Ottakar stares back, unflinching. As far as he is concerned, the whole world be damned as long as his wife (and mother, wherever she is) remains safe. For him, there is no deal if it may put her in danger, even if it means his own life is forfeit; as self-centered as he may be, she is more important to him than anything else.
With no regard for the contest of wills going on around him, Felrin accepts blade and quill, holding them reverently. He turns the blade on his own flesh, encountering some trouble on as the athame runs across a bony ridge which produces little blood. Gritting his teeth, he digs deeper with the knife, and blood wells up in the wound.
He sets down the knife and dips the tip of the quill into the blood, then signs his name to the contract. Looking up at Thorn, he says simply, "It is done."
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Realizing that flaws in a contract which may be exploited are best left unmentioned, Tkaara decides now is the opportune time to sign the contract, and perhaps keep the Doctor from showing how fast a human can be converted from flesh to ash. So, Tkaara steps forward behind Felrin, pokes her finger, after which she then watches with hypnotic fascination as a large drop of blood forms, and then takes the quill and signs the contract in her flowing handwriting.
Once she has signed, Tkaara steps back and awaits the decision of her fellow prison escapees.
Erevan remains as calm and composed as ever as the contract and its terms are introduced. Although like Ottakar he is not about to start worshipping a god simply on the strange man's say so, again like Ottakar he realizes that he has little say on the matter at this time and under such circumstances. He is a survivor and as such he would like to continue surviving and in doing so thrive, especially given the alternative.
Still, he is not one to rush to bind himself into service, so he allows others more eager than he to do so first if they so wish. Not only that, but he is more interested at the moment to see the exchange between the doctor and the Cardinal. Certainly his fellow Forsaken's defiance and seeming audacity to name further terms merit at least some respect from him, but that is not all that he finds intriguing. What he finds more interesting and even valuable one might say is that his... "friend" has a weakness, a weakness that goes by the name of Talia Wilken and who appears to reside in Talingarde, at least for now. And weaknesses can be exploited, used to one's advantage. Knowledge of them can be as much a weapon as any dagger or sword. Certainly it is only a little piece of information for now, but it is something to go on if need be.
So Erevan waits patiently for the bargaining between the two men to be over. After all, Cardinal Thorn's answer to Ottakar's demands are also of interest to him. Perhaps, if by the end of the negotiation Dr. Wilken remains a man and not a pile of ash, he may make some of his own, either demands or clarifications. Perhaps not. It remains to be seen.
The Cardinal eventually speaks, his voice mild, warm almost. "My dear doctor, it would be so easy for me to lie to you - I have, after all, Talingarde's foremost forger within my keeping. I could show you papers proving that your dear wife was already safely out of the country."
"But let us not begin what I hope will be a long and fruitful relationship with something so shallow and tawdry."
He pauses, almost as if he were uncertain about how this next comment will be received.
"My dear doctor, I am afraid I have to tell you that your wife is dead."
While Ottakar is digesting this news, the Cardinal smiles benevolently - paternally, almost - at Felrin and Tkaara. He takes one copy of the signed contract, leaving the other in their keeping. "Somewhere safe, I suggest," he murmurs.
He looks at the others, waiting for their decision.
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Tiadora pipes up, her voice gleeful. "Did you really think she would bear the shame that you inflicted on her, dearest? The disgrace! She was the talk of the town - and then she went to see your trial before the King himself! She heard of everything you had done, saw the company you were keeping. Do you know what that did to her? Do you know what she did next?"
"Well, why not try and picture it. Picture her returning home; picture the looks that she received from her former friends and neighbours. Picture a final letter, a will and testament. Picture her tidying the house one last time - always so neat, wasn't she? And then, picture a beam - a rope - a knot - the chair, falling..."
"I imagine you know what death from hanging looks and sounds like, don't you, dearest?"
