Rolled 12, 2 = 14 (2d20)
>>5273433>>5273426>>5273303>>5273261>>5273256>>5273198>>5273186>>5273184>>5273183“Brother!” you cry out.
He needs no more words, not with your empathic understanding of one another. He is far enough up the tunnel behind you that, even rotating around and craning your neck, you cannot see him, but you hear the crunch of the Green Dragonborn sinking his talons into the smooth stone, the scrape of scales as he slows his descent behind you, and the questioning rumble he emits as he draws to a halt.
You have no time to respond, though. The stream looked shallow—WAS shallow—up above, but other waters must feed into it—it is no rushing river, but it is deep enough and slick enough to give trouble. Underground slime-cultures make the rocks slick as you grasp and claw at them, unable to gain purchase. The chasm—the great fishing-net which these worms have formed—draws ever nearer.
“Looks like I am going to have to <Jump>…” you mutter to yourself.
You pull your knees up under you, wishing (not for the first or second or even hundredth time) that you had wings. You lean forward, sticking out your proud chin, and wait for just the right moment. When the drop into the great chasm below is finally in view, THAT is when you…
