As Hy-Jinx and Bembry race ahead, Hood, panting, slowly climbs the stairs; Helmet guarding the rear.

“I say Hood, what ails you? You’re looking a little wobbly in the knees there,” observes Helmet.

“Hood are you okay?” asks Madeleine, hearing Helmet’s comments and observing for herself her friend’s demeanour.

Dozer, turns, looking down at all three below him.

Hood simply waves a hand as if to wave away everyone’s concern, before cursorily lifting a finger to imply all should proceed upwards.

The stairs shift through three sets of ninety degree turns to bring them out into a smaller hall above, with a large opening set in the south wall looking out onto a slowly brightening Bellview Square below. Outside, in the rosy glow of dawn, the Barbarian horde is slowly mobilising, jostling and bristling, drawing together as a crowd and bunching towards the now open doors of the bell tower. The noise of fighting and destruction from the hall below, echoes up the stairwells.

BONG!

Hood, Helmet, Madeleine and Dozer, crouch in the shadow of the stairwell, watching, as Hy-Jinx and Bembry, dressed in blue cloaks bark orders at appearing troops. The alarm bell is clearly having an effect as more colours are pouring through two archways set high up in the hall’s walls, onto landings and then stairs running around the edge of the hall. Each archway leads onto the walls of the Inner Fayre but beyond the landing of each, a narrower flight of steps lead up to a smaller exit-way, which appears to lead outside.

It is clear that the danger has united the factions as guards of both colours are running shoulder to shoulder with one another. Those that come from the eastern archway spiral around the south wall and descend to the west, whilst those from the west wall spiral round the north wall and descend to the east. As the guards step from the stairs, a general milling is occurring in the centre of the hall, guided now by Hy-Jinx and Bembry:

“Not the east stairwell, it’s blocked and potentially dangerous, everyone to the west. To the west!” encourages Bembry and with persistent urging a gradual flow of bodies is beginning to occur.

“Down the west stairs - hurry the barbarians are upon us. We have little time and must press for the advantage!” shouts Hy-Jinx.

In the shadows of the eastern stairwell, Madeleine is explaining the situation: “Can you see the smaller exit beyond the archway’s landing, we need to get through there - it leads to an outer colonnade which rings the bell tower and that in turn will lead us to the rope room from which we can climb a ladder to the belfry,” indicating with a nod of her mask the exit-way high above. Helmet, Hood and Dozer, listening to her, try to assess a means of getting there. But as they do so a group of guards begins to migrate towards them.

“Argh! This is not looking good,” says a frustrated Dozer in his gravelly tones.

BONG!

“NO! The west stairs the west stairs!” shouts Bembry, at the break-a-way group with little effect. But just as he starts shouting at them, a sudden grinding sound emanates from below and a whole section of the stone floor falls away. The troops heading in the direction of the crouched companions disappear, plummeting with surprised shrieks of terror as the floor gives way beneath them. Shouts and screams can be heard as the masonry impacts on the unfortunate below.

As a ripple of shocked panic moves through the ranks, half the colours in the hall register what has happened, the others continue in their shuffling and pushing, unaware, attempting to gain access to the western stairwell, oblivious of what has just happened until an audible gasp arises as a huge monstrously meaty hand reaches up through the hole in the floor, followed by another, grasping the crumbling masonry, before falling away. Then, from below, a bizarre high pitched scream screams: “Dworf climb! Dworf kill!”

As this is happening, the floor continues to erode, blocks of stone slowly teetering into the widening hole. As the encroaching lip expands, it does so towards where Bembry and Hy-Jinx are standing. And with the burgeoning appearance of more troops and the widening hole in the floor, Bembry and Hy-Jinx are caught between the lack of rock and a hard place.

Realising their predicament, Hy-Jinx and Bembry turn their backs to the crowd of colours and attempt to push backwards away from the threat of falling, but to no avail.

BONG!

Hood, witnessing the inevitable unfold, growls to himself and pushes himself to his feet, moving from the cover of the stairwell up into the hall. The gaping hole leaves little room for manoeuvre and, having appeared at the bottom of the stairway that descends from the western arch, has caused the troops using these stairs to halt and make their way back up, for to continue on would cause them to simply step out into an abyss - the stairs literally suspended mid-air. Retracing their steps, the troops continue, beyond the archway, to the smaller exit and use the outer colonnade which wraps about the outside of the bell tower to allow them to re-enter on the other side of the hall, through the small exit-away above the other landing.

Madeleine moves with Hood. Dozer and Helmet remain, guarding their rear.

“I think we better get a move on here, I can hear movement below, could be guards or barbarians but neither is good news for us.” calls Dozer.

“I concur!” shouts Helmet in his regimental tones.

“Oh my god!” shouts Hy-Jinx from across the gap, jumping up and down excitedly, clasping her hands together in glee. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” oblivious it would seem that she’s dancing on the edge of a precipice. “For the smell of fox that ain’t been cured there ain’t no cure! Ha hah!” she shouts ecstatically.

“The god’s!” exclaims Madeleine, seeing Hy-Jynx’s expression transform from concerned worry to gleeful enthusiasm, “What now?! She’s not all there I swear it!”

BONG!

Ignoring this distraction - amongst many - Hood takes a deep breath and sets himself, hoping that where he stands will not give way. Waiving his hands and sounding out syllables that affect the fabric of the real, his fingers twist and weave. Bembry suddenly feels a release of pressure in his legs and momentarily thinks that the floor’s falling has eventually reached him, but instead finds himself being lifted somewhat, and floated in a rather stately manner across the gaping divide. Looking down he sees the massive head of Dworf, locks eyes with the slightly unbalanced gaze of this malformed giant, who seeing him, let’s out a roar of anger and, jumping up with an outstretched hand, manages to grab one of his legs. Bembry suddenly jerks downwards, his head and flailing arms still visible above the level of the floor. Panic stricken he starts screaming, his mouth wide open. “Aaarggh! Help!”

Several of the colours have witnessed Bembry’s flight and searching the sight before them have zoned in on the strange hooded figure standing next to the strange masked lady on the other side of the divided hall. But for the vast majority of the others, unaware of this blossoming situation, Bembry’s screaming causes the milling and flow to grind to a halt and for Bembry and, by proxy, Dworf to become the focus of attention. Colours draw swords and spread out as best they can around the lip of the hole, tentatively wondering how best to attend to the situation.

“For our comrade!” shouts Hy-Jynx and without hesitation, leaps out into the void, her well timed and calculated trajectory allowing her to wrap her arms and legs around Dworf’s prodigious neck. Others follow suite, some not so lucky, tumbling and falling possibly to their death or at least to severe injury. One, a guardswoman, manages to secure herself to an upper arm, another, a guardsman, to a shoulder, whilst one lands directly on top of Dworf’s head. The unluckiest of all however, hits Dworf’s back and sliding down gets wedged between the crease of Dworf’s butt cheeks, his head just peeking over the rim of the vast patchwork of stitched fox pelts which form Dworf’s fur pants. Completely stuck in a sticky, greasy, sweaty and stinking fold of flesh, unable to move, and slowly sinking, the screams of the guardsman rival, if not exceed, those of Bembry: “Aaaaaaarghh!”

“Aaaaaarrghh!” screams Dworf, his mind, experiencing sensory overload, unable to ascertain exactly what or where, with his free hand, he should grasp first.

BONG!