Tiadora is . She adores inflicting emotional pain: it leaves no visible marks and it doesn't kill, so you can just keep going, and going, and going. Other torture is fun, too, of course, but there's always the release of death, eventually. Emotional torture has no such cure.
At first, Etna ignores the doctor's conversation with the cardinal, positioning herself behind Tkaara to sign the contract. She has the dagger already in hand when Lord Thorn announces the death of the doctor's wife. The ifrit stops for a moment to look at Ottakar, knowing too well the pain of losing a dear family member, but it's Tiadora comment that makes her grimace: with a popping sound, her hair grow brighter for a moment, and a twitch of her hand inadvertently buries the dagger in her finger.
Such unnecessary, useless cruelty...the doctor was going to sign the contract anyway, so why rub salt into the wound? I now share Sir Thorn "dislike" for her...
Concentrating hard not to glare at Tiadora, Etna signs the contract: after Lord Thorn has made sure that everything is in order, she takes her own copy and passes the dagger to the next person that has to sign.
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The Doctor does not react in even the slightest way to the news. Not even the slightest twitch of his face reveals his thoughts about the death of his wife.
"If that is the case, then there is nothing for it but to destroy those whose ignorance brought about the situation. I will sign your contract." He glances at the athame in Etna's hand. "Silver. Good. It would have to be."
He then walks slowly up to Tiadora. "As for you, dearest," he reaches out and cups her face gently, as one might a lover, "you, I shall one day kill. No matter how long it takes, and no matter who or what you are, I shall destroy you." He smiles pleasantly, pats her cheek, and turns to Etna to receive the athame once she has finished.
Tiadora's skin is icy cold to the touch; she rolls her eyes contemptuously at Ottakar's remarks, before vanishing and reappearing just out of reach.
"Actionable threats or violence against our Lord the Cardinal and his associates are a punishable offence, dearest," she says, softly.
Her face then twists into a sneer. "Fortunately for you, I do not consider that threat as actionable. I could crush you with one hand tied behind my back. Maybe I should try that, some time, for variety."
"Thank you doctor, miss Agnes," the Cardinal murmurs as he receives his copy of your signed contract.
"So I believe we are just waiting on master Cale, unless he has any reservations or requests?"
Erevan sighs. So the doctor's wife is already dead. So much for that leverage. But, as they say, as one door closes another one opens. And this second one seems to be made of silver is Ottakar's few words are any indication. Another piece of information to be filed away for some later use. For now, there is another task that needs attending.
"Reservations? Requests? Why would I have any when signing a binding contract with a quite possibly quite powerful stranger and the god he follows," he remarks with a shrug and a smile, his tone conversational if a little joking. "I think not, no, Master Thorn. And after all, I am sure that you do not expect me -or any of us who are not already venerating your god, for that matter- to suddenly start doing so after signing a contract. Respect? Most certainly. A god and powerful servants of his command respect, especially when they are instrumental in others' continued survival. But actual worship? Not at the moment, but perhaps in time." Another shrug as he takes the silver knife and proceeds to sign the contract, even if he is last to do so. "Stranger things have happened, I am sure. I am not all that narrow-minded, after all."
The Cardinal gives a small nod of approval as Erevan is the last to sign. "Cautious as ever, master Cale; I respect that. What I need of you will require caution and care, as well as daring. I am reassured that I have chosen well. And worship, in the Mitran sense of the word, is not required. Father requires ambition, not bowed heads and prayer. It strikes me that ambition is something you have in abundance, master Cale."
He claps his hands suddenly:
"Dessiter!
.
..
...
A tiny swirl of sickly yellow-green smoke appears between you and the Cardinal; gradually it expands to a man-sized plume before suddenly vanishing with an abrupt 'crack!' In its place stands a red-skinned, bald-headed fiend, dressed in a very sharp business suit - the price of which would make even Tkaara blush. Other than his red skin, however, he looks surprisingly ordinary: no talons, fangs, or glowing eyes.
