The Tower's Ascent

[KingODuckingham]

His knowledge was deep, his thought was subtle, and his hands marvellously skilled; and he had a power over the minds of others. The wise he could persuade, and the smaller folk he could daunt. That power he certainly still keeps. There are not many in Middle-earth that I should say were safe, if they were left alone to talk with him...
-Aragorn, The Two Towers

Such is the reputation of Saruman, resident wizard of Orthanc and former head of the White Council, now exposed as a black and vile traitor. Though you may not be great or wise like heroes of old, nevertheless, Saruman must be confronted. He awaits at the top of the tower, but first the ascent must be made. In your way stand mooks and machines, terrors and traps, servants and spells. You will need both strength and wit to survive. Are you ready to ascend the tower?

How it works (aka the rules):
I will present to you a series of obstacles, each representing a floor on the tower of Orthanc. I will also offer you an array of roleplay prompts for you to select, representing how you will deal with these challenges. You get to post the roleplay, and then I will post some results. Some options you select will lead to success, some will lead to success with attendant harm or injury, and some will lead to disaster. This game is part puzzle, part of choose-your-own-adventure, and part roleplay fun.

You will start with 30 hit points, a weapon of your choice, and your further choice of two objects from the following list:
Rope
Lantern (and lighting equipment)
Telescope
A secondary (small) weapon
a scrap of paper with a one-use Word of Power
a tin of powdered chalk
a pipe with some pipeweed

It is possible to lose this game. And not just from dying....

There are no formal sign-ups because I'm not worried about too many people (haha ) but feel free to make an introductory roleplay post with your character entering Isengard/opening the door to Orthanc. Make sure you mention in your post which objects you have selected to bring with you. Add OOC to your post if you have questions, I don't think we'll need a separate OOC thread. I'll make the first floor challenge post after I knew a few people are playing. First to defeat Saruman wins! Good luck. You'll need it.

[The Good Hunter]

Æthelgifu

She stood in front of the gates, her hands trembling with excitement and expectation; on her hip was her father's seax knife. There was a cold determination in Æthelgifu's eyes that cold, grey morning. The gates of Isengard and the doors of Orthanc would not, could not, stand before her today. She had lived too long in the shadow of this place, feeling deep in her soul that something was not quite right about it.
She unspooled the length of rope on her shoulder and counted it's length again, a technique she found calmed her nerves. The rope was rough and coarse, but it felt good in her smooth hands. Six fathoms, she hoped it would be enough. Shouldering the rope once more, the Rohir woman took a deep breath, ran her thumb over the hilt of her knife and took a step inside the gates of Isengard.

[SidraLockel Eltoran]

Sidra dismounted off her horse. It had taken over a week to get here from Lothlorien, but she finally stood before the tower of Orthanc. She stretched, and peered cautiously at the tower – searching the windows for any sign of the wizard she had come to confront. Nothing moved. She wondered if that should encourage her or not. At least she wouldn’t have to waste any energy battling someone before she even reached the doors of the tower. She untied her cloak and rolled it up; she’d tie it to her saddlebag before entering the tower. Her long raven locks were already tied back away from her face; she didn’t want it to hamper her eyesight.

She untied a lantern from her saddle, tucking the lighting equipment into the pouch that hung on the belt at her waist. Light was a good thing to have in a dark tower. On the other side of her belt hung her curved Elven knife. She had thought long and hard about what weapon she should bring with her when confronting the wizard, and had decided on the knife – she could deflect attacks with it or throw it at an enemy as needed. It seemed the most versatile choice. The last thing she tucked into her pouch was a scrap of paper, on it was scribbled a word that she could apparently use once – a Word of Power. She wasn’t exactly sure what the Word of Power would do…but she knew she’d know when to use it.

Tying her cloak to the saddlebag, she gave her horse one last fond pat, squared her shoulders, and walked up the steps to the tower door. Taking a steadying breath, she pushed open the door and walked inside.

[Silky Gooseness]

Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are hasty and quick to blow things up.

No. That wasn’t the phrase. But for some reason, they were the words slowly revolving in Silarien’s brain, even as her fingers sorted out the contents of her pack without any direct input from above.

Why get involved with this - and why now? Why her? There were no reasons to be found - but Silarien was going in anyway.

Hithlain rope around her waist, bow and arrows slung on her back - and her trusty tin of powdered chalk in her pocket.

You could never go wrong with powdered chalk.

[Lirimaer]

Éowine - Rider of the Mark

Éowine rode in on a fine grey mare, the wind blowing his hair in all directions as they came to a gentle stop at the foot of the dark tower. He slid from the saddle easily, coming forward to let the horse nuzzle into his neck and then lower, seeking the apple she knew was in his satchel. He chuckled and slipped his hand into the bag, drawing out the fruit.

"You want this, my beauty?" he asked gently, taking his own bite, before giving the rest to his outraged lady and stroking her proud neck. "Okay, my lovely, you must away home, now."

As the mare trotted obediently away, Éowine faced the tower and considered his assets. He wasn't sure about this defeating wizards stuff, since they always seemed to have trump cards up their sleeves, but he had some free time. Hopefully another wizard would turn up and sort out the rainbow one cackling somewhere upstairs if he got in trouble. Or anyone really, he wasn't above being rescued.

He was wearing brown leather armour: breastplate, vambraces and greaves, over a green linen shirt and hard-wearing silk-and-wool-blend slacks, also in green. The breastplate was decorated with his house crest in copper filigree, an outline of a winged horse, studded occasionally with tiny silver beads. Across his back on a plaited leather cord, hung a beautiful foot-long telescope, polished brass sheathed in a warm brown leather case. Strapped to his belt in a brown leather scabbard, he'd brought a substantial double-edged hunting knife with one serrated edge.

In his satchel, he had a couple more apples, some hard biscuits and a flagon of water in one compartment, in the other section he had a pipe with a quite generous amount of pipeweed, a small tamping rod shaped like a horse's head and a small tinderbox.

The pipe he took out, added a little of the halflings' leaf, tamped it down and lit it. Sucking in a deep breath, he gazed upwards at the towering shadow that was Orthanc, and blew out an impressive smoke ring which lasted about three seconds before dissipating in the wind. As he turned toward the door he watched a couple of Elves disappear inside, and decided to saunter on in after them - after all, there was no screaming yet.

[Pallador]

*Pall stood at the base of the tower, looking upward with trepidation. He was getting far too old for this sort of thing. After sheathing his two short swords on his back he took his rope and formed a lasso, twirled it over his head and let it fly upward toward a projection jutting out from the side of the tower. Unfortunately his vision had grown a bit dim with his advancing years and the noose missed the projection and the rope fell in a heap of coils.* “Drat it!” *He tried again and this time he was successful. The old wizard hitched his robe up, grabbed the rope and began to climb. His bones creaked. He was getting far too old for this sort of nonsense!*

[KingODuckingham]

They came now to the foot of Orthanc. It was black, and the rock gleamed as if it were wet. The many faces of the stone had sharp edges as though they had been newly chiseled.
-The Two Towers

You have arrived at the base of Orthanc, inside the ring known as Isengard. You have approached the door and it has opened before you without resistance when you attempted to enter. You have made your way into

THE FIRST FLOOR

You make your way through darkened hallways but do not make it far before you are confronted. Several small goblins, swollen-bellied and bandy-legged, converge and confront you. They appear to have swarmed toward you as a way of getting out of their typical cleaning or cooking duties or somesuch. They are barely armed, with simple things like rolling pins, brooms, or butter knives. They look aggressive, but perhaps they might be reasoned with, or tricked? Do you:

A) Attack the goblins, attempting to kill them before they can sound any sort of general alarm?
B) Parley with them and negotiate some sort of deal or threaten them into submission?
C) Attempt to deceive them as to your purposes and intentions somehow?
D) Leave and try to come back later, hoping nobody will be on the first floor when you come back?
E) Book it, running past the still surprised goblins and try to make it to the second floor before they truly understand what is happening?

If you did not post before this, you are still free to join on the first floor. Do not forget to select your two items from the original post. None of the items have any particular bonus on this first floor in order to be fair to any potential latecomers (although you are still allowed to use them in your RP, of course). Please bold your choice of approach for me. I will post the results, for better or worse in a couple of days, give or take. Good luck!

[Lirimaer]

Éowine - Rider of the Mark

Éowine sucked in another long drag on his pipe as his eyes became accustomed to the gloom after the bright sunshine outside. Of course, he mumbled under his breath, it might be easier to see if he'd not created his own little cloud inside. He stepped forward, trying valiantly not to cough and picked a corridor at random, wondering where the others had gone.

He was barely halfway down it when a shout went up and within moments he was surrounded, well, faced would be more accurate, with two of the ugliest creatures he'd ever had the misfortune of seeing close up. One, the tallest, was wearing some kind of apron and scarf combo which was heavily covered with a fine white powder. Since it also brandished a rolling pin, he was hoping it was flour. The other, possibly shorter, but severely hunched over, was holding a mop with the head upright. Since the mop appeared to also be wearing a scarf, Éowine suddenly had visions of the desperate lengths a lonely orc would stoop to.

He stepped back, holding his hands up placatingly, and decided to try a little deception (C).

"Good morning, my fine fellows!" he announced heartily, taking another puff on his pipe. "I am here to see your master, Saruman! I have an appointment to discuss the expansion of my pipeweed business toward the south and east, and I've heard he's a shrewd investor! Be so good as to take me to him!"

He blew out several smoke rings which floated impressively toward the stairs and beamed. "Today, if you please. Time is money!"

