormo peered over the edge into the darkness, then back at the rest of the group, then back down over the edge again.

“You'll be okay,” Poeas said.

Maormo smiled, “I'll do it.”

Carefully setting down his lantern and putting his shield on his back he slowly swung one leg over the edge and onto the ladder. Brenton and Cydd firmly gripped his hands, helping him down. He placed his second leg onto a rung as well, slowly letting his weight settle onto it. He could hear the fibers of rope stretching, but they held.

“You can let go,” he instructed and Cydd and Brenton complied. Carefully he gripped the ladder, and held still, waiting. It swayed slightly under his weight, but continuing to hold firm.

“Okay, I'll give you the lantern, and when you reach the bottom, signal for us to follow,” Brenton instructed, handing the lantern to Maormo.

“I think I should go with him,” Poeas suggested, “I can see better then him and that way he's not alone if there's trouble.”

“I can take care of myself,” Maormo assured him, “but I wouldn't mind the company.”

“Fine, but be careful, both of you,” Brenton said.

Maormo slowly descended the ladder and Poeas followed behind them. The cavern continued to widen as they moved lower and soon the ladder was swinging freely in the air, causing them to slow their movements. Below, a faint purple glow began to light the chamber and Poeas could just begin to make out the distinct body heat of several living things.

“Cover the lantern,” he said to Maormo, “quick, before they notice us.”

“Who?” Maormo asked, straining to see in the dark below him.

“I don't know yet, but I intend to find out if you cover the lantern.”

Maormo closed the lantern's hood, plunging the area into darkness, he could feel the cold spray from the waterfall and hear the crashing water, but see nothing.

“We need to go lower,” Poeas told him.

“But I can't see.”

“Just keeping going down, it's not hard,” Poeas paused for a moment, “And get your hand off my thigh.”

“Sorry,” Maormo muttered as he continued down the ladder in darkness.

The purple glow grew more distinct now and even Maormo could make out shadows playing across the cavern walls. To Poeas's eyes, more was revealed. He could see a soft warmth from a large object in the center of the room, around it, six humanoid figures were arranged, but he could not make out any details.

“Looks like there is six more of them, we're not too far from the bottom, signal the others, but quickly.” Poeas told Maormo.

Maormo opened and closed the lantern's hood rapidly, then kept it sealed. Nearly fifty feet above them, Brenton and Cydd saw the flashes of light.

“That's us,” Cydd said, scrambling over the side onto the ladder. Brenton followed behind him.

As Poeas and Maormo descended the last twenty feet of the cavern the purple light was finally bright enough for even Maormo to see. Below a vast chamber was mostly submerged in knee deep water, feed from the waterfall above. A small landmass arose in the center of the room and upon a large purple crystal stood. Nearly twelve feet high and just as big around, the crystal gave off a warm purple glow. Around it, four blue creatures were on their knees, as if in worship. One, who's back was to the ladder, wore a purple cloak, similar to the one Cydd was now wearing. One one side of the crystal two human boys laid, covered in bruises and small lacerations. The loud roar of the waterfall crashing into the ground masked their sounds as Poeas and Maormo lowered themselves into the water.

“Should we...” Moarmo began to whisper, but Poeas cut him off.

“Wait for the others,” He softly said, looking up, seeing the other two not far behind them as bright red against the darkness.

A few moments later Brenton and Cydd had joined them, the creatures so lost in their worship they did not notice. Brenton readied his hammer and Maormo did the same with his sword. Cydd grabbed a dagger from his hip and Poeas aimed an arrow at the back of the creature in robes.

“Now!” Brenton called out, Poeas releasing his arrow before Brenton finished the word.

The arrow streaked through the air and caught the creature in the back of the neck before it could even turn around. It fumbled for the wound as blood gushed out, covering the ground. It slumped across the crystal, dead before the others even got to their feet. Brenton and Maormo charged around the imposing purple stone to meet the creatures head on. Maormo swung his sword across his body, cleaning separating the head of one creature from its body, spinning it in air before it splashed down into the water. Brenton caught another square in the chest, cracking ribs and causing it to stumble back. He spun the hammer around in his hand and drove the hilt into the creature's head, fracturing its skull. The remaining blue creature grabbed a nearby javelin and threw it towards Cydd, striking him in the stomach. Cydd cried out, stumbling backwards as he ripped the barbed skin out of him. He pressed his hand into the wound, trying to staunch the blood, his back against the cavern wall. The creature moved in for the kill, his hook sword in hand, ducking one of Poeas's arrows before getting between the elf and the crystal before he could get another shot off. Cydd, with barely the strength to stand, held his dagger out, ready to meet him. Before he had the chance however, Maormo rounded the crystal, sword held high. He brought it down across the creature's back splitting open flesh and spine. The creature manged one more step forward before falling face first into the water.

“Are you okay?” Maormo asked.

“I'll live, check on those kids,” Cydd said, tearing a strip of cloth to wrap around his stomach to seal the wound, his hands shaking.

Poeas began investigating both the cloaked creature and the crystal it laid across. He pulled the cloak off the creature, as well as a simple ring it wore on its finger and what appeared to be a silver carving of a tongue. He quickly tucked all three things away in his backpack. Brenton was on the other side of the crystal, kneeling in front of the two boys as Maormo approached him.

“They're alive,” Brenton said, not waiting for the question, “unconscious, wounded from probably being dragged down here, but alive.”

“Cydd is hurt too,” Maormo reported, “can't you just heal everyone again, like you did when Cydd got hurt before?”

Brenton smiled softly, “The gods do not just wait around to answer my prayers, especially one so low in the hierarchy. I have exhausted my plea to them today, they will need to be healed the traditional way, I'm afraid. Now, help me get them up.”

Brenton carefully lifted the smaller boy, Timothy, if he remembered what he was told what seemed like ages ago, and gently placed him over his shoulder. Maormo did the same with the old kid.

“Cydd, can you move?” Brenton asked.

“I'll be fine,” Cydd answered, gingerly walking up to them, the cloth around his stomach red with blood, “We just need to get out of here, and soon.”

“I couldn't agree more, the children also need tended to, but through the grace if Justicia, they are alive.”

“Nothing left to kill, boys alive, I'm with your guys, let's go,” Maormo added, “Poeas? We're leaving.”

Poeas was still in front of the crystal, “Be right there.”

He couldn't help himself, the curiosity was just too great. Like the blue
crystals in the chamber that lowered them, he had to know. He reached out gently and touched the crystal. He received no visions this time, in fact, for a moment, he saw nothing but blackness. He felt his strength ripped from him, but at the same time, a creeping sense of cunning filled his mind. He ripped his hand free, stumbling back. The crystal suddenly cracked in the center and the whole chamber shook.

“What happened?!” Maormo called out.

The water from the fall surged, nearly doubling in size, behind them, the walls cracked and water began to pour through.

“What did you do?” Cydd looked at Poeas as he backpedaled toward the group.

“I don't know, I just touched it for a second and...”

The water began to rise around their feet, below them, they could feel swift currents of water raising through cracks in the ground. Another torrent of water fell from above, adding to the rapidly filling room.

“You just had to touch it, didn't you?” Cydd yelled.

“I just wanted to...”

“We'll argue that later, we need to get out of here,” Brenton told them as the water already rose to their waists.

The group ran for the ladder, Poeas and Cydd began to quickly pull themselves up, Cydd fighting through the pain with every rung. Brenton and Maormo followed, slowed by their armor and the children. Above them, another stream of water poured down from above, until it seemed like the entire cavern was leaking water. Poeas and Cydd were rapidly disappearing from Brenton's view and the water was already catching up to them, moving up his legs despite his ascent.

“This isn't going to work,” he called to Maormo, “we're too slow. We're gonna have to start losing stuff.”

“I'm not giving up my weapons or my armor,” Maormo yelled back over the roar of water, “I'd rather drown first!”

“You might be okay with that, but I'm not, nor will allow that to happen to the children!” Brenton called back, ready to throw off his backpack. Just then a large wooden plank hit his ankle, a piece of the old platforms that had broken away from high above, “Aristemis be praised, Maormo, I just got a better idea.”

Brenton pulled the plank over to him with his foot and gently placed the kid he was carrying on top of it, then, laying his arms across the boy to support him, lowered himself into the water. It was cold, and his body protested, but he willed himself to hold on as the plank stayed afloat. As the water continued to rise he swam over towards another large plank, nudging it back to the ladder.

“Maormo, grab on,” he called out and Maormo copied what Brenton did.

“It's so cold,” Maormo cried out as the water lifted them higher.

“Aristemis will protect us, we cannot let these kids die here.”

