What is this, a democracy?
I'm chaotic neutral. I do what I want.
If I feel like makin' up a marching order, I do it.
It doesn't matter if I folllow the marching order.
I might go eat a donut.
I'm cuh-raaaaaaazy.
"Sounds good to me."
I like donuts....
Marching order be lookin' good to me, I can be movin' fair-ta quiet-like so be givin' me room(20' sounds good).
"Can you move....stinkless? No? I thought as much."
Dis be from da guy what spent a whole fight makin' poo in 'is blasted pants....
"Well, I crapped in the corner this time, and everybody still gave me crud."
I'll bring up the rear and get eaten when something sneaks up behind us. Sure. That sounds fine to me.
"Let us continue then."
Order looks fine.
The stairs lead down, switching back to head east. At the bottom, an ancient stone door, defaced with chisel marks, stands ajar, and a lantern glows softly in the middle of the floor. The floor is slightly canted, running down at an angle from west to east as if the complex has shifted or moved at some time in the past. The walls and floor are crazed with tiny cracks and fissures, and dust and cobwebs are everywhere, though there is evidence that a recent attempt has been made to clear it up.
The ceiling is supported by two pillars, and there are four alcoves, two on each side of the room north and south. Leaning inside these niches are four statues of a humanoid carrying what looks like a glaive and a book. These have been badly defaced, so the details are unclear, and they lean haphazardly against the walls of the niches, disturbed from their pedestals by whatever it was that caused the floor subside. At the far east end of the room another stone door is open, and the glow of another lantern can be seen from the chamber beyond.
"Why is every hole we wander into as old as ancient Thasilon?"
We need ta be lookin' fer traps round about here...I dinnae wanna be fallin' into a pit or some such, an' be quiet. There be a lantern ahead...
"Why is every hole we wander into as old as ancient Thasilon?"
Search...r12...meh
I got my axe and shield on, byoches.
Vethran keeps quiet, the electrical charge providing a very slight illumination which he keeps low to the ground to avoid undue attention.
"Why is every hole we wander into as old as ancient Thasilon?"
What's a Thasilon?
What's a Thasilon?
What be a 'Runelord'?
No kn history ranks.
Bardic 14+5 = 19 if it's useful here.
"Well, this whole area was once part of the Thassilonian empire. I'd be surprised if most of the ruins in Varisia didn't have some components of Thassilonian architecture."
Elisile spends a few moments searching the chamber.
“There’s little here of interest or value,” she says softly, “although the motif on that door indicates it may have once held something of import. Should we,” she looks at Larken, “scout ahead? Or assume our enemies are aware of our approach and advance in force?”
"Either way; you guys scout if you want. I'm toooo noisy.
Dravite's too stinky."
*to Larken*
Let's be goin' on ahead a bit lad, I can be keepin' right quiet but not as good as ye an' me hidin' is none too good but passable. Let's be scoutin' ahead a bit.
lol!!! roll some stuff, byoches! ;)
A nearsighted elf....greeeeeeeat. ;)
Larken creeps forward with the rest of the stealth team, hoping to avoid the almost-certain ambush waiting for them, somewhere ahead.
The scouts creep warily into the room, though nothing untoward happens. They move forward towards the exit. Peering through, they find a short corridor, about 20’ long heading east, with more statues of stern-looking, glaive-wielding men in niches, two either side of the doorway and one at the far end. Two doors lead off left and right at the far east end, and another lantern glows steadily on the floor.
Larken notices an odd, polished section of floor between the two statues either side of the entrance, while Dravite can hear the murmur of low voices from one of the doors (it is hard to tell which) beyond.
Noticing Larken examining a certain section of floor, Elisile mouths “Trap?”
Larken shrugs, and takes a closer look at the area.
"I actually think it might be a secret door," he whispers to Elisile as they work.
Larken realises the polished area is a trap door, but that it is connected to a trap - the two statues rotate and slash at passers-by in the entrance to this corridor, and then the trapdoor dumps them somewhere underneath. The polish seems to come from a recent clean-up operation - someone obviously fell foul of the trap in the recent past.
"Trap," Larken whispers, pointing out the slashing statues and gesturing to the trapdoor. After a bit of study, he tries to disconnect the door from the statues.
There is an ominous creak from the mechanism but Larken manages to pull back just in time before he accidentally triggers it.
Larken sits back a moment, letting his nerves settle.
"That was close," he whispers, but I've got it now."
With a relieved sigh, Larken disables the slashing blades and trapdoor, making it safe to proceed.
Good job, laddie.
Glad I be behind ye an' not leadin' ye.
"What's taking so long down there?" Alwyn is impatient and nervous - in order to stay quiet in his heavy armour, he needs to remain perfectly still, which has never been his strong suit. "The abscence of screaming is probably a good thing, though."
Hey, brother,....
Elisile nods at Larken, and then gestures for the scouts to continue.