We stepped around the carcasses and continued over the bridge.

“Fuck” I muttered, glaring at the heavy and solid wooden gate that secured this side of the bridge. Where the other had been rotten and destroyed, this one looked almost new. It also looked sturdy, and very, very locked.

“They must have made repairs in some parts of the sewers,” Cambrin said, eyeing the gate. “Can you open this?” he asked, turning to me.

I sighed, drawing my picks from my haversack. “I’ll give it a go but that lock looks pretty solid. I planted my feet and lifted my tools to carefully work the lock (Dexterity check (Thieves’ Tools) [proficient]: 6+3+2=11). I grimaced as the pick slipped loose and shook my head. “I could keep at it, take twenty and get through the lock eventually unless you have other ideas?”

“It’s just a wood door, we could blast it faster than it’ll take you to wiggle your fiddlies,” Ceylas said. She was already raising her hand (Eldritch Blast: 2=5=7) and I dove out of the way as a blast of powerful force energy slammed against the stone wall beside the door.

“Damn it, Ceylas. You need to work on your aim! Try actually hitting the door, not my head.”

She glared at me. “Your head is too big a target, it’s hard to get around.”

Cambrin grunted which sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement.

“Well?” Ceylas continued, “I dare you to do better.”

I sighed. Honestly, taking the time to pick the lock would probably be smarter. What idiot decides to just slam at a door. Still, both Cambrin and Ceylas were watching me, expectantly, and I could see Ceylas charging another blast of power.

I turned, squared off against the door and with a shout launched a spinning back kick (Unarmed: 6+5=11; damage: 3+3=6) before rounding and slamming the heel of my palm into the same point (Unarmed: 10+5=15; damage: 4+3=7). Both blows landed hard against the lock rail of the door, splintering the wood around the handle and jamb. It wasn’t quite enough to bust the door from its frame but another kick might. I was about to raise my leg to add a solid front kick to the same point when Ceylas’s magic lanced over my shoulder (Eldritch Blast: 19+5=24; damage: 4+3=7). It slammed into the same point, splintering the wood in all directions and making the whole locking mechanism tumble to the floor.

“Ah ha!” she cried, “I have defeated the door.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “You’re such a dork. Besides, I helped, a lot.”

I pushed what was left of the door open and remembering Cambrin’s directions, continued through the next intersection keeping to as much of a north westerly direction as I could (Survival: 7+4=11).

We circled around some crumbled parts of the sewer system and continued north, northwest but came up on a solid cave in. The whole way forward was blocked.

Cambrin frowned. “This should not be blocked, this corridor should lead through to the northern parts of the city,” he said, pulling the map out.

“Is there another way?” I asked, peering over his shoulder.

“We would have to back track, two intersections, and head right, here,” he said, pointing to the place on the map that continued more westerly before turning north again.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Then we go that way.”

Cambrin tucked his map away and we fell back into formation. I retraced our steps to the second intersection and headed to the right, following the slight curve of the corridor. The smell was heavier here, more opressive. I thought I’d get used to it but somehow the deeper into the density of the city we headed the more putrid the filth-filled channel of sewer water became. I lifted a hand to shield my nose and tried to focus my watery eyes on the path ahead.

“Wait,” Cambrin whispered, reaching a hand to grip my sleeve at the elbow.

“What is it?” I whispered back, pausing where we stood. I strained to listen, and darted my gaze around, wondering what Cambrin had seen (Perception: 18+4=22).

“There,” Cambrin said, but I’d spotted it even before I could follow the direction of his gesture. There was a heavy depression in the floor ahead. It looked like some of the tiling had cracked and fallen away, creating a dip into the sewerage channel. The tiles around it didn’t look particularly stable either. There was a gleam of something metallic under the murky water that had pooled there.

“What is that?” Ceylas asked, tucking her small form in beside me so she could see what we were looking at.

“The ground is unstable,” Cambrin said. “We must be careful.”

“I don’t mean that, silly. I mean the shiny thing.”

“Of course you’re drawn to the shiny thing. I’m not going fishing for that.”

“But it could be valuable,” she said with a pout.

“Then you can get waist deep in fecal matter to fetch it.”

She shuddered, but continued to look longingly at the gleam. “We could fish it out,” she suggested, “we have rope.”

“How do you suppose we hook the end around whatever it is?”

She lifted a shoulder.

“Well, I could fashion a hook of sorts. With our crowbar?” Cambrin suggested. Ceylas nodded eagerly. They pulled the coil of rope from Cambrin’s pack and the crowbar from his pouch. He fashioned together a rudimentary hook-style on the heavy rope (Intelligence check: 17+2=19). It was in no way at all a fishing line but it might at least allow us to dislodge the object and draw it up toward us.

“Will you throw it?” Ceylas asked, handing me the crowbar on a rope.

I sighed, feeling the heft. The rope itself was a heavy hemp. With the added weight of the crowbar it wouldn’t require much force to travel the short distance. The real trick was the precision required to get it in the right position. I let the length of rope drop a little, giving myself a short heft and tossed it into the hole (Dexterity check: 12+3=15). It wasn’t perfect, but it landed near enough that when I tugged a little the crowbar slightly hooked over the object, snagging it. I pulled carefully, inching it toward us.

There was debris in the water that created hazards but it wasn’t long before enough of the object was revealed to at least get a sense of what it was. The crowbar had snagged against the handle of an axe.

“Are you sure you want this Ceylas. It looks like a rusted piece of trash.”

“It might be useful. Maybe it’s magical.”

Cambrin shook his head. “I do not think magical items rust, even after era in water.”

“It might not be as rusted as you think. Please, Lo’Kryn, get it for me.”

She did that thing girls do with their eyes. Making them all big and sad and pleading. Like a damn puppy. It did something to the stupid primal part of my brain that insists women need saving. That wasn’t some masculine bullshit, it was just biology, and Ceylas knew how to play with it.

I sighed, tugging the axe just a little further, careful to keep the crowbar hooked on the groove between the handle and axe head. As soon as it broke the surface I reached down (Acrobatics: 1+5=6) to snatch it out of the water but the tile beneath my foot shifted and I slide, falling ass over teakettle into the slosh of filthy water. I grimaced as I felt it soak through my robes.

Fortunately, I’d landed close enough to the axe. I refused to meet Ceylas’s gaze as I handed it to her. Even Cambrin sounded like he was trying not to laugh at me.

“Not a damn word,” I said, holding a hand up to shut them both up as I pulled myself to my feet. I climbed up the other side of the collapse. Cambrin and Ceylas edged around it to join me.

Cambrin was already looping the rope again. He untied the crowbar and slipped it back into his pouch before tucking the rope back into place against his backpack.

“Can we put this in there too?” Ceylas asked, handing him the axe to put in his pouch. It really was just a rusted piece of junk.

“Why?” I asked, “Seriously Ceylas, you’re a pack rat. You don’t need a rusty axe.”

“We might need it!” she insisted. I shook my head and stalked off. I’d had enough of this damn sewer and hoped we’d be reaching the surface again soon.