Poeas pulled himself up back onto the ledge in the creatures' lair, Cydd following right on his heels. Cydd looked back over the edge, unable to see far in the darkness.

“Where are they?” He asked, pulling a torch out of his pack and trying to light it with flint and steel. The damp clothes not cooperating, “light damn you!”

The water was still a ways below them and Poeas looked down over the side, seeing two large glows of heat in the middle of the chamber.

“Ireth save them, I don't think they're on the ladder...”

“What?!” Cydd finally got the torch lit and held it over the ledge. The light illuminated the water rapidly raising to meet them and Brenton and Maormo each sprawled across a plank, holding onto the boys.

Maormo waved, “We'll see you at the top.”

Cydd and Poeas stared dumbfounded for a moment, until the felt the water begin to nip at their ankles.

“We got to keep moving,” Cydd told him, running towards the crystal chamber.
Poeas followed swiftly behind, as water began to pour through cracks in the ceiling of the lair. They pulled themselves up the rope leading back into the hall above, the water gaining in speed and always right behind them. They ran through the hall, back into the room coated in fungus. It too had begun to fill with water that poured in through a variety of cracks in the walls and ceiling.

“Now what?” Poeas asked.

Cydd thought for a moment, “The platform!”

Poeas and Cydd retreated back into the room with the platform, the rising water in the main chamber ten feet below them, but swiftly catching up. Without hesitation Cydd dove down the chasm, splashing into the water next to Brenton, startling him.

He surfaced moments later. “We need to get onto that platform, we'll ride it to the top.”

“You couldn't have told us that when we got there?” Maormo asked, teeth chattering.

“Suppose I could have,” Cydd said with a grimacing smile, the wound to his stomach aching.

Poeas was already on the platform when the water reached it. With no effort it began to lift that as well, the chains going slack around it, tumbling into the water. Cydd swam to the edge and pulled himself on and the two helped pull Brenton, Maormo and the two kids onto it as well. All four of them were breathing heavy and Brenton made sure both kids were still alive.

The water carried them upwards, until they were back to the top room, the platform wedging itself between the two wooden bridges. Quickly the adventurers gathered the two boys and raced out of the room and up the stairs. They passed the clockwork room, gears still grinding and moving and made their way towards the entrance. The water seemed to slow in it's ascent, barely coming up to their ankles. They were not slowly down however, not until they were out. The hopeful rays of the sun illuminated the stairs leading out of the mines and they raced up them, their eyes stinging from the sudden light. The water lapped at the bottom stairs but did not get any higher.

Brenton gentle set down Roland, the older of the kids, and he let out a groan, slowly opening his eyes.

“Hey,” Brenton said softly, “you're safe now, we're gonna take you home.”

The boy could only groan again and let his eyes flutter closed. Around him, Brenton saw the toll the mines took on everyone. Maormo had set the other boy down and was rapidly rubbing his arms and legs to keep him warm. Poeas leaned against the menhir, clutching at his chest, feeling the effects of whatever the crystal had done to him. Cydd's makeshift bandage did not hold up well to the water and escape, blood was starting to seep out once more and he was sitting on the ground, desperately trying to tighten it.

“I think it's time we get these kids back home and then get to town for some rest.” Brenton said, standing slowly.

“I couldn't agree more,” Cydd said, wincing as he got to his feet.

“I'm glad that worked out with the platform and all,” Maormo said, looking at the other three, “cause I have no idea how to swim.”

The three stared at him, not sure of what to say. Maormo simply shrugged and turned to walk down the hill.

The Owlbear and The Trap

Maormo lead the group slowly up the stair case, sword at the ready. Despite the smell of rotting vegetation beneath them, a stronger odor begin to descend down the stairs. It was like a mixture of offal and rotting flesh, and each step they took, the smell got stronger. About halfway up, Maormo noticed a shattered skeleton at his feet, ribs badly smashed, skull cracked, and limbs scattered on the stairs. Despite its condition, the tell tale orcish features and rusted battleaxe were visible and very familiar.

Maormo gently nudged Poeas behind him. “Looks like we found an old friend.”

Poeas looked down at the battered bones. “But just one, stay alert.”

Maormo continued up the stairs until it opened into a worked chamber. Nearly fifteen foot square, the chamber resembled much of the other rooms in the mine, braced by large wooden beams and covered in a fine purple soot. Across from the stairs a small path lead to a natural chamber, filled with a pool of water. The smell here was almost unbearable and its source was scattered about the room, large bloody feathers and animal waste covered the floor and in one corner stood the creature that owned both.

It stood nearly six feet tall and was half as wide, standing on two massive hind legs with forearms ending in large yellow claws. It had the shape of a bear, but it was covered in large feathers and its head was that of an owl. It was an owlbear, a creature born of magical experimentation in ages long past that had spread throughout the wilds. This one was not fully mature and was covered in painful bloody sores, each sprouting a large purple crystal. It looked at Maormo and Poeas at the top of the stairs and let out a screeching roar as it charged them.

Maormo moved forward to meet him, and Poeas moved into the opposite corner of the room.

“Owlbear,” He shouted to the others down the stairs and Brenton and Cydd, upon hearing this, quickened their pace.

The creature swatted at Maormo with it's deadly claws and he barely raised his shield to deflect the blow. The sickening sound of the nails digging into the shield's steel was grating and the force of the impact slide Maormo back several inches. The fighter held his ground, however, and retaliated, bringing his sword across the owlbear's chest. The blade cut deep, causing the beast to howl in pain and reel backwards. Just then Poeas loosed and arrow, however the owlbear's flinching from the wound Maormo gave it caused the arrow to narrowly miss its mark.

Brenton and Cydd topped the stairs as the wounded animal screeched in rage. Brenton charged forwards, moving beside Maormo, mace held high. The creature's attentions were solely focused on the warrior and it again swiped at Maormo, this time knocking his shield from his grip and sending in a few feet to his right. Brenton quickly brought his mace down into the owlbear's arm, but the enraged creature barely seemed to notice. It swing again at Maormo and he ducked, razor sharp talons just sailing over his head. He quickly readjusted his sword, gripping it in two hands and driving it into the owlbear's stomach. With all his might he drove the blade upward, hearing the crack of bone before the blade finally became lodged in the beast's sternum. The owlbear howled, as warm thick blood dripped down the blade and coated Maormo's hands. Brenton drove his shoulder into the creature, knocking it back and off of Maormo's sword. It fell onto it's back, letting out a few ragged breaths as it bled out before finally falling silent.

“Are you okay?” Brenton asked.

“Fine, not even a scratch,” Maormo said, wiping blood off his blade.

Poeas quickly moved towards the fallen owlbear, kneeling next to it. His finger lightly traced one of the crystals growing from the creature's body. He quickly began scribbling notes on his parchment. He reached for one of the crystals, trying to pull it off. With but the slightest pressure the crystal broke, a brief flash of purple light came from its center before it turned into a fine powdery soot.

“Something is up with these crystals,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Obviously,” Cydd said, “and now we know what took care of our skeleton friend.”

Maormo walked over to his shield, picking it up. He frowned, examining the long scratches now marring its surface.

“The question is, where is the other one?” Brenton asked as he walked over toward Poeas, the elf was carefully cutting away the flesh around another crystal that grew out of the owlbear. Brenton watched as Poeas pulled the fragile crystal away from the beast's body, so light and thin it seemed like it wasn't even real. Poeas carefully wrapped the crystal and placed it in a pocket on his backpack.

“Maybe that thing ate it” Cydd said as he slowly walked around the room, examining the waste on the ground. He saw a peculiar bone sticking out of one pile closest to the water filled cavern. It was larger then the rest, like the rib bone of a creature twice the size of a man, but it was the glint of reflective light that drew his attention. No sooner had he begun to approach it, however, then did he see the second skeleton, slowly coming out of the water, drawn by the noise of battle.

“Guys, I think I found him!” Cydd said, taking a step back. He reached for one of his daggers, but, thinking on how ineffective the small blade would be on animated bones, he opted to step back behind Maormo. The warrior had already taken his fighting stance, shield at the ready, waiting for the undead bones to come to him. Brenton and Poeas quickly got to their feet, the elf backed himself up with Cydd, while the cleric moved forward, hand reaching for his holy symbol.

Maormo looked at Breton. “No need for your holy speeches this time, I've got him.”

The skeleton silently moved forward, raising his battleaxe over his head. Maormo took a half step forward, lowering his shoulder into his shield and thrusting it forward. It caught the skeleton square in the head and chest. The ancient bones cracked under the pressure, ribs snapping and splintering, its bottom job snapping off and clattering to the floor. The skeleton continued its attack, unmoved, bringing its axe down. Maormo raised his shield and the rusted weapon smashed against it, the impact did little damage to the shield, but rattled the already battered skeleton, causing its arm to snap off at the shoulder and fall to the ground. Brenton raised his mace, ready to strike, when from behind a large rock hit the skeleton right between the eye sockets, knocking the skull clean off. The bones crumbled to the ground.

