*The Verge of War* A Medieval Rp

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Athaid said:
"Moving up a floor or two explains the cold current of air?" He replied, still whispering. He cocked his brow at Fawn and shrugged. "Whatever you say."
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"I don't know," Fawn replied. She pointed to a rock in the wall. "Push that please," she said.

(Oh wait, derp, heat travels up. Air goes down. Right?)
 
(Yeah, heat rises.)
Alfric handed the torch to Fawn and placed his hand against the stone, pushing it as hard as he could.
 
Athaid said:
(Yeah, heat rises.)
Alfric handed the torch to Fawn and placed his hand against the stone, pushing it as hard as he could.
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Fawn leaned against the wall to relax a moment while Alfric did that. She was growing exhausted with all the false stones and walking. She was also more than a little annoyed with herself for not being able to remember where the real exits were.
 
Alfric stumbled forward as his hand suddenly sunk into the wall. There was a loud creaking, grinding noise, as a large crack appeared, reaching from ceiling to floor. He pulled his hand back and pressed his shoulder into it, pushing as hard as he could. Slowly, the slab of rock began to move. Resting his head against the wall to catch his breath, he turned to Fawn. "Can you fit through there?" He asked, gesturing towards the narrow doorway which had appeared.
 
Fawn straightened, eager to see where the opening lead to. "I think so, but what about you?" She asked as she looked at the crack.
 
Alfric edged his way through the opening in the wall, left side first. It was a bit of a struggle, but eventually he managed to work his way in. Holding the torch up to the nearest wall he could see shelves, stacked with jars and bottles, containing some kind of curdled liquid. The floor was littered with barrels and boxes of all sorts and sizes, holding a variety of different powders and grains - some of which twinkled in the darkness like minature stars as the light from the torch breathed life into them. Crouching down, he lit up a nest of old, dusty cobwebs, which melted away like butter to reveal an open crate of candles. He reached down and picked up a good handful of them, stuffing them under his arm. From what he could see, the rest of the room was much of the same. He poked his head back through the door and said to Fawn, "Coasts clear."
 
(Matthew's gone now, and he left us in quite good shape, thankfully :D places nearer to the coast didn't get through it so easily though :/ )

Fawn watched his movements intently, eager to not let him out of her sight. When he disappeared in the corner for a while, she was beginning to worry that he had left her, but he soon reappeared by the crack. "I don't think I can make it through, thanks to these horrid petticoats," she said, worry obvious in her voice.
 

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