Blumenkranz
Roll for INIT
"T-to huddle? But that is...!".
The archivist's heart shone with the force of a thousand suns, Usually, Laria would have tried to hide her excitement with her hands, but in this case they were already trying to cover the red in her cheeks. Such propositions this early in their relationship?
"T-that is too lewd!", she finally managed to utter.
But the exotic knight's embrace didn't last for long, as Beltway swiftly stepped between them. From their side, all she could do is watch the sparks that emanated from this tense clash. Yes, they were fighting for her. For her love. It was exactly like in her romantic novels.
Thousands of exciting thoughts, some more pure than others, passed by the librarian's mind at the speed of light. Sadly for the poor Etherborn, her delicate gem heart could not keep up with the pace of her head, and not without a sigh of passion and a tad overacted movement of her right hand to her front, her body fainted and fell into the ground with the grace and gentleness of a feather.
Ragnvald and Ajax stood in a small grove, too insignificant to even be considered a tiny forest.
But there was a problem. Most of these trees were short, very short. In fact, some of them were even shorter than the giant monk. At most, only two of these trees seemed to be able to get close to the other side of the hole, but they definitely weren't large enough by themselves to be able to construct a bridge.
Although maybe something could be done with them.
Pressmaster Crawley continued the exploration of the dark cave with his recently found but already faithful oil lamp.
Inside the room with the tools, behind the two giant piles of iron, he was able to find a really long coil of rope and what seemed to be some sort of foldable ladder made of a series of small wooden planks tied to two old ropes. The coil seemed in a fairly good state (or at least, for something that had been in a cave like that for so long), and it was approximately 30 meters long, more than enough to cross the gap twice. However, not the same could be said about the ladder; of almost half the size of the rope and in much worse conditions, Crawley was lucky it didn't crumble on touch. Perhaps it could still be used to make a quick bridge to the other side, but it was probably not a good idea.
Besides the tool stand, he also found five large iron rods of unknown utility, as long as two and a half meters each one. One of the extremes of each one of these poles was sharpened into a dangerous tip, so pointy they could even be used as lethal spears if it wasn't for the fact that they were too heavy to be practical.
Crawley also tried to venture a little into the depths of the main tunnel. As expected, it was a narrow hole with obvious man-made chunks carved out of the wall, probably from the places where there used to be iron veins. The only thing he could hear down there were his own footsteps. The shaft was fairly straight, with only a few bifurcations that very obviously led to dead ends. Indeed, it was a straight tunnel, much straighter than what the Pressmaster ever was. There was no way of getting lost in those tunnels unless you were blind, deaf and lacked arms and legs, but luckily the ambitious seaman was none of those.
But he walked and walked, and the mine kept adventuring itself into the depths of the mountain. There seemed to be no end to it. Perhaps it would be a good idea to go back before it is too late.
The archivist's heart shone with the force of a thousand suns, Usually, Laria would have tried to hide her excitement with her hands, but in this case they were already trying to cover the red in her cheeks. Such propositions this early in their relationship?
"T-that is too lewd!", she finally managed to utter.
But the exotic knight's embrace didn't last for long, as Beltway swiftly stepped between them. From their side, all she could do is watch the sparks that emanated from this tense clash. Yes, they were fighting for her. For her love. It was exactly like in her romantic novels.
Thousands of exciting thoughts, some more pure than others, passed by the librarian's mind at the speed of light. Sadly for the poor Etherborn, her delicate gem heart could not keep up with the pace of her head, and not without a sigh of passion and a tad overacted movement of her right hand to her front, her body fainted and fell into the ground with the grace and gentleness of a feather.
[...]
Ragnvald and Ajax stood in a small grove, too insignificant to even be considered a tiny forest.
But there was a problem. Most of these trees were short, very short. In fact, some of them were even shorter than the giant monk. At most, only two of these trees seemed to be able to get close to the other side of the hole, but they definitely weren't large enough by themselves to be able to construct a bridge.
Although maybe something could be done with them.
[...]
Pressmaster Crawley continued the exploration of the dark cave with his recently found but already faithful oil lamp.
Inside the room with the tools, behind the two giant piles of iron, he was able to find a really long coil of rope and what seemed to be some sort of foldable ladder made of a series of small wooden planks tied to two old ropes. The coil seemed in a fairly good state (or at least, for something that had been in a cave like that for so long), and it was approximately 30 meters long, more than enough to cross the gap twice. However, not the same could be said about the ladder; of almost half the size of the rope and in much worse conditions, Crawley was lucky it didn't crumble on touch. Perhaps it could still be used to make a quick bridge to the other side, but it was probably not a good idea.
Besides the tool stand, he also found five large iron rods of unknown utility, as long as two and a half meters each one. One of the extremes of each one of these poles was sharpened into a dangerous tip, so pointy they could even be used as lethal spears if it wasn't for the fact that they were too heavy to be practical.
Crawley also tried to venture a little into the depths of the main tunnel. As expected, it was a narrow hole with obvious man-made chunks carved out of the wall, probably from the places where there used to be iron veins. The only thing he could hear down there were his own footsteps. The shaft was fairly straight, with only a few bifurcations that very obviously led to dead ends. Indeed, it was a straight tunnel, much straighter than what the Pressmaster ever was. There was no way of getting lost in those tunnels unless you were blind, deaf and lacked arms and legs, but luckily the ambitious seaman was none of those.
But he walked and walked, and the mine kept adventuring itself into the depths of the mountain. There seemed to be no end to it. Perhaps it would be a good idea to go back before it is too late.
