Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20140514193748/@comment-11457306-20140528014658

(We're not climbing up the rope.  Yes, Shille, I looked up the names.  I love Irish names.)

Rhiannon, with her blurred vision, put her hand on a projection of rock which had a crack in it. As soon as she put her full weight on it, it broke. Her foot wasn't quite in place yet and she lost her grip and her footing at the same time. She fell, scrabbling for a handhold and scraping her face along the rock face.

She knew Max was below her.

Throwing herself toward the rope, she grabbed it and slid down, past Max, before slamming hard against the wall as the rope swung back in. She nearly lost her grip. Then suddenly she felt herself tangled in loops as the Elven rope snaked up from the ground and wrapped around her like a snake which squeezes rather than poisons its prey. She hung, gasping, looking down at the ground far below and marveling that she wasn't dead.