“They made it out! Those buggers actually made it out of the black mist!”
It’s the grinning and slightly amazed, gold-toothed Barbella who spots their employers escape the black chasm below them.
Henshaw wanders over.
“What, even Fortu? In all that heavy armour?! I’d’ve bet good money against that happening… If’n I actually had any money that is.”
Barbella rolls his eyes while waving at the faraway Arowe, Liga Bur and Fortu until he manages to attract their attention.
“LEAVE... THE... ROPE... DOWN... THERE!”
He shouts, but the rushing wind steals his words, so he and Henshaw are forced to exaggeratedly mime what they need and what they’re going to do.
Fetching the woozy Doberman and the deafened Rifkin, they all prepare themselves to jump from Dulcetta’s mouth. Rifkin though, despite his sudden disability, manages to cast ‘light’ spells on all four of them, to enable them find each other in the swirling darkness below.
Rifkin jumps first, and his lithe half-of-a-half-elf, frame floats gently downward, supported by the tower's magically generated winds. The smallish Barbella jumps second to similar results. Then, almost round and green around the gills Doberman totters of the ledge…
And plummets!
Well, relatively to Rifkin and Barbella. He actually passes them before they enter the dark mist beneath them.
Finally, with one last look at the door at the back of Dulcetta’s stone throat, Henshaw jumps last. He falls faster than Barbella but slower than Doberman, as the updraft dramatically slows his fall.
The straw-thatched mercenary can’t help but marvel at what he’s doing and what he’s seen and been through these last few months. His four elder brothers wouldn’t believe what he’s experienced. Frankly, he can barely believe it himself!