Bedlam sits down next to the fire. The dwarf doesn't even take off his gear, before snoring is heard.
Aurora is presumeably dragging Jack with her, or something.
"I don't suppose you've any spare shovels that could be borrowed? The remains from the sarcophagus deserve a proper burial. I'd be more than happy to dig it myself."
Elma explains, "My men keep shovels and camping gear with them at all times, but they're using them to make the fort right now. Maybe later. It's been hundreds of years, another day won't hurt 'em, I think. Also, I wouldn't go back down there alone if I was you."
Sarge nudges Bedlam awake with his toe. "Take that armor off before nappin', soldier, 'less you want to be Fatigued all afternoon. I've known soldiers with the Endurance to sleep in armor, but I don't reckon you're one of 'em."
...and somehow, she believes your tales about Joden's disappearance and Talathel's presence in the dungeon. Her merchant's acumen sees through any lies you tell fairly quickly. She will find ways to hear about any treasure you've found, greedily demands to see the ring, and...
...she giggles with glee. "I know a demonologist in Riddleport who will pay top coin for that, and what a great story to go with it! Things are looking up around here!"
"If Joden's being pressed into service is the strangest thing that happens to us, then this will be a lot easier than I suspect."
"We will hold onto the ring, for now. We plan to go back in at least once before we ask you to take some of our findings to sell. But if you think it will fetch an exceptional price, it may be worth parting with." While the flashes of divination are still fresh in his mind, he will pen a description of what he saw, so if they do decide to part with the ring, the tale of it can be taken with it.
Tragershen rests, falling asleep almost immediately. Assuming he isn't disturbed, when he wakes he draws out his spellbook and studies it, snacking on dried fruit as he does.
Does Elma have any ideas on what to do with Tall Jack?
Elma nods. "If its powers are useful, I'll consider it an investment... just come back, I can't afford to go home empty handed. But it's good that we've finally got some merchandise."
At Tragershen's suggestion, Elma talks with Jack.
Elma reports, "He says he's not bandit, just an outlaw trying to get by in the woods. I believe him. Might not be worth keeping him tied up and dragging him to town."
Your rest is uninterrupted. As afternoon begins to turn to evening, everyone wakes, eats, and, feeling rejuvenated, heads back into the dungeon.
In response to the shovels being in use, Aurora says, "Very well then."
----
"Shall we continue with the stretch where we found the orcs? There were doors in that room we still didn't take."
Bedlam opens one blue eye at Sarge.
Me be a dwarf! Besides, it only be light armor. Bedlam winks at GM Parrot, before the sounds of snoring continue.
After his rest, Bedlam takes out his formula book. He notices Tragershen's similar activity.
Mayhaps, you be lett'n a poor Alchemist some copy time?
The dwarf smiles.
Brand listens quietly as Elma speaks with Jack. His actions and intentions had been quite clear down in the dungeon, and the young halfling has no intention of letting him deceive anyone.
At her words that he is just an outlaw, Brand scoffs quite loudly, "Oi, an' e'ery kindly outlaw just happens teh 'ave a pack o' orcs in deir pocket, 'appy teh murder folks at deir direction. Jack 'ere wanted teh slip all our troats... no, no, we'll not be 'avin' any lies now, lad..."
... it only be light armor.[/b]
Brand is sure that Jack is no innocent lamb.
Prior to passing out, Bedlam takes out his heal kit and sets about stitching himself up a bit...and then the dwarf passes out for 8 hours.
Talathel does ask the group at some stage:
"Is there a contract or other formal matters around this expedition? Or is this more a more informal arrangement of contribution for a share of proceed?"
**********
"I would continue slaying orcs."
Elma, always one to insert herself into discusions of finance, will explain that each party member (and she clearly considers herself and her mercenaries party members) has a right to an equal share of the final treasure, and that she is to act as agent for any sales of particularly valuable items in Riddleport. She might tell a tale of liquidating her assets and going into debt to fund this expedition (gesturing towards her too-old-for-this Sergeant and her too-young-for-this Private, but perhaps not gesturing toward the shallow grave of the Corporal). She explains that a contract would be a very good idea, but that things are currently on a handshake basis. She also mentions that she does reserve the right to leave once the expedition reaches a certain level of profitability--leaning in and whispering "The cleric and the wizard seem a little fanatical, who knows how deep they intend to go. I don't mind that they're trying to do good out here, but I intend to do very well indeed, if you know what I mean. And I'm going to live."