[Silky Gooseness]

It's dark in the tower. Silarien pauses for a long, hushed moment, draws the cold, dusty air into her lungs; waits for her eyes to adjust. Her pupils widen, the irises sucked into the darkness. Elf-vision.

She pads, cat-like, a few steps, when she hears a scuttling, a scrabbling of bare feet. The Elf stops and listens. Goblins!

They're short, as goblins often are, pot-bellied but spindly-limbed, clutching kitchen implements. More like house-elves than tower-goblins, the thought comes floating into her head. From where? Elves certainly were never anything like this, despite the nasty rumours going around about how exactly Saruman created his Uruk-hai. Silarien's fingers itch for her bow, but she doesn't go for it - not quite yet. They look nervous.

"I see you're on your way out," she says in a low voice. "How about you don't take any notice of me, and I don't take any notice of you? We'd hate to draw the negative attention of the Big Man, wouldn't we?"

OPTION B

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan willingly volunteered her sword in the service of removing the traitorous wizard Saruman from his lofty perch atop Orthanc. She knew that it would be a potentially lethal challenge; a wizard this old and distrustful would surely have set defences and traps in place to thwart any who might attempt to reach him. Allacan had come ready and equipped with her trusty sword and a rope and after volunteering her services, an aged quartermaster of the Eastmark had pressed into her hand a scrap of paper with a one-use Word of Power.

As she dismounted her horse and faced the immense, black tower she felt a moment of trepidation; perhaps she had finally chosen a challenge beyond her capability. Regardless of her doubts, service came first, even if it meant sacrifice, and so with determined steps she paced the distance towards the door or Orthanc and whatever challenges awaited beyond.

EDIT for Floor One - didn't even see that until after I had posted so grateful I didn't spoil myself

As she stepped across the threshold, shifting in the shadows warned her of the approach of something sinister. She raises her sword instinctively, fearing a dangerous foe, and raises her eyebrow a little ins surprise when she sees that the group of goblins are armed with little more than cutlery and household implements.

Guessing that perhaps they would not be willing to battle with someone more capable in combat than they, she barks out a gutteral 'halt' in orcish which is enough to surprise them into hesitation long enough for her to speak.

"While you may look upon my human form and think me an easy target, let me warn you that I have led and entire Eored of the Rohir army. I will take this opportunity to make it absolutely clear, if anyone ever attempted to skive from their dish-washing duties or attempt to bunk off the brushing on my watch then I saw to it that I personally provided them with a spanking using my fabled sword such that they could not be seated for a week. Behold my weapon, known among the rohir as 'Fire-Spanker' in deference to the number of unruly dryhtgumas disciplined by the flat of its blade. If you hope to survive this day with a bottom that can be seated upon, then I highly recommend you turn yourselves right back around and get back to the tasks you have been allotted, and if I hear a word of objection from any of you then I will use that individual as an example to the others. It has been far too long since 'Fire-spanker' has been properly flourished, and both he and I would revel in the chance to smart a new bottom." she grins at them mischievously, as though eager for the first of them to break form, and waits.

B) Parley with them and negotiate some sort of deal or threaten them into submission? with a little bit of deception thrown in for good humour.

30 hit points remaining (for now)

[SidraLockel Eltoran]

Sidra was rather surprised that the tower door was unlocked and it was so easy to enter, but she supposed that when you were a powerful Wizard, you didn’t worry about such things. She walked slowly, letting her dark umber eyes become accustomed to the dim lit area. It was during times like these that she thanked the Valar for her keen eyesight, and soft footfall. The black fabric of her tunic whispered around her as she walked. There were several hallways in the tower, and Sidra wandered down them cautiously. She hoped she wouldn’t draw any attention to herself.

She hadn’t gotten far though, before several small goblins came into view. She froze, one hand resting on the hilt of her Elven knife. She hadn’t expected to find goblins within the tower of Orthanc, but she supposed she should have expected as much from a black and vile traitor! She stared intently at them, sizing them up. They were small, with swollen-bellies, and bowed-legs. They looked aggressive, but Sidra noted with relief that they weren’t armed with weapons. Instead they brandished rolling pins, brooms, and butter knives. The training she had received as a warrior of Lorien would make it easy for her to cut them down…but it hardly seemed like a fair fight when she had a sharp Elven knife and they only had kitchenware.

She chewed on her lip, these were foul, fiends! She didn’t want them to raise an alarm, but she also didn’t feel right just cutting them down…at least not yet. Instead she decided to book it (E)! Releasing the hilt of her knife, she sprinted forward. She had seen a stairway behind the goblins and hoped her Elven speed and the element of surprise would allow her to make it to the second floor before anything bad could happen!

[Gwai]

It had been quite a while since Gwai had been to Orthanc, but the tower looked unchanged, which wasn't particularly surprising since it was made out of stone. Gwai, however, was not, and she debated about her choice of weapons to go and confront Saruman, who seemed to be particularly hard to kill. As she dismounted, she unstrapped her sword from the scabbard attached to the saddle, and belted it around her waist. Digging around in her saddlebags and making a mental note to do some organization if she survived, she dug out a lead rope that might come in handy, as well as a small lantern. She should have packed more, but what could one do when one was on a budget? She gave Brightfyr a pat on the neck and left him loose, in case this mission turned out...poorly.

The First Floor

Gwai pushed opened the door, and was surprised when it opened without even an ominous creaking noise. It seemed a bad omen. It wasn't too late to turn back, especially since she had forgotten to bring snacks. Squaring her shoulders, she decided to continue.

The hallways inside were dimly lit, and housekeeping was not doing their job judging by the large amount of cobwebs hanging from multiple surfaces. Gwai shook her head in disgust. Couldn't Saruman have some of his minions clean this place? Rounding a corner, she stopped still, regretting her idle thought as she now had a chance to actually ask that. She wouldn't, however. Standing in front of her were several goblins, looking just as surprised to see her. They looked mean, and several held up their weapons menacingly. The weapons themselves were not particularly impressive, but rolling pins, brooms, and kitchen knives would still be deadly (or at least deal a good knock on the head) when in the right hands, and these goblins looked like they knew how to use them. (As weapons--clearly they did not know how to use them to clean).

Gwai quickly thought about various options, and immediately decided the best course of action would be to go on the offensive. Goblins were not known for their parlaying skills--in fact most likely would not even know the word--, and if she attacked quickly she may be able to defeat them before they raised any sort of alarm.

A) Attack the goblins, attempting to kill them before they can sound any sort of general alarm

[Moriel]

Gellam shifted his shoulders, feeling the comfortable weight of the lochaber he carried across his back. Much like a wizard’s staff, it was part of his identity, had plenty of reach, and was magical to him, even if it didn’t have any actual magic. The wood-elf gazed up at Orthanc with no small amount of trepidation: it was a formidable fortification, and the wizard waiting at the top, much more so. Still, it was a challenge, and a duty, that he was prepared to pursue. Gellam had also brought with him a length of rope, and a tin of powdered chalk. One never knew when these things might come in handy, and the Fool might have been called so, but he was no fool. Taking a deep breath, Gellam strode inside the ring, and up to the door, which stood open. No sooner had he entered, however, than a group of little goblins swarmed out, chattering and squabbling. They were armed- if you could call it armed- with various kitchen implements. Better safe than sorry, the Fool slipped the lochaber free from its restraints and took it in his hands before him, but casually, with no immediate threat. “Hello hello!” he called cheerily to the goblins, waving at them with one hand and inclining his head, causing the little bell sewn to the tip of his long soft cap to jingle. “My friends my friends, what means these ends? Why do you swarm? Are not your kitchens warm? Methinks if you delay, your master angry will say, hey, where is my dinner! Hadn’t you better run along? I won’t tell.” Hoping that this parley might have persuaded the rather dimwitted goblins to get out of his way, the Fool waited for their response.

Option B

[KingODuckingham]

THE RESULTS

@Gwai You chose the violent route A. It was not too difficult...this time. You sustain very minor injuries, but nothing too serious. You have lost 2 HP.

@Moriel @Allacan Beorhtlig @Sil You all attempted to defuse the situation (B), but the goblins were looking for an excuse for violence. I will let you roleplay (if you wish) exactly how it went sour and how you escaped the situation, but in the immortal words of young Kenobi: "The negotiations were short." You have lost 4 HP.

@Lirimaer Your deception (C) was quite successful! The goblins seem to assume you are one of Saruman's many new recruits. They let you pass unscathed. You lose no HP.

@SidraLockel Eltoran Your boldness in running for it (E) paid off! The goblins were not expecting such a bold move. Truly, the closer you were to danger, the further you were from harm. You were even able to snag a fancy decorative buckler from off a wall mount as you went by. Add it to your inventory!

Regardless of whether it went well or poorly, you have climbed a spiral staircase and find yourself on:

FLOOR TWO

This floor is better lit, because more important people work up here. In fact, Saruman's bureaucracy of pencil-pushers doesn't even consider the janitor goblins to BE people. Speaking of the bureaucracy, some of its members are having a meeting up here. Before you realize what has happened, you accidentally enter a long tall chamber with a big conference table in the center, and high-backed chairs all the way round its sides. There is some sort of easel to which the meeting leader is pinning various buttons that appear to represent assets Saruman has. All heads turn towards you when you come through the door. Do you:

A) Ask where to find the bathroom?
B) Challenge the lead bureaucrat to a duel, his choice of location?
C) Announce that they are all under arrest, and that they should follow you in the name of the Law?
D) Point to someone and tell them to come with you, and hurry up right fast too, no time to explain?
E) Try to explain to the bureaucrats through creative use of buttons how best to diversify Saruman's portfolio for the upcoming quarter, then duck out while they all take notes?
F) [THIS OPTION ONLY SELECTABLE IF YOU BROUGHT PIPEWEED] Explain that you are the delivery person bringing Saruman's order *waving pipeweed*, if they would be so kind as to give directions up?