“Well that worked better then arrows,” Poeas said with a grin, tossing another rock in the air and catching it.

“That was my kill, but I suppose I can let the elf have it,” Maormo winked at Poeas, sheathing his sword.

“Let's leave the elf alone and help me check out this next chamber,” Brenton said, “Both your lantern and sword arm could be useful.”

Brenton moved towards the chamber where the skeleton emerged, Maormo behind him. Cydd, meanwhile, went back to retrieve the bone he saw earlier, carefully reaching for the end sticking out of the owlbear's waste so not to get any one his hands. It was indeed a large rib bone, nearly a foot and a half long. On one end was a small blue gem, tied securely with a thing strip of leather.

“Poeas, what do you make of this?” Cydd asked, holding up his find.

Poeas stepped forward, looking carefully at the rib. “Looks like a wand of some sort, might I hold it?”

Cydd handed it to Poeas who immediately felt the magic resonating from it. “It is indeed a wand.”

“A wand of what?” Cydd asked.

“Well, I don't know, I've not the magical training to figure that out, not without trying to use it.”

“Then try to use it.”

“No! We have no idea what it could do, it could summon a dragon or light the wielder on fire.”

“So we're just going to bury it our packs somewhere and never know?”

“Of course not, I am quite tempted to try it out, just not now, in time.”

“As long as you let me know when, so I'm no where near you.”

Poeas smiled and tucked the wand away into his backpack. Maormo and Brenton returned from the cavern, wet up to their knees.

“Nothing there but water,” Maormo reported.

“Well that, and we saw where to floor gave way in the room above. This is where that pit trap would have its victims end up it seems.”

“So, dead end, I guess we'll have to figure out that door after all.” Cydd said.

“There has to be some way to get this open,” Brenton said, standing in front of the door. They were back in the room with the mushrooms, having made no forward progress in the room above.

“There is, you just have to stick your hand in there,” Poeas said, studying the walls around the stairway, “I think.”

“That's very reassuring.”

Poeas spotted something then in the wall, a similar gap in the stonework like the hidden door in the rooms above him. Once again, someone had attempted to disguise a passageway behind false stonework, but imperfections caught by elven eyes gave it away.

Poeas slide the false wall to one side, revealing a chamber coated in dust. The air was thick and musty, as if no one had disturbed it in many years. It was not covered in any of the soot they had seen elsewhere and seemed to be much more exactly measured then any of the other mining chambers. It was almost perfectly rectangular in shape, about fifteen feet long and twenty feet wide, a small alcove was cut against the far wall and in it stood a wooden table. Atop the table were two silver coffers, each resplendent in a variety of runes and reliefs.

“Maybe we won't have to stick our hands in there after all,” Poeas called out, getting the rest of the companions attention. They gathered around him in front of the room as he cautiously stepped inside. Maormo unsheathed his sword and followed behind him, kicking up dust which each step. As Poeas approached the table, he could see the coffers in more detail. Each one had several runes on them that appeared identical to the ones on the menhirs outside. Each had a dwarven face relief around its keyhole, similar to the door they had seen.

Poeas took a step in front of the table, and the floor beneath shifted slightly with a low click.

“Run!” Cydd called out, hearing the pressure plate. Maormo turned and headed back through the doorway, but Poeas, caught off guard by the warning hesitated. In front of him a small portcullis slammed down in front of the table and as he turned towards the doorway he saw another descend, cutting off his escape. The group heard a slow groaning coming from somewhere behind the walls, like some ancient beast coming to life. The walls one either side of Poeas shook, dust falling off them and kicking up as clouds all around him. Slowly they began to move inward, creeping towards him.

“We have to get him out of there,” Brenton called out in alarm.

Poeas ran back towards the table, trying to find a way to shut off the insidious trap. The bars blocking it were barely spaced enough to get his arms through and he tried to feel underneath the tabletop for a switch, but his search was in vain.

“Brenton, give me a hand” Maormo quickly sheathed his sword and grasped the portcullis in the doorway at its base. Brenton stood beside him, grabbing onto the thick iron bars as well, “Ready? Lift!”

They each pulled up with all their might, groaning in effort. The two strained, bodies shaking, the muscles in their arms screaming in protest. But soon the portcullis began to raise and with one last push they managed to lift it above their heads.

“Poeas, get out of there, now!” Brenton called out.

Poeas turned, seeing the two straining to keep the portcullis up. “But, the coffers! We may lose them.”

“This isn't the time to argue elf!” Maormo grunted, “Move!”

Poeas looked back at the coffers one more time, then at the walls, still closing in. He paused for a moment, then turned and ran towards the doorway. He squeezed between Breton and Maormo and the two were about to release the portcullis when they say Cydd dart between and back into the room.

“Cydd what are you doing?” Poeas yelled.

“You're right, we can't let these coffers go to waste,” Cydd said running towards the pressure plate. He pulled several small tools out of one of his belt pouches as he slid to his knees in front of it. Brenton buckled slightly under the weight, nearly losing his grip, he wedged his shoulder under the portcullis with a groan.

“We can't hold this open forever, get out of there,” Brenton shouted.

“Neshti be with me,” Cydd murmured to himself. He began working at the pressure plate with his tools, trying to wedge them underneath it and lift it back into place. The walls loomed closer as Cydd worked, growing frustrated at his lack of progress, “I need more time!”

“The door!” Poeas called out, running back towards the silver door. He examined the plates inside the dwarf's mouth and saw that one had shifted to one side. Without hesitation he reached into the mouth, pushing the plate back to its original position. The mouth did not come crushing down on his hand, nor did the walls stop moving, he silently cursed Ireth's name. The door did, however, expel a coating of fine brown fungus into Poeas's face. The elf retched, coughing loudly as the fungus seared his mouth, nose, and lungs.

“Cydd, now, you have no more time!” Brenton yelled as the walls reached the edges of the doorway. Cydd punched the ground with frustration and ran back for the door, having to turn his body sideways to squeeze through. With a sigh of relief, Brenton and Maormo released the portcullis and it slammed to the ground with a reverberating thud. Both men leaned against the walls, taking deep breaths.

“Damnit!” Cydd cried out as the walls inside the chamber slammed together. Behind him, Poaes was doubled over, coughing loudly. He stood upright, wiping some spittle from his mouth.

“It seems Myna was not with us here,” Brenton said, “But we are all still alive, so there is blessing in that.”

“Yeah, well blessings don't get us whatever were in those coffers.” Cydd said, pushing his way past the group. He returned to the door, studying the plates once more.

“I wouldn't suggest touching them without a plan,” Poeas said, “It doesn't seem to like that.”

“Well we can't stand around in this room all day waiting for something to happen,” Cydd said, agitated. Behind the group, they once again heard the sound of low rumbling and, slowly turning around, they watched as the walls began to retract to their original position.

“Looks like we can,” Maormo smiled.

Once the walls fully retracted the portcullis on both sides of the room slowly pulled themselves back into the ceiling.

“You two can go this time,” Maormo said to Brenton and Cydd.

The two made their way into the room. “See, have faith in all things,” Brenton told Cydd. Cydd walked toward the table, stopping before he stepped on the pressure plate, seeing that it had moved back into place.

“Now how do we get those without setting off the trap again?” Cydd asked, “maybe we can set up a small pulley system, run it from the ceiling to pull the coffers off. Or we could make something to lay across the ground without setting it off, if I had some wood I could...”

Brenton leaned over the plate, grabbing one of the coffers and dragging it off the table. He set it behind him and did the same to the second.

“Or, we could do that,” Cydd commented as he grabbed one of the coffers, following Brenton back out of the room. They returned to the others and Cydd immediately began work on opening both coffers, manipulating the tumblers inside with a variety of small tools. After a few minutes of work, Cydd heard a satisfying click as the lock opened, he set it aside and began work on the second one.

Poeas took the first chest and opened it carefully. Inside rested a single handed warhammer, two large pearls, and some gold bars. Both the hammer and the gold bars had runes carved into them, similar to the ones they had seen elsewhere in the mine. Poeas lifted the hammer and could feel the soft warmth of magic flowing in it.

“Brenton, you could probably make good use of this,” Poeas held out the hammer. Brenton took the hammer in his hand, swinging it in short arcs.

“Its very well balanced and light,” He said, running his hand over the runes carved into its head.

“And there's a hint of magic to it, it will come in handy.”

“Then I will put it to good use.”

