I must have learned a lot from that!
To group: I read the language on the cross....
It said Shaman....thinking kobold got messed up by the witch maybe. Think we might want to be careful how we proceed.
Laurel said the witch was crafty and mean, but she also said that her grandmother was able to trade with her, so maybe we can deal with her as well.
Be ready for anything.
I knock on the door.
"Hello, is anyone home, we are travelers seeking to trade with Ulizmila."
With the moldering door rotted off its hinges, you give it a solid heave and push it in to the cottage. A dank reeking stench billows out of the structure, the contents within covered in shadows.
If nothing immediately attacks, I will cast another: detect magic.
The door is moldering and rotted off its hinges. When we combine that with everything else we see, do we have an impression of whether the cottage is currently inhabited?
Your light spell pushes back the shadows that inhabit the interior of the structure. Haphazardly hung shelves line the walls, covered in all manner of clay jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum of other crude curios and menants of a bone grinder's artifice. A rusted iron cauldron, with a mouth nearly 5 feet wide and a depth of at least 3 feet, dominates the hut's single room, its ash-covered surface shaped with a relief of capering fiends and leering devils. Across from the door, against the far walls, stands a high-backed chair made of wicker, the giagantic curved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth. In the chair sits what looks like a corpse wrapped in filthy burial linens, its form padded with pungent herbs and sprouting patches of thick white mold.
Azz, Var, Jar,
Cottage contains shelves line the walls, covered in all manner of clay jugs, clouded bottles, strangely cut rocks, rotted bunches of herbs, and a museum of other crude curios and menants of a bone grinder's artifice. A rusted iron cauldron, with a mouth nearly 5 feet wide and a depth of at least 3 feet, dominates the hut's single room, its ash-covered surface shaped with a relief of capering fiends and leering devils. Across from the door, against the far walls, stands a high-backed chair made of wicker, the giagantic curved tusks of some monstrous beast, and thousands of human teeth. In the chair sits what looks like a corpse wrapped in filthy burial linens, its form padded with pungent herbs and sprouting patches of thick white mold.
Many things in the room glow with a magical aura, but none powerfully. You believe that is is just more residual magic from years or perhaps centuries (millenia?) of practiced magic. Given the ramshackle nature of the hut you realize that it will take some time to search the area and see if there is any rat tail.
Daedeloth enters the hut and disappears from the view of the rest of the party...
I am ready to toss the napalm on the so called corpse sitting in the chair. I look around
The hut quickly searching for herbs and chemical compounds that might be exotic. I stay away from the corse or I am going to torch it.
The hut is filled with a mish-mash of materials, most of which you don't even recognize their origin or possible use. Almost everything you see looks exotic. You figure to fully catalogue the contents of the hut would be a labor of several weeks.
After about 20 minutes of fruitless searching, Daedeloth's eyes finally alight on what he imagines can only be rat tail. Looking at the jar he can read in spidery script the words "rat tail" penned in a dark ichor.
As Daedeloth lays his hands on the jar the rusted iron cauldron animates and bites onto Daedeloth's arm! Whipping him back and forth the cauldron tosses him up in to the air and swallows him whole!
Daedeloth:
You take 8 points of damage and are now rattling around inside of the cauldron's "belly". You will have to try and cut your way out with your dagger as there is no room for anything else and spellcasting will be impossible while you experience the tempest in the teapot
Jalriel:
You hear a loud cry from inside that sounds like Daedeloth and then the banging and rattle of metal
DM: attack and damage rolls below, would it be easier to hit the thing from the inside? bonuses?
"Desna, let me strike true!"
[dice=attack]1d20+2
[dice=damage]1d4+2
Daedeloth:
The crazy gyrations of the kettle make it much more difficult to hit from the inside than from the out. None the less Desna hears your passionate cry and your dagger strikes true.
Shaking off the shock of a living cauldron, Azzakan lays in a mighty blow to the animated apparatus. Not quite as quick to recover, Variel swings wide. From inside they hear an impassioned cry from Daedeloth Desna, let me strike true! and the sound of metal on metal. You notice that the cauldron's surface has an inherent hardness that blunts the effectiveness of your blows somewhat.
As you hear the continued banging of Daedeloth within the metal monster (Daedeloth take 4 points!), it savagely snaps again; this time hitting Variel for 5 points, hammering at his shield arm.
In the meantime, Jalriel rushes in to the hut to see the crazy fray and prepares to deal some damage the next round.
Did I crush the cauldron and free Daedloth with the mighty swing of my Morningstar?
To DM When I first looked at post it did not have the damage listed only the commentary. Guess I should have waited longer. Things sometimes take a while to arrive on my iPad.
The might of his prior strike throws of his equilibrium as Azzakan's next strike rings harmlessly off of the lip of the cauldron. Jalriel coming in from the blind side lays a mighty slash on the foe which is quickly followed up by Variel from the other side. Daedeloth's body continues to be buffetted by the cauldron's wild gyrations.
The cauldron swils around, snapping at Jalriel for 3 points!
With a series of clanging strikes, most significantly from a titanic smoting delivered by Jalriel, the cauldron ceases its wild maneuvers and sits still. The mouth of the cauldron slowly opens, revealing a battered and unconscious Daedeloth. The inside of the cauldron appears to be starting to secrete some type of viscous acidic fluid.
From a small, withered, hideously shrunken head a withered female voice speaks: Woe betide the fools that disturb the residence of Ulizmila the Witch! My curse be upon you all!