Be mak'n un poor dwarf ta be using 1/2 me stash!
The dwarf grins.
"I mean..."
Terapin sits down on the floor of the dungeon, trying to make heads or tails of the hastily scrawled map written on his hand that's been smeared almost to a uniform smudge.
"... south, right?"
Bedlam winks at Terrapin.
Me not too sure. Been busy blow'n meself up! Me hat'n da portcullis!
The sooty sour faced dwarf then looks over to Anzath.
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Lolygert smiles absentmindedly at Bedlam's antics, and his own joke. Then he shakes his head a bit. That encounter with the weird , but beautiful woman must have addled his wits somewhat.
It's been as if someone else has been controlling him, quite effectively, he must admit! But, it was all a bit disconcerting. Feeling the frown on his forehead, he laughed at himself, shook his head and taking a pull from his flagon, declared to no one in particular, "I'm back!"
He studiously ignored the concerned look Tam flung his way and declared, "South! Yes, an excellent idea! "
The dwarf just looks at the moving and speaking Lolly. His mouth hanging open wide enough for a keg to fit....
"I'm back!"
The party heads south, circumventing the cesspit by using the bypass in the cave where you encountered the cultists.
Nothing disturbs you in the next cavern. This cavern has had its walls straightened and shows definite signs of use by intelligent humanoids.
There's a door in the wall to the south of the cave.
Bedlam stomps to the door. He almost waits for the count of 2 before yanking it open!
'ere be Bedlam!
Bedlam finds himself in a magical dormitory!
An evil magical dormitory.
Six triple-decker bunk-beds are aligned on either side of the room. Each has a big chest at the foot of the bed.
The decor is very Orcus, very heavy metal t-shirt. Red, black, skulls, demons... you get the idea.
Across the room is a big door.
"Big door meanz big bozz."
Bedlam grinning as only he does when promised something special approaches the door.
The mad dwarf looks over the door before yanking it open....
Tragershen speaks in a hushed tone. "If this is a barracks for soldiers or priests, perhaps we should take some time to rest and prepare before we kick open that door."
Bedlam grinning as only he does when promised something special approaches the door.
The mad dwarf looks over the door before yanking it open....
[dice=Perception]1d20+14
It's a disappointingly boring looking door. A double door, true--big enough to fit some big stuff through--but there's nothing beautiful or sinister about it. You don't see any traps.
Terapin wiggles his fingers and casts Detect Magic on the nearest footlocker. Wanna make sure they're not full of anything that goes "boom".
Anzath takes a thorough look about the room.
Between the two of them, Anzath and Terapin find two magical traps and four mechanical traps, one on each of the chests.
Anzath takes a deep breath to steady herself, then goes to work disabling the trapped footlockers.
Anzath deftly disables the traps. The chests are full of cultist stuff: robes, books, knives, petty jewelry.
Lolygert surveys the room, his lip curling in derision, commenting to Bedlam, "Friggin' Orcus-ers, giving real metal-heads a bad name!"
He takes up position near the big double doors, in case any of the Orcus-borders come back while the others investigate the lockers.
Bedlam turns to Tragershan, as the others ransack the room for a few minutes.
The dwarf then grins at the noise and commotion going on around them.
He waves a hand to get Trag's attention and whispers,
Ye be want'n ta use dis room? Beds be tossed and da linens be fresh...ish.
The dwarf just waits by the bigger, but definitely not trapped like those chest, door waiting for the slumber party pillow fight to be finished....
Be bet'n sum un dat day did't hear us?
Terapin takes all of the petty jewelry nobody else claims and puts it in a bag. If he makes it back out of here, it will all be wrought into a variety of rings of middling resale value.
Terapin, since you mentioned detect magic: one of the rings is magic. One of the books, too. Should have told you that beforehand...
Terapin, since you mentioned detect magic: one of the rings is magic. One of the books, too. Should have told you that beforehand...
_
"How many cultists did we run through up the hallway? Three? So that's like..."
Terapin starts counting the beds in the room on his fingers.
"... That's like fifteen guys coming back to sleep here. Might not be a good spot to rest. ... But..."
He stares at Bedlam's bandolier.
"... have you ever rigged a bunk bed to blow?"