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Floor One

It would appear that Allacan's reading of the room had been mistaken; little did she know that this particular group of goblins were also a generous representation of Orthanc's notorious 'Whips and Wands Fetish Club' and in fact the idea of a good spanking was more of an encouragement to misbehave than a means of bringing them under control. They threw themselves upon Allacan with such competitive enthusiasm that she was overwhelmed and knocked to the floor by their squabbling volunteering to be the first 'victim', such that she felt a crack and a flurry of pain flourish in her chest as one particularly excitable goblin stood upright on her chest in an attempt to prize the sword from her fingers.

"Oof, ouch, give over you mischievous lot, there's enough of 'Fire-Spanker' for you all to have a go." she says, managing to just about crawl out from under the wriggling huddle long enough to thwack the nearest goblin on their behind with a satisfying noise that quickly had them skittering away in pained delight and the others squealing to be next. Still winded from their group-glomping, she was forced to do the rounds of the room with her sword, lightly tapping the more nervous individuals and resounding smacking those asking for more enthusiasm. After the second such circuit, she was only able to extricate herself after much assurances that she would return with the revered 'Fire-Spanker' presently, and the group broke down into petty squabbles as to who should be the first in line on her return and she used the momentary opportunity to escape.

Floor Two

Wincing a little and counting her blessings she had not lost her grip on the sword in the jumble of goblin bodies, she climbed the stairway to the next level and pushed open the door below. With all the dimly lit commotion taking place below she was a little surprised at the bright lights and relative calm up her as faces turned to regard her. She had taken a moment to pause, sheath 'Fire-Spanker' and was just apologising for interrupting their clearly quite intense business meeting when her eyes fell on the detailed diagram displayed at the end of the conference table.

"Oh no, don't place your bets there!" she exclaims in horror as she recognises some of the words and pins on the board and without thinking, crosses to the head of the table to lift the buttons off. "The Eastemnet Eagles have had a brilliant opening to the season because they pushed their newest players, but they don't have the stamina of the old squads so they'll tire soon. The Fangorn Fir-Trees always have a profitable first quarter because of the spring growth and stabilise through the Summer, you could re-invest your shares there for now but you don't want to maintain your stocks throughout the rest of the year; they'll wilt come Autumn. The Harpies of Hobbiton are a risky bet; every other season they get disqualified because they can't keep off the pipe-weed, but if you are looking for a solid line-up in their place the Osgiliath Oliphaunts are highly likely to finalise in the top three; they've got the experience of last season's squads plus they signed the Taenaran Twins after the Forgers of the Fold merger with Rhovanion Rhinos."

"What about the Lothlorien Lilies" a quavering voice commented from the back of the room. Allacan snorted in derision "Sure, if you want your shares to be worth nothing more than pretty petals by season end, go for it! The elves never remember the finals even if they qualify; they're manager is a shambles and as bad as the ents when it comes to getting his team to turn up on time."

(Equipped with her trusty sword 'Fire-Spanker', rope and a scrap of paper with a one-use Word of Power.)
26 hit points remaining

[SidraLockel Eltoran]

Floor One

Sprinting passed the goblins, Sidra raced up the stairs; her tunic flapping behind her as she ran. Various weapons and shields were displayed along the walls, and she grabbed a fancy decorated buckler off one of the wall mounts. A shield would be a good thing to have in case the goblins follow me! She thought, as she gripped the handle of the small shield in her fist. If the goblins followed her, maybe she could use this to help push them down the stairs. She slowed her steps to listen. Was she being followed? The only sound that she heard was the beating of her heart in her ears, and her own breathing. The goblins didn’t seem to be following her. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the Valar for the luck.

She turned her attention to the round shield in her hand as she continued up the steps. It was silver in color, and was decorated in elaborate scroll-work, though the round sphere in the center was left plain. The lip of the buckler had a corded metal design that ran around it. Overall, it was quite striking! The scroll-work reminded Sidra of something you might find in Rohan, and she wondered how Saruman had come by it. Perhaps it had been here since the tower of Orthanc was constructed; before Saruman had taken up residence.

Floor Two

As she neared the second floor Sidra was glad to see that this level of the tower seemed to be better lit! No need for her to use her lantern just yet. She pushed the lantern’s handle further up her shield arm, resting it in the crook of her elbow. She had been so distracted by adjusting the lantern and watching her footing on the stairs that she didn’t think to approach the floor cautiously. Before she realized it, she had stepped into a long, tall chamber! A big conference table was in the center, with high-backed chairs, all of which were full of people! All of whom were turned towards her! Ugh! She chided herself, You know better than to get distracted in a foreign place with enemies around!

Running had worked once, perhaps if she moved quickly, she could once more catch them off guard. She pointed towards one of the people (D) who was sitting at the end of the table. “You!” She said loudly, breaking into another sprint, “Come with me! NOW! Not time to explain!” She rushed forward, hoping her ruse would work.

30 hit points remaining.

[Silky Gooseness]

FLOOR TWO

Ouch. Well, that could’ve been worse, but it could also have been batter... Silarien laughs to herself in a pained way, partly because of the terrible pun born from the moment when someone a foot shorter than you has beaten you up with a whisk, but mostly pained because a whisk is a surprisingly painful thing to be beaten up with, as any omelette could tell you. Think of that next time you make a meringue.

She staggers into a chamber. It’s brightly lit and smells not of rich mahogany, but... more like new filing cabinets and that particular pheromonal agony given off by people who have had to sit through Yet Another Meeting That Could’ve Been A MothMail. Silarien brightens immediately, almost as much as the lighting in here. She was born for this. There’s nothing like being immortal to teach you patience, and there’s nothing you need like patience to handle flowcharts.

“I think I can help you here,” she says authoritatively, striding towards the board confidently. “The problem with toploading these call directives is you - I mean, we - are probably going to be attempting a hostile takeover of S-RON UNLTD in the near future (so the next couple hundred years or so) and we want to preserve the ability to stay flexible in case it collapses and we lose the value. Instead if we issue some stock in breeding rights, without voting privileges obviously, that’ll free up some capital which we’ll need to diversify for our leveraged instruments in Quarter Three. And - Who the Udûn even made these graphs? Where’s my coffee?”

Silarien is trembling faintly, possibly with excitement. She’s really in the Zone. Perhaps she should’ve asked for the bathroom because she’s feeling a weird compulsion to snort some of her powdered chalk right now.

OPTION E, 26 HP

[Lirimaer]

Éowine - Rider of the Mark

"Yhrrrrn, you git up yon sturrs yersel'," snarled the baker orc, tapping the rolling pin against its hand menacingly. "Der master don' loike ta be kipt waitin' boi the loikes of you!"

Éowine grinned, and the orcs stepped back in unison. "Thanks so much!" he said brightly. "What are your names? I'll be sure to mention how helpful you were!"

"Don' tell 'im, Grashavince," whispered the hunched orc, twisting his mop lady behind his back nervously.

"You shut yer stoopid face, Kompostip!" hissed Grashavince the baker, rounding on his companion. "If you wasn't ma mother's sister's daughter's third accident, I'd-"

"Grass Shavings and Compost Heap?" Éowine interrupted, beaming beatifically at their haunted faces. "I'll be sure to mention your help to Saruman, and perhaps you'll even get a share of what he gets, eh?" He sauntered off toward the stairs, trotting up them confidently. This quest was going great.

His buoyant boldness carried him up the first flight of stairs and through a large set of doors into a conference, of all things. He sailed into the meeting before he was properly aware of his surroundings, to be greeted by a dozen staring faces.

"Hallo, friends!" he announced jovially. "I'm here at last!" He had no idea what they were doing, but they seemed so ... busy. He had no idea what he was doing either, but this lying seemed to be becoming easier and easier.

"Don't mind me," he laughed. "I'm on my way to see the Big Man - tis serious business, this pipeweed lark!" Éowine lifted a packet of pipeweed out of his pocket and waved it around airily. "Istar's Choice," he quoted off the packet. "Made with love for the Discerning Wizard! Eh, those halflings are a trifle-" he looked up and discounted the words brainwashed, sycophantic and loopy. Instead he went with, "Devoted." He stashed the packet away in his satchel, tapped the pipe against the table and left a little pile of ash there. "Uh, don't worry about that!" he said hastily, scooping it onto the floor and tapping his satchel with a knowing wink. "Plenty more where that came from! But I'm all turned around - can anyone tell me where the stairs to the next floor are? Don't want to keep the Boss waiting!"

(F)
30 HP

[Gwai]

Floor One

The fight did not last long. One of the goblins had a lucky hit with the rolling pin, and Gwai massaged her left shoulder as she walked up a spiral staircase, reflecting on the short-lived battle. They had fought fairly well, for being goblins, half her size, and equipped with kitchen instruments. They had all attacked at the same time, and Gwai was impressed they did not make the mistake of charging one at a time, although granted, it was probably luck rather than coordination. She had dispatched most of them quickly, but as she tried to duck out of the way of the last one, her sword got caught in the chain mail that seemed to serve as a universal uniform for goblins. As she tried to remove it from the now dead goblin, she was unable to fully twist out of the way of the rolling pin. A mighty pull and a vow to start working out again after this adventure, she got her sword free in time to dispatch the last goblin. She moved her shoulder, glad it was able to move. It was sore, but probably was not broken. It wasn't her sword arm anyway.

