Skandra didn't think he'd ever heard Aeotha express true regret before. It was an event for the ages, so far as he was concerned. Yet there was no time to savor it. The lift was beginning to swing wildly, side to side, and the rope was dropping lower. Skandra didn't know how much longer it was going to hold on. Yet he could think of at least one way to escape what seemed at the moment to be certain death. He held the crank steady with one hand, and jammed a knife through the top of the handcrank's frame with the other. When he was certain the knife would hold, he let go.
At first the whipping of the cart was more than he could take. Skandra nearly lost his balance entirely.
The handcrank spun into the knife, and there it stopped, jerking wildly beneath their feet for a second time. He was clinging to the rail with both hands, now, but as soon as the cart was stopped he heard it. One more rasping of rope, this one sharper and closer than before. The right side was dipping far lower than the left, now. And he thought he had an idea of why. The stomp of boots on the right side told the tale. There was an angry, thin man standing there with a sword in his hands. Skandra shoved Aeotha back, toward the left side, with one shouted instruction.
"Climb!"
The thrown knife came from Skandra's hand, and it passed by the face of the thin and angry man. Right through the rope. The right side of the lift dropped quite suddenly, and as it did Skandra slid along the bottom of said cart. The tall, thin fellow nearly fell backward. He had gripped the railing until Skandra's sliding boots plowed into his miserable fucking chest. With a scream their would-be assailant went spinning off into the darkness. Such was the force of Skandra's kick that the man was launched from the lift. Only just did Skandra manage to grab the railing for himself, and there he dangled. One of the two ropes for the lift had been cut.