“Have anything in there for me?” Maormo asked.

“Yeah, you can hold onto the heavy stuff,” Poeas handed the coffer to him. Maormo retrieved the gold bars and pearls and, after studying them for a moment, began to stuff them into his pack. He casually tossed the coffer onto the ground.

“What are you doing?” Poeas called out, “the coffer itself would be priceless to a collector of dwarven culture.”

“If it's not worth anything then why do you want it?”

Poeas sighed and retrieved the coffer, brushing off some rotting vegetation and putting it in his pack.

“I can't get this one open,” Cydd said, still working with his lockpicks, “Might have to resort to an old trick.”

Cydd retrieved a crowbar from his backpack and wedged it between the top and base of the coffer. “Maormo, care to do the honors?”

“Gladly,” Maormo stepped forward and gripped the crowbar. Cydd held the coffer firm on the ground as Maormo wrenched back on it. The lid of the coffer began to curl back, but the lock resisted at first, until, with a scream of protest, the lock snapped. Poeas flinched as the marred lid swung open. Inside the second coffer rested a fine cloak, spun of a soft purple thread with gold trim. Along the trim, in silvery thread, matching runes were sewn down the sides. As Cydd lifted the cloak, a large emerald feel from one of the folds, which he caught in his hand. Beneath the cloak a hauberk of chainmail rested, as Cydd pulled it out of the coffer he could see the telltale runes they had grown accustomed to adorning the bottom of the suit. Beneath the suit rested an ornate wooden box, no thicker then Cydd's index finger, it too had a variety of curved runes across the top and was hinged, but not locked. Opening it, Cydd found five crossbow bolt heads resting on velvet. He carefully shut the case and tucked it away in his pack.

“These are magical too,” Poeas said, holding both the cloak and mail, “But they may be small for us.” Holding the mail out at arm's length, the companions could see it was made for someone smaller then they were. It was about half their size, cut for someone with a broad chest and shoulders.

“Probably dwarven,” Brenton said, “If both the size and everything around us is any clue.”

“Doesn't mean we can't try it,” Cydd snatched the robe from Poeas and put it on. Though loose around the shoulders and only coming to his midback, it still fit and he immediately could feel a reassuring warmth emanating from the cloak.

“Suppose it can't hurt,” Poeas said, undoing the straps that held his spintmail cuirass in place. He awkwardly stuffed the cuirass into his backpack and then pulled the chainmail hauberk over his head. It sat loose on his thin frame and like Cydd's cloak, came to an end near the middle of his stomach.

“That doesn't seem very safe,” Cydd suggested.

“I like it,” Maormo said, grinning, “though I would be worried about being gutted.”

Poeas looked down at the mail, “but, it's magic.”

“Well keep it on then, just, watch your stomach.” Cydd said.

“Don't worry, I certainly will be watching,” Maormo added.

Poeas frowned slightly at that suggestion and retrieved the second coffer. His frown deepened when he saw the broken lock and peeled lid. He carefully added it to his rapidly filling pack.

“Now can we get this door open?” Brenton returned the group's attention to the silver door, “I think I have an idea on how it works.”

Brenton carefully placed his hand inside the carved mouth and began manipulating the plates. Some slide upwards, others to the side, some back. Finally, after the last plate locked, he took a step back. Nothing happened. Brenton pushed on the door, it didn't budge.

“That was thrilling,” Cydd said.

“Let me give it a try,” Poeas said as Brenton moved out of his way. He began resetting the plates and moving them in another pattern, listening carefully to the sounds each plate made as it clicked into place. Finally satisfied with his choices he pushed on the door, it still didn't move.

“I've got it,” Maormo stepped forward and Poeas and Brenton looked at him skeptically. He reached into the mouth and began moving each plate, biting his bottom lip with concentration. After he pushed the last plate back, they heard the sound of gears moving and a loud click from within the door.
Maormo stood up, pushing the door and it swung open freely into a large corridor.

“Don't see what all the trouble was about,” Maormo said.

“That was pure dumb luck,” Cydd said, smiling, “but it worked.”

Brenton held his newly acquired hammer at the ready, “whatever the reason, let's see where it leads.”

Descending The Menhir Mines

The caverns walls continued to widen as they descended lower, the darkness threatening to envelop them if not for the light of the lantern. Past its original resting point the platform continued it's journey until, nearly a hundred feet from where they started, it came to a halt, swaying gently in the darkness. Below, they could still hear the sound of the waterfall, yet peering over the edge, they still could not see it. On either side of them, two openings into the cavern's side revealed long hallways. The wooden platforms for these halls long since rotted away and tumbled into the darkness below, leaving only a few support beams of wooden, and rocky outcroppings fifteen feet away. To one side, the hallway led to a huge silver door, nearly ten feet across and just as high. Upon it was a relief of what appeared to be a bearded giant, glaring back down the hall, mouth open wide. The opposite hall opened into a room, which the group could barely see into, save for a soft glow that was coming out of it, lightly illuminating the hall.

“Well, I guess that's as low as it goes,” Brenton said, looking at the two halls.

“So the question is, which way to go?” Poeas asked.

“That way appears to be open already,” Brenton pointed towards the glowing room, “and it looks like a shorter gap.”

“How are we supposed to get across there?” Maormo asked peering over the side, the empty darkness looking back at him.

They heard the chain above them rattle and looking up, they saw Cydd carefully making his way down to them. Reaching the bottom of the large chain, he leaped down to the platform to join his companions.

“Sorry I'm late, did I miss anything?” Cydd smiled, dusting himself off.

“We're trying to get across to there,” Maormo pointed to the rocky outcropping on the other side of the gap.

Cydd leaned over the edge of the platform, looking down, then back across to the hall, “doesn't seem that bad.”

“Doesn't seem that bad?” Maormo exasperated, “we're not all light on our feet like you and the elf.”

Cydd smiled. “Poeas, you can make the jump, right?”

“Easily,” Poeas replied.

Cydd began rummaging through his backpack. “Good, because I have a plan.”

He uncoiled his rope and pulled an iron spike from the bottom of his pack, handing one end of the rope to the elf.

“Tie one end of this to an arrow and fire it across the gap,” Cydd explained.

Poeas took the rope, “Ah, okay.”

He pulled an arrow from his quiver, tying one end of the rope to it. He nocked the arrow, carefully taking aim across the gorge before releasing the bow's tension. The arrow streaked through the darkness, wedging itself between two stalagmites.

“Perfect,” Cydd said with a smile. He wrapped the rope around one of the chains holding the wooden platform steady. He handed the other end of the rope and the iron spike to Poeas, “now, leap across, and when you get to the other side, spike this into the ground.”

Poeas slowly took both the items, a slight look of confusion flashed across his elven face. He turned back to the rocky outcropping across the gap and, without hesitation, ran towards the platform's edge. He gracefully launched himself into the air at the last moment and came to rest gently on the outcropping on the other side. He glanced quickly down the hall, but saw no movement or any heat registering in his elven eyes. Turning back to the group, he pulled the rope taut and spiked it into the ground at his feet, driving the iron spike in with the pommel of his sword.

“So, what is this plan?” Maormo asked Cydd.

Cydd began pulling a carefully folded net out of his backpack, “Easy enough. Now that we have two ropes, side by side, we can get across. Maormo, I know you were worried about your weight, so I figured we can rig this net to each end of the ropes, tie off another section of rope to toss across to the elf and have him ferry each of us across.”

“How are we getting the net on the ropes?” Maormo asked, looking at the 10 foot net with caution.

“Right,” Cydd paused for a moment, “we cut here, by the weighted ends, and retie them securely, we can test the weight over the platform, in case it fails, no one will plunge to their death.”

Brenton sighed and grasped one of the ropes over his head, with a slight bit of effort he pulled his lower body up, wrapping his legs around it at his knees. Slowly he began to climb across the gap.

Maormo watched Brenton over Cydd's shoulder. “Or, we could do that.”

Cydd turned around to see Brenton nearly halfway across the chasm. “Well my idea would have been safer!”

Cydd heard the clanking of metal behind him and again turned, this time to see Maormo also hoisted up other the other half of the rope and pulling himself across. “What about my idea?”

Cydd crossed his arms, watching the two men with a scowl. Once Brenton had reached the other side and safely dropped to the ground, Cydd began stuffing the net back into his pack with a short dejected grunt. As he finished Maormo also reached the other side, landing awkwardly on the ground, the shifting of his armor echoing in the chamber. Brenton uprooted the spiked rope and threw it back across to Cydd.

