The strange and mostly ineffective party of Roscoe the raging barbarian halfling, Gwar the hardcore half-orc bard, and Flonk the kobold cleric made their way through the jungle to once again, save the world from something sinister. Only this time, they ran directly into an obstacle that would prove most daunting. A tower.
You see, the adventurers had not typically been made to climb much and since a pair of them were already smaller than most (though don’t say that to the halfling) it was certainly not their strength. In fact they hardly had any strength amongst them. Their guide Azaka wondered to herself how she got stuck with such a mismatch of misfits. But enough about that, let me tell you about how our party of oddities tackled the simple task of climbing, or rather, how it tackled them.
At their feet lay four spiders that the party expertly dispatched. Though the beasts surprised the group, they were no match for the might and magic of our heroes, er, champions, hmm… let’s just agree to call them a party.
A ten foot deep pit lay in the center of the cave. Flonk hopped down and of course, lost his footing and fell, though luckily he took no damage from the fall. Gwar climbed down and although he looked like an armed potato rolling down a hill, he also managed to get into the pit. From there things escalated. And I mean that literally.
A smoke shaft rose up from the pit higher than they could see. And both the halfling and guide, Azaka, already required the aid of a torch in the dark cave.
Brave, diminutive Roscoe with anger in his heart at the difficulty of the task, dropped his torch and began climbing with a rope. With many grunts and curses he climbed; slowly but surely. Up he went until he was about 20 feet high and then Gwar gripped the rope and also began climbing. Perhaps it was his large size, or perhaps it was his lack of athletics but regardless, the half-orc could not maintain his footing and slipped, pulling the halfling down with him only to crash hard against the ground, knocking the wind from his lungs. Roscoe was far less injured and angered further after the set back, grit his teeth and clawed his way along the walls ever upward; leaving the heaving and wheezing half-orc on the cave floor.
With much grunting the barbarian halfling reached a ledge, although he could not see anything. Azaka the guide followed while wondering if it might be best to leave the misfits to their fate and head back to town. She reached the top without issue.
Gwar, still holding his side and wincing, convinced the kobold to attempt the climb next. Little Flonk began to climb and for a moment felt confident in it. About 20 feet up however, the reptilian creature squealed and gripped the rope tightly, afraid to fall like his larger friend.
The small adventurer clung to the rope as if clinging to life itself. Gwar managed to sooth his nerves however.
“It’ll be ok, little friend. You can do it,” the half-orc encouraged.
“But you fall!” Flonk cried. “Flonk fall too!”
“No you won’t, Flonk, you can make it. Please try.”
Flonk tried once more but once again he began to shake and his grip felt as if it was slipping and he clung to the rope tightly, but unable or unwilling to move.
“Flonk will fall!” He screamed.
“I’m coming, Flonk, hold tight,” Gwar shouted then began to climb up the rope in spite of the terrible result previously.
The half-orc reached Flonk but could not convince him to continue to climb. The only compromise was that he agreed to let go of the rope to hold onto Gwar. The little Kobold wrapped his arms around the half-orc’s neck tightly. Like a little monkey on his mother’s back he held on.
With renewed purpose, Gwar resumed the climb. With death looming in the form of the hard rocks at the bottom, he pushed onward and upward. Hand over hand he climbed and although he slipped slightly a few times and Flonk squealed in his ear, the bard managed to climb to the top of the shaft.
As the wounded and winded half-orc lay on his back gasping for air, Azaka reminded them, “That was only the first of many. Let us continue.”