He bows deferentially - subserviently even - to everyone, including Tiadora. "My Lord Cardinal?" His voice is pleasantly modulated, if slightly greasy.
Wordlessly, the Cardinal hands over his copies of your contract. Dessiter scans them with interest. His eyes gleam "Succinct and to the point, my Lord Cardinal; truly, your grasp on matters of Infernity is exemplary. I shall notarise them immediately."
Pulling out from his briefcase (yes, of course there's a briefcase) a warped, infernal, twisted seal of blackened metal, he pricks his finger with the athame and proceeds to stamp each copy of the contract with the seal, using his own blood. As he does so, there is a sizzling sound: the mark from the seal is being indelibly scorched into the parchment. It smells vile. At the same time, each of you feels a chill pass through you, sinking deeply into your bones.
You become aware that you have done something irrevocable. And is there a voice, just on the edge of hearing, murmuring blasphemously? "you are MINE" Maybe it's just your imagination that the windows are going dark. And it was probably just a draught that made those candles all go out at the same time
Finally, it is done. Dessiter replaces the seal in his briefcase, bows again - and vanishes.
The Cardinal smiles thinly and steeples his hands in thought. "Very well; it is done. My first command to you is this: take the rest of today off. You have escaped from Branderscar! Relax. Drink. Eat. Converse. Enjoy the company of your slaves - if they don't please you, there are more to choose from."
"My second command is this: prepare yourselves. Training begins tomorrow. Tiadora will supply you - give her a list of requests and she will decide what is appropriate. I have an extensive library if you need it -" here he gestures with an arm - "and there is an alchemist's laboratory, although that reminds me... "
Walking over to his desk, Cardinal Thorn writes a note on parchment: I hereby give permission to the bearer of this note to enter the laboratory. He hands this to Ottakar.
"My third command is this: return here at first light tomorrow. When the first rays of the sun enter through the East window, be here. Does anyone have any questions?"
DMD - when you created the link to the loot sheet on the Campaign Info tab, it looks like it lost its editability - can you change the sharing settings on it so anyone with the link can edit?
If it's easier, here is a shareable link with those settings in place: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1P8e0NkmqvaDjYaiL8MybFvS4_IIz2huGOfF 1Bw5CaUM/edit?usp=sharing
In any case, if we're able to cash in the loot we found, each of us has 271 gp in cash. The loot tracker does not include every chain shirt and sword we found, and I have my doubts we carried out all that stuff.
And can someone appraise the gold symbol of Mitra that Felrin's toting around, so we can decide to sell or keep it?
Tiadora sneers at you: "I am here to supply you according to our Lord's commands. I am neither your banker nor your merchant! Don't make me punish you for insolence - submit your requests and be done with it."
Clearly Tiadora's definition of 'insolence' is wide-ranging.
Etna watches silently as the devil appears, curtseying back as he appears.
After he departs, leaving an uneasy feeling in the room, the ifrit listens diligently to Lord Thorn.
Training?
"It will be done, Lord." Etna says to Thorn after he finishes, starting to compile the list of supplies as soon as possible: thinking back on her father's stories and what's usually in cousin Eremin travel backpack, the ifrit tries to piece together a list of sensible gear.
"Ah, if only I had Winston..."" Etna mumbles to herself as she writes: her familiar would have surely helped her go trough the last few days.
When she finishes, she hands the list to Tiadora. "Thanks, milady." she curtsies to Tiadora, trying her best to maintain proper etiquette.
I may not like her, but there is no need to be rude...like she is. Beside, I admit that she seems much more powerful than I: Best not to anger her.
The Doctor nods, quickly writes up a list in small, neat hand-writing, gives it to Tiadora without a word, and heads off to the laboratory. It has been too long since he has had his medicine, and he can feel the Beast stirring...
As you leave the study, the grandfather clock in the main hall strikes the hour: one chime.