“You might want to untangle that, tie the half around your waist and jump,” Brenton suggested. Cydd reluctantly agreed, unwrapping the rope from the chain and securing it around his waist. Brenton and Maormo held onto the rope tightly as Poeas kept his eyes on the hall behind them for any sign of danger. Cydd, with a running start, leap across the darkness, landing on one knee on the rocky outcropping with his companions.

Maormo put a hand on Cydd's shoulder. “I'm sure your idea would have worked too.”

Cydd brushed the hand away, standing. “Don't touch me.”

The group moved slowly down the hall, the soft light glowing brighter as they moved. The air felt heavy with moisture as they went deeper and the purple soot giving way to rock and an earthen floor. The carved hall opened into a fifteen foot high cavern, the ground covered in fungus and mushrooms. The entire area smelled of decay and against the northern wall, towering mushrooms, some nearly eight feet tall cast off the soft glow that filled the room and hall. Across from the hall silvery door stood silent, much like the one across from the platform, this one had a carved relief of a dwarven face, it's mouth open as if shouting. The door was covered in thick roots. Near it, a spiral set of stone stairs raised out of the fungal floor into the ceiling.

Poeas stepped into the room first, barely upsetting the decaying matter underfoot. Maormo and Brenton moved in behind them, sinking to their ankles in damp mushy ground. Cydd finally came in behind the three.

“Power...” a feminine voice whispered in Cydd's head. Cydd shook the voice out of his head.

“Ugh, mushrooms, again,” Cydd said, looking over at the towering fungus.

“These don't look like the one's from before,” Maormo walked cautiously over toward them, his sword drawn. He poked at one gently, the sword easily piercing its soft flesh, but it did not move, “probably, not the one's from before.”

“Still, it's unsettling,” Cydd said, starting to explore the rest of the room.

Poeas walked up towards the door, gently reaching out and placing his hand on the carved face, “This craftsmanship is certainly dwarven, it's unparallelled.”

Suddenly one of the roots lying across the door lurched out at Poeas. His elven instincts allowed him to react swiftly, jumping back, just out of the root's reach. Another root snapped forward and Poeas ducking quickly, the root just missing his head. In an instant, Poeas fired an arrow into the bulk of the roots at the top of doorway. The plant let out an unearthly squeal as thick black sap dripped from the spot the arrow stuck. The other three turned to the sound of the noise, seeing the roots flailing wildly. Maormo raised his sword, and began to charge forward.

“Maormo, hold!” Poeas called out, stopping Maormo in his track inches from the root's reach. The elf fired a second arrow, this one striking right next to the first. Again the plant squealed and it's roots lashed about before finally slumping against the door, unmoving. The four companions waited a moment, weapons ready, but it did not move again.

Finally Brenton moved forward. “What was that?”

“Not all plants are benign,” Poeas explained, walking to the door and gently lifting one of the roots, “some are active predators, we have similar ones in my homelands of Amn'Crinth, though I have never seen one underground before. Fascinating...”

Poeas leaned his bow against the wall and retrieved a quill and parchment from his backpack. He began furiously writing notes, examining the roots from all sides.

“While I'm sure the killer roots are interesting, what about the door?” Brenton asked, walking towards the door, his eyes glancing up the spiral stairs but seeing only darkness.

Poeas finished the last of his notes. “Right, the door. It doesn't seem to have a handle anywhere, or a keyhole, my guess is it has something to do with the mouth. Maormo, bring your lantern over here.”

Maormo moved forward, holding his lantern out, the light flickered several times, growing dim. He handed it to the elf and recovered a flask of oil from his pack, refilling the lantern, the light intensified. Poeas leaned down, holding the light close to the open mouth, set against a carved beard and lips. Inside he saw several metal plates, each one lined up closely to the next.

“Just as I thought,” Poeas said, standing again, “it probably opens if you manipulate those plates properly.”

He began to reach towards the opening, then stopped. “Maormo, see if you can figure it out.”

Maormo looked at him, unmoving, “I'm not sticking my hand in a dwarf's mouth.”

“Why not?”

“You don't know where it's been.”

“Fine, use your sword.”

Maormo's eyes glared, “I'm not sticking my sword in a dwarf's mouth.”

“Okay,” Poeas unsheathed his sword, handing it to the warrior, “use mine.”

Maormo grasped the sword firmly and stuck the blade into the open mouth, resting it up against one of the plates. He pressed hard, struggling against the resistance, but the plates did not move. He trying wedging the sword between each plate to similar results.

“I don't think it's working,” Maormo declared, sticking the sword into the wet ground.

Poeas recovered his blade, wiping rotting vegetation off it. “Any better ideas then?”

“Yeah, the stairs,” Cydd motioned to the spiral staircase, “we can see where they go.”

“Perhaps we'll get some clue to this door,” Brenton added, peering up the stairway.

Poeas walked to the stairs. “Good idea. Keeps us moving.”

Maormo joined them, tying off his lantern on his backpack, he drew his sword and shield, “Then what are we waiting for?”

Maormo began to move up the stairs, Poeas was behind him, his bow at the ready, with Cydd and Brenton following close behind.

The Menhir Mines

Cydd descended slowly down the stairs, the light from his torch flickering against the earthen walls ahead of him. The room he now stood in was obviously made by intelligent hands, cut roughly in a fifteen foot square, thick, ancient wooden beams supported the ceiling ten feet above his head. A small hallway ran to the south, ending at a rusted iron door. A fine soot like substance covered everything, giving off a very faint purple glow. In the southeast corner one of the ceiling beams was partially collapsed, resting on top of an old wooden crate.

“It's like an old mine of some sort,” Poeas said, surveying the room. “Fascinating.”

Cydd walked carefully towards the crate in the corner. Badly smashed by the fallen beam he could not find any identifying marker on it. Whatever was once inside had long since rotted away, though Cydd did spot something white amidst the dirt and soot. He knelt down, brushing away some of the grim he started to make out the bleached form of a jaw, followed by nose slits and an eye socket, it was a humanoid skull. Something buried further under the shattered timbered gleamed red against his torchlight, but he could not see what.

“What have we here?” Cydd said, mostly to himself.

Brenton and Maormo stood behind the two explorers, Brenton wearily watching the iron door and Maormo keeping his attention on the stairs they just descended.

“Did you find something?” Poeas knelt next to Cydd. “A skull? Perhaps of one who once used this mine?”

“I don't know, it's smaller then a human skull though,” Cydd replied.

“Could it be... one of the children?” Brenton cautiously asked, hoping to not be right.

“No, this is been here for a quite a bit,” Poeas answered, “the bone is much too clean and much too faded in color, if it were one of the boys it would still have bits of flesh or if boiled at least be...”

“Well that's good news,” Brenton cut him off, not wishing for him to continue.

“What is that gleaming?” Poeas asked, noticing the same red sparkle Cydd saw.

“I don't know, whatever it is, it's buried in there pretty deep, you're welcome to try to get it out,” Cydd said getting back to his feet.

Poeas began to dig underneath the skull, clearing out small pieces of broken wood until he could wrap his hands firmly around the skull. He pulled, and after some effort, the skull dislodged from it's resting place, though it's sudden absence and large hole dug around it caused the rest of the crate to collapse under the weight of the fallen beam. Suddenly there was a loud groan and the rest of the ceiling beam snapped above them.

“Look out!” Cydd cried out as part of the ceiling came down around them and he and Poeas both leaped for cover. The room filled with dust and purple soot, making it impossible to see more then a few feet in front of them.

“Is everyone alright?” Brenton called out. He had stepped into the hallway, avoiding both the collapse and most of the dust.

“Fine,” he heard Maormo call out from the steps and, as the dust began to settle, he could make out his silhouette against the sunlight.

“Nothing hurt but my pride,” Poeas said from the northwest corner of the room, coughing as he pulled himself to his feet.

“I'm okay,” Cydd answered, still in the center of the room, he tried to brush the dust off himself in vain.

As the dust cleared they could finally see what had happened and Cydd whispered a quick thanks to Myna that his torch did not go out during the collapse. The corner of the room was now buried beneath a pile of dirt, but most curious was the two piles of bones that rested on top of it. Before their eyes, the companions watched as the bones began to move, and two complete skeletons slowly got to their feet. They were humanoid in appearance, the porcine features of their skulls identifying them as orcs during their life. Each carried a rusted, but still functional battleaxe and tatters of old leather armor hung from their collar bones.

“Brenton!” Cydd called out, stepping backwards as the animated skeletons silently moved towards him.

Before Brenton could react, the elf had already loosed an arrow from his bow. The arrow struck its target true, but only managed to chip off half a rib bone on one of the creatures, which didn't even slow it down. Brenton swiftly moved towards the center of the room, putting himself between the skeletons and the rest of the group. Tossing his mace to the ground he clutched the holy symbol around his neck and bowed his head.