When asked about his spellbook, Tragershen seems surprised. "Oh? Why, yes. If you think you could make use of it."
When Bedlam looks at his tome, Tragershen glaces at the dwarf's. After a moment's glance, he rotates it. Then rotates it again. With a grimace, he puts the book down.
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Exiting the dungeon, Lolygert takes a deep breath of the outside air and sighs, a big smile on his face, "Ah, that's nice!' he exclaims.
He's not too interested in the mechanics of the soldier's preparations , but does see the merit of a wall to sleep behind.
Of good cheer, he makes his way round the camp, re-introducing himself, his flagon in hand. If anyone has a flagon or flask in hand, he'll smile and give it a tap with is own, the other's filling with a heady, hoppy ale.
As he wanders, he hums a little tune, drinks his seemingly never ending flagon of ale, and occasionally stops to press out a little hopping dance in the dirt. Generally, he manages to liven the atmosphere of the camp area, somehow easing small pains and bruises by his presence and antics...
Day 4: Evening.
The sunset lights up somewhat threatening clouds in crimson, heavenly colors: the heaven of jealous, bloodthirsty deities, but a heaven nonetheless. These clouds are visible above the clearing in front of the Mouth of Doom. All day long, insects have been swarming to lap up wolf blood (and other blood) with their probosces, and somewhere a little deeper in the woods, skinned bodies of wolves are attracting the attention of scavengers... all this would be gross, but the camp is high above the forest floor.
Sarge and Talathel have arranged a decent palisade, with two gaps on the side of the Mouth because there wasn't much soil to dig into above the ancient demon's face. These gaps have been isolated as entrances, so anyone wanting to enter the camp has to skirt the edge of the cliff before walking around the final sharpened logs of the palisade. The distance between the two doors is about twenty feet, and Elma's crew has lit a small fire between them. They plan to take three shifts watching the gaps through the night.
They ask the party to stay, in case of trouble, until morning. But they won't complain if you decide to go back in...
Noting Elma's explanation of the situation, Talathel replies:
"My interest mainly lies in the procurement of superior equipment. My true wealth is in martial lore and its practical application."
***
Satisfied with the palisade, Talathel speaks with the others:
"I am ready to re-enter the depths. I am not opposed to waiting until morning, if that is what you wish, but there are great challenges waiting for us."
"We can wait until morning, I believe. The depths will not be going anywhere, and one last sunrise before plunging below would be welcome."
Since, the group seems to be waiting for morning, the Alchemist does take the invitation to copy from Tragershen's spellbook.
Waking from his midday rest, Brand rejoins his companions, and is a bit surprised to learn they aren't heading back into the dungeon. "Day, night, what dif'rence does it make? It's dark all deh time down dere... Suppose I'll be 'avin' a pint or two if'n were stayin' deh night!"
As everyone settles in for the night, the mournful howls of wolves rise from the forest floor--they've surrounded the space where Elma dumped their skinned packmates. Their grief is tangible, disturbing. Anyone on watch will hear them sniffing and snarling around the palisade throughout the night, as they follow the scent trails from the forest floor to the camp.
Tragershen listens to the wolves in the distance.
"I would counsel that we stay here, rather than go out to hunt the wolves. We are here to plumb the depths of the Dungeon of Graves, not clear the wilderness of wildlife. Of course, if they hunt us here, we shall deal with them swiftly."
Tragershen's placid expression makes it clear that he is open to dissenting opinions, and he would not let any allies go hunting alone.
Talathel listens to the howling and to Tragershen, and then replies:
"Securing our base camp has merit. And perhaps the wolves can be taught that this place is not one to challenge. I say we attack them now, before stronger enemies are drawn here by the howling."
Once he has finished speaking, Talathel will wait quietly to see how the group members decide.
"Wolves, again? I do not particularly want to fight them, but if this Maiden of Wolves or whatever she was called is truly sending the packs after us..." Aurora flicks a hand dismissively. "We may, in the future, need to learn more about her and teach her to stop. But not yet, there's much of the Dungeon of Graves for us to delve yet when morning comes."
The dawn comes without incident. If the party would like, they may proceed into the dungeon and begin anywhere that has been revealed on the map.
Bedlam's loud snoring doesn't miss a beat during the wolves visit....