Sir Lester is seated on a three-legged stool opposite one of the paintings on the wall (a rather fine van Boschghel, it shows the opening of the Worldwound). He is in the middle of painting an exact likeness of it, down to the very last brushstroke.
He smiles as you see him. "So, you signed on, eh? Not that you had much choice in it - I find that our Lord has a way of putting people's b'lls in a vice!"
He catches sight of Etna "Oh, that reminds me, miss Agnes - I have something for you. Took a little paperwork, but eh -" here he polishes his fingernails casually on his satin doublet - "paperwork is something I'm rather good at."
Putting his fingers to his lips he whistles, and bounding down the stairs comes Etna's dog, Winston, a bundle of fur and slobber moving at speed.
Ottakar's search for the laboratory takes him through a number of corridors, but he eventually finds what he is looking for. The door is open, but as he reaches the threshold a figure appears, barring his way.
The elf is dressed in thick robes of heavy black felt, hooded and cowled like a monk. The idea of saintliness is quickly dispelled however, partly by the evil smirk imprinted on his face and partly by the necklace of skulls and bones worn round his neck. The doctor's sensitive nose picks up the smell of roses, and death. The figure radiates a chill, even on a hot Summer's afternoon.
Looking at the Doctor, he speaks. "None may enter without permission." The voice is cold, high and sharp. It puts Ottakar in mind of a razor.
"Which I have," Ottakar states testily, holding up the Cardinal's note.
Etna gasps when Winston comes running down the stairs. With enormous effort, she manages not to start crying and hug the Basset Hound: instead, she quietly pets the dog before turning to Sir Lester.
"Words cannot express how deeply I am grateful to you, Sir. If you'll excuse me, I'll retire to my room for now: if I'm needed, do not hesitate to summon me." the ifrit says with a deep curtsy, urging Winston to follow her up the stairs.
After she's in her room, Etna drops to her knees and hugs her dog, tears running down her cheeks. "At least you're still here..."
The illusion flickers and vanishes in response to Ottakar's remarks. Stepping over the threshold, Ottakar finds himself in one of the best-stocked laboratories he has ever seen. Even illicit or hard to find materials and reagents are present, clearly labeled in flowing Elven script.
The order in which things have been stored however is clearly wrong (which is to say, not how Ottakar would arrange them). It's obvious that this is a wizard's domain rather than an alchemist's - they just order things differently (i.e. wrongly).
Separated from the others by a magical ward, the Doctor can be confident that he has a refuge from imbecility, a place where pure science can reign.
Felrin wears a soft smile of contentment as he savors the feeling of his pact with the Dark One made real, and his expression becomes a fierce grin as the pact devil stamps the agreement and the power of it sinks into his bones.
Considering the directive to give Tiadora a list of equipment, Felrin tells the woman, ”There are only a few things I require, as I was able to obtain much of what I needed from the staff at Branderscar. I’d like a weapon suitable to a servant of Asmodeus, and some decent tools for fixing the clock in the hall. But I’m already armored to my satisfaction, where some of the others are not. It will keep us all safer if one of my companions can make use of any gold not needed for my purchases.”
With that, he bows to Cardinal Thorn and Tiadora and excuses himself, returning to his chamber to study the contract he has signed, and offer his obeisance to Asmodeus.
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Tkaara carefully writes a list of items that she requires, including several that other party members would be unlikely to need, or want to use. She then hands it to Tiadora with a smile.
That will be all thank you. Isn't it nice that we are all working together. Being bound to contracts that require cooperation. Won't it be great.
Taker then heads back to her room before her withdrawal becomes apparent. Her desire for something almost overcoming her willpower, but the desire to irritate the Cardinal's ice queen being too great to deny. In her room, she orders the servants to make a cup of the strongest tea they have available, hoping the strong caffeine loaded drink will soothe, at least temporarily, her desires.
Before retiring, the Doctor busies himself in familiarizing himself with the equipment and spends the next hour or so distilling the appropriate extracts for the morrow, as well as a syringe of his special "medicine."
