You tug on the vine a few times. It feels secure, so you put your weight on it and lean forward. Quick as a change of heart, the vine slackens and you lose your grip; you land with a splash in the mudpool. The vine hangs innocently where it was.
It moves when you grasp it. A snake's head appears beside you. "Excuse me," it hisses. Your apology is profuse. Mollified, the snake becomes chatty. He asks you if you've any news of the Fingerkings. The Fingerkings? […]