Upon waking, the Alchemist studies his formula book, preparing two extracts.
Shouldering his gear, the dwarf hefts his heavy pick.
Ready to be 'sploring.
Rising in the morning with his wounds well tended to, Brand smiles and chats with the guards as they go about their morning routines. Strapping on his gear and stuffing his mouth full of food, he prepares to venture once more into the dungeon.
"'aight lords an' ladies, shall we once more be off into the Dungeon of Graves? P'rhaps return to deh chamber wit deh sarcophagus?"
Talathel stands watch for the hours when he is not meditating or assisting with establishing the palisade.
At signs of movement from Bedlam and Brand, he turns with spear in hand.
"I am ready."
He moves to take up the rearguard position of the group.
"'aight lords an' ladies, shall we once more be off into the Dungeon of Graves? P'rhaps return to deh chamber wit deh sarcophagus?"
"An excellent thought. The chamber where we found the secret door remains unexplored by us. And from Talathel's description of the long corridor, there probably isn't much to discover there."
The party enters a strange stone room with a vague "30" etched into the floor within a perfect circle. The secret doors are still open, and the stench of double-dead zombie and ghoul and single-dead orc is getting pretty bad. You hear the squeaking and scurrying of rats.
There are two ways out of the room that aren't secret: a hallway close to the entrance to Room 30 that angles to the southwest, and a hallway at the far end of the room that heads directly west.
From the back, Talathel speaks, just loudly enough so that the group can hear him:
"Where has the group not explored yet? We should consider tracking down known enemies first. If none present themselves, what about that hallway at the far end?"
Bedlam begins tracking those bandits that escaped.
Seeing Bedlam seeking tracks, Talathel looks to assist him.
After picking his way around the orc pile, Bedlam sees what he expected: three sets of fresh, hurried footprints bailing out of the fight in Room 15. Following them out of the south door of Room 15, he finds another secret door--obviously, this is a good hideout because of the layers of doors between it and the main dungeon. On the other side of the door, the hall continues straight south, and there's also a way to head due East. Bedlam and Talathel see that one pair of footprints splits off to the East, while the other two head south.
Absently grabing a vial, the Alchemist downs it.
The dwarf indicates the options to the group by holding up 2 and 1 finger, respectively.
The dwarf seems to want to follow the single set...
Talathel nods to Bedlam and readies himself to move with the group.
Bedlam notices that the footprints seem to suddenly long jump for no reason before picking up again ten feet farther down the path. A second glance reveals the telltale traces of a ten foot pit trap that completely crosses the corridor. The party slows down and carefully works its way across without incident. The footprints continue down a somewhat winding passage, which is featureless until you find yourselves heading south past a doorway on the west side of passage. The footprints do not turn off at the doorway. You can open the door, or you can continue.
At the sight of the door, and the indication that the tracks continue past it, Tragershen says "Let's check the door. If we need to back track, it would be better to know that nothing hostile waits between us and our only known route out of here."
Bedlam inspects the door, then opens it and takes a look:
He sees another pressure plate on the floor just inside the door. As light enters the dark room, it is pretty empty. Want to root around in there or will you keep going?
Talethel keeps an eye out for ambushers.
Bedlam recloses the door, marks it with a dwarven rune for trapped with chalk, and continues on following the tracks.
As he is walking, the Alchemist does down his Mutagen.
There's another door a little farther down the hallway.
Bedlam's probing of the door reveals that there's something fishy about it, some kind of trap...
Lolygert rose when the wolf's howls pierced the night, but when he saw that no-one else was too concerned, he returned to his slumber.
Rising with the dawn, he cheerfully packed up his camp gear, shook some bugs out of his hair and agreed to venture back into the dungeon.
He stands nearby as Bedlam does his careful checking, noting with interest as the dwarf pauses at the latest door, "What did you find there, Bed?"
It's a trap!
"Then let us disable it."
Bedlam bows to the Lady.
Me be t'inking dat Brand be better. Me assist.
Brand had been casually meandering along with the party, a bit unusually quiet. At Bedlam's prodding, Brand seems to snap out of a bit of a distant state. "What, oh, roight! Sorry, got far too much rest yesterday, not I'm all off... A trap ye say, I've been fixin' fer a bit o' fun. Let's see whats 'ere. Suppose a bit o' luck couldn't 'urt 'ere. Now, e'ryone, be silent as death."