Mindful of the 'training' still to come, you mostly spend a quiet evening. Sir Lester sets up court in the drawing room after supper, offering brandy and cigars in exchange for some listeners to his conversation, which is mostly about himself.
Eventually, you all retire to bed, marvelling at the softness and comfort of the mattress and pillows.
====================
Starday the 26th of Erastus dawns bright and clear: it's going to be a beautiful Summer's day, you can tell already, despite the fact that the sun is not yet over the horizon. The Cardinal - with true mastery of Diabolism - has set a time for your meeting that is both precisely defined and yet somehow not readily knowable. Consequently, it is far earlier in the day than you would like, and yet you feel refreshed.
No matter how early you arrive, the Cardinal is waiting for you, seated in the same chair as yesterday. Tiadora is behind him, to his left. He smiles as you enter, but says nothing until - as stated - the first rays of the sun enter through the East window. Finally, he stands and beckons Felrin forward a few steps. He speaks to Felrin alone, although everyone can clearly hear what is said.
“Each of you has done well to escape from Branderscar and to accept my offer. However, none of you is yet ready for my service. Tiadora will lead you all to the basement of this domicile. There you will find nine chambers each more dangerous than the last. Somewhere hidden within these chambers is a pendant of silver and sapphire. Recover the pendant and bring it to me. Let nothing and no one stand in your way.”
He stands up and looks out of the manor house window across the moor, now bathed in beautiful Summer sunshine. “It is dawn. You have until the sun’s first rays enter through the West window to bring me my prize. When the first light of sunset enters this study, be here. Do not fail me.”
Cardinal Thorn takes a seat at his desk. Tiadora walks over to you right on cue. “This way,” is all she says.
Tiadora leads you to a door. “Below you will find the Nine Lessons.” She leaves without any further explanation.
The door is a heavy cellar door, unremarkable looking. It should bode. It should exude menace. It should be labelled with diabolical sigils of unspeakable evil. It is none of these things. It doesn't even shriek like the crack of doom when you open it. Not even a squeak. Just the murmur of well-oiled hinges.
Before you, a set of stairs lead down. You see torches at regular intervals. They have been freshly lit, but they don't burn with a hellish red light. They just burn, normally. There is no infernal stench arising to assail your nostrils. In fact, the only smell the Doctor can discern is the strong smell of pitch from the torches.
The stairs are not trapped, or greased, or anything. They're not even dusty. They're just stairs.
Descending them, you find another door. This one opens normally into a perfectly - perfectly - square room, 30 feet by 30 feet across. The floor is lined with marble flagstones, in pale pink. The walls are bare brick, unmarred by damp or lichen. A torch burns from a sconce set in the middle of each wall.
On the wall directly opposite the door you have entered from, another door is clearly visible. It too looks like - well, like a door.
As you take in your surroundings, a vast, devilish maw appears in the middle of the room. Just a mouth. It speaks, in the harsh, gutteral, rapid syllables of Infernal.
You have until the first rays of sunset, the Cardinal said. Well, it can't yet be 6 a.m. and it won't set for ages, so you have 12 hours, easily. Well, ten for sure. You have eight, definitely. But how definite can you afford to be? What would you bet your life on?
Felrin nods in response to Thorn's very brief instructions and replies simply, "We will not fail you, Master."
More rested than he can recall being in decades, he follows Tiadora to the innocuous door behind which their tests lie. He leads the way down the stairs and then stops in surprise as the giant devil-mouth appears and speaks! When it has finished, he is pleasantly surprised to note that he understood it clearly, though it was clearly not speaking any tongue of Talingarde.
"Did you all get that?" he asks his companions. "It said 'Here beginneth the First Lesson: Deception is a tool. Self-deception is death. Deceive always thy enemy but never thyself.' It's right, deception is a powerful tool - and the rest has a ring of truth to it as well. Though I'd guess we shouldn't take things too much at face value in this test we're facing."
