@CogsAndSpanners I can't help it. I think "death by a thousand papercuts!" and burst into helpless, nigh-hysterical laughter.

If I hurry, maybe... I take hold of Grod and start stomping my way towards the pedestal, prepared to toss if necessary, crushing as many tiny suits of armor like beer cans as I can manage, acutely aware of the unsolicited accupuncture treatment my ankles are receiving.

@CogsAndSpanners Something the Mournful Woman says comes back to me: about this place being a planar construct. Expert swordsmen, yes. But they remain unseen at this point, and nobody's said how big they were...

While I ponder what sort of master swordsman would wield a blade the size of, say, a toothpick and start towards the door, I keep a firm hold on Grod because if this doesn't work, I will need him for plan B.

@CogsAndSpanners My eye twitches again. A vein in my temple throbs.

"I am so sorry for all this trouble," I say to the liquid-person. And then, I eye the "book" that got me into this whole mess.

"And ~you~," I say, "Grod, if there is ANYTHING else you have just sort of ~forgotten~ to tell me about what's between me and a way out of here, NOW IS THE TIME."

@CogsAndSpanners My eye twitches.

On the one hand... a famous thief? Turned into a book? And, I would suppose, luring me into a nether hellscape to find his boo who is now apparently a quill? What kind of story is that?

On the other... a sentient book offering to guide me through said hellscape in search of a magic gauntlet that can undo death just for... *handwave* reasons? What kind of story is THAT!?

I feel the book (Grod?) quivering, and flip it open to see what it has to say for itself.

@CogsAndSpanners The adrenaline just sort of drains out of me, and I stagger back against the wall and take a moment to catch my breath.

"Okay," I finally wheeze, "I'm sorry, it's just there's a thousand and one different kinds of hostile creatures that do the exact thing you just did, maybe just... say 'hi' first? Or wave? Please warn a guy before you crawl up his leg, okay?"

Once again, I explain the whole ordeal thus far, from the fortune-teller's tent to the Mournful Woman.

@CogsAndSpanners Oh no. No no no no. Not good. Well...it could be worse, I still have a leg, which at least means this probably isn't one of those weird acid goo monsters but...

In a perfect world, I would have a moment to consult the book to see what it has to say about this. This is not a perfect world. So instead, I flail my torch over the surface of the--whatever it is while trying to scoot as close to the wall as possible.

@CogsAndSpanners It would appear she's right about that, because the path at the bottom looks exactly the way I would expect a hidden path at the bottom of a shaft leading down from a coffin to look. Dark, gravelly, the occasional orphaned bone of uncertain origin, a narrow and shallow-looking dribble of a stream of what I hope is just water meandering along with the path.

It's still a longer way down than I'd like to fall, but at least there doesn't appear to be anything immediately lethal...