Floor Two

The spiral staircase took her to a nicer floor of the Tower, and as Gwai entered one of the rooms, still massaging her shoulder, she stopped suddenly. The room she had entered was not, in fact, empty as she had erroneously presumed. There were actually quite a few people sitting around a table, looking at a tall man pinning buttons to an easel, apparently representing Saruman's various assets. Unlike the silent front door, the conference room door was quite creaky, and as soon as Gwai stepped through, everyone seated at the table as well as the person standing in the front by the easel turned and stared at her.

Gwai stared back, taking it all in. Various bureaucratic looking individuals in varying stages of interest looked back at her. At the front, the board seemed to represent Saruman's holdings, in a fairly boring manner. Gwai glanced at the array of folders strewing the table, the half-drunk pot of decaf coffee on the side table, stale looking pastries, and the glazed look on many of the individuals' faces, and correctly assumed she was interrupting a financial meeting.

Her thought raced as she wondered how she could get out of this one. Challenging the leader to a duel sounded like a splendid idea, but her shoulder was still sore from the surprisingly competent goblins down below. Arresting them occurred to her as well, but she probably didn't have jurisdiction here. And, even if she did, were they even doing anything illegal? Looking at the easel, she thought it probable, but white collar crime was not her forte. She considered bluffing her way into joining the meeting, but unfortunately her knowledge of stocks, current market values, paradigms, or other fancy words they would probably use was lacking in...well, pretty much everything.

She pasted a friendly expression on her face and took a step or two further into the room, batting her eyes a bit. "I'm soooooo sorry to interrupt you all," she said with a fake accent, trying to sound like a tourist, "But I'm afraid I lost the rest of the tour group, and I've been looking for the bathroom! Could one of you point me in the right direction?" she asked with an ingratiating smile, and wondering if she could talk them into giving her one of the stale pastries as well, since she had forgotten to bring snacks (rookie mistake!).

Option A, ask where to find the bathroom
28 HP

[Aerlinn]

A longsword that made his arms tremble at its weight, a scrap of paper crammed with barely legible explanations of most-likely-useless magic...Talen did not feel at all prepared for the massive black spire rising above him. But a bet was a bet, and he was not about to allow a pack of stable boys to prove themselves better than him. He double-checked his small pack full of food, at least half of which wasn't stolen, thank you very much, and secured his latest acquisition to his belt.

The telescope was dull and tarnished, but the intricate scrollwork etched into each section spoke of great places and faraway dreams. The boy was unsure how it would help him in this particular venture, but if he ever made it to the top he'd be able to see for leagues!

And, that was it. There was nothing else to prepare. No excuse to stall himself a few minutes more. Talen swallowed, opened the door just a crack, and slipped inside. "Be brave," he muttered.

***

THE FIRST FLOOR

The first goblin caught him by surprise the in the dim corridors and Talen gave a strangled yelp as he scrambled to yank his unwieldy sword off his back. Something long and dark was waved aggressively in his face and he backed away hurriedly until--huh? He squinted. Was that a rolling pin?

"Hey! You lot!" he cried, suddenly emboldened. "Lousy layabouts! Don't think I don't know where you're supposed to be? You two! With the pin and that rusty excuse for a knife! The master has been waiting on dinner since breakfast time! And you!" Talen rounded on the goblin with the broom, "There's so much dust in the east-north rightside hall that I'll still be sneezing next week!"

The goblins, only a hand-width's shorter than the boy himself, stared.

"You answer to me from now on, dirty blighters!" Talen carried on grandly. He was starting to enjoy himself. "The wizard doesn't have time for your petty misdeeds but put another claw out of line and I'll chop you to bits myself and see you fed to the biggest baddest orc in Isengard!"

He crossed his eyes, curled his lip and made the scariest, ugliest face he had ever made. "NOW SCAT!"

C) Attempt to deceive them as to your purposes and intentions... (Unless that counts as threatening? Under B?)

***

THE SECOND FLOOR

"No, you see with this button here in the right-hand quadrant you'll lose out on the metals trade in Fangorn and that's nothing to the trouble you'll have over here which will land you right in Moist von Lipwig's paper scheme, you'd be better off throwing your stocks at the post office...

Talen's mind was a blank wall of horror. What was he saying. He didn't even know what a stock was. Stick? Stalk? Like some kind of plant? Why hadn't he just asked about the loo?

"...and if you go twice up here and invest 63% at the end of the quarter it'll give you seven pence and an ounce of mithril per head next year and the trolls will owe you 5% for use of the river and another 20% for use of the bridge. Of course you never know if 20% of troll loot will leave you with mountains of silver or a sack full of dung beetles but there's nothing to be gained without risk, you know, and my sources tell that its really very reliable this time of year, as long as you don't get caught up in mutton. The goods will never reach you, devour everything on sight, trolls do..."

The high-backed chairs loomed, the bureaucrats glared, the easel looked like it would make a very poor shield.

"Well, get that all down then! Don't make me say it all over again just because you're slow to the quill!" Talen blustered, and made a hurried dash for the door.

E) Try to explain to the bureaucrats through creative use of buttons...

[Lail]

Sasparilla "Rilla" Banks
While adventuring and eating her way around Middle-earth, Sasparilla found herself lost on the way to Edoras. She was hoping to share some mead and perhaps even try a Rohirric delicacy she'd heard of...something called a badger burger? But instead of turning east in the right direction, she'd gone west until she saw a great tower in the distance. "Oh, there must be a wondrous view from the top!" she said to herself and the hobbit set off, hoping the view might also help her find her way.

With a pipe and some pipeweed in her pocket, her walking stick in one hand and a lantern (and lighting equipment) gripped in the other, she made her way inside without a clue who Saruman was or what he was about.

FIRST FLOOR
After wandering the dark hallways, feeling a chill set into her, she began to second-guess her decision. So far, the place was less welcoming than her grumpy great Aunt Iris' house and that was saying something. The old hobbit didn't even offer scones when she had Rilla over for tea! What kind of hospitality was that?

Suddenly, as Rilla nearly ran into a horde of orcs, her Aunt Iris suddenly didn't seem so bad! Rilla let out a great scream like a tea kettle, not even noticing the orcs held kitchen knives, not swords, before she bolted right past them.

Rilla might have considered herself an explorer by hobbit standards, but she certainly had no wish to fight anyone, least of all orcs. After all, she was armed only with a mere walking stick.

E) Book it, running past the still surprised goblins and try to make it to the second floor before they truly understand what is happening?
30 hp
(Hope its ok to join late, sorry!)

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Eómund

Eómund arrived at the tower of Orthanc and looked up at the tower. Shielding his eyes from the sun, he wondered if he had caught a brief glimpse of the treacherous Saruman. The wizard was supposed to protect the surrounding lands, but he had not and had instead created legions of orcs that no roamed the countryside, wreaking havoc wherever they went. It was time for the traitor to pay and Eómund wanted to ensure that that payment was met. Hence why he was standing here at the base of the tower. He made certain his sword was firmly in its scheeth and flung a coil of rope over his shoulder. A quick check to his pack ensured that his flintstone and lanturn were secure. With that, he took a deep breath and entered the tower.

FIRST FLOOR
The whole tower was completely unwelcoming. How someone could actually choose to live here was beyond Eómund. But, villains had to pay. But, before he had time to contemplate his situation, several small, ugly goblins showed up with rolling pins of all things. Eómund was briefly startled, but quickly put a hand on his sword and drew it. They were goblins after all and they needed to be destroyed.

A) Attack the goblins, attempting to kill them before they can sound any sort of general alarm?

[Moriel]

Second Floor
26 HP

The goblins charged Gellam with surprising ferocity given their size and lack of proper weapons, but there was strength in numbers and the Fool laid about with his lochaber perforce. “Yowch!” he cried as a rolling pin pinged off his knee, and a cheese grater took a shred out of the back of his tunic. “Get off me, you rotters!” Fortunately his reach and technique proved superior to the goblins and the remains of the pack soon skittered off to whatever hellhole of the kitchen they had come from, leaving Gellam to nurse his minor wounds. Not the auspicious start he had hoped for, but at least he hadn’t succumbed to the mob. Turning, he slipped quietly up the spiral staircase to the second floor. There was more light here, but that could be good or bad. What was definitely bad however, was the conference room he had just walked into! The wood-elf groaned- he hated bureaucracy, and evil bureaucracy was bound to be worse than good. Still, bureaucrats were (generally) less inclined to violence than nasty kitchen goblins, and quick to follow the direct orders of a superior. So, before anyone could realize he was there and quite out of place, Gellam strode straight up to the closest pencil-pusher and seized him by the arm. “Quick! No time to explain, you have to come with me now, urgent orders from from upstairs,” he jabbed his lochaber at the ceiling and subtly crossed his fingers.