Standing in the doorway, he takes a very careful look around and scans the room for magic.
Etna arrives exactly one minute early, with Winston following quietly after her. She silently listens to Thorn introduction, and curtsies to him as Tiadora accompany them to the inconspicuous basement door.
_/\_/\_/\_/\_/\_
"Yes, I understood that too." Etna says to Felrin as she peers into the room, even if the ifrit's eyes keep going back to the mouth in the ground.
I guess what kind of magic that is. An Illusion, maybe? That would be appropriate to the words it said.
"It said that this is the First Lesson: I doubt that all of this 'lesson' was just two words of advice, so we better be careful."
Winston stays close to Etna's gown, sniffing the air for anything unusual.
Aside from the giant mouth, that is.
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Tkaara too arrives a few moments later. After all, today they are to complete a test. The one who grades a test is the judge. And, after years in the courts, she knows that to keep a judge waiting is to beg for an adverse ruling. Today, she intends to complete the test, and to avoid giving the Cardinal or his minions any additional reasons to bring harm to her.
Tkaara then quietly follows Tiadora and the others to the nondescript door, Tkaara's eyes boring into the Cardinal's queen of malice's back like twin fire pokers searing their way into virgin flesh. As Tiadora walks away, Tkaara smiles inwardly. Soon, soon she shall be subservient, or dead.
--------
When the mouth speaks, Tkaara is sure she understands some of the words, similar as they are to the tongue of angels taught to all barristers. Unfortunately, the smooth flowery inflection used in Celestial have been replaced with guttural trills and shrill intonation that rather than lifting the heart, instead makes one wish one's ears were being ripped out.
When the words have been translated, Tkaara listens to the other's thoughts.
Yes, undoubtedly an illusion of some type. But, what type and where? It is possible that this mouth itself is the illusion and that the instructions are different.
Not pleased by the hour, having always been one to more easily sleep by day and be about by night, the Doctor silently listens to the instructions and proceeds, determined to be done with the foolishness set before him. The fool had already gone through the effort of recruiting them, and now he questioned their competence? Logic dictated that he should have determined their worthiness before expending time and resources to bring them here.
He listens to the magical mouth's message, his eyes rolling slightly at Felrin's immediate echo. He stalks slowly into the room, quarterstaff at the ready, nose flaring subtly as he scans for possible danger.
Leaning against his spear, Erevan listens closely to Felrin's translation; even though there are some similarities between the language of angels and this one, they are by no means enough for him to understand the meaning behind the words. He is surprised of course by the appearance of a devilish mouth out of apparently thin air and by its ability to speak, but he keeps his wits about him and, much like the tiefling, starts scanning the room with his golden eyes before actually entering it, having only his eyesight to rely on as he has neither the means to see magic nor the ability to discern scents like some of his more colorful fellow Forsaken, or Bound as they are now.
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Tkaara's drugs:
Use 1 dose of Honeydust before entering.
Fort: vs DC13 <-- woohoo, not addicted
Charisma bonus: <-- lasts for 1 hour
Damage to Wisdom:
After 1 hour, Charisma bonus wears off, and she has a 75% chance of becoming sickened.
------
In the room, Tkaara looks about to see if there is anything of note.
Perception:
Unfortunately, she is so enjoying the euphoria of the drugs that she does not notice much of anything.
As Etna, Felrin and Erevan stand back, looking into the room, they can see nothing of interest; possibly the flickering light from the torches obscures any finer details (or they're just standing too far away to see anything of interest). Felrin's magical senses tell him nothing.
Ottakar and Tkaara both enter the room, the former with his usual poise and purpose; the (ex-)barrister, not so much.
As Tkaara wanders around, blinking in the light and admiring the back of her hands (no, really, have you looked at your hands?! They're amazing!), she steps slightly too close to the door on the opposite wall.
