You pick up some last-minute gear, pay Durnan one gold coin, and are led to the back room amidst a flurry of cheers, well-wishing, and wagers on your fate.  When the heavily-reinforced door shuts, the room falls relatively quiet.
   "Remember, when you want to come back up, just bang on the shields and cause a ruckus; we'll lower the rope for you.  When you're at the top, you gotta pay another gold piece or go back down... without the benefit of a rope, if you're too feisty about it.  If you can't pay, we'll hold your gear until you can.  Unless you're completely out of luck, though, you won't have to worry about it."  A half-elven man, wearing the garb of a priest of Tymora, steps up to Durnan's side, granting the group a blessing from the Luckbringer.  "Best wishes to you, and the best of luck.  You'll surely be needing it."
   With that, you are securely lashed to the rope and lowered down the well.  As the rope descends into the increasing darkness, faces become visible in the opening above; customers toasting the group, wishing them good fortune, or asking for trophies.  The last echoes of the crowd's toasts and betting whisper about you as you descend deep into the well.  As the flickering light from the torches above fades, a chill overtakes you, and you find yourself still sinking with no end in sight.  You drop slowly and steadily deeper on the rope, almost as if you were the bait on an unweighted fishing line in placid waters, but the cold and the quiet of the well that surrounds you is anything but peaceful.  The silence has more of a waiting quality to it.
   After being lowered for what seems like an eternity, you at last see the bottom.  Below you stretches sand-covered ground and whatever fate awaits you in Undermountain.
   Several inches of sand covers the floor of this roughly square room.  Broken and dented shields hang on stone walls covered with chalk and charcoal graffiti.  The ceiling looms a mere 10 feet above you -- as it does in the hallway that leads out of the room to the south -- but a 30-foot-diameter hole in the ceiling forms a chimney that rises up over a hundred feet.
This message was last updated by the GM at 21:23, Sat 28 Apr 2007.

Malik nodded courteously to the Tymoran. "We thank you for your blessing."

Turning to his new companions, he added, "Let's take a little light into the darkness."

When we got to the bottom, he flipped the shutter on the bullseye lantern that hung at his side. In the beam of its light, he took a careful look around before shrugging.

"Looks like there's only one path out from here.  Who wants to lead off?"

"Sure hope this rope can hold me. Seems like a long way down,"  Borin says as they are being lowered. As he sees the floor he says "Anything in that room better get outta my way, fer I am a coming."

Once down he looks down the hall way and says "There can't be traps this early can there? Tell me there be none and I will head down the hall," Borin says as he hefts the mighty shield into place and pats his waraxe.

Zorian shifts his backpack over both shoulders to make it fit right and takes a carefull look around. Then then he takes a parchment and his inkpen placing it on a small wooden plank about a little bigger then the parchment.

"I will make a map that covers all our crossings. You guys know how to read a straight line map? Just in case."

Malik shrugged, "I can probably find my way back with one if I have to."

He idly rubbed the handle of the mace that hung from his belt as he looked down the hallway.  He took a few steps closer to the tunnel, and looked further down it by the light of his lantern.

Turning back to the others, he asked, "So, should Borin lead us off, or do one of you want to go first in case of traps that he might not see?"

"Whichever it is, I'll follow second in case our leader needs healing, or go last to guard against attacks from the rear, whichever seems wisest."

Borin letting the others decide what is going to happen, hefts is heavy shield and walks out to th ecenter of the hallway looking south.

Seeing Borin move forward, Malik smiled grimly, lifted his lantern and followed closely behind the dwarf.

Zorian looks at the indecisiveness of his party members and chuckles. His friend Khidrath was most likely the best suited to scout ahead even though he doubted that was neccecairy at this point.

"Khidrath why don't you move ahead and check for traps backed by Borin. Malik and i will close the line then. Don't move to far ahead thoughso we can hear and see each other in case of trouble."

Zorian writes down Start on his map and a square to mark a room on their path followed by a straight line that signifies the start of their journey.

Khidrath stepped forth "I’ll take the lead, but you’d better stay close by, just in case." he moves slowly towards the southern hallway, carefully looking for traps.

As you cross the room, your feet shifting in the layer of sand, you notice that prior visitors have left graffiti on the walls.  Some of it looks interesting.
  There is something fairly lengthy in Orcish near the southwest corner.
  On the west wall, in common, someone wrote: "Hesod -- Went to check out a strange music only Jayce can hear. Have a few drinks until we get back."  Below that, you see: "It's been two days. Leave a message if you have returned. -- Hesod"  And just below that: "It's been two weeks. I can wait no longer. I seek you out myself. None of our 'friends' would come with me. If you are not with me when you read this, then I am dead. Avenge my death on those who abandoned us in our time of need. -- Hesod"
  The north wall has something very short, in Dethek letters, though it's clearly not in the dwarves' language.
  In the northwest corner, some wit has written a little poem:
    Here there lies a secret door,
    but you will not find it or,
    you won't be able to open it,
    and then you'll rot here in this pit.
    Ha ha.
  On the east wall, someone wrote, "Beware the she-wolf and her night hounds.  They killed Sarth."
  Directly above the arch in the southwest, someone has written, "You came here unbidden, now you'll die in this midden."  It's not even good poetry.
  Near the floor on the south wall, right between two of the shields, is scrawled "Tymora, remember me."
  Right next to the arch, on the west wall, is something boldly scratched into the wall in Dethek.  Right underneath it, someone has delicately written a short message in chalk, with careful Espruar lettering.
  Near the northeast corner, there are two messages that, while using Thorass, are clearly not in Common.
  Lastly, another message using Dethek is on the east wall.

Kidrath and Zorian make out some hurried conversation from above, though they can't make out any of the words.

Khidrath takes a closer look at the Espruar lettering, still listening to the conversation from above, trying to make some sens of it or determine if it is coming closer.

The clearest part of the Elvish script is the horizontal line, with a curve beneath it -- the elven number eleven*.



*_{Note that elven numbering is base 12, so the number "11" in elven is actually 13 -- 12 + 1.  Elves outside of Evereska and Evermeet might revert to base ten like the humans use.}

Zorian chuckles as he reads the orc text and mumbles.

"Someone made a good impression on Durnan."

Then he steps back to under the well and looks upwards to see what is causing the conversation above.

Someone else is coming down the well, slowly being lowered at the end of the rope.

[Trinity, time to introduce yourself.]

Malik glanced back at the sound of the creaking of the rope, and glanced up to see the lady descending.  He waited patiently until she hit the sand.

After a seeming eternity of excited descent into shadow, Trinity suddenly finds herself plunged into a brightly lit room.  Her feet hit the sand and with a slight hop she quickly regains her balance.  Although she notices the people gathered in the immediate area, Trinity first secures her buckler and loosens her short sword before focusing her attention upon the group.  "I am ready.  Thank you for waiting."  Her manner suggests that her sudden appearance at the last minute was entirely planned, despite the impossibility.  "Please call me Trin."

Malik bowed, even though something in her manner told him a salute might be more in order.  "Malik of Lathander.  And you're welcome."

His tone wasn't quite a chuckle, but it did acknowledge the absurdity of her implied statement.

Trinity politely acknowledged Malik's response with a solemn nod of her head, yet her eyes twinkled in the flickering light and her lips twitched slightly in amusement.  As she notices the graffiti and also the chalk in the cloaked figure's hand, she asks with an upraised eyebrow, "Either you've been quite naughty in a very short time, or someone wanted to tell us something."

Borin says rather loudly for everyone comfort, "Well, are we moving on or waiting here till we have an army?"