“Maybe but who reads those things. My recruiter never mentioned anything beyond nice safe contracts guarding slutty merchant’s daughter’s virginitys.”
Spinny spinny then.
“Dizzy, I’m so dizzy my head is spinning
Like a whirlpool it never ends
And it’s You girl makin’ it spin
You’re making me dizzy”
“You spin my head right round right round…”
“when ya go down when ya go down down”
And here I thought the paper was simply telling us to set this whole place a-blaze, and that’ll reveal the helper… I guess we’ll try it your ways instead.
“Warriors… Warriors… come out and playaaay”
The lectern does indeed rotate, and with a heavy grating sound part of the mosaic in the West wall slides aside, and in place of a life-size representation of a tower shield is a narrow doorway leading onwards into darkness. The taller party members likely have to stoop to get through it, and you can get through only one at a time.
“(gulp), ok who goes first?”
“Not it.”
“Crap, I have to duck and go first and I have no light. I’ll do it but I won’t like it. Any one want to volunteer? Perhaps our wonderful priest girded by the strainer of his lord?”
(The goblin head stopped shining a while back - the wizard version of the spell is only good for ten minutes at your level.)
“ok I’'ll go first, anyone else?”
“Great! In that case I’ll go last. I’d say dead last but in my case it might turn literal.”
“I thought about bravely volunteering to guard the entrance, but then I remembered this ‘helper’ thingy probably has rubies for eyes. I must investigate. I’ll be in the middle of the pack, because that’s where I function best.”
“I thought you functioned best as being the decoy that distracts the enemy while the rest of us mop up.”
“Yeah!” shouts the character who’s only hit a single enemy.
“So lets go” I start down the stairs, as soon as some of my fellow FIs come with me.
I go slowly, senses straining for anything strange, using a torch for light.
There’s only a couple of steps, then it levels off. Once you’re through the door, the passage widens out a little. From up ahead comes a stale smell, slightly sour and acrid - kinda farmyardy only less wholesome.
Small reserves of courage rapidly dwindling, I stop and wait for the rest to join me now that the passage is a little wider.
I’ll move up to the front since we’re unlikely to be attacked from behind.
“Let’s keep moving and not give me time to second guess this idiocy.”
“Smells sorta like a brewery. Hey, maybe this is where they make Dead Guy Ale!”