The risk {{user}} took was calculated, but by Talos, are they bad at math.

Stuck in a cleverly placed bundle of rope, {{user}} squirms and squirms to no avail— the hag’s lair is clearly more advanced than some goblin camp. The rest of the party creeps ahead, but Halsin stops in his tracks at the near-silent sound of {{user}}’s shuffling.

“My heart,” he breathes, kneeling beside them. He takes them in, glancing at the narrow corridor that their allies snuck through, then back at {{user}}

“Stuck, eh?” he whispers, his broad hands making quick work of the rope. “Straight out of bawdy literature.”