“By the holy word of Aristemis, I beseech thee to begone from here,” the air around Brenton began to ripple, like distant heat on a hot day and it appeared as if he was glowing from within, “the unholy magics that sustain you beyond life and animate your bodies is anathema upon the god's order.”

The skeletons continued to move ponderously closer to Brenton, one lifted its axe above its head.

Brenton lifted his head to stare at the skeletons, “you do not belong here.”

Suddenly the light glowing within him radiated outward in a flash, the skeletons recoiled back several steps and disengaged from their attack. They turned towards the hall and immediately began to move down it.

Maormo lifted his sword, “Whatever you just did got them on the run, now let's finish them!”

Maormo began to charge behind them, but, just as the skeletons reached the old iron door, something unusual happened. The floor beneath them gave way and the two plummeted down into darkness. Maormo halted at the edge of the newly formed pit and heard two distinct splashes below him.

“Well,” he stated plainly, “that was unexpected.”

Cydd sheathed a dagger and began walking down the hall, “And I thought I had a knack for finding traps, good work Brenton.”

“Suffer not the undead to exist,” Brenton recovered his mace and joined the other two at the pit's edge. “How far down does it go?”

“I have an idea,” Cydd said, “Maormo, give me your lantern.”

Maormo dug out his lantern, filling it with a flask of oil before handing it to Cydd. Cydd lit the lantern and removed a coil of rope tied to the side of his backpack. Tying the lantern to the end of the rope he carefully placed it over the edge of the pit and began to lower it into the darkness.

While the three occupied their time with the pit, Poeas examined the skull he had pulled from the rubble. It was smaller then the head of an average adult human or elf, yet it was too wide to belong to a child.

Mostly likely it once belonged to a dwarf, Poeas thought. Most intriguing was the small cut red gem lodged in its left eye socket. He plucked it out with one of his arrows and held it up against the sunlight streaming down from the steps. He could see no flaws within it and it glistened magnificently. Placing the two objects in his backpack, he went about exploring the rest of the room.

Cydd managed to lower the lantern to nearly the entire length of the fifty foot rope, the pit widened as it got deeper and the distant light now swayed back and forth. From above, the three of them could barely make out the reflective glisten of a pool of water and the passing shadows of the two skeletons.

“Looks like we're not going down this way,” Cydd stated as he began to reel in the lantern.

“We need to get to that door somehow, assuming the boys went that way,” Brenton added.

“How did they avoid this pit though?” Cydd asked.

“Maybe they did not weigh enough to set it off,” Brenton suggested.

“Still doesn't help us any,” Cydd untied the lantern and handed it back to Maormo.

Poeas studied the area where the ceiling collapsed, looking up at the large gap above him. He scrambled up the piles of dirt at his feet and stuck his head up into the area where the ceiling once was.

There is more space here then what lies at my feet, he thought. He climbed off the dirt piles and examined the wooden support beams. Where they had failed, the break was much too clean to have occurred just from the weight of earth above them.

These were already cut, Poeas ran his hand along the edge of the beam, this was all set up to collapse the moment I touched that skull.

Cydd had attached a small grappling hook to the end of his rope and, after several unsuccessful attempts, managed to hook it onto a metal ring that served as the doors handle. He tugged on the rope, but the door did not budge.

“Hey, give me a hand here.”

Maormo and Brenton took up the rope behind Cydd.

“One... Two... Pull!”

The three pulled with all their strength, leaning back into the rope. The iron ring snapped parallel to the ground but the door did not budge. With a small groan, the hinge holding the handle snapped and the ring freed itself from the door. The three humans stumbled backwards as the grappling hook and ring landed by Cydd's feet.

“Well, that didn't work,” Cydd said, recovering both the hook and ring and putting them into his backpack.

“This place was trapped,” Poeas called out to his companions.

“Yes, we know, we're trying to get around that now,” Cydd called back to him, studying the door intently.

“No, I mean the ceiling collapse, the skeletons, it was all rigged to happen. something intelligent lives down here.”

“Well thank you elf, your observations on the obvious are uncanny. However, if you don't have any ideas relating to getting through the door, could you please keep them to yourself? I'm trying to think."

“Hey, leave her alone!” Maormo cried out. Both Cydd and Poeas ignored him.

Poeas began investigating the rest of the room, carefully looking for any small details with his elven eyes. Along the eastern wall he noticed two small gaps, spaced as wide as a man, running from floor to nearly the ceiling. Near the right gap, a small hole, disguised to look like a natural imperfection in the rock, was visible. Poeas placed his hand in the hole and pulled and a portion of the wall swung towards him, revealing another room in the darkness.

“Guys?” Poeas tried getting the attention of the others.

“It could swing in, instead of pull towards us you realize,” Brenton said, looking at the door.

“Then maybe we could take a broken ceiling beam and have Maormo ran into it,” Cydd suggested.

“Oh? And then have it give way and send Maormo tumbling down into the pit?” Brenton replied.

“It would be entertaining, if nothing else,” Cydd grinned.

“I don't think I like that idea,” Maormo chimed in.

“Hey guys?” Poeas raised his voice.

“We could build a small bridge like, there's some room on the other side of the gap, you could hold it secure, and I could run across,” Cydd scrambled for another idea.

“Possible, doesn't sound that safe,” Brenton mused.

“Hey! Humans!” Poeas finally shouted. The three turned back around to see Poeas at the end of the hall, “I think I found something.”

The three stepped back into the room, staring down a narrow corridor that opened beyond the hidden door.

“That is, of course, unless you want to go back to the door and I'll keep this observation to myself,” Poeas said with a grin.

“Good work,” Cydd said stepping to the edge of the doorway.

“Yeah, sexy and smart,” Maormo added.

The light from Maormo's lantern filled the room beyond them, revealing it much the same as the first. Here, too, everything was coated in a fine purple soot, however in the center of this room a large cast iron cooking pot sat atop a still burning fire. Beyond it, another iron door rested in the eastern wall and to the south, the room trailed out of view. Cydd carefully unsheathed a dagger, holding his torch out at arm's length as he slowly walked into the corridor. Behind him, he could hear the distinctive strain of a pulled bowstring as Poeas nocked an arrow. The hall only ran a few feet before opening into the room and Cydd quickly turned the corner to the south, dagger at the ready. He was greeted only by darkness, as yet another hall disappeared beyond the torch's light.

“Looks like no one's here,” Cydd called back softly.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Poeas added, “I can see things you cannot, let me take a look.”

Both the fire and the torch burned bright red to Poeas's eyes as would anything that generated heat, living being included. However the southern hall was as dark to him as it was to Cydd.

“You're right, nothing that lives is here.”

“Yeah, well those skeletons weren't alive,” Maormo said, entering the room.

“Very good point,” Poeas said surprised.

“But skeletons don't have to eat,” Brenton added, walking towards the cauldron, “somebody was just about to sit down to dinner and left in a hurry.”

Without warning a small sack near the edge of the fire lurched to one side, causing Brenton to jump back with a small yell. The other three rushed to the cauldron, weapons ready. The sack was made of burlap, no bigger then the backpacks on their backs and once again it jumped to one side. Poeas slowly stepped around the cooking pot and gently poked the bag with the tip of his bow. Whatever was in the bag let out a shrill squeak and lurched back away from the bow.

“Rats, I'm guessing,” Poeas said.

“I'd think so,” Cydd stated, looking into the cauldron. A thick green liquid boiled inside it and whole rats, fur and all floated on top, “anyone hungry?”

“Now that you mention it,” Maormo stepped forward.

“We're not eating the rat stew,” Brenton put a hand on Maormo's shoulder, stopping him, “what we need to do is keep moving.”

“But which way?” Cydd asked, looking towards the door.

Maormo, disappointed by there not being a break to eat, walked to the edge of the southern hall, holding his lantern aloft. At the end of the hall the light reflected off several large metallic objects, though even squinting, Maormo could not make out what they were.

“You should see this,” Maormo called to the others.

Cydd walked up behind him, eyes straining against the darkness.

“There's something different down there alright, keep an eye on that door, I'll go check it out.”

Cydd moved down the hall alone, behind him Maormo stood at the ready, while Poeas and Brenton kept watch at the door to the east. Eventually the hall opened into a round room, the walls and floor were a maze of gears, cogs, chains, and ropes, many disappearing into the ceiling above. Several of the gears were as large as Cydd and while many appeared to have started to rust, everything looked in solid working order, no rope was snapped, no chain hung loose.