Silently, swiftly, a ten-foot by ten-foot section of the floor immediately in front of the door opens on oiled hinges, dropping Tkaara onto a cruelly barbed set of iron spikes, 20 feet below. Whether by luck or judgement, she avoids the spikes, landing heavily on the hard floor.
Almost immediately, the devilish maw reappears, this time descending from the ceiling. Its cruel mouth opens in a twisted smile, dripping blood onto the floor below. It again speaks in Infernal:
No translation is required for the contemptuous amusement in its voice.
50% chance of either Ottakar (1-50) or Tkaara (51-100) being caught up in the trap
Tkaara it is then.
"Well, here's what the first lesson was..." Etna sighs to herself. Normally, she would have been more sorry for the fellow barrister, but the fact that the silver tongued woman was enjoying her "medications" a little too much that morning was amply clear.
Waiting for someone else to first step into the room (don't want to trigger any other traps!), the ifrit retrieves the rope from her backpack. Removing a torch from the nearest sconce, she secures the rope to it to help Tkaara climb out of the pit.
Click.
Clickaclickaclickaclickaclicka-click.
As Etna pulls out the torch and attaches the rope, she unwittingly pulls the sconce downwards. With a series of clicks and rattles, a secret door swings open in the middle of the wall to the right of the door where you came in.
The infernal jaws reappear with the now-familiar gutteral spits and stops:
Felrin moves over to help Etna pull Tkaara out of the pit, and can’t help commenting, ”I’m thinking we weren’t supposed to solve this first lesson by luck, but sometimes that’s all you’ve got. I wonder what else we’ve missed.”
He takes a closer look at the newly opened door, just in case the lesson isn’t really over.
"Well," Erevan says as he slowly and more than a little warily enters the room, "this went relatively well." He then looks at Tkaara and his expression turns just a little apologetic as he adds, "All things considered?"
Moving a little closer to give a hand so that the ex-barrister can climb back up sooner rather than later, afterwards he proceeds to examine the sconce that up to moments ago held a torch. "Pull a sconce down and lo and behold, a secret door opens." He turns to the rest of them. "You know, I am sure I have read such a thing in a book or two before. Our... benefactors have a flare for the dramatic, it seems."
And then simply because he cannot help himself, he quips with a shrug, "Although in those books it was the hero who would find such things barring his way before overcoming them, not the... ahem... villain."
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Tkaara looks up from the bottom of the pit and shakes her head.
Ouch. Someone should mark these things. They are dangerous.
When Etna offers her the rope, she grabs on and pulls herself out of the hole with ease.
Climb: <-- vs DC5 with a rope
Ok, someone else should be doing this searching. I do not think this is my strength today.
Fortunately, her cough is mostly gone today, although she does appear haggard and pale.
Felrin carefully inspects the door and its mechanism, as well as the pit trap, which is a clockwork counterweight system. Pinned to the mechanism is a note which reads: I trust the right-hand weight meets your approval this time. It is unsigned, but the writing matches the permission slip Ottakar received yesterday.
Etna jumps back in surprise when the sconces moves downward and the mechanism starts to activate. "Yes, you must me right." Etna responds to Felrin as they pull Tkaara up, chuckling.
We may have found the way out, but I feel a little silly to have done that by sheer luck. I guess we didn't really "pass" the First Lesson...not as it was intended, at least.
Retrieving the rope after Tkaara is safe, she waits for the other to move on.
Ottakar shakes his head at the antics of his fellows, then peers cautiously into the next room.
The secret door opens onto a corridor, perhaps 100 feet long and 10 feet wide. Torches are evenly spaced along both walls, five each side. The flagstones are black granite, speckled with quartz, which seems to dance in the flaming light of the torches.
A number of well-known paintings are hung at intervals along both sides of the wall, between each torch sconce. Perhaps more evidence of Sir Lester's talent.
No voice can be heard, no mouth appears to give you directions.
At the far end of the corridor is another door; from this distance little can be distinguished, but it does not appear to look any different from the other doors encountered so far.