PrP WtG Wind's Howling

[Titania]

She taps something on her phone, hoping they get the message, before rising a brow at the Colonel.
"Are you always so well... equipped?", she asks, part horrified, part curious.

[Liam Gelt]

Liam has his fingers hovering over his phone keyboard, ready to dial up one of the more martially equipped members of the Freehold, when suddenly he gets a thought in his Ogreish mind...
Wait...this is your chance to show that you can be a valuable member of the Freehold. If we can do this, then the Monarchs will have to notice me. He imagines Sera's warm, comforting smile; a look of respect from Rhodes and John; and...well, Circe would probably just give him a fist bump. But all in all, they would notice his contribution. They'd notice me.
Worm mentions the possibility that any possible victims might still be alive, and that seals the deal for the Giant. He pockets his phone. ​"Then what are we waiting for? Let's do this!"
The Giant is unfamiliar with the fine details of Wyrd-magic, but the adrenaline rush of the situation propels him to stretch out his arm towards the well and pour his Glamour into it. His eyes burned amber, and there was a darkly satisfied grin on Liam's face. For better or worse, they were in for the long haul.

Spending 1 Glamour for the Gate Activation!

[Colonel Worm]

Worm feels the excited gusts of the wind pup. It's like he's trapped in one of those hurricane booths you see at science museums. It would be cute, if it wasn't for the situation. Maybe.

Titania's question draws a crooked grin from the Goblin. "Oh, always," he replies. "I try to be prepared for all eventualities." He gives the Fairest a flirtatious wink. Maybe she likes to live dangerously? How sweet that would be. "You mind holding onto this? It'll free up my hands for...other things." He offers Titania the first aid kit. It looks like something an EMT would wear, with a shoulder strap and everything.

The Colonel approves of Liam's enthusiasm. He gives the Ogre an appreciative nod and turns to face the opening gate.

Time to dance with the brambles.

[Scourge]

Theirs a sucking sound, then a soft glug, and the inside of the children’s play equipment seems to drop away. Instead of the shallow basin, the inside of the well is now at least ten feet deep. It’s side covered with rotted planks instead of the modern playground aesthetic. And the air that emanates from the hole smells foul and putrid.

The little twister whistles and softly roars and then bounds into the well without a second thought.

And that’s left to do… is follow it.

Closing this scene, we'll keep going in the next.

Continued in PrP Bottom of the Well...