“What in the name of Daenthar...” as Cydd reached the end of the hall he felt a slight pressure against his ankle and heard the subtle snap of a thin metal wire breaking. He immediately knew he was in trouble. Before he could react a large rope swung down from the ceiling, at the end an old and very heavy pulley was attached. The pulley struck him square in the face and he instantly felt the sickening crunch of his nose and jaw breaking. A flash of brilliant light appeared in front of his eyes and his vision narrowed like a darkened tunnel from the force of the blow. He stumbled backwards, falling on his back, his mouth awash with the thick coppery taste of blood. He spit it out and watched several teeth go with it.

With a groan and whine of unoiled metal the circular room came to life. Gears and cogs slowly began to turn, rope and chain traveled up into the ceiling and a low rumbling was heard from somewhere deeper into the mines.

Maormo and Brenton rushed down the hall, Poeas stayed several feet back, keeping his bow ready. Cydd remained on his back, staring up at the ceiling, desperately trying to make his eyes focus.

“Cydd!” Maormo cried out, rushing to his friend's side. Cydd looked up at him, blood pouring from his crushed nose and mouth. For a moment there was no recognition in his eyes.

“Get him up, back to the other room,” Brenton ordered, bending down to help Cydd to his feet. Maormo got underneath Cydd's other shoulder and the two dragged him back into the room with the cauldron. Poeas's eyes got wide as he saw his companion being brought back, face horribly smashed.

The three set him down gently next to the fire, propping him up against a wall.

“Cydd, hey, buddy, look at me,” Maormo tried unsuccessfully to snap, then reverted to waving his hand in front of Cydd's face. Cydd's eyes were glossed over, his mouth agape, still bleeding.

“Stop that, it's not helping,” Poeas slapped Maormo's hand away.

Brenton had set down his weapons, kneeling in front of Cydd and was whispering softly to himself, clutching his holy symbol in both hands. Once again he glowed with an internal light, but this was much softer then what they had seen previously. Gently Brenton placed a hand on Cydd's face and the light drained through Brenton's hand and into Cydd. Before their eyes they watched as Cydd's face began to heal, his nose realigning, his jaw reforming. Cydd groaned, clutching his head,

“I have such a headache,” he looked up at his companions, the familiar sparkle back in his eyes. Brenton took a small rag and poured some water from his wineskin onto it, handing it to Cydd.

“You know healing magics take a day off your life,” Maormo stated.

“I'm okay with that,” Cydd said, wiping the blood from his mouth and nose. He ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth and was shocked to find a small gap on the bottom, “I'm missing a tooth!”

“Regrettably my magic is not yet that strong, Aristemis willing it someday will be,” Brenton informed him.

“Well thank you and her nonetheless, atleast I can still breath and talk,” Cydd tried to hand the now bloodsoaked rag back to Brenton.

Brenton gently pushed Cydd's hand back, “you keep it.”

Cydd pushed the rag into a belt pouch and tried to get to stand. Maormo offered out a hand, which Cydd gladly took as he regained his feet.

“I'm going to add that to my list of things never to do again,” Cydd said.

“You would have been better off adding that to a list of things never to do in the first place,” Poeas smiled.

“Well played elf,” Cydd returned the smile. Maormo glared at the two, jealous.

“At least you got the room working,” Brenton said, returning his attention to the room down the hall, “though I don't know if that's a good thing.”

The other three also looked back towards the room and Poeas quickly reached for his bow, two humanoid shapes of heat catching his attention, “There's someone in there!”

Maormo rushed to the start of the hall, sword in one hand, lantern in the other, holding it outstretched. In the center of the room, two small curious creatures were trying to pull on the rope and pulley that had struck Cydd, now hanging in the center of the room. They were unlike anything the companions had ever seen before. They stood barely three feet tall and were lanky, gangly creatures. Their skin was an almost translucent blue and a few wisps of white stringy hair hung from their heads. They had large, white, bulbous eyes and a distended jaw with wicked yellow fangs. Their hands ended in thick padded fingers, with their toes of similar shape. Each one wore a rusted and tattered byrnie of chain mail and a hooksword was attached to the mail at their waist.

The creatures stopped their work on the rope and turned to face the adventurers, the light of the lantern reflecting off their huge eyes. One letting out a clicking hiss as they slowly moved towards the hall. Maormo set the lantern at his feet and readied his shield, Brenton moved to stand beside the hulking warrior, his own weapon and shield at the ready. The creatures would have to get through the two of them first. Behind them Poeas fired his bow with lightening speed. The arrow struck one creature in the chest, punching through the ancient chain mail and causing it to screech in pain. The creature broke off it's attack and disappeared down a hall to the east of the circular room. The other one pulled a crudely made wooden spear from a bundle on his back and launched it towards the group, but the throw was weak and Maormo easily deflected it away with his shield. The wicked thing reached behind itself for a second spear, but was stopped short when another of Poeas's arrows lodged itself into the creature's head. It took a slow half step forward and then collapsed onto the ground.

“Well thanks for taking all the fun,” Maormo said, relaxing his stance.

“The other one is still alive, he could be going to get help, we should pursue it,” Poeas suggested, “then maybe you'll have your chance for fun.”

“Yes, let's not linger here,” Brenton said moving down the hall, Maormo following behind him. Cydd and Poeas began to fall in line behind them when the door to the room violently swung open. Through the doorway the creature charged, hook sword in hand, blood streaming from the arrow sticking out of its chest. Cydd and Poeas shuffled backwards, Cydd throwing a dagger as he did, that barely missed the creature's head. Brenton and Maormo moved to cut the creature off before it could attack, but it had pinned Poeas between the cauldron and itself. Just as Brenton was within striking distance the foul thing swung its sword at Poeas. The elf instinctively leaped back, avoiding the swing and trying to catch the cauldron's edge. The pot was slick with its foul liquid however and Poeas lost his footing, causing the cauldron, and himself to tumble. The fire beneath the pot gave way, showering sparks everywhere and the cauldron fell to the side, dumping both its contents and Poeas onto Brenton. Both the cleric and elf cried out in pain as the boiling liquid doused them and they fell to the ground. The accident, however, distracted everyone, even the creature and Maormo used that opportunity to move in.

He bashed the stunned being with his shield, lifting it off its feet and against the earthen wall behind it. Maormo moved forward with the creature, embedding his sword into its stomach. It let out a shrill wail, fumbling at the blade that just pierced its organs. It let out a weak gurgle and then slumped against the wall, dead.

Poeas slowly got back to his feet, offering a hand to Brenton, “sorry.”

“Don't touch me,” Brenton said, getting up under his own power. The skin on both of them was bright red and even starting to blister in some places, “and don't ever do that again.”

Most of Brenton's tabard was stained green and he forcefully kicked the cooking pot against the wall so he could recover his shield which was trapped beneath it.

“Are you two alright?” Cydd asked.

“I've been better,” Brenton said, looking down at his stained and still dripped tabard.

“I really do apologize for that,” Poeas offered.

“Why would you think that could have worked?” Brenton asked sternly, looking Poeas in the eyes.

“I didn't think, I just reacted, you try having some... some thing coming at you and see how you react.”

“I don't think jumping into a pot of boiling muck and rats would be my first
choice!”

“Guys!” Maormo called out, wiping the blood off his blade, “enough! Think of the children.”

“You know, when Maormo starts making the valid points, we really should pay attention,” Cydd said, standing between the bickering men and placing a hand gently on each of their shoulders.

“Thank you Cydd,” Maormo said, pleased with himself.

“Don't mention it,” Cydd moved past Maormo to look at the creature lying dead against the wall, “now what do we have here?”

“I've certainly never seen anything like it,” Poeas said, moving next to Cydd.

“Ugh, please step back, you smell like wet rat,” Cydd gently nudged the elf away from him. Cydd lifted the creature's head, the muscles in its jaw still twitching, causing it to rapidly bite up and down, he quickly let the head go.

“If these are the things that have the boys I fear for what they have done to them,” Brenton said ringing out his tabard.

“Then we should keep moving, are you two in a condition to fight?” Cydd asked.

“It only mostly hurts when I move, but I will endure,” Brenton answered, shooting a harsh glance at Poeas.

“I, too, will fight on,” the elf added, not meeting the cleric's gaze.

“Then let's go,” Cydd suggested, gathering his thrown dagger from the ground.

“I'm assuming this hall meets up with the one in the room below and does so quickly, given how fast that little thing was upon us,” Brenton moved towards the door, “Cydd and I will go this way, Maormo, take Poeas and check out the hall I the machinery room.”

“With pleasure,” Maormo grinned, “let's go!”

Maormo slapped Poeas on the back as he passed him. The elf tensed his back, letting out a sharp groan.

“Oh, sorry,” Maormo said sheepishly. Poeas sighed and begrudgingly followed the human back into the room with the gears as Cydd and Brenton disappeared through the doorway.

