"Yes, I can smash it with my fists I suppose." Piety rears his left arm back and brings it pistoning forward, smashing into the pool wall. He continues back and forth mechanically, left, then right; left, then right. until his fists break through the wall.
Piety sets to breaking the wall, his arms moving like pistons, relentlessly pounding the stone. After a minute or two, cracks begin to appear in the stonework, until all of a sudden the wall crumbles under Piety's blows.
The green water flashes, spilling forth, running over Piety's arms and splashing onto the floor. Crackles of energy run across the surface of the water, both in the pool, on the floor, and on Piety, and the water fades to appear normal as its arcane energy is expended. With a flash, the smell of brimstone fills the air, and a small figure appears hovering over the centre of the pool, wings outstretched, wreathed in a cloud of dirty-looking smoke. A shrill voice rings out in Common.
"Why have you kept me imprisoned, son of Shar? Have I not served you well every time you have summoned me?" As the cloud of smoke dissipates, the figure is revealed - it is a small, blood-red creature, winged and with a long tail ending in a wicked barb. It sees you at the same time you see it, and its glowing red eyes widen in surprise. It snarls and makes to attack.
[oob]INITIATIVE - ROUND 1
Signey
Revjak
Piety
Carrick
Beastie
Reynwyn[/ooc]
Revjak snarls in return at the foul thing, and strikes!
Signey shouts out an invocation, and the familiar holy flames lick at the hideous creature. It twists, impossibly, in the air, and manages to evade the burning wrath of Sharess. From outside the pool, Revjak spins his polearm, smashing it twice, and the thing shrieks horribly and drops into what remains of the pool.
Revjak smiles.
"The pool is safe. We can move on."
Carric smiles as he was pulling to strike. He releases the draw slowly and returns the arrow to his quiver.
Nicely done!
Revjak is already fine with moving on.
"It was a foul minor devil, and reaped the rewards of it's existence. Let us continue."
The party moves out, through the open door on the other side of the room. The long corridor to the west stretches on, and as you walk down it you see that it joins up to the intersection where Revjak faced of with the masked figure and the warg. While the warg is long gone, having fled with the hobgoblin that claimed the mask, the vanquished enemy lies face down in a pool of its own blood, its body rent and ruined by Revjak's weapons.
Revjak bends down to search the body.
As he does so:
"What about those doors to the south?"
Revjak bends down to examine the cloaked body of his fallen foe. Turning it over, he sees the sightless eyes of the sheriff of Melton staring back at him. Twin scimitars lay beneath her, and a symbol of Shar, a black stone circle ringed in purple, hangs around her neck on a steel chain.
Searching her thoroughly, Revjak finds that she is wearing studded leather armour and has three daggers on her person (one of very fine make). At her belt is a leather key ring with two keys on it, and a pouch that contains: 28 gp; 12 sp; 30 cp; and a rabbit's foot. In a side pocket, Revjak also finds a folded note that reads:
Hunter,
I have discovered the secret you have been hiding from me. You deserve death, but Shar can be merciful if her servants are useful. You will be spared if you hand it over, and complete a small task.
There is quarry coming your way, on the north road in the first tenday of Eleint. Wagons from Waterdeep, bearing the symbol of a harp on a field of green. Take everything, but most specially a small carved lockbox bearing the merchant lord's coat of arms. Leave none alive. I will send an emissary to collect what I require -- including the mask. Do not fail, for the blade already hangs over your neck.
V
Revjak glances over the note, then passes it to his nearest companion.
He speaks as he gives the body a kick.
"The lockbox was desired by this one's master, a servant of Shar no doubt. At least she failed - she was to slay *all* in the caravan. There is an emissary coming - or who has already been and gone."
"Shar is a dangerous Goddess, and her worshippers are as well."
"Aye, they've given us some stern fights already. We should press on and deny them the lockbox - if it is still here."
Agreed. Let us move on. The hunt continues. Let's keep moving north, and do bring those keys.
Carric moves forward peering East as he approaches the door.
Reynwyn reads over the note and glances at the body. "Makes sense now why she was so adamant about keeping us out of Melton the night of the assault. No doubt she had hoped the goblins would return or we would perish of our wounds in the cold. We should bring this letter and her body along with the mask back to the town as proof lest we suddenly have people believing we killed their sheriff without cause."
He then examines the dagger (finely made) and mask to see if there are any magical auras about them.
"She earned her reward alright.", Revjak snorts. "And aye, we will return with these. Keep her in her robes so that her shame is obvious."
He will follow Carric's path, keeping his eyes open and his glaive held tight.
Reynwyn looks over the knife, but it doesn't seem to have any magical properties at first glance. Still, it is a fine piece of work with a unique-looking maker's mark, and likely quite valuable .