Option D

[The Good Hunter]

Æthelgifu

First Floor
Goblins. Æthelgifu barely had a chance to breath before a horde of the little monsters poured out of every crack and crevice this monolithic behemoth's shadow had to offer. She had barely had a second before she could react. She panicked. Æthelgifu forgot about the seax knife at her hip and the rope at her shoulder in favor of running as fast as she could through them, whispering a prayer that she could move fast enough that she would be able to skirt past them before they had a chance to form some sort of phalanx. She had never been a great runner though, Æthelgifu hoped that her surefootedness would aid her here. She could barely see anything here though, one wrong step and she was finished before she had a chance to start.
Option E

Second Floor
Æthelgifu wasn't sure how she made it through the goblins, she was still half in denial that she even had made it through. She burst through the doors to the second floor was a greeted... by a board meeting? Something wasn't right here. As the door swung open, Æthelgifu found herself confronted by the most unusual of sights. Men, all wearing matching frowns and buttoned down white shirts, turned to look at her. Again, the Rohir was seized with a moment of panicked indecision. She had not prepared for something like this. None of them looked like fighters, they all looked rather thin and pasty, unhealthy. Yet there was something in her that told her that these men (they were men right?) were to be feared. Symbols were drawn all over an easel, symbols and circles that sent shivers down her spine. What she going to do? Eek! She looked at the nearest one to the door. With wide eyes, she waved him over frantically, doing her best to blend in and look like she was a member of the staff, that she wasn't terrified by all the symbols around them. She gave her best "I need to talk to you!" face. The man could not have been more than 20 years old and looked like as though he had not bathed in nearly a week.
Option D

[KingODuckingham]

I will update this thread in the morning (aka about 10 or 11 hours from now...). I am happy to have people still joining. Feel free to catch up in between updates if you want. Or not. I'll post your results either way. Cheers!

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

SECOND FLOOR

Somehow Eómund had managed to get through the horde of angry goblins, but had absolutely no idea how he had managed it. A bit out of breath, he arrived at the second floor. But when he arrived there, he was once again confronted with a dilemma. Up on the second floor among the well-lit torches, as a long hallway full of workers. Humans this time and they were having some sort of meeting. Eómund immediately realised that he needed to say something quickly or else he would likely find some sort of weapon impaled through his stomach. "First day here," he stuttered, "do you mind directing me to the bathroom?"

Option A) Ask where to find the bathroom?

[KingODuckingham]

THE RESULTS

@Gwai @Dimcairien Luiniel You asked for the bathroom, but that began a complicated rigamarole of authorization, badges, papers in triplicate, and many complicated directions. It all amounted to "the bathrooms are a floor up", but the process is so exhausting that you lose 1 HP.

@SidraLockel Eltoran @Moriel @Frosty the Snowman You attempted to call someone to your side in a panic, but the bureaucrats refuse to rush into anything, and see you as an enemy for attempting to break through the red tape they have so carefully woven around themselves. Feel free to roleplay exactly how they punish you before you move on. No matter the detail, you lose 4 HP.

@Allacan Beorhtlig @Sil @Aerlinn You attempted to beat the bureaurcrats at their own game. While they are not necessarily convinced of your plans, they are at least impressed enough to allow you to pass unharmed. You lose no HP.

@Lirimaer You easily bypass the bureaucrats with the pipeweed, but they demand a cut (for regulation purposes). You have enough pipeweed left for one more use. You lose no HP.

You eventually find a steep staircase with an attendant sloping ramp for those who have trouble climbing. Ascending either one brings you to:

THE THIRD FLOOR

This floor is a filthy mess. There is dust. There are cobwebs. There are mounds of muck and un-nameable rot lying in piles all around you. Your feet begin to be sucked at as you move forward. Indeed, it becomes difficult to move. Too late, you realize this is likely a trap. The floor has turned to a muddy slog, and you feel yourself begin to sink. You somehow suspect that you face a fate far worse than merely falling back down to the second floor. Do you:

A) Dive in, attempting to swim through the muck, trusting to the increased speed brute force will give you?
B) Abandon your shoes to the muck and attempt to light-footedly dance across the top of the mess?
C) Think to yourself that it the mud IS the color of chocolate cake, and attempt to eat your way through this predicament?
D) Strike a match and attempt to light the mud on fire and burn it away or dry it up?
E) Call for help, figuring nothing could be worse than dying like this?
F) [AVAILABLE ONLY IF YOU BROUGHT ROPE] Toss your rope out in front of you and use it as a pulley and anchor, dragging yourself slowly but safely through the muck?

[KingODuckingham]

And catch up results as well, sorry for some double notification spam:

@Aerlinn You chose to deceive the goblins, and they fell for it like complete suckers! You even pick up a fancy decorative buckler that one goblin dropped in his haste to get away from you!

@Dimcairien Luiniel You chose to attack the goblins, but they put up a better fight than you thought they would so armed. You lose 4 HP.

@Frosty the Snowman @Lailyn You tried to rush past the goblins, but they managed to nick you here and there before you safely escape. You lose 2 HP.

[Lirimaer]

Éowine - Rider of the Mark

Éowine tripped upstairs lightly - well, lighter in pocket, anyway. He was confident in his ability to talk his way through most situations, and he was pleased to be ascending the tower quite quickly.

The corridor on the third floor was dark and dusty, but Éowine didn't anticipate the actual mud he was getting stuck in. Oh no, was he sinking? This was no ordinary mud ... clearly one did not just walk into Orthanc. He cursed himself for a fool, of course a wizard would have freakish defences.

He managed to flail a couple of feet forward, but where he'd been up to his calves, he was now up to his thighs, and he was reluctant to dive in further, especially since he could see that he was already lower than the actual floor - before he got any further into this enchantment, he cried out, "Hello, is anyone there? I need some help! I didn't think to bring skis! Anyone got a rope I could borrow? Um ... and I need the bathroom!"

This last was not strictly true, but he could see it might be a concern if this situation went on much longer.

(E)
30 HP

[Lail]

Sasparilla "Rilla" Banks
Though she managed to run past the fearsome orcs, she did not escape unscathed. Rubbing her arm where a butterknife had scratched open her skin, Rilla frowned. Pins and needles ran uncomfortably up her other arm from the rolling pain that slammed into her elbow. Feeling very frightened and unhappy, Rilla wanted nothing more than to turn back and run far away from this awful tower.

But that would mean passing the orcs again. So she held it together, wiped a tear from her eye and continued onward. Her walking stick clacked upon the floor as she climbed up the stairs.

SECOND FLOOR
Rilla caught her breath as she reached the second floor. How many levels were there, anyway? Pushing open a door that squeaked loudly on its hinges, she entered a room and found herself facing a bunch of very important looking folk. She blinked at them and they blinked at her. Everyone seemed rather startled.

"Oh, hullo!" she said in a nervously pleasant voice. "Sorry to interrupt your very important business here...um...I was just looking for directions, actually..." When they began to glower at her, her neck prickled nervously. "Um, did you know there's a lot of rather unpleasant orcs downstairs?" She began to back slowly out of the room. "Um...do any of you know...where I might find the bathroom?"

A) Ask where the bathroom is.
28 hp

[Silky Gooseness]

THIRD FLOOR. 26HP

Silarien’s been in some pretty messy places; swamps, ancient, dry forests where the leaf litter piles up in drifts and huge, mossy trunks block your way wherever you look; her own bedroom as a youth; but nothing ever quite like this. It’s a weird contrast to the depressing linoleum decor of the second floor, and quite literally a sticky situation.

Tentatively she pours a bit of the coffee that a Floor Two Flunky gave her on the mud floor. It goes gloooooop.

Even light-footed as Elves are - infamously capable of running on top of snow - Silarien doesn’t like the feeling of this. A bit of extra Anchorage is what is needed here.

She uncoils the hithlain rope from her waist and knots it at one end into a heavy loop, swinging it out to the far edge of the room. With a bit of luck it’ll catch onto something, and then she can drag herself across, in the worst imitation of horse-skiing around.

(Horse skiing is like jet skiing, but with horses. And not on water. It’s an Elvish sport, you wouldn’t understand.)

OPTION F

[Aerlinn]

(@Sil LOL horse-skiing)

THE THIRD FLOOR

Talen polished his new buckler on his tunic with a remarkably self-satisfied air. He couldn't believe he had gotten away with all that! Amazing what grown-ups and goblins would believe when he talked fast enough. Ha! The small shield made him feel a rather more like a true warrior, and he marched up to the third floor straight-backed and proud until--

sluuuuuuuuuuoooooorp

The floor made a noise remarkably similar to the monster he had once imagined lived under his bed. "Saruman's slimy socks!" he swore, and sank a few more inches into the reeking, muddy goop. Desperately, the boy attempted to kick off his boots, but they pinched around his toes, a size too small, and were impossible to remove without touching the horrid muck that seemed to be expanding around him with every breath.

He thought he saw something slither in the dark and jumped backwards, only to land on his rump with a squelch and his feet unmoved.The stuff was in his hair! Seeping through his tunic! Pulling him down into its maw like a great, hungry beast!

Hungry? he thought suddenly. Now that was an ide--no, no, no! Not that! But what else?

Talen took a deep breath and pinched his nose shut to block out the smell. If he tilted his head to the left a bit, he could almost imagine a giant vat of chocolate cake batter. "Raaaaargh! I'LL EAT YOU FIRST! he shouted defiantly at the floor, and took a great big gulp of mud.

C) EAT IT

[The Good Hunter]

Æthelgifu
24 HP

Third Floor
Her wounds from the third floor had just begun to show themselves. They were not heavy wounds, but there were enough cuts and scratches that if she did not find a safe place to hunker down and clean and bandage them she was going to be in trouble. That, however, was not the most pressing thing, her gambit with the accountants and failed and now she had only just narrowly escaped being subjected to the horrors of those symbols. Instead of the man rising to follow her, he yanked her down and put a parchment full to the brim of those horrid symbols. He started explaining things to her, things that her mind was not ready to comprehend. He used words like “budget, “offshore,” and “stocks.” Æthelgifu wanted to scream. She did in fact, but the damage to her mind was already there. She burst out of the hall like a wounded bat and raced to the third floor, hoping this one would be better.
It wasn’t. There was something nasty about this place. The goons below must come here to slough off whatever filth they’ve accumulated over the weeks. How was she going to cross? She stepped timidly into the bog of ooze then remember the rope on her shoulder! Yes! She unslung the rope off her shoulder and tied it into a lasso. There was a statue, or a wall sconce at the end of the hall, she couldn’t quite tell through the haze of green gases, but it looked like the perfect anchor. Æthelgifu tossed the lasso and, upon a successful grap, began pulling herself through the muck, breathing through her mouth only a much as she dared. She did her best to ignore the “shlop, shlop” sounds her boots were making. As soon as this was over, she was getting new ones.