Both halls were crafted much like the other before them, a little more then five feet wide and supported with wooden braces every few feet. After a short walk both halls turned towards each other, the lowed run turning north to meet the upper one as it sharply cut to the south. Maormo waved happily at Brenton and Cydd as he turned the corner. And both groups saw the hall head east in the middle, the dull sounds of machinery could be heard throughout the walls. They met up where the hall changed direction, this time a set of wooden stairs greeted them, heading downwards before turning south with another set of stairs.

Maormo and Poeas went first, carefully looking out for anymore loose beams, trip wires, or pressure plates that could set off another deadly trap. As the descended the air got colder, the walls began to be dotted with thick stone that was slick with moisture. The sound of moving gears could still be heard, but this was soon accompanied by a dull roar as they turned south and continued lower. Flanked by Brenton and Cydd the two finally stepped out into a cavernous room.

They stood on the edge of a wooden platform and across a small gap another platform waited, behind it a doorway was chocked with collapsed rock and dirt. The ceiling tapered twenty feet overhead and below them the cave widened into an inky darkness far below. Between the platforms a thick chain dangled, disappearing into the ceiling above and being swallowed by the darkness below. The sounds of machinery were louder here and below them the roar of a waterfall could be distinguished over the moving of gears and chain.

“Well now what?” Maormo asked, his voice echoing in the chamber.

“Doesn't look like we'll be traveling through there,” Cydd pointed to the collapsed tunnel across from them. “So I guess, we go down.”

“But how far does it go? I'm not climbing down some chain for hundreds of miles!” Maormo said.

“I can't imagine it's that bad,” Cydd said, “hand me your lantern, we'll find out.”

Once again Cydd tied off the lantern to his rope and lowered it down, everyone huddled over the edge to see what awaited them. After about forty feet and light revealed a large wooden platform attached to the chain, swaying softly in the darkness.

“Ah-ha!” Cydd proclaimed, “now how do we get that, to us?”

“There has to be a crank or a switch somewhere around here,” Brenton said, looking at the walls around him, but finding nothing.

“Maybe that's what the room with the gears is for,” Maormo said.

“It's probably what makes it run, yes,” Brenton said, “but I don't think you'd control it from there. Wouldn't make any sense, it's too far from the platform.”

“The other side perhaps?” Poeas suggested. He swiftly leaped across the gap to the other side.

“Sure, couldn't do that with the cooking pot could you?” Brenton said with disdain.

“I was nervous then, okay?” the elf studied the walls on the other side, running his hand against the uneven surface, “nothing here either, unless it's buried beneath the collapse.”

“Well, we could always climb down the chain,” Cydd said.

“I'm not going to climb down some old wet chain,” Maormo shook his head.

“Well I can at least climb down, see if there's anyway to control it from there or at the very least how much further down it is below that.”

“I like that idea much better.”

Poeas joined the others back on the same side of the cave. Brenton began to secure the rope around Cydd's waist.

“Well hold on to you, just in case,” Brenton said, tying off a knot. Cydd nodded with a smile then reached out for the chain. Each link was massive and thick, large enough that he could easily slip a hand or foot between them. He cautiously placed one foot between a link and pulled himself onto the chain. The chain barely swayed with his weight, so heavy it was, and Cydd slowly began to climb down it. Halfway down one foot slipped from the link and he scrambled to try to catch himself, but the moisture on the chain offered no gripped and he slipped off into the darkness with a yell. Brenton and Maormo dug their heels into the ground, holding the rope taught, it held, swaying back and forth against the platform.

“Just checking,” Cydd said with a nervous chuckle, swinging his body back towards the chain. Once he grabbed hold again he much more cautiously finished his descent.

The chain ended in a large hook, to which four smaller chains were attached, each connecting to one corner of the wooden platform below. Wrapping one arm securely around the large chain, he fumbled with his other to pull a torch out from his backpack. Gripping it in his teeth he lit it carefully with his flint and steel before taking it back in his hand. The cave was much wider down here, so much so that the edges could barely be seen, glistening with moisture, against the torchlight. The platform appeared sturdy, the wood thick with no signs of rot.

“I'm going to jump onto the platform now,” Cydd called up to his companions, “hold on tight!”

With that, Cydd dropped the torch down onto the platform first, before leaping onto it himself. The platform held his weight, swaying back and forth, but holding steady. He recovered his torch and walked across the platform, slamming his foot against it in places to make sure it was sturdy. The wood was thick, and though old, showed no signs of rot, he wondered what kind it was. He was dismayed, however, to see no means of controlling the platform. He walked to its edge, lowering himself to his knees and, with torch held out, peering below. He could not see the bottom, even the waterfall, who's sound was much louder down there, could not be seen.

“Bad news guys,” Cydd called up again, moving back to the center of the platform, “doesn't seem to be any way to move this thing and it's still a long way down.”

“Well, there goes that option,” Brenton sighed, “guess it couldn't have been that easy.”

“So we need a new plan,” Maormo said, “but what?”

Poeas let his eyes wander as the two humans debated on what to do next when he spotted a small hole dug into the wall, a few feet beside it, was another. Curious, Poeas pulled an arrow from his quiver and carefully stuck it into the hole. About halfway in the, the arrowhead struck the hard rock of the wall and Poeas removed the arrow, small flakes of rotted wood coming with it. He examined the wall more closely, and above the two holes, were two more, of equal spacing apart, following them upwards he saw yet another two. Then, about ten feet above his head the holes stopped, and he saw three wooden levers sticking out from the wall.

“Well that's interesting,” Poeas said to himself. Brenton and Maormo turned to face him, following his eyes line.

“Cydd!” Brenton called out triumphantly, “I think we found it!”

“Really?” Cydd called back, “you couldn't have found that before I climbed all the way down here?”

After he got no reply, Cydd let out a frustrated groan, reaching for one of the smaller chains to pull himself back up, “No, that's fine, I'll come back up.”

Once Cydd reached the top of the chain again, Maormo offered him a hand, helping him back onto the ledge. Maormo pointed at the levers above them.

“Just need to figure out how to get up there,” Maormo said.

“Looks like there was a ladder or something here, long since rotted away,” Brenton motioned to the holes dug into the wall. Cydd immediately began digging in his backpack, and produced four iron spikes. He wedged one into one of the holes, hammering it secure with the pommel of his dagger before doing the same thing to the hole next to it. He pulled himself up and onto the spikes, testing his weight against them before securing two more spikes into the holes above him. Once again he lifted himself up, standing precariously on the makeshift ledges and was standing even to the levers.

The three of them were side by side, placed in recessed slots in the wall, each made of similar wood to the platform below, their edges wrapped in cloth and twine that was starting to fray. Behind them, Cydd could hear the sound of the gears moving. The middle lever was switched down, parallel to the ground, and the other two were up at a forty five degree angle. Cydd grabbed the center switch and with little effort pushed it up, he looked back over his shoulder, but nothing happened. He pulled the center switch back down again, this time lowering the switch to his right as well. He heard the strain of gears echo above him, grinding and whining against one another, but still the chain remained unmoved. He flicked both switches up again, the sound of the machinery softened. He grabbed the left switch and pulled it, and behind him he heard the sound of metal moving and a triumphant cheer from Maormo.

“You got it to descend,” Brenton called up to him.

Cydd smiled, having figured out the controls. He raised the left switch and then dropped the right one, slowly the chain pulled back into the ceiling. He watched over his shoulder as the platform appeared even with the ledge.

“Get on and I'll lower you down,” he said down at the others. “I'll climb down after you”

Brenton stepped out onto the platform, Poeas swiftly behind him. Maormo held his ground.

“What are you waiting for Maormo?” Brenton asked him.

“No way, you realize how much I weigh with all this stuff on, I'm not getting on that thing.” Maormo told him, crossing his arms.

“It's not going to collapse,” Brenton thumped his heel against the platform, “it's safe.”

“No thank you.”

“It's either that or we leave you here, look, if you get nervous, I'll let you hold on to Poeas.”

“What?!” Poeas said in alarm.

“Relax,” Brenton whispered to the elf.

Maormo stepped to the end of the ledge, cautiously placing a foot out onto the platform. Maormo took a deep breath and stepped onto the platform, it swayed slightly, and he grabbed a chain to steady himself.

“There, you see, just fine,” Brenton assured him.

“Well if this thing breaks and we all fall to our deaths I want it to be known that it was not my fault.” Maormo told him.

“Duly noted.”

“Ready? See you at the bottom!” Cydd called out, pulling the right switch up and dropping the left. The lift slowly disappeared into the darkness, until all Cydd could see was the light from Maormo's lantern.