You all follow the corridor to the north, moving carefully and quietly, but the complex seems to be deadly silent. You can either go through a slightly ajar door to the north, or take a long corridor to the east.
Revjak whispers to Carric:
"Try the door."
Carric gently pushes the door open and draws an arrow to his bow.
Reynwyn admires the quality of the dagger. "Would anyone be adverse to me keeping this blade? It is of excellent quality, much better than mine own."
He then follows along with the rest of the group quietly, waiting eagerly to clear this foul place and be done with it.
The door creaks opens noisily even under Carric's gentle hand, and reveals a large sleeping chamber. Several beds have been pushed against one wall, and some old tapestries lie in a heap in the corner. The 15'x25' room is otherwise empty.
Reynwyn will take a few moments to look through the room for anything useful or any indication of the escaped hobgoblin...
"Not at all, Reynwyn. Use it well."
********
Revjak suspiciously eyes the beds.
"This reminds me of that barricade."
Revjak drops to his haunches, looking at the beds, and sees something suspicious under one of them... something tucked up beneath the rotting mattress perhaps?
"There is something under this."
Revjak does not hesistate reaches for the object with his left hand.
Carric also searches the room.
Revjak pulls out a small hessian bag. It clinks as it moves. Revjak peers inside and sees a golden gleam.
With a grin on his face and a laugh, Revjak holds the bag aloft.
"Enough for a few ales for us anyway!"
Reynwyn removes his old dagger the sheath and places the new one in its place. He turns and raises his eyebrows in surprise. "That is no small sum. I am very curious as to the story behind this place. It is a vexing oddity that eludes my understanding."
"That would not purchase the materials needed to make the toe of an iron golem, much less an entire such being."
The room appears to have been recently occupied, and Carric can detect the faint yet distinctive odour of hobgoblin sweat. Neither Revjak nor the sharp-eyed elf doesn't find anything further of interest, apart from a half-eaten apple and flint and steel.
You exit the room and move along the corridor to the east, which runs for some 80' before coming to a door set in a recess in the north wall . Again, the door is just slightly ajar, though little of the interior can be seen from outside but for the warm glow of firelight. At first listen, there is no sound coming from within. Otherwise, the corridor ends another 20' on, having collapsed what appears to be many years ago.
"Let us open this door and be done with this nonsense."
Carrot again pushes open the door and draws an arrow to his bow.
Revjak nods to Piety and readies himself to launch into the room once Carric has opened the door.
Carric pushes the door open, revealing a room much cleaner and more richly appointed than any other part of the temple. There are oak-paneled walls, vibrant tapestries, a four-poster bed, and a writing desk. There are two strongboxes in one corner, one rather large, the smaller one bearing the enamelled symbol of the Majarra family, a harp on a green field with white bars and a splash of orange in the top right corner. There are no obvious creatures in the room.
Reynwyn looks around the room. "This clearly must have been the sheriff's room when she stayed in this place. After seeing the foul conditions in which the goblins lived, I cannot imagine one of their ilk keeping this place so clean. Ah! There it is, our patron's strongbox! Let us see if it remains unspoiled." Reynwyn goes into the room to examine the boxes to see if they are still intact.
Upon visual examination, both lockboxes appear to be intact.
"Excellent! Let us clear out the last few rooms for goblin filth, then return to town in triumph."
"The goblins left no traps?"
Revjak looks over the lockboxes,
then picks up the bigger one.
Reynwyn thinks back to the keys they gathered from the fallen Sheriff. "Let us see if these keys work." He will also examine the boxes for any signs of obvious traps, if he doesn't see any he will then attempt the keys.
Neither Revjak nor Reynwyn see any sign of a trap, so Reynwyn pulls out the keychain and tries the keys. The first key, a plain iron key, fits the lock and turns with a creak. Reynwyn lifts the latch and lifts the lid, and as he does, feels a sharp pain in the side of his hand. Looking down, he sees a small needle protruding from under the latch.
A sensation of fire rushes up Reynwyn's arm and into his chest. A feeling of weakness and nausea washes over his entire body, and his vision blurs for a moment.
As Reynwyn bends to the side, fighting down the urge to vomit, everyone else sees a small mountain of coins and jewellery inside. This was obviously the sherrif's stash of ill-gotten gains from the ongoing goblin raids over the past months.
Reynwyn gives in, and empties his stomach on the floor beside the larger lockbox.
Revjak looks horrified at the sight of Renwyn falling, ignoring the ill-gotten wealth.
He turns to Signey:
"Heal him! Swiftly!", he says with deep worry obvious on his face and in his voice.