Perfire helps gather their belongings and stow it.
He takes a long drink of the magically created water. 'Thank you!'
STATUS
Yirrik (19/22 hp)
Perfire
Lilika (15/17 hp)
Wymond
By the miracle of hand-waving, you're now past the pit!
Once they're past the pit, Wymond takes a look around. They didn't want to get suprised by ANOTHER pit trap. Again.
"It's too bloody dark 'ere. Maybe some o' that magic darkness leaked in from upstairs," he grouses.
Lilika also looks for traps. Then she waits for Yirrik to take a look and lead the way.
"Yer elf eyes are really helpful down here, Lilika," Wymond comments.
So where to?
Yirrik leads the group to the nearest door, to the south, checking alongside Lilika for any more traps or surprises...
... once he's satisfied it was safe, he'll attempt to push or pull the door open...
Shabby, mold-covered tapestries hang from ceiling hooks, cloaking one wall of this chamber in faded forest hunting scenes. While probably of decent quality when new, they look sad now.
A plain wooden chair of massive construction stands centered before the tapestries, facing into the room. A large stone table stands against the eastern wall. Weapons and other items are neatly laid out on the table, as if displayed for sale in a shop.
Wymond sighs at the sight of the tapestries.
"These are kinda pretty. Shame that they're so moldy. Kinda makes me miss huntin' on the surface."
Then he sees the table and frowns.
"That's...probably bait. Yirrik? Ya wanna check an see if somethin's gonna shoot out or the floor's gonna fall out from under it or somethin'? Preferably without gettin' yerself hurt, obviously."
Thinking back to the skeletal mage they faced earlier and the potential that he may have left some magical wards in the area, Perfire focuses his will so any present magical auras become visible to him.
Several of the items on the table are magical, but no other magical auras pervade the room.
Perfire cautiously approaches the items and focuses on their auras one at a time
Lilika examines the table and surrounding room for danger...
If she thinks its safe she enters the room and looks for signs of recent passage...
On the table lie four masterwork longswords, a masterwork dagger, a buckler, a belt of mighty constitution +2, a potion of cure moderate wounds, a flask of acid, and four small leather belt pouches. One of the pouches contains 216 gp; another contains 25 gp and 12 sp. The third holds 77 gp and 8 sp, and the fourth contains a small emerald worth 50 gp and a pair of six-sided bone dice that have been weighted to always roll sixes.
Lilika can see that some of the dust here has been disturbed, indicating the frequent passage of booted feet.
Wymond whistles.
"Well, this is a nice windfall!"
He looks at the others.
"Strange that it'd just be sittin'ere, though. You SURE this ain't trapped?"
Wymond looks between the group and then sighs.
"Alright, stand back. If somethin' goes off, I'm healthy enough it shouldn't be a problem."
He goes over to the table and paws at the items a bit, expecting a trap to go off.
As Wymond reaches out of the objects on the table, Perfire says 'Couldn't you poke at them with your...' But the paladin is too quick on the paw.
Yirrik looks at the faded tapestries, wondering who made them and why,when Wymond decides to check out the 'bait'.
"Hold on , Wy!" Yirrik exclaims, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder, then giving the table of items a quick once over.
When Yirrik gives them the okay, Lilika approaches the table and takes the dagger. She examines the buckler, curious if it is made of wood. She also takes the belt pouch with the emerald in it and slips it onto her belt.
"Ye want one o' these swords, Yirrik? Maybe both? I know woodsy-types like you are good fightin' like that."
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While the others distribute the weapons, Perfire takes a moment to examine the shabby tapestries. 'Could raise the dead, but couldn't pick up a feather duster.' he tuts to himself.
Yirrik takes up one of the swords, trying out it's balance and feel, nodding, "I'll definitely take one of these, the wizard's sword is just too big..."
"Should still get a purty price if we sell it to an...arky-o-lo-jist, that's the word, right? It's an Azlanti sword, they can put it in a museum or somethin'. Unless we decide it's worth more in the hands of someone who'll actually use it," Wymond comments.
