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Pip looked at Barnaby. Then he looked at the small harness on the winch. Then he looked back at Barnaby.

Pip scrambled to the door, clutching a climbing pick. "Alright, Captain. We have to repel down. It’s a treacherous fifty-foot drop to the plaza. We’ll need to move fast before the frostbite sets in." fat explorer

Through a break in the clouds, jagged black peaks pierced the sky. It wasn't a mountain range. It was architecture. Spires of obsidian, twisted and sharp. Pip looked at Barnaby

Barnaby was a man of immense circumference. His belt was a leather strop usually found on industrial machinery, and his jowls wobbled in sync with the engine’s vibration. In the Royal Society of Explorers, he was a laughingstock. They pictured explorers as whippet-thin men with hollow cheeks and sun-bleached hair. Barnaby looked like a walrus in a safari suit. Pip scrambled to the door, clutching a climbing pick