The passage floor squelches underfoot and small things with more legs than necessary scurry over boots and up legs. The smell of a large compost heap, mixed with the tang of ozone, permeates the air.
The passage north opens into a large chamber. Another nest sits in the northwest corner and narrow openings, claustrophobically tight for anyone but the smallest member of the part, head north and east.
Stepping carefully past the lizard nesting chamber, Elisile pokes her head around the corner of the northwest branch, looking and listening. Stealth: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28 Perception:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Elisile will look up the north-east tunnel with her Boggard darkvision Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22. If nothing interesting, she agrees with Hudak and returns to the door they found earlier.
Ok. So I may have lost my bearings a bit ... but would it seem that this door may take us out into the keep at the north end (near the watch tower and stables) and the other one we found might take us out at the south end (near the barracks)?
Guys, I think the plan was to foray out at the north end initially, supposing there will be less immediate opposition away from the barracks and the south gate?
The door doesn't appear to have any traps. When Hudak yanks on it it opens easily.
Beyond, this simple room might once have been a jailer's den or even a torture chamber, but someone has gone to great pains to repurpose it. The air smells of exotic incence and veils of multicoloured silk drape from floor to ceiling throughout. Between the rustling veils, glimses of giant cushions are revealed. The floor is strewn with luxuriant soft red throws and sheets.
A female voice says, "Oh, goodness, perhaps I should have blocked up that door. Well, at least I am decent!" she finishes with a giggle. Partly obscured by the drapery stands an aristocratic woman with flaming red hair, dressed elegantly in a long dress.
"Oh, so you think the ogres just forgot to check this room, and she's just hanging out looking pretty for her would-be rescuers?" Alwyn advances into the room. "B+#$$*!%. One way or another, she's allied with them. That ends now."
"Whoa! Slow down there with the war-priest-ing." Illes eyes the woman appreciatively as he steps forward, "Why don't we just hear the lady out before we jump to any conclusions?"
"Oh, so you think the ogres just forgot to check this room, and she's just hanging out looking pretty for her would-be rescuers?" Alwyn advances into the room. "b~&!*@!&. One way or another, she's allied with them. That ends now."
"I, well, I'm glad you didn't think the same when you found me! From w-what I, well, know of ogres, well, a female wouldn't survive more than a few seconds of their attentions, even if she were, well, wanting to ally with them." Camlo looks quite shocked at Alwyn's abrupt anger.
the bolding thing is a habit now, I find it easier to distinguish the speech from the rest. Hated it the first few tiems I saw it, but came to like it eventually. If it annoys anyone, I can stop.
"Well, it is nice to hear the voice of reason. These Gorumites can be so hasty - in all things," she drawls. "My name is Lucrecia. And to whom do I owe the pleasure?"
No worries if you find it helpful, just wondered if you were doing it to help me.
Seeing and hearing some of the exchange from the passageway, and very suspicious of an apparently human woman at ease in the midst of an ogre occupied fortress. She quickly casts a shield spell and a detect magic cantrip from the concealment of the passageway, then steps into the room (in her willowy elven form, her alter self spell having just expired).
Letting the others do the talking, she studies the room and the woman carefully, taking advantage of her magical sight. Perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (16) + 12 = 28, Spellcraft: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19, looking for anything hidden, anything 'wrong' about the woman and any magical auras. Will try to keep concentrating on the spell for at least 3 rounds, circumstances permitting. If she can’t get all of the room in the 60 ft cone, she will start with making sure the woman is in the area of effect.
"Prisoner? Gods, no, though hanging about with these oafish Kreegs ceertainly makes it feel like a sentence in the Hells! I'm working for Mokmurian. And so should you - this is really much bigger than you can imagine, and people of your calibre shouldn't waste themselves for the losing side."
Letting the others do the talking, she studies the room and the woman carefully, taking advantage of her magical sight. Perception: 1d20 + 12, Spellcraft: 1d20 + 13, looking for anything hidden, anything 'wrong' about the woman and any magical auras. Will try to keep concentrating on the spell for at least 3 rounds, circumstances permitting. If she can’t get all of the room in the 60 ft cone, she will start with making sure the woman is in the area of effect.
"Yes, little one, he does indeed pay well. I'm not sure I have heard of you. The brave saviours of Magnimar speak for themselves, but I don't recall a slip being with them."
"Yes, little one, he does indeed pay well. I'm not sure I have heard of you. The brave saviours of Magnimar speak for themselves, but I don't recall a slip being with them."
Camlo Bristles slightly at being called a Slip, strengthening his back, and raising his chin to subconsciously gain more height.
"Saviours of Magnimar? I have never heard that title, but then, I've, well, errmm, been out of Magnimar for some little, ah, time. We are recent acquaintances, not yet had the, ahh, opportunity to discuss past exploits. I am in their debt though, for the errm, moment."
“Who is Mokmurian, and what is his interest in us – or these ogres?” Elisile asks. “You said ‘this’ was bigger than we could imagine – so broaden our imaginations.”
“We do not have time for a long journey at this point,” states Elisile. “We have a lot of ogres to kill first.” She looks closely at the woman, alert for any sign of danger.
"Yes, I assumed as much. Ah well, that's a shame, but then I've only really been playing for time anyway."
There is a loud crash as the door to the room is slammed open, virtually coming off its hinges. Filling the doorway is a ophidian horror from the waist down, and a svelte female from the waist up. Her face is covered by a mask and in her hands she grips a wicked polearm.
"Ah, Xanesha, right on cue!" coos Lucrecia. "I believe most of you met my sister before at the lighthouse in Magnimar. She never got the chance to say goodbye and would like to rectify her bad manners." She smiles as her legs begin to fuse and her torso is lifted by a snakey, diamond-scaled lower body. "Such a shame!"
Biatches. Both of them. We should have searched harder for a body back at the lighthouse. Is she horribly scarred from all those fireballs and acid arrows and such?
Guys, remember from our last encounter, she can cast spells and her mask has a petrification power. Don’t think we really saw what she was like in melee, but I guess we’re about to find out.
“We beat her once,” murmurs Elisile. “Now it is time to finish the job.” Init: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
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