With her buckler strapped on, and her dagger in its sheath, Lilika looks at the table of stuff, then back at the group. Since no one seems to want anything else she straps on the fancy looking belt, hooks the belt pouches onto it, and slips the potion and acid into her belt pouches.
"Does anyone have room to spare in their backpack? We should take all the weapons."
"I'll see what I can fit in 'ere. Don't worry about the weight, I've tossed hay-bales heavier than this!"
Wymond begins attempting to fit as much of the loot as he can in to his pack.
'I seem to remember another door back in the hallway. Are we up for pressing on?' Perfire asks as the last of their haul is gathered.
"Yes." Lilika replies. "Let's proceed."
"Ready te go!" Wymond replies.
Perfire blinks and looks about the dim corridor he and his friends are exploring. 'Hang on, did you all hear that? I heard Mr. Royst saying he had sent us some help. He said we'd have to meet them top-side.'
"Hear what? He do some wizardy thing to talk in your head?"
Lilika finds her such unsurprised at such a remark.
Does that say more about my home, or aboutme? Was my childhood full of magic and wizardry? Or am I just jaded? Lilika thinks on that for a moment....
Neither sounds quite right. But, then again, what do I know?
Nothing.
"Are you turning back, then?" she asks. And where do I go...?
"Uh, don't ye mean 'we,' Lilika?"
'Something like that' To Wymond, he then turns to Lilika 'I think we intend to come back and continue our exploration down here. You're more than welcome to join us as long as you'd like.' Perfire smiles up at the woman.
Lilika hesitates a moment. She didn't know much about herself, but she did know she was too weak to continue on her own.
"I suppose I do," she replies to Wymond. Then she nods at the halfling. "Thank you."
She makes sure all of her scavenged gear is equipped -- belt pouch on her fancy belt, rope looped over her shoulder, short sword in hand, daggers in their sheathes, buckler on... Satisfied she's not forgetting anything, Lilika turns and leads the way back to the entrance of this level of the Spire.
You make your way back up to the first level by means of the staircase. You don't see or hear Grulk, but somehow you know he's there, watching and waiting.
The daylight seems blindingly bright after the pale illumination of the depths. There at the forest's edge Yirrik takes his leave. "That place is endless," he says. "And I'll not have any more of it. Good bye!" He leaves, nodding to the woman who approaches from the other direction.
Colcille moves through the clearing, kicking forward a pebble, sulking uncharacteristically. What an embarrassing situation, getting caught by the wizard on her first incursion in Fort Inevitable. But everyone in Thornkeep had agreed that Royst had the best information on the Spire, and the house was sparkling with magic, so curiosity got the best of her. It wasn't like she wanted to steal anything, just borrow and copy some notes! Who places traps on books?
It had gone better than it could have, though. The wizard knew enough about the Sidhe to know he could trust her freely-given word, and he had sent her to the Spire. She just had to pay him a favor back by helping another group.
As soon as she spots the trio, though, her mood clears immediately, and she hurries forward. "Oh, hi there! You must be Perfire, the wizard told me about you! I'm Colcille, pleased to meetcha. And you two are...?"
Lilika is a sickly looking, gray-skinned half-elf with long white hair tied up in a tight ponytail. She wears strange clothes made from a very fine silk: black with silver patterns threaded throughout that glimmer in the light. The flesh that peeks out from her sleeves and collar are heavily scarred. She wears mismatched leather armour, a buckler, and a fancy looking belt. A plethora of daggers are strapped to her hips, as well as a short sword. A silk rope and grappling hook are coiled and slung over her shoulder.
Lilika stands completely still and silent, regarding the vibrant elf for a long, drawn out moment. Greetings were new to her. What was she supposed to say again?
"Greetings. I am Lilika." She falls silent. She seems to be thinking about something... Its hard to tell if she's going to add anything else or leave it at that.
"Hello Lilika! Ooh, you have pointy ears! I have them too, look."
With a wide smile, Colcille bows her head to show her own ears, which are indeed pointy. Her hair is dark blonde with greenish accents (which, at a closer examination, will turn out to be moss stains) and she's wearing a patchwork armor from the leather of at least ten different species of animals, full of sewed-on pockets. On her back is a worn-out backpack, and a bow with quiver over her shoulder. "You folks went into the Spire already? How's it look inside?"
