“Does anyone else have rope that we can use to supplement this old stuff?”
“NO ROPE FOR YOU!” Shove
Plummets to his death?
“Buuuuuuury meeeee wiiiiith myyyyyy moooooney!”
Laughs
rolls dice
Auto’s Dex is up to the task of delivering a shove to Melon, but his Str is too low to shift him. In answer to Melon’s question, I believe one or more of you has some rope in his inventory - check the link to the setup thread in my .sig, unless you’d rather conduct a general shoving match around the entrance to a well that’s over 40’ deep. :smack:
[edit] Appleciders says: “I have 50’ of rope right here”
“Lets use the Applecider’s rope, no need to go shoving people around”
OK, with the second rope as a safety line Melon goes down the well. At about the 40’ mark when the canvas is just coming off the windlass, he notices that one of the stone blocks lining the wellshaft sticks out a few inches. It seems to have some inch-deep grooves worn into it that would be about finger-sized.
Holding the torch over the jutting stone, Melon spends a few moments examining it. He tries pushing and pulling on it.
“Found something, guys” he shouts up the well.
At times like this it would help to have three hands - one to hold the torch and two to pull the stone block. It feels as though it’s possible to slide the block out, but it’s too heavy for one hand especially with your 9 Str.
Now you tell us. Ummm, is the torch small enough in diameter for him to bite it with his teeth? How big is his dong? Besides, all he has to do is rest it somewhere without it going out or burning him for him to use both hands.
Hey, I didn’t say it couldn’t be done, and as for “now you tell us”, how was he meant to find out whether he would need both hands before he got down there?
With some cursing and swearing Melon manages to wedge the torch somewhere non-flammable and begins to grunt and sweat away at the stone block, which starts to move. He’s finding it hard work though, not to mention hot and sweaty in full armour (which, however, is slightly more flexible than the splint that one or two people in the party are wearing).
Doing manual labor in full battle dress is part of Melon’s workout routine. He used to have 8 STR!
What’s this “armor” thing of which you speak?
It’s a clerical thing. There’s something inherently holy about stomping around in fifty pounds of iron-bound leatherware.
Setting that aside, Melon, you manage to get the block out. It’s quite as heavy as you can handle and there’s no place to put it down. You could call to be hauled up or drop it down the well.
“Pull me up guys, got something here.”
After he’s pulled up he hands off the block to whoever’s closest. He then descends back into the well. Once at his former spot, using the torch for light, he peers into the hole left by the block.
With the aid of the second rope and Appleciders pulling on it, you manage to get to the top. Forty-odd feet, wrestling with a chunky stone block every inch of the way, is hard work despite the help. Panting for breath, the heroic Pastafarian descends once again until he is back at the site. He sees what looks like a sturdy truncheon or similar at the back of the hole.
I take the block from you, but it’s heavier than I expected and I immediately drop it next to me, quite possibly landing on applecider’s toe.
**
“What’s a truncheon?” Auto muses to himself. “I wonder if it’s like a luncheon. I could go for some lunch about now.”
Melon is probably more likely to interpret a club at the back of a hole as a switch.
“Guys, found something. If hell starts breaking loose… remember to pull me up before you run!”
After a very long prayer to his saucy God (a great excuse to catch his breath!), Melon reaches a forearm into the hole and explores the club/switch/whatever with his hand. If he doesn’t discover anything interesting by doing that, he tries to pull the object out.
It comes out easily, and proves to be rigid, made of brown leather, the length of your forearm and maybe a pound or two in weight. There’s nothing else in the hole.
appleciders skips out of the way and gives autolycus the stinkeye.
After giving the hole another once-over, Melon climbs back out of the well.
“Why would someone go through all the trouble of climbing down into the well, making a cubbyhole and hiding this club? Magic, maybe? Some sort of cultural significance? Is it a key?”