The Crumbling Cliff

Father Durrant puzzled over the answers for several minutes. Finally as understanding seeped in a smile crossed his lips and he chuckled to himself. Geoff and Dawn had arrived from the western teeth and were looking at him silently. They shake their heads when asked if they found anything. Father Durrant turns to see Mr. Louglynn picking his way along the trail Lars had made from the right eye and Sarg and Barton just beginning to make their way toward the nose from the eastern teeth. Father Durrant says, "wait for them and will explain what I have learned from this mound of stones."

When they arrive, also having found nothing, Father Durrant explains, "We have queried the stones. They conceal nothing, and we know they are truthful. The Stones were placed here by warm, soft hands working under the command of that whom they call the great master. They were carried from beneath this hill and placed under the tyranny of the wind and rain. That opening, say the stones, lays at the base of the steep slope and rests on the sun's axis."

"That would probably put the entrance by the cliff of sand and gravel," Mr. Louglynn chimes in. He holds out the map of the hilltop and traces a line from the nose directly north to the section of the slope you had labeled "sandy cliff." Now that he does so, he realizes the eyes and nose form an arrow pointing due north; probably not an accident.

"Gee, I wonder how we missed that," Bart says, "too much planning perhaps."

Sarg chuckles.

Durrant gives the halfling a sharp glance and says, "let us head to that spot and see what we can find. We must move quickly, for we have only about an hour before we must head back."

"Before we go, Comrades, the stones mentioned that when they are moved they return through the air after dark. Let us put them to the test and see what sort of magic with which we deal. Those of you who are strong enough, knock few stones off these piles. But don't spend too much time -- the day grows short."

Sarg, Geoff, and Lars grab some large stones from the nose and heft them into the thorny weeds. The party organizes into its marching order and moves toward the cliff of sand. You follow Geoff and Dawn's trail east to the end of the mouth, then along the teeth. At each mound, a few stones are tossed aside. At the eighth mound you have a brief discussion about whether to follow your trail to the eastern slope where you ascended the hill or to forge a new trail north to the edge of the crumbling cliff. In the interest of time, you decide to approach directly, a bit less cautiously.

Once at the northern slope, you begin to slash you way down. The growth obscures the cliff, and after a few minutes Geoff almost stumbled over the edge. About 40 feet from the top of the hill, the slope suddenly ends with a two foot thick layer of stone, overhung with briars. Below this layer of rock, a sandy gravel cliff falls at about 30 degrees the remaining 20 feet of the slope. You have arrived almost at the eastern edge of the long cliff. To your right about 15 feet away, the tangled weed covered slope descends next to the crumbling cliff. To your left, the stone drop extends well over 100 yards to the west. Although you could probably jump down a couple feet and climb down to the base on the rocks and sand, you all decide to descend in the weeds next to the cliff in case the loose material conceals traps. You reach the base of the cliff look west down its length. No break in the gravel can be seen. The cliff seems to pour from beneath the stone layer 20 feet above. You did not notice anything unusual earlier in the afternoon when you passed by from west to east.

Judging from the sun in the western sky, you probably have only an hour and a half of light remaining and you expect an hour hike back to the tower.