Lilika unconsciously takes a step back at Colcille's enthusiastic greeting. She examines Colcille's ears and does have to agree -- they are pointy.
"...I see." she remarks, unsure how to respond.
It takes Lilika a moment to realize the elf has asked her another question. She considers her answer for a long moment. "Stark," she finally states. After another long moment she adds. "The dungeons below ground are formidable. I recommend you prepare for danger."
The small, scruffy looking halfline extends a hand up to Colcille. His head is covered in a few weeks growth of dirty blond hair. His friendly face is clean, but heavily lined as if from worry. His scrawny frame is covered by an ill-fitting tunic and breaches that look as if they belonged to some peasant boy before their current owner. 'Perfire.'
He nods at Lilika's assessment. 'Lilika has it right. I'd be lying if I told you we'd had great success down below. The first floor is cloaked in some kind of magical darkness and a foul creature named Grulk has taken it as his lair. For now, we've got a truce with him and he's allowed us to pass through his territory. I don't think he'll let us do that for long.'
'We've made it only to the next story down where we've been beset by giant spiders and skeletons. That's also where we've found a number of pit traps. Progress has been slow but we keep pressing.' He smiles up at Colcille, hoping he hasn't scared her off.
Bringing up the rear is a human, average in height but broad in girth, with mighty-looking arms. He has a round, friendly face with a bristly brown mustache and a few days' worth of stubble, along with similarly brown hair with an amateurish haircut, like someone had taken a pair of sheep shears to his head. His armor looks battered and missing a few scales but sturdy, like it's seen a few fights, with a carved wooden amulet in the shape of a longbow made from a deer's antlers strung with an arrow. Leaning against his shoulder is a long pole-axe with the tip of the axe-head sharpened to a broad point. Behind him trots a large black pig with gentle eyes that gleam with unexpected intelligence.
"Deadeye's drawstring am I glad to see sunlight again!"
He frowns a bit as Yirrik departs.
"I guess the adventurin' life was a bite more'n he could chew. I hope he finds happiness settlin' down or somethin'."
Then when the others greet the newcomer, he extends his hand and smiles warmly.
"Hi there! Name's Wymond. Wymond Dwerryhouse, if yer feelin' formal. And this here's Triath."
The pig dips his head, almost as if bowing, and then trots up to Cocille and snuffles her ankles a bit.
Colcille does not appear to be scared by Perfire's account. "A creature named Grulk which might be a problem, spiders and skeletons. Animated ones, I guess, or they wouldn't be much of a threat. You know, I've never seen one of the undead. Are they as fearsome as tales tell?"
Her thoughts about the skeletons are interrupted by Wymond. Her eyes linger for a moment on his armor and she frowns slightly, but Triath's appearance relaxes her.
"Pleased to meet you, Wymond." she says, petting the pig. "I thought you might be one of those Hellknights at first, but you seem too nice. And your friend is a bit special, isn't he? An bhfuil tú ar cheann de na aes sídhe?"
The last phrase is directed at the animal himself.
"Southern city folks like them Hellknights have no respect for the freedoms all folk deserve. I'm a River Kingdoms man through an' through, so while I follow Erastil's advice on how te live a good an' fair life, I respect the Six River Freedoms just as much."
He begins numbering them off on his fingers.
"Say what ye will, I live free. Oathbreakers die. Walk any road, float any river. Courts are fer kings. Slavery is an abomination. An' ye have what ye hold. Ye agree with those things an' I think we'll get along just fine, Cocille!"
Wymond raises an eyebrow at the last phrase, and Triath shakes his head a bit, though he almost seems to...smile? It's hard to tell how a pig can do that.
The conversation slips past Lilika swiftly. She stands tall and still with a passive, blank look on her face. She listens intently to Wymond's rattling off of the River Freedoms, apparently never having heard them before. She gets an uneasy look after that. As if something Wymond had said -- or she has remembered -- doesn't sit well with her.
Eventually she answers Colcille's question about the undead. "One was."