Option F

[Gwai]

Third Floor

Asking for the bathroom seemed as if it should have been a simple request, but Gwai immediately regretted it. The whole process turned into a rigmarole of talking about hall passes, contacting the architect of Orthanc to draw a map that showed the bathrooms, a prolonged discussion of whether a lost tourist needed an escort, and, if so, who would be an appropriate choice. Gwai went ahead and helped herself to one of the day-old muffins on the side board, ate it, sipped a cup of mostly warm off-brand coffee, and, bored and deciding the bureaucrats probably wouldn't notice, she simply left through the same door she had entered.

Another staircase stood in front of her, immediately past the elusive bathrooms. It was fairly steep, with a ramp next to it. She briskly began walking up the steep stairs, her speed fading as she went upwards, again making a mental note to start working out again. The floor at the top was disgusting. It looked like the garbage for all of Orthanc had been collecting here over the last, oh, several hundred years or so, and the trash compactor was offline. Gwai hesitantly began taking a few steps into the muck, and her boots immediately sank into the festering mash of whatever this stuff was (she was trying not to think about it too much). In the back of her mind, she also worried that the trash compactor might actually start working and she would be nothing but a smooshed afterthought. Not exactly the glorious end she had imagined for herself. The amount of filth was probably taller than she was, and, across the room, thought she heard a splash. A rather ominous sign, especially as her boots kept sinking.

Fortunately, even if she had forgotten to bring snacks, which quite frankly was the last thing she wanted now due to the pungent aroma, she had managed to have the forethought (aka luck) to have brought rope with her. She coiled it into a lasso, and swung it toward the other end, so she could pull herself across the mess. Luckily she was fairly good at lassoing, having grown up around horses, but somehow she didn't see "muck lassoing" catching on as an event at the next Festival.

Option F, Use the Rope
27 HP

[SidraLockel Eltoran]

Second Floor

Sidra’s ruse did not work! Instead of rushing to follow her, the person she had pointed at had risen quickly, only to grab hold of her arm and yank her over to the table. She stifled a yelp; afraid that they were all going to attack her. Instead, she was pushed into an empty seat and told to pay attention to the presentation. The meeting leader made his way slowly down the long table. Staring daggers at her over his spectacles. His long pointer stick clasp in his hands. She mumbled that she was actually needed upstairs. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your meeting.” She said, trying to rise from the table.

“Silence!” The meeting leader thundered! Bringing his pointer stick down over her knuckles. “You, young lady should know better than to interrupt this important meeting! Don’t try and rush things! We are talking about very important issues. Don’t you know that war is coming? And a war needs funding. Now, everyone, please turn your attention back to the assets Lord Saruman has.” He turned and began walking back towards the front of the room.

Sidra gaped at him; her dark eyes wide as she watched him walk away. She rubbed her sore fingers. She could feel her mind being overwhelmed by all the information that was coming at her. War was coming. The thought humbled her and made her want to try and focus so she could pass on any information she learned to Lady Galadriel…but there was JUST SO MUCH! She could feel her eyes glazing over as the meeting leader talked about Saruman’s assets, the cost of funding an army, and how they could boost the money coming in. Far off lands and strange names were mentioned, and Sidra knew she’d never be able to remember it all. The leader’s monotone voice along with all the material being talked about was giving her a migraine – she could feel the pain building behind her eyes. I have to get out of here! Her mind screamed.

Her chance to escape finally came when everyone was focused on a discussion about Pipe weed; how good it was and how they could get more. She slipped out of her seat as quietly as she could, and tip-toed towards the stairs. This stairway was much steeper than the one she has previously ascended, but the steep climb was much more desirable than having to listen to the meeting any longer! She took a deep breath and begin the climb.

Third Floor

Stepping onto the third floor, Sidra was shocked to find the level such a mess! Dark and gloomy, she could understand, even cobwebs were understandable, but this reminded her of an un-mucked stable! There was dust and cobwebs everywhere, along with large mounds of un-nameable rot lying around in piles. She tried not to look too closely at them. She wasn’t sure if she really wanted to know what they were. Breathing through her mouth, she moved slowly forward, trying to dodge all the muck. Was it just her or were her boots being sucked into the mess? No, she definitely felt like she was sinking! She cursed under the breath! What was it about this tower that was making her fall for such traps? She knew she was usually more cautious than this!

The floor was a muddy slog, and she could feel herself continuing to sink. She hated to think what would happen if she actually got sucked in complete. Think, Sidra, think! She commanded herself! The dark mud, reminded her of chocolate cake, but the rotting smell was overwhelming…would mud burn? She highly doubted that it would. She had no rope with her either. Maybe the best way to free her sinking boots, was the most simple – to leave them behind.

Please work! She whispered, as she wiggled out of her boots. She prayed the light step of the Elves would help her! She freed her foot from her boot (peeling off her socks as well) and cautiously stepped forward. The cold, swench of her toes in the mud, made her pucker up her face in distaste. She hoped it was just mud on the floor. She wiggled her other foot free and took another step. Would this work?

Option B
26 hit points remaining

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Eómund
THIRD FLOOR

Well, the asking for the bathroom ruse had worked, sort of. At least he no longer was around those workers. Climbing up to the next floor, Eómund looked around and began to cough. There was so much dust and cobwebs around. "Does Saurman know what the word 'clean' means?" he wondered as he stepped forward, quickly realising that that move was a mistake. His feet were suddenly caught in some sort of muddy substance that was slowly causing him to think. After a few brief seconds, Eómund remembered his coil of rope and pulled it off his shoulder. Quickly tying a loop on one end, Eómund flung it forwards, hoping it would latch on something and he could pull himself out of the mire. A firm tug on the rope proved that it had indeed held fast to something and he slowly began to pull himself out of the sticky substance and across the room.

Option F
25 hit points remaining

[Moriel]

Third Floor
22 HP

"Yowch! Ow! Owch! Gerrof!" Gellam was having terrible luck with his clever ruses on this mission. The bureaucrats hadn't been deceived in the slightest, immediately spotting him as someone who was determined to disrupt their orderly world. Arming themselves with ink pots, quills, paperweights, blotters, and all the other tools of the bureaucratic trade, they proceeded to pelt the wood-elf high and low, driving him from the room. Gellam's ears rang as an ink pot struck him right in the head, and the stumbled out of the room- and up the stairs to the next floor. There was dust. There were cobwebs. And with his head still muddled from the ink pot blow, Gellam staggered straight into the sucking muck. Fortunately, he had the awareness to snatch the coil of rope from about his torso before he sank too far, flinging it out into the messy darkness and hoping against hope that he was able to pull himself out.

Option F

[KingODuckingham]

THE RESULTS WITH APOLOGIES FOR THE DELAY, I WAS IN THE HOSPITAL

@SidraLockel Eltoran You can say goodbye to your shoes, but not to your life! Your quick thinking has actually earned you a polished bronze ring that caught on your toe as you stepped lightly through the mud. Congratulations.

@Aerlinn You took a risk, and while it took some self-sacrifice, I guess you could say it paid off. You don't have to eat much before the mud recedes, apparently not wanting to be consumed. Was it sentient? You lose 2 HP.

@Lirimaer Your cry catches the attention of a passing Dunlending, who helps you escape. He ridicules you the entire time, however, and while your body is unharmed, your ego is not. You lose 3 HP.

@Sil @Frosty the Snowman @Moriel @Gwai @Dimcairien Luiniel You used your rope. It served you well, but is now muddy and loosening. You suspect it only will be useful once more. @Allacan Beorhtlig If you were going to use your rope, as I would think, you can consider yourself added to this list and move on. Of course, if you'd rather not, by all means choose another option in your next post.

And from the floor below (feel free to sneak in a floor to catch up if you want) @Lailyn You asked where the bathroom was, and the bureaucrats were happy to have the excuse for a bathroom break themselves. They disperse and you lose no HP.

Having one way or another escaped the fate of Artax the horse, you proceed to:

THE FOURTH FLOOR

This floor appears to be a single, vast, open room. You cannot tell for sure, though, because a thick, goopy fog covers the way before you, as far as the eye can see. When you enter the fog, you begin to hear terrifying voices and see, here and there, monstrous visions. Or are they reality? The voices speak your doom in ominous tones, and in multiple languages. They sound right in front of you, or sometimes just over your shoulder. You can never pin a sight to any voice. Your body and mind are being assaulted with an overwhelming sense of fear and uncertainty--your physical instinct is to cower and then retreat. Perhaps this comes naturally to you, but if not, perhaps some magic tears at you? Do you:

A) Trust your instincts and back out of the fog, deciding to try walking around, no matter how far it seems?
B) Decide that if you cannot walk, at least you can crawl, and try to wriggle your way forward?
C) Tell yourself that this is all an illusion, and that illusions cannot hurt you, and thrust your way straight ahead?
D) Attempt to plug your ears and close your eyes to block out the things that are scaring you, reasoning that if they cannot contact you, they cannot scare you?
E) Attempt to track down the creature on this floor responsible for the illusion and kill it at the source?
F) [ONLY IF YOU TOOK A LANTERN WITH YOU] Use your lantern to pierce the fog, culling the illusion with the power of light?

