Graydon frowns. "I imagine he needs a bit more rest. We're not going anywhere for a while, right? Let's not venture rashly onto land until we're prepared. We'll need our packs ready, rations, torches, to prep the sailboat. I doubt Cruxhole will be of much use in the interim.

"We all probably could do with a rest of some sort, but I'm too concerned with what's out there to meditate at the moment. I'll get some spells prepared and stow our gear into the rowboat for whenever we are ready to go," Jiardem said pausing at the stairs to the deck below. "I guess I can wake our Goldenhammer lover if need be,"

"We're all pretty tired. I think the rest might do us some good." Quinn says, before retiring to the guest chambers for a quick nap. The rest of the party all follows suit in their own fashion.

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As you sleep, you are all plagued by horrible nightmares of death, pain, and dismemberment. It is gruesome and terrifying. You are all relieved to awake...

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When you awake several hours later, the crew is hard at work repairing the heavy damage the Karaboudjan had sustained. Nevertheless, the ship is still moored on the rocks and has much to work on before it can be removed. A standard sized row-boat, big enough for about eight or nine individuals, plus a few supplies, has been prepared and awaits your departure. First Mate Alan Cross, young Deckhand Billy Kidd, and two other beefy-looking men wait with the row-boat.

Cross speaks first. "We've been assigned to take you to the island and back, when you're ready."

After sleeping on the ship's deck for a reasonable time to recover his energies, Thibor wakes up. He prefers to sleep at soft beds, but he is used to sleep at rocks, so a ship's deck is actually more comforting than what he was used to sleep, more soft if it is possible to say so.

"I am ready to go, after I fetch Goldenhammer. I am not crazy to enter that boat without my health insurance." Thibor says to the sailor and then starts to descend the stairs to search for his prized barrel.

Jairdem had his adventuring gear tightly packed and spells prepared having risen from his reverie an hour earlier, a reverie that had been quite unpleasant... "Hoping this goes well Alan. This voyage has had a few more surprises than I'd like, but I don't want to turn back without verifying that this is the destination,"

Just before entering the rowboat he turned to Billy, "I hadn't said this yet, but I'd like to thank you for your assistance with the ritual yesterday. You might have some spell slinging talents,"

Agamemnon bounds out onto the deck of the Karaboudjan stopping only to take an exaggerated gulp of air and let out a booming laugh. Looking around he spots Jairdem climbing into a row boat and and rushes over to the eldarin. Without breaking stride he leaps over the railing of the ship and into the rowboat before hefting his hammer and pointing it in the direction of the distant landmass. "Haha! The day is young and we are fit and ready! Make peace with your gods evil for Agamemnon, the Guiding Light of Truth, comes now to send you to meet them! Come my fellows! Let us not make the cowards wait!" He finishes of with another bout of roaring laughter.

For a second Jiardem's purple eyes seemed to turn a redder shade. "Pray that he learns not to let his bravado lead him into danger," he says in a whisper.

Graydon joins the adventurers in the boat, well-rested and wishing the crew the best of luck repairing the boat while he and his companions investigate the island. "I am ready to be off!" he says.

Once everyone is in the boat, Alan Cross sets her in the water and you begin your journey into the fog around the isle. After about half an hour of rowing, you come to a set of very steep stairs that run a vertical line up the rock face.

Do you stop here or keep looking for another way in?

"I suppose so. My knowledge of this island, if it is the one of serpents, is limited, but I remember no tales of stairs on it. Tie the boat off somewhere nearby, but in a a way that it can be quickly loosed if necessary. May Ioun's knowledge keep us from a foolish death," Jiardem said wrapping the straps of his pack around his shoulders.

The Staircase of Doom

Alan nods and orders the two men to tie the boat off here. Before long you are all standing on a very small rock landing at the base of the stairs. Quinn pipes up, "Well, who wants to go first?"

