Hal: you notice that the lever you still hold bears a small inscription. It is written in old-church-orc-slavonic, which you learned in seminary. It says “Feeding Toob.”
Hmmm…interesting development…
:: looks at other end of lever that is still in the apparatus – finds that it is hollow ::
:: scoops up some tofu and shoves it down the pipe ::
There we go…lesse if apparatusus like tofu.
The apparatus says “I mush prefer tempeh. It hash more uff its own flavor. But fanks!”
You realize in a flash that the feeding toob referred to must be the stair-chute itself. Oh dear.
I poke the floor with my ginsu.
Of course you do.
As a ninth-level sashimi chef, you can tell the floor is raw. And very, very fresh. The floor begins to shift more wildly and you must all take pains to catch your balance.
Several yards away two bright green orbs appear about. . . well, some distance off the floor, as your depth perception’s not too hot in the dark. The green orbs have vertical black slits in their centers. You catch a whiff of warm air that smells like rotted goat and burnt soylent green.
Right…ok, I take my two coils of 50’ of rope out of my pack, tie 'em together, tie off one end to a stable protrusion of the apparatus, and toss the other end down the chute.
Then I stand around in indecision whether I want to climb down, or have the others climb up.
I point my APB in the direction of the glowing eyes and let rip with the bolt I’d previously prepared. If I hit “touch” AC, there’ll be a soft bang and a puff of smoke; make whatever it is a saving throw versus triskaidekaphobia. (If I actually score a for-real hit, the beastie gets to take a point of damage as well.) Meanwhile, I’ll whip my cape off and turn it inside out, to the starry side.
Sunspace notices the rope that Hal has thrown down the chute (though he does not yet know anyone’s name), forgets about the flashlight, makes his way across the heaving floor to the rope, and starts climbing up.
I quickly sheathe my ginsu and prostrate myself before the glowing eyes. I have realized that it is none other than the cephalopoid version of my Master, Iron Chef Sakai.
Where I come from, glowing eyes are never a good sign. I unsheath my blade - fully - and plant my feet firmly on the “ground.” I’m ready for anything…
Let’s see how well that thing sees with an eye made of processed soymilk!
:: points at glowing orb and waves his wand. His magic wand. The one that isn’t attached to him::
:: Sunspace pauses about six feet off the ‘ground’, suddenly aware that none of the others down there were following him. He turns partly around and realises with some incredulity that most of the others are preparing to fight whatever was behind the glowing eyes. ::
Um…
:: He thinks, ‘Do I have any weapons, or should I just get out of here while the getting’s good?’ ::
:: Muttering under his breath, he lowers himself back to the ‘ground’.
Harimad-sol steps forward cautiously from her previously unnoticed position, ready to render assistance (and butt-whippin’) should it prove necessary. She grips her sword and pushes back her hood with her other hand, because if she can’t see what she’s poking at, this could get really ugly really quickly.
I notice the rope become taut, indicating that someone is climbing up from the depths.
Which makes my next move silly…
LOOKOUT BELOW!!!
:: slides down the ramp ::
:: Sunspace hastily looks through his backpack, whose contents aren’t clearly distinguishable in the dim light, then slaps his belt and finds a large sheathed knife. ::
Ah. I wondered what was poking me in the side.
:: He grabs the knife and turns to face the eyes ::
Hoping that the critter failed its save (see above), I now brandish my cape-lining, decorated as it is with 13 spangly stars, in the full confidence that those glowing eyes will have no trouble seeing it!
Whoops, the west coast DM comes back in with a 2-liter of Dr Pepper and some Fritos and mutters something about having to finish her dissertation by the end of July. TAG! Someone else wanna take over? We might have to do this in SDMB D&D Exquisite Corpse style. Sorry!
Meanwhile a less time-consuming thief named Filip Fingers appears to you in the corners, where he has yet been unseen, gets one look at the situation and heads up the rope fast. Probably running into Hal.
That was a nice nap. I better get up, I have things to do…
*BONK!!! SCRUNCH!!! *
My head hits something solid. I reach up for my crown of illumination, which seems to be a little dented. Let’s see if this thing still works. “illuminate!” A weak beam of white light, rapidly flutters on and off, with an annoying buzzing and clicking sound. The flutters gradually slow. The buzzing and clicking seem to be louder than usual. The beam finally stays on.
I appear to be entombed in something hard and solid. I look to my side…
Oh, good! I still have my Scepter of Many Sharp Pointy Things, not that it’ll be any help in this situation.
“Um… HELP!!!”
MoonCat enters, hearing hillbilly queen’s cry for help. She draws Flametongue from its sheath.
“Hold still… well, you know what I mean. And no yelling!”
>MoonCat slices at the substance, trying not to hit hillbilly queen…
Damn you people. There goes normative time.
Ok, now with some illumination and other light in the room, your worst fears are confirmed-- you are all standing on a pile. . . of. . . gold. . . dragon. Evil ANTI-Gold dragon.
He makes mis saving throw against thirteen.
“Hmmm. . .” he says, “I could just burn you all to a crisp. . .” Your ginsu knives merely bouce off his scales, as does the harpoon." “. . . But you dopers look like a clever bunch. Do you like riddles?”
The NPC thief wees himself.