Try the undercarriage. There should be a tow hook under there, or at least something sturdy enough to latch onto... *Max makes his way back to the hole, studying the scratch marks with a worried eye.*
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Try the undercarriage. There should be a tow hook under there, or at least something sturdy enough to latch onto... *Max makes his way back to the hole, studying the scratch marks with a worried eye.*
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"Give me the rope and the carabiner then, I will hook it up." And supposing Thomas does, Wilhelm crawls beneath one of the vehicles just far enough to use the carabiner to fasten the rope around one of the axles. If it was strong enough to support a vehicle that must have weighed well in excess of a ton, it would certainly be able to hold any of them without problem. And the lack of edges on that particular piece of metal would (hopefully) prevent the rope from fraying or snapping.
That done, he made his way back to the hole and began lowering the rope down. "If we are lucky, he is conscious down there and will be able to climb out on his own once the rope is lowered. But I suspect at least one of us will have to go down and investigate."
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Thomas passes the rope to the Priscus and allows the man with two good hands to connect the rope properly to the axle of the vehicle. After it's connected he takes hold of the loose end and begins walking back to where Max stood looking down the hole. "Yeah I know." Is all that he says, Thomas knew that Max understood what those scratches meant and was just as concerned about who or what had made them as he himself was.
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The rope spirals and snakes down into the darkness, slowly unwinding.
Several minutes pass, and Wilhelm feels the slight resistance of the water's surface tension; small ripple expand and refract across the surface, making the bottom sparkle with reflected light.
Then the rope pulls taut.
At the bottom of the well was a pool of water. It was only about 1 or 2 feet deep. Most people would have little trouble making their way across the pool; wading through it and using the walls to steady there balance. That was, of course, before the construction workers had accidently dumped a portion of dirt in. This dirt, mixed with the other dirt and sediment at the bottom, created something similar to quicksand at the bottom.
At least Quicksand was the closest approximation Conner Greyson could make. He had never actually been trapped in quick sand; however he assumed that it would be a very unpleasant experience. Much like what he was going through now. Losing his footing and falling into the murk filled muddy water. The Rocks did not help either. Conner wondered if it was a rock that was loosened by the Broodlings when they dug there tunnel. Conner also wondered if it was his ineptitude or the loose rock that caused him to fall. But that was speculation and completely unnecessary to worry about at this juncture.
So here Conner sits, sunken under water. The two feet of muddy water completely covering him thanks to the suction of the mud/sand and the rock that had landed on him. Conner had tried to move the rock with little avail. He had even tried to amplify his strength, expelling a precious vitae to do it. But much like his own legs and a portion of his torso the suction of the gunk had a hold of the rock and did not want to let go. Conner's knee was held tight by the rock. Conner was unsure if his knee had been broken by the rock as his lower half was very much numb because of the cold water and rain. It did leave a very unpleasent feeling on him though.
Conner had gone through several emotions as he sit on the bottom of the water. Anger, Frustration, Resigned failure, finally he settled on apathy. He was immortal, he would not die. Worst thing that would happen was the brood would find him and free him from this in order to torture him further. Or just kill him outright. Next thing would be to slip into torper because of hunger. Although that is not fun by any means it would be better then the first option. Next would be that his text got out and some how, some way Cheyenne had gotten someone to assist him.
So Conner sat, under the water, completely stuck and apathatic to his situation. Resigned to whatever would come. And then, something floated on the surface of the water. Something like a snake, but it wasn't a snake, Conner would hear its heart beating. Conner reached up and found ... a rope. Someone had found him. Either on purpose or by accedent someone had found him. Conner pulled on the rope. Feeling it go taut. Conner released the rope and gave it three sharp tugs. He didn't know Morse code or anything like that, so he couldn't exactly send a message. So three sharp tugs would have to do.
Stuff
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~ 5 feet
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*Max raises an eyebrow as the line goes taught, looking over at the Priscus.* Well, seems we've got a bite on the first cast. Priscus, if you'll help me pull whatever it is out?
*The then Mekhet makes his way over to the rope, forcing blood through his veins to make the task easier. He looks back at O'Connor, grabbing hold of the rope as he does.* It whatever comes out doesn't look like Mr Greyson, let's make sure we give it a warm welcome...
Max spends 1 Blood to activate Vigor
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Feel free to continue with narration only (no rolls).
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"If whatever comes out does not look like Mr. Greyson, we can see how well it handles a fall. Perhaps a few bullets as well if it fares particularly well, and looks particularly dangerous. Whip O'Connor, if you would be so kind as to anchor the rope behind us as best you can." He allowed some of the stolen blood in his own body to seep into his muscles, strengthening them in preparation. Then he took hold of the rope with Max, and began helping to reel in their catch.
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