[SidraLockel Eltoran]

Third Floor

Holding her breath, Sidra took one slow step after another. The mud squashed between her toes, but thank the Valar she didn’t seem to be sinking! She hoped there wouldn’t be any sharp objects on the floors above her now that she was bootless, but seeing how crazy these past few floors have been, she wasn’t going to hold her breath about it. She brushed a loose strand of her ebony hair out of her eyes and continued across the muddy floor towards the next staircase.

As she neared the steps, she felt her toe catch on something in the mud. It didn’t feel that large, and thankfully it wasn’t sharp! She stopped and reached down; closing her fingers around a small round object. It felt like a ring of some sort. She carefully wiped it off on her tunic. Once she got all the mud off, a polished bronze ring lay in her hand. She smiled at it. It was plain, simple, but still a pretty thing. She wondered about its history – like the shield she had grabbed before – it was a strange thing to find here in the wizard’s tower…especially on this strange, muddy floor. She slipped it onto her finger, and slowly make her way up the stairs. She tried to wipe her feet off on the steps as she ascended to the fourth floor.

Fourth Floor

The floor she stepped out on was vast, and appeared to be mostly empty. Though she couldn’t be sure because there was a thick, goopy fog that lay over the whole room. Slowly, Sidra walked forward, her silver buckler positioned out in front of her, her other hand rested on the hilt of her Elven knife. There was something around this fog that unnerved her.

As the fog closed in around her, Sidra began to hear terrifying voices, and monstrous visions danced before her eyes. She felt a shiver run up her spine, and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. Was the temperature in the room dropping? The voices continued to speak…sometimes it sounded like there was someone right in front of her…sometimes the voices came from right behind her. Wherever they were coming from, they spoke of her doom. She recognized some of the languages that were being spoken, but there were other fell voices in a language that she couldn’t understand.

Her steps slowed further as the chilling voices continued, even with her training, she could feel her mind succumbing to fear. She froze, and took a ragged breath. Was this real? Or were the voices all just in her mind? What kind of magic was at work here? As another voice spoke of her doom from somewhere in front of her, and Sidra found herself taking a slow step backwards, then another. She pivoted her shield first one way and then the other, as if she could protect herself from the phantom voices. If only she could see through this fog!

Wait a minute! She could! She fumbled with her shield and moved her lantern from the crook of her elbow to her hand. Holding both her shield and lantern handle in one hand. She rummaged in the pouch on her belt with her other hand, and took out her matched. Striking one, she opened the lantern and touched the flame to the candle wick. As the fire caught, she closed the lantern. The warm light flooded around her, and she felt hear fears dissipating. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Holding the lantern aloft in her right hand, Sidra held her shield in front of her, squared her shoulders, and walked further into the room.

Option F
26 hit points remaining

@KingODuckingham - Oh no! Are you alright?

[Gwai]

@KingODuckingham (Oh no, sorry to hear that! Hope you're okay!)

It was slow going, but once Gwai managed to catch the rope on the far end of the muddy trash floor, she was able to slowly gain ground, and haul herself out of the muck. Finally on solid ground, she put her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. She still wasn't entirely convinced that she was alone in the room, but it felt good to be out of the sinking mire of trash and other unthinkable substances.

Finally feeling a bit more back to normal, Gwai untied the end of the rope, and looked ruefully at it. While it had served it's purpose and had gotten her across the room, unfortunately the looped end had frayed, and she was afraid it had very little use left in it. Hopefully she wouldn't need it anymore, but if she did, she would have to use it carefully.

The Fourth Floor

Gwai entered the next floor cautiously, but her caution did little good as she immediately found herself in a dense fog. It clearly was unnatural, as it began suddenly, as well as inside. The fog was so thick Gwai could barely see the floor in front of her, and she gradually became aware of another problem--voices. The voices started as whispers in front of her in the murky gloom, but soon she heard louder whispers coming from either side and even behind her. Gwai shivered and drew her sword, but there was nothing to be done with her weapon. There was something other-worldly and starkly terrifying about these voices. They spoke in many different languages, and Gwai would now and then hear some Elvish or a word or two of Dwarvish that she understood, but for the most part they spoke in words she did not understand.

The whispering continued, getting louder, and Gwai could feel panic setting in as she began to see traces of ghost-like people surrounding her, and then fading into the fog. It was not like her to panic, she had been in worse situations than this, but something about the whispering and the visions made her want to curl into a ball with her hands over her head. She forced herself to take a deep breath and, suddenly, remembered the lantern she had brought with her. Would light protect her from whatever this was? She could only hope so. She dug into the saddle bag she still had slung over her shoulder, fumbled around for the lantern, and fought to light it with her flint, her hands feeling numb. A small flame soon took hold in the lantern, and Gwai took a deep breath, holding the lantern aloft as she mustered what courage she had left to go deeper into the fog.

Option F, use the lantern to pierce the fog
27 HP remaining (assuming the rope option previously was 0 HPs)

[KingODuckingham]

OOC: Sorry I should have specified my wife was having a baby. I forgot I had not mentioned it on the plaza before, did not mean to worry anyone unnecessarily WHOOPS all is fine back to your regularly scheduled but not on schedule game haha

[Nerwen Nuke-queen]

Nerwen Meneldur, dwarfette

Nerwen had heard of this Saruman chap. Apparently he had a beard? She stroked her own auburn beard, into which was woven mithril and diamonds. The dwarfette had no shame in her wealth and it had been brought to her attention that perhaps this wizard needed a shave. Leaning on her double headed war axe, she scrutinised the tall tower of Orthanc. It didn't look too impressive to her, give dwraves a good mine any day! Though it was very shiny, and that did appeal to her. She briefly wondered if she might be able to chip a bit off and take it home as a souvenir when she left.

Grabbing her axe firmly, she took her first steps towards the tower. Orthanc only had an entrance on one side and Nerwen had to circle before she found it. As she put her booted foot on the first step an icy chill seemed to drift from the dark tower, tugged at the edges of her cloak. "Pft" she said, "I have seen the Watcher, faced goblins, shot Wargs and now you try a breeze. Ha!". She patted her pockets briefly checking for her tin of powdered chalk and then made sure the rope she had traded for in Gondor was secure on her belt. Then, as the door creaked noiselessly open in a feat of engineering she would never admit to being impressed by, Nerwen entered Orthanc.


THE FIRST FLOOR

Thankful for her good vision, Nerwen made your way through the darkened hallways but had only gone a few metres and discovered nothing before she was confronted. Several small, smelly goblins, with swollen-bellies and strange legs, swelled up from nowhere and surrounded her. They crowded in a way that was quite creepy and unsettling, with large globe like eyes from being in the dark so long. Her immediate instinct was to go defensive but then she noticed they were simply armed with rolling pins, brooms, and butter knives. Was that even a pastry brush she spotted? Not exactly the most intimidating but they did look like they had an aggressive streak. Nerwen made a snap, scrapped her heels along the floor, tucked her axe under her arm for stream lining and started to sprint, aiming for the staircase beyond.


E) Book it, running past the still surprised goblins and try to make it to the second floor before they truly understand what is happening?

[Lail]

Sasparilla Banks

SECOND FLOOR
The administrators all got up in a flurry of papers when she asked for the bathroom. They rushed past her, some of them barely pausing to excuse themselves. They had missed their scheduled bathroom break at 10:30 due to a debate over what color to make the "Apples" button. Rilla figured maybe red? but didn't want to get involved. By the time they all trickled out, Rilla realised that no one had given her directions. Well, no matter, that got rid of them, anyway.

THIRD FLOOR
Emboldened by her success, Rilla pranced up the steps to the third floor, having forgotten all about the orcs and was now looking forward to a snack. It was nigh on time for elevensies, she thought. Perhaps there would be a nice spot up ahead...SQUELCH.

She looked down at her little hairy foot in the mud and gasped. "Well, this won't make a very good picnic spot," she said, scrunching her nose as she looked at the cobwebs and lake of mud before her. But this did not scare the hobbit. She lifted up her walking stick out of the muck, picked up her skirts in the other hand and began singing a song as she danced across the mud, pretending she was back in the Shire after a big spring rain:
"Mud, mud, mud,
Its wet and sticky, lots of goop!
Comes after a flood
And looks like poop!"

Hm, it was not the most poetic lyrics, but it certainly cheered her up. (OOC: sorry for atrocious, juvenile poem.)

B) Abandon your shoes to the muck and attempt to light-footedly dance across the top of the mess?

FOURTH FLOOR (catching up)
After making her way through the mud, Rilla trailed upstairs and found herself in a foggy room. Strange voices murmured in her ear, but she did not understand their language. "What's that?" she asked loudly. "Who's there?" The fog did not smell nice and it made her uneasy. "I'm just a hobbit and I don't understand your fancy words! You'll have to speak my language if you want a decent conversation." At first, she was not afraid, but when the fog swirled into frightening visions of empty kegs of beer and bare kitchen pantries, she shivered in fear. Even worse, then she saw those orcs from downstairs, then other monsters and dragons!

Rilla thought she really did need a bathroom right now. What did she do when she had nightmares as a child? She lit a lamp of course! Remembering she had brought a lantern with her, she lit it up to try to dispel some of the fog and frightening scenes away. It had always worked before...

F) Use your lantern to pierce the fog, culling the illusion with the power of light?
28 hp

[Silky Gooseness]

SILARIEN on FLOOR 4 with 26 HP

Silarien coils up the rope. It’s muddy, now, the fibres weakened by whatever toxicity was in the goop. She wipes the stuff off her fingers onto her tunic. She’s never going to wear this thing again anyway.

