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.