Someone in the party realizes that they should decide what to do next, or at least respond to or make suggestions...
Bedlam looks ready to open the big not trapped door....
You gonna do it? ;0
With the patience of a dwarf, Bedlam finally does open the door...
Down a short hallway, Bedlam sees an enormous double door (yeah):
Orcus himself stands over the souls of the damned in the figure worked into the enormous iron door. You smell incense and burnt flesh. You feel hot air. You hear chanting voices.
You sense great evil.
This is it.
Bedlam grins!
The dwarf begins drinking!
He then checks for traps.
Bedlam then activates his wings before counting to 3....
Bedlam's eyes bulged in surprised delight at Parrot!
Un map? Shot! Be wait'n den!
The dwarfhulk stands down. He the finds a nice dry spot somewhere not in a high traffic area to nap.
Terapin steals a pillow and sets up to sleep under one of the bunk beds for exactly as long as it takes a parrot to draw a map. (he does not, however, take off his invisibility ring)
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Now that Bedlam can see invisible, the dwarf considers stealing Terapin's ring and slipping on Trag as the wizard sleeps just to see him wake up invisible....
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Aurora pulses off a channel to restore some of the party's missing vitality, motes of white energy pulsing through the air to their marks.
"Are you sure it is quite wise to open such an ominous door with our current resources as they are, Bedlam? It has been a few frays since we last took any rest."
I'm game to run this thing! People did mention wanting to find a place to sleep. So far it looks like Aurora is mostly outvoted on the tactical retreat.
Bedlam holds up a soot cover hand. The dwarf then begins rifling through both casters profiles for resources.
The dwarf gives a thumbs up!
Both be look'n full up ta me! Let's git dem orcus bastards!
EDIT:
Bedlam will pause in his preparations if Aurora wanted to fill those empty slots?
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Anzath turns to Terrapin as the others get situated, "Aragnakson, before ve die, I must ask, vhat iz deal wid ringz? Do you have little gnome vife somevhere?"
Lolygert gazes at the horrible door, a frisson of fear flickering at the back of his skull.
Absentmindedly, he slips his flagon from his belt, bringing it to his lips as it quickly fills with something potent.
Sloshing the harsh beverage around in his mouth ,he spits it violently towards the door, banishing any fear he may have begun to feel.
Rolling his shoulders, he plucks a potion from his bandolier and quaffs it in one gulp, grimacing at it's bitter taste. His skin takes on a mottled white texture. Holding up his arm, he mutters, "Birch !"
With a grunt, he steps forward to stand beside the crazy dwarf, allowing the rage to build up within.
And so I'll just shut the flap up. But I'll probably tell you all about how this encounter went when my party hit it when it's over. My gods, what a fight.
Anzath turns to Terrapin as the others get situated, "Aragnakson, before ve die, I must ask, vhat iz deal wid ringz? Do you have little gnome vife somevhere?"
Terapin shakes his head.
"Nope nope, I just like 'em. I tried making necklaces for a while but I don't like the feeling of having things around my neck. Doesn't bother my fingers nearly as much."
The gnome's voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper.
"And they don't use much metal AT ALL. I can take one bracelet and make half a dozen rings, but you can't buy half a dozen rings for the price of a bracelet!"
He grins, then, like a wolf or a jackal or a demon, and like a sweet porcelain mask cracking, the full depth of Terapin's dragon-tainted depravity can be seen flickering deep within his eyes as Anzath comes to the sickening realization that this gnome has probably overcharged rich people for jewelry before.
Bedlam happily takes out some sandwiches, passes them around and winks at Terapin.
"Good," says Anzath as she sees the flash of price gouging menace take hold on Terrapin's face, "no attatchmentz." She raises her flask to the gnome, to Bedlam and Lolly, to Aurora and Tragershen, "To vealth and power."
"If you give me a few minutes, I might at least prepare a few additional spells to assist us, in the event that whatever is there should prove challenging." The cleric waggles her fingers, theatrically, before wrapping them about her holy symbol. "To the All-Seeing Eye."
She settles down to focus on prayer for the next several minutes, assuming no one breaks down the door in the interim.
3rd — Communal Protection from Evil
4th — Blessing of Fervor, Holy Smite, final slot left open for emergency filling.