Her eyes narrow as she steps into the next room, but squinting isn’t helping here - a thick, almost gelatinous fog fills the entire space.

It’s not the only thing in here.

There’s a voice.

It’s a quiet little voice at first, quiet as an orc’s conscience, and it’s whispering and tickling in Silarien’s ear. Gooseflesh prickles on her neck. She involuntarily takes a step backward.

doom doom doom bad things doom the state of the economy doom doom you’ll never live up to your own expectations doom the rainforest is irreplaceably dying and the world is being run by people who can see what’s happening and capitalism will eat us all something something heat death of the universe

she hears

hissing

In the classic response for those faced with unpleasant truths Silarien plugs her ears, shuts her eyes, yells incoherently, and books it to the other side of the room.

CHOICE D

[Lirimaer]

Éowine - Rider of the Mark

The Dunlending who helped him out of the mud was less than polite, and while Éowine had the good grace to remain thankful and not violent or bitter at the man's utter contempt for him, it chafed on the inside. He remembered his mother's words of encouragement to him when he was growing up, the youngest of a passel of kids, and the only boy.

"Ah my son, there is no shame in asking for help when you need it. No one can do it all alone, and the earlier you realise it the better off you'll be," she would say, and he would glower and stomp off, desperate to prove himself. Of course, he had learned the wisdom of her words in time, but it had been a hard journey and he still wanted to do things all by himself sometimes, so perhaps the lesson hadn't wholly be learned.

Éowine straightened his shoulders and headed up to the fourth floor. He would ask for help again if he needed it, although he might not be so nice to another miserable mocker. It really was foggy in here though, what the-? Who said that? He turned, but immediately another voice assailed him from the other side. Fear shrouded him like a cloak, and he quailed visibly, having to reach deep within himself for something to hold on to. He could hear Elvish wailing up ahead and wasn't sure if it was the other aspirants or part of the trick. It felt like that time his friends had dared him to go near the Paths of the Dead and whether it was his imagination or an echo trick of his companions or, in actuality, the undead horde, he had quaked with fear and hadn't been able to go further than the door.

But Saruman wasn't a Necromancer, for all his faults. This was a trick, and a clever one at that. "There are no dead here!" he said with more confidence than he felt. "At least, none around to bother themselves with me." He strode forward into the fog. This was an illusion, and it could be eluded, he was sure. He kept his hand on the hilt of his knife, just in case, and whistled a jaunty tune - just to cut through the awful dread that would otherwise have iced his veins. Perhaps it would spur others onward, too.

(C)
27 HP

[The Good Hunter]

Æthelgifu
24 HP

Fourth Floor

The fourth floor was even worse. Thick fog covered everything not within half an arms reach. Æthelgifu could feel hear heart racing. As she stepped inside the swirling mass of ethereal tentacles the sound of voices assailed her. She couldn't tell where they were coming from, the sounds had no origin, they came from all around her, swirling around her like the mist itself. She walked on, heart racing. As she continued on blindly, some of the voices started to make sense to her. She could recognize the language being spoken to her.

"You'll never make it out of this place alive!" "You took your father's knife and now he's defenseless!" "You wanted to die, that's why you came here." "You couldn't cut it out there, what makes you think you'll have any impact in here? This is where the monsters live."

The voices rose from a mere to a crescendo of sound and violence. Æthelgifu's ears thrummed and throbbed. A trickle of blood spilled out of her left ear.

"No, none of this is real," her voice was weak and hoarse, a ripple against a tidal wave. Her knees locked and her feet froze to the floor. Her body wasn't responding. Her legs buckled and she fell to the ground. The wrapped frozen arms around her, choking the life out of her.

"No! No!" Her voice was still weak, lacking strength and resolve, but it's all she had. "This isn't real. This is all some sort of horrid magic." She put one foot down, her mind screamed as she did. Another foot forward. It was easier than before, but her mind was still reeling. "It's not real." She repeated the litany over and over, taking a weary step each time.

Option C, por favor

[Aerlinn]

The Fourth Floor

He had had better days. The feeling of muck sliding down his throat and into his stomach persisted long after the mud's recession and Talen could hardly think beyond his desire for a gulp of clean water. The fog snuck up on him in his misery.

Cold.
Cold like the cracking of ice before sunrise.
Cold like the space between stars.
Cold like fire.

The boy stood motionless on the fourth floor, breathing fast. Before him stretched a wasteland of cracked rock and ash. A voice hissed hurried instructions in his ear but the words were a jumble, falling over each other in a scree of broken stones, and he knew that if he turned, there would be no one there.

Cold like the moment you realize you're falling. Cold like laughter that would have been. Cold like steel.

Talen opened his eyes to find himself on one knee. The hilt of his oversized sword dug into the back of his scalp. His hands were numb and stiff, and refused to close into fists. The fog churned. He scrubbed clumsily at his face and crawled forward a few feet. He wasn't sure where the stairwells were anymore, but 'somewhere else' was surely better than 'here'.

Cold like silence.

Option B, 28 HP

[Moriel]

Third Floor
22 HP

With a final squelch, Gellam pulled himself free of the sucking mud, and, knowing it would be futile to try and clean himself, proceeded to the next floor. There he saw an expanse of wide open floor- or so it seemed, beneath the eddies and swirls of fog that hung heavily about the place. As he entered it, the sounds came from all sides, whispers and cries from every foul creature he could imagine, and a chill swept down his spine. This was no different than wandering amongst the dark creatures that dwelt in Mirkwood, he told himself- but there, at least he knew that there was no magic behind them. Taking a firmer grip on his lochaber, the Fool closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It was magic, nothing more, and illusion set to turn back those of faint heart and uncertain nerve. Real as any illusion might seem, it could not hurt you. He forged ahead.

Option C

[KingODuckingham]

THE RESULTS

@Aerlinn You attempted to crawl instead of walking, but it appears that this particular barrier was not so physical, and your change of position helped very little. You lose 3 HP.

@Moriel @Lirimaer @Frosty the Snowman You all believed that illusions could not hurt you, but you were wrong. You are not physically attacked, but the mental trauma you suffer will not be easily undone. You lose 4 HP.

@Sil An enemy that cannot reach you cannot hurt you. It appears your attempt to block your enemy mysteriously but assuredly succeeded. You lose no HP.

@SidraLockel Eltoran @Gwai @Lailyn Your lantern parts the fog, and you walk through unharmed, but the wick runs low. One more use.

Having passed through the fog, you march onwards and upwards to:

THE FIFTH FLOOR

You are confronted by a thick curtain when you enter this floor. When you push through it, you are suddenly in a spotlight. "And here they are, person of the hour, our newest contestant on The Price is White (Wizard)!" a voice shouts. You see the outline of a man standing next to you, speaking, but who he is you do not know. He asks you, "Are you ready to play? If you can guess whether this can of new black powder is worth more or less than the heads of two thousand orcs, you win a special priiiiize! What do you think?" There appears to be some sort of moderate sized audience awaiting your opinion on the matter, but it is hard to see more than their outline. Do you:

A) Guess that the can of powder is worth more than the two thousand orcs?
B) Guess that the two thousand orcs are worth more than the powder?
C) Tediously explain the subjective theory of value, and then say that there is no correct answer until we know who the buyer is and at what purchase point he will commit to both options?
D) Shove the man and shield your eyes, running and trying to find an exit?
E) Go on a long, rambling monologue that never gets to the point, attempting to put everyone to sleep?
F) [ONLY IF YOU HAVE CHALK] Smear some light-blocking chalk below your eyelids, then use your newfound vision to spot the exit and leave immediately?
G) [ONLY IF YOU HAVE A FANCY DECORATIVE BUCKLER] Toss the buckler like a Frisbee at the source of the light, breaking it and revealing to you the exit, allowing you to leave immediately?

And as a slight catch-up update below:

@Lailyn You danced across the mud with only minor lacerations. Was it from junk caught in the mud, or something more sinister lurking? You lose 1 HP.
@Queen Nerwen You tried to book it past the goblins, and did a good job of surprising them; you only sustain very minor injuries in the process. You lose 1 HP.

[Lirimaer]

Éowine - Rider of the Mark

Éowine got to the other side of the fog a quivering, quaking mess. He wasn't feeling his normal calm self, and even his jaunty whistle, which his sisters assured him was the only way to cope with fear, hadn't worked. He took a flask from his satchel and drew a long slug of water. It made him feel marginally better, so he had an apple as well, sitting on the stairs until he felt better about this whole insane journey.

If he'd had a rope, he might have found the nearest window and rappelled down, making off for home. But he didn't. If he'd had some alcohol now ... he determined to definitely bring some on his next quest. Next quest! He laughed aloud. What a fool he was!

He made his way upstairs to the next floor, wondering how many floors there were in this tower. He'd seen no windows, come to think of it, and had no idea how high up they were. OH WHAT WAS THAT?

THE BRIGHT LIGHT SHUTTERED ALL HIS THINKING, SOMEONE WAS TALKING, BUT HE COULDN'T PROCESS THE WORDS.

"Turn off the light!" he cried, helplessly covering his eyes.

BUT THE LIGHT DID NOT TURN OFF. IN DESPERATION HE RAN TO A WALL, BUMPING INTO SOMEONE ON THE WAY, SHIELDING HIS EYES WITH A FOREARM. HE BEGAN TO MAKE HIS WAY AROUND THE WALL BY FEEL, TRYING TO FIND THE WAY OUT.

(D)
23 HP