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Toren - you gulp down the content of the flask - but it seems not to give you any relieve. You still feel dried out and thirsty for more.
Markus - it takes a few moments - but your lips slowly wet themselves again and you feel a lot better. The sudden onset of thirst only a strange surreal memory.
Gregor - you enter the room. You notice Toren drinking and seeming to act strangely. But you don't seem to notice anything yourself.
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The cells are empty. This can't be said for the pit. Bones are scattered on the bottom of the pit and a skull seems to indicate they - or at least most of them - belonged to a human once.
There seems nothing else of interest or value here.
Looking down into the pit you feel a strange connection and you are glad that it isn't you down there. This is crude goblin work - far removed from the skills of dwarven craftsman - but still - it seemed to have done it's job.
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Distractedly, Toren nods and turns around. He walks back out of the room, shooting glances back behind him towards the pit. He follows Markus towards the next door.
Shaking his head and collecting himself he says, "Shall we do this like normal gang? I'll set me shield here and brace whilst someone opens the door."
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Four rudimentary bunks and two wooden chests take up most of the space in this cramped area. Despite the lack of room, the area has been kept neat and relatively clean.
The hobgoblins do not lock the communal chest and it contains a few items of value, including a potion of cure light wounds, 100 feet of silk rope, and jewels and loose coins of various denominations totaling to 83 gp. Darak's chest features a lock of average quality.
Chanix manages to open it after some hard work.
Inside, Darak has stored a small collection of human-crafted weapons—three masterwork daggers, each held within a dark leather scabbard—taken as spoils of war. Each scabbard is worth 10 gp. In addition, Darak has also stored a silver holy symbol of Urgathoa, a set of masterwork manacles, and a coin pouch containing 240 gp.
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You retreat your steps back. It takes around an hour until you reach the graveyard again.
Toren feels like walking in hot weather and not in the cold night air. His throat feels parched.
Fortitude save Toren
Toren seems wrong. This is too sudden and no signs of disease or poison - so most likely a curse or something similar.
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"I dunno, jes...thirsty...and hot. Ever since we went in that creepy jail cell I been thirsty."
Toren shakes his head to clear his thoughts a bit, "Gregor, I'm lookin' fer something...anything...from the Goblinblood Wars, like armor or a weapon or even a bauble. I'm s'posed to bring back something to give to some lesser merchant house as a favor."
Toren's steps slow for a moment and he looks around the graveyard. He looks closer at a few of the gravestones, reading what he can...
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Toren sighs a bit, and picks up a few of the items including a shield that looks to be in good condition. "Heh, yer no replacement fer Tessa here."
He puts his sundries into a pile and grabs a shovel off of the top of his backpack. "This ain't good to me, but I think I need to dig up some o' these graves from the wars. I don't like it...not one bit, but I'm poor enough I can't turn down a job."
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Toren
It seems no digging is needed - the goblins did already the job for you. They must have taken most of it but you uncover several valuables including a masterwork heavy steel shield, a hand of the mage wrapped in dirty bandages, a skull with two gold teeth worth 5 gp each, and loose coins of various denominations totaling to 147 gp.
Your research in the library helps you to identify the steel shield as an item carrying the insignia of the Mercenary League.
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"Well, looky here, maybe I don't need to dig after all, this here shield definitely belonged to the Mercenary League during the Goblinblood Wars. Thank'ee all fer yer help on findin' this!"
Toren re-packs the shovel and straps the steel shield to his back under the backpack, picks up his normal shield, and his polearm.
"I'm ready to check back on our caravan."
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For a long while Toren seems unable to sleep. He tries to drink - but it seems not to help. He feels like he is slowly drying out.
A further 4 HP non lethal lost.
Gregor administers a second charge from his wand. Toren feels relief and finally manages to fall asleep.
His sleep is disturbed by nightmares.
You feel like you are in a dark black hole. You are on your own - no matter how hard you try - you are unable to climb out. And as time passes by you start to feel thristy.
But there is nothing to quench your thirst - no single droplet of water anywhere close by. Will this be your end - the end to a glorious adventurer. An end not worthy of a dwarf - dying here in this hole - forgotten.
Water - if you only could get something to drink.
Toren manages a few hours sleep. It seems the sleep kept the worst at bay as you feel not as drained as before you went to sleep and Gregor healed you.
-2 HP non lethal.
But standing up you feel the thirst seems even worse as it was the night before.
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Toren stands up, breathing a little heavily. As he straps his various pieces of equipment on it is easy to tell he's not as spry as he's been on previous mornings.
"Anyone got anything that can make me feel...I dunno...fresher? Refreshed? I just ain't got my zip in my step...Didn't sleep worth a damn with that dream. A hole in tha ground...ain't no way I'm gonna go."