Too Fat too Furious!

With the flame creature; Dijonn burning hot and bright from the torch held tightly in his fist, Liga Bur leads his teammates up the cold, slightly spiralling, stone steps. At the top, they come to an open doorway but, sensing danger, the Halfling allows his bigger comrades; Fortu and Doberman to stride past him and into the vast, windowless but worryingly empty room. There's nothing there though, no walls other than the outer ones and no furniture of any description. No furnishings at all except a series of oversized, gold framed paintings lining those otherwise bare outer walls.

As Fortu enters, his newly illuminated Bastard-sword also helps light the dark chamber but only the sensitive eyed Arowe is able to make out all of the paintings clearly. On each of the four tall walls, hang three or four large and skilfully painted portraits. Undoubtably masterpieces by Human standards. Each of them depicting the same beautiful woman in various poses; Riding side-saddle atop a powerful white horse, fussing an enormous dog, walking hand in hand with a solemn looking crowned man and, the largest one, depicting her cradling a rosy-cheeked, new-born baby. She is perhaps somewhere in her thirties in all these paintings but beyond her long fair hair and full bosom, it's her gentle smile that catches your attention. Warm and wise, yet Arowe gets the distinct feeling that the artist somehow, despite their obvious skill, still failed to do it justice.

It wasn't the oversized paintings that had triggered Liga Bur's 'danger sense' though, it was the soft growl from Mir Hundur and the black and grey checkerboard flagstones on the floor. An unnecessary pattern seemingly dividing the empty room into sixty-four separate sections. It's just a feeling though and although he pauses, sensing a possible trick, it's not enough to prevent the less concerned Arowe following the more heavily armoured Fortu and Doberman through the stone doorway.

Fortu gets about a third-way across the room towards the exit on the opposite corner, when there's an ominous click from above...

Spears suddenly spike down at Fortu and Arowe. The Elf gracefully dances back into the safety of the doorframe but Fortu lurches forward out of the way of the first one, only to spring a second and then a third! Now sprawled on the floor, Fortu's forced to rely on his heavy, enchanted armour to turn the spear's metal tip, and thankfully it does. Looking back up, the Human Gladiator realises that he's less than twenty feet from the next doorway and stairwell. He's closer to that one than the one he entered from but the spear-traps behind him are sprung and therefore safe for the moment.

The rotund Doberman though, suffers a different fate. The dark flagstone slab beneath him literally splits open and he falls downward and out of sight before he even has a chance to react. Bellowing in anger rather than fear, the screaming Doberman falls much further than he expected to. Far, far downward, accompanied by a shower of tiny, brightly coloured gemstones. Sliding down for maybe thirty feet, the wide-eyed, roly-poly, rage-filled Warrior's wide-set frame starts to grind against the smooth stone tube, slowing him enough, that he's able to grab onto the suddenly open lip of the wide vertical pipe.

Hanging in the darkness by just his chubby fingertips, the fat Warrior hears the gemstone gravel land with a series of gentle plops and sploshes onto something way down below him. Something wet!

With his stubby legs thrashing uselessly in the dank air under him, Doberman gazes back upwards through the long vertical tube at the tiny spot of light high above him. Adjusting his grip and his attitude, the now frightened Fighter, unsure how long he'll be able to hold on, calls upward. 

"Hey yoooou guys!"

Forty feet above him, even as the heavily armoured Fortu struggles back to his feet, the five sprung traps suddenly reset. The four triggered spears retract back into their hidden ceiling holes and the star-shaped pit trap snaps closed again, sharply and instantly cutting off Doberman's plaintive cries. The joins are so perfect, it's almost impossible for Liga Bur to see that they were there at all!