Samara focuses after her initial failure and feels the mechanism once was an intricate device. These doors and their lock most likely predating the primitive shipwreck-flotsam built fort. Maybe the doors were once attached one of the ship's captains quarters or even a ship armory based on their quality design. Either way, the lock proves a worthy challenge for the elf, but still no match for her skill now that she has chosen to get serious.
The lock clicks and the resistance to the great doors' opening gives way...
Silva stands ready to unleash his arcane power the moment the door opens. In the meantime he shifts around uncomfortably, the magical straw in his pockets making his legs a little itchy, even through the fabric of his pants.
This large throne room is decorated with hanging furs along its walls, mostly black-and-red striped firepelt skins, various dog pelts, and in some cases, what look like horse hides. Four square timbers support the ceiling, their faces studded with dozens of iron spikes, with the lower reaches decorated with dozens of impaled and severed hands in various stages of decay. To the northeast, a wooden platform supports a throne heaped with dog pelts and horse hides. Dog skulls adorn the armrests and a horse skull leers over the throne’s back.
With the door open the sounds of battle cries and weapons and armor clanking become loud enough for everyone to hear.
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Being pretty confident that there's noone waiting for him on the other side of the door Davben attempts to crack it open as silently as possible just enough that he can peek in hoping he'll be able to determine if it joins up with the room the others found.
Hearing the sounds of battle the monk knows he'll have to act quickly, if it's not immediately apparent this other path joins up, he'll have to quickly circle around to join the others.
Ahead Davben sees a hallway which turns to the left. He can hear some muffled sounds of what may be battle cries and fighting. But more pressing is the slight sound of movement and soft sounds of metal scraping on metal. Davben would imagine it resembles someone trying very hard to be quiet.
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Not seeing anything in the the hallway, and that it does indeed appear to turn back towards the room his companions were headed to, Davben silently slips into the hall and creeps down to the corner to see if he can get a look at whatever it is that's trying to sneak around down there. He's betting he's the more stealthy of the two.
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Samara blinks a few times times slowly at what she sees in the door beyond, and she just quietly pulls the door closed again. She seems a bit pale (or more pale than usual, at least) and she says in a whisper, "I think an illusion is through that door. I do not know magic. That is a thing I do not know."
She gestures Silva forward.
"Got it, Lieutenant," Silva says as he rolls up his sleeves again (they keep falling down). The sorcerer extraordinaire mumbles a very brief incantation and encircles his eyes with his thumbs and index fingers, forming goggles. He then tiptoes forward and peeks around the corner, peering at whatever it is that Samara spoke of.
Whilst Silva investigates, Zara softly prays to her Goddess for help against their foes.
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So 1 year less 1 day later, we have finished Thistletop.
"Well, not sure we did the best thing saving Nualia and the magic lady. Are you sure you're alright Nicew, not angry still?" Zara asks as they leave Thistletop bound for Sandpoint.
"Hey, it's not too late to push the lot of them off a cliff," Silva offers, looking rather pleased with himself.
Zara's mouth is agape at Nicea's comment: 'I'm not that bad?' she thinks.
Then she adds, "This will allow the townsfolk to see justice is done, that they will now be safer." she coughs softly. "And that we are telling the truth."
"Plus as you say Samara, there's the chance of a reward. Oh, and it gives these the opportunity to plead their case. Which reminds me, what did you do with the mercenary man?" the dancer asks Nicea.
Zara mutters softly; "Hadn't noticed. Then she goes over to the mercenary and orders him to write down what he knows, what happened as an informal testimony.
Whilst he does this, she gives him a slight lecture on how he should try to be a bit more careful and to be a better person no matter how bad things get.
This taken care of, she heads with the group towards town.
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"Well done, Zara. You have the makings of a fine company clerk," Nicea comments as she scans the written deposition, bites into her thumb, and leaves a bloody print as witness of the proceedings, "You now report to the Lieutenant."
She shoves the paper back at the cleric with a brusque "File this" and prods the prisoners forward to their destiny in Sandpoint. And if the court doesn't make the right decision, I will! She smiles and softly pats the haft of Red Mist.
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Davben moves along with the others thinking on their conversation as they walk. "I tend to agree with Nicea's sentiment, though I am not apposed to keeping them alive, people aren't usually much use when they're dead, but it is also very difficult to trust others to uphold the balance." He shrugs his shoulders "No way to tell if they'll make the correct decisions."
"Justice is served," Silva drawls when the impromptu paperwork is filled out and filed, destined to be sequestered in some dark place and forgotten.