Archer was instantly awake. He sat up in a start, and promptly smashed his head against something very hard and very cold. Recoiling back to the ground, he clutched his head at the defining ring that filled his ears. “Bloody hell. Rutting lamp! That was a jolly good one you idiot.” He thought and he curled into a ball, clutching blindly for his blanket or pillow to escape into. “I suppose this is what I get for reading in bed like a school boy.” For several seconds the vibrations seemed to permeate his whole body, which struck Archer as rather odd. What’s more, Archer’s groping found no pillow, no blanket, only a hard unforgiving surface. As the din finally began to subside, he carefully opened his eyes, and reached out above him to see what it was he had struck. What his outstretched hand found was no lamp. Archer slowly realized it was a bell, and a big one. He crawled out from under the its skirt and staggered to his feet, still clutching his forehead and moaning softly to himself. He hugged the dome of the bell trying both to steady himself, and to stop the vibrations that still faintly resonated through it. As his vision cleared Archer slowly but surely assessed his situation. He was clinging to one of the large bells of the church tower in the middle of town, several stories up, barely dressed, fairly cold, with a splitting head ache. “Well, at least I won the bet.” Archer smiled, slunk down against the curve of the bell and watched the sun rise.
It had taken Archer several hours to finally get down off of the bell tower. Despite his apparent aptitude in somehow making his way up the tower while sleeping, in a waking state Archer found those particular skills lacking, and had spent a rather frustrating hour trying to pry open the access panel which had no handle from the outside, but concealed a ladder down the inside of the structure. Despite the difficulty, he did gain something of a grudging respect for the architect, who had such forethought in prevent the entry of burglars and trespassers that even such a seemingly inaccessible entrance was well fortified. Archer muttered as he worked away at the hinges with a discarded roofing nail, “I shall have to mention this to the parson. I bet he stays up nights fretting over all the ninjas with sights on the collection plate.”