"Hey, I think we need at least try to see if there is another way in. It is never good to take the first path without looking for other paths. It is always better to have options and a possible escape plan." Thibor says while pointing the sea around the rock. "I like to be at firm ground more than anybody else, but I think should look a little more."

He ponders a minute trying to remember if he is missing something.

Graydon shakes his head. "Or maybe this is fortuitous, an opportunity presenting itself. We have so little time to explore the island before the ship sails without us. I say we stop here and investigate while we're still within site of the ship's sails!"

Quinn smirks at Graydon's comment. "Says the guy who was practically born climbing mountains. If we're going to do this, we need to make sure we take every precaution. If I'm going to die today, I'd at least like to say I was killed by a ferocious beast, not bested by a simple wall."

Jiardem kneels down and starts rummaging through his pack naming items within as he goes, "Spellbook, Ritual book, components, bedroll, rope!" At the last word he pulls the rope from his pack and sets the bundle on the ground.

"Rations, sunrods, potions, ah! Climbing tools," the Eladrin pulls out a leather pouch with a small hammer and a grappling hook hanging from it. Pulling a piton from the pouch he says, "If Graydon is going first he can anchor the rope to the wall making it easier to climb... I'm just not sure my rope is long enough though,"

Graydon takes the climber's kit from Jhiardem, pulling his own length of rope from his adventurer's kit. "I'll lash these together and climb up top. That should help anyone who finds themselves suddenly trembling before walls." He grins, oaring the boat toward the vertical staircase, and begins the arduous procedure of climbing.

Climbing the stairs is easy, especially for a Goliath like Graydon. At least it is at first. As you climb you start to feel heavy, like some supernatural weight is weighing you down. It gets harder and harder to pull yourself up to each step. At about 70 feet up you start to feel exhausted. Then, a mere few steps from the top, you feel almost as if you can't climb another step. But you do. Finally, after an arduous climb, you do make it to the top.

Looking around you, you see that the wall is only about twenty-five feet thick at the top. Peering forward off the other side you can see it drops maybe 70 feet to a stone floor below. Ahead, another identical inner wall seems to circle the island, creating a 50 foot wide/70 foot deep canyon between the two. Light barely reaches the bottom, but there is just enough for you to see that at the base of this canyon massive stone spike, some 30 feet off the ground, jut up like teeth cutting the sky. Littered across these "teeth" are dozens of old broken airships: magical vessels that sail the skies instead of the waters.

A single, old, rickety, rope and wood plank bridge stretches almost 50 feet across the canyon from where you're standing to the other side.

Then...out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement on the canyon floor bellow. You swear you saw something race across the darkness, but you know not what.

Graydon licks his lips, nervously eyeing the descent below, eyes searching for the darting figure. After a moment, he sighed, extracting his rope from his adventurer's kit and lashing it to the rope from the climber's kit. He knots one end of this around his waist, and attaches the remnants of the kit to the lower half, lowering it swiftly and silently to his comrades below.

"Looks like he made it. I'll go next see if the ropes are holding. Oh and should I vanish during my accent don't fret, that was planned. As long as I call down afterwards that is," Jiardem says rubbing a bit of dust on his hands to dry them from the sweat collecting on them.

"Still doesn't mean this will be easy," He pauses to make sure his pack is secured and items tied to it are held tight. Then he grabs the pack that was lowered with the rope, ties the rope to his belt and follows the Goliath.

Jiardem started to climb, hoping to tap into the strength of his ancestors, the same strength that his father had as a defender of the wild roads of the feywild. The first few feet the accent was easy, but it wasn't long before the climb had his muscles trembling with effort, but he did find the strength to continue only pausing a short distance before the top.

"Graydon, if you can hear me the rope is going to go limp here in a second! Don't be alarmed, I'll be up in a second!" His mind turned to the lands his parents had left and those that he was connected to by birth. His skin seemed to glow with green light as he appeared to disintegrate, only to reform in a similar manner at Graydon's side. "I don't think anyone else should have trouble with this,"

Yelling down to the others he bellowed, "Made it!"