"Chest the opening?" questioned Leif. "What kind of option is that?"
Alex eyed the opening carefully. It wasn't an opening at all, due to the rather large and very heavy portcullis obstructing the way. "I think," he said carefully, "that it means the stupidest, uh, sorry, the strongest of us is supposed to use brute force to open that gate. You know, by running up to it and bashing it with their shoulder." He looked wistfully at Syra. "Or their chest."
Halk had stepped up on hearing "strongest" and barged everyone out of the way. "Stand back!" he said in a deep, theatrical manner sounding surprisingly like Dr. Lucian Sanchez from the Darkplace Hospital, or the Pished RoboCop Balloon Saver. Thundering forward, he gave an ear splitting battle cry and ran headlong into the unforgiving metal gate. Everyone winced. Then giggled. Then laughed until they all had glittery tears streaming down their faces; some let out a little wee.
Halk slowly pulled himself off the ground. His helmet was dented, his sword bent (oooh, camp!) and he now had a long series of red bruises across his chest and face that looked remarkably like he had just run deliberately into a portcullis. He looked around, and hefted his... loincloth. "Pah. It's not so tough. I can try again."
Linflas and Gothmog exchanged a knowing look and glanced quickly over at the button by the portcullis. "Shall we tell him?" Linflas smirked, "or let him entertain us again?"