Yverstrix enters a rage and swings his greataxe at the blob, not sure how to help his comrades.
The cube forms a "fist" of goo, and tries to smack Yverstrix in return. Due to the misfortune it suffers, though, it fails to land the blow. Meanwhile, fear begins to set in as Malthu and Grod are suffocating as they are being digested, unable to move any muscle.
Mortoth swings again, still hoping to recover his allies before it's too late.
,
Panic rising quickly within him as he sees Malthu and Grod being dissolved and digested, Sam raises his bow and snaps off another shot.
With Sam and Mortoth's attacks, the think is looking fairly destroyed.
Yver snarls and swings again, pleased to see that blades can harm the bizzare thing.
for
With a pop, the gelatinous cube bursts into liquid and drains away. Luckily, the acid burn stops immediately, and the paralysis soon goes away.
Also falling out of the cube's mass is a scroll of hold portal in a steel scroll case (worth 50 gp), a masterwork chain shirt, a falchion, a star rose quartz amulet worth 75 gp, and coins totaling 20 gp, 95 sp, and 144 cp.
The walls of this chamber are pocked with skull-sized cubbyholes, each containing a single brass or clay urn—some long since shattered or dented, others still intact. A lightly colored stone statue depicting a burning chariot wheel occupies the northwest corner of the room. Two iron doors on the eastern wall allow egress from the room.
Seeing the ooze destroyed and his companions safely recovered from it, Mortoth is extremely relieved - and inwardly, somewhat surprised at the intensity of his relief. Has he come to be so invested in these strangers' well-being so quickly? An unsettling thought. He distracts himself from such considerations by examining the rest of the room.
,
"Hmm..." he says, examining the wall behind the burning wagon wheel. "This looks interesting..." Without explaining, he begins searching for a mechanism to open the door or any traps that might be attached to it.
As the paralysis wears off Grod gasps for air, panting for a few moments until he can recover his composure and pick himself up off the ground. "Ugh, that was disgusting. And these really sting." he says, patting at the acid burns in several locations. "I don't suppose anyone has anything for these?"
"Think it's worth anything to them?"
The witch pitches in with healing the damage inflicted by the cube.
"Are you saying the goddess of justice and honor would begrudge a fair pay for genuinely dangerous work?" Shivarra raises an eybrow imperiously. "Well, I suppose you can just take it as part of your share of the loot."
Sam is somewhat stunned into uncharacteristic silence as the trio who were so nearly digested by.... some goo... begin to casually look around.
Yver releases the rage and staggers a bit as its strength leaves him, "That was after being disgusting.", and starts to look about for something to wipe his axe off, to prevent the strange acidic goo from burning.
He shrugs, "I'd be thinking that the folks at the temple would be after being grateful for us liberating us, and would be in a positive mood that could lead to reward... or at least consideration on healing."
Grod shrugs. "I can see the lady's point, working for free isn't worth it in the long term," he says, nodding to Shivarra, "but Yver makes a good one as well. Having healers that owe you a favor is never a bad idea."
The latch on the secret door pops open, after Mortoth verifies it is trap free. A hallway behind leads to another secret door, which is fairly obvious from this side. Listening at the door, you hear nothing.
Sam keeps toward the back with his lights floating around him, not wishing to give away the position of the group whilst also keeping an eye on the way behind. This place was growing more and more disturbing with every step and somewhere in here there was still a Flood Troll to deal with.
Mortoth grins as the secret door opens. "There we are." He gestures ahead for Grod to take the lead in opening the door at the far end of the passage.
An old cast-iron furnace and a pile of coal occupy the corners of this cramped chamber. Ash and fallen rubble clutter the area around the furnace where the chimney above has collapsed.
Huddled in the corner of this dark room is a young man. "Who's there?" he asks meekly.
"Half-orcs? I told that other one I didn't see nuthin! Let me go! My folks'll be worried sick, and they'll send someone lookin' for me."
"Who are you?" Mortoth asks suspiciously, rubbing his broken tusk. "How'd you wind up down here?"
Yverstrix says, "I be thinking the bigger question might be 'what other one?'"
Sam steps forward, a stupid smile on his face.
Young man, this is your lucky day! We are here to liberate you! Unintentionally of course, but still when serendipity smiles she does so gladly and beautiful it is too.
That is, we're here on other matters but freeing you is the best thing to happen all day. What's your name? Mine is Dr Samuel Ballard and these are my colleagues.
The boy looks a little overwhelmed, but when he sorts out all of the questions, he says "Othdan. My name is Othdan. My buddy dare me to go into the Plague House cause I said it weren't haunted. So I did, but ya know what? I think it is haunted! Anyway, I ran around a corner and got grabbed by some brute who tossed me in here and locked the door. I heard him talkin' to someone else, but I don't know what language they was speakin'. It ain't orc, though - I know what that sounds like."
Well between the screaming skulls, the giant spiders, centipedes and well.... oozy things, I think you might just be right! Sam says though humourlessly.
How long have you been here and when did you last see this brute?
"I don't know - it feels like I been here for days! But its dark and I don't have anyway of knowing..."
Isn't that remarkable! Sam beams in the gloom. I was just saying the same thing to my friends here. Of course they have no such difficulty in the darkness. Here.
He conjures some more balls of light that dance around the young man's head.
Well that takes care of that. Now, to get you out of here. Are you hurt at all?
"Does anyone know of this Othdan, though?" the witch asks suspiciously. "I'd much rather finish sorting through this mess before we let anyone leave. Speaking of which, we should not tarry - we have hardly been quiet thus far."
"Thanks, mister. Nah, I ain't hurt. Little hungry is all, but I can eat when I get home." Clearly, he hasn't been here that long if he isn't starving.
Otherwise, no - none of you have heard of Othdan, but that shouldn't surprise you, as you probably don't know any of the young people in town.
Yver chuckles, "You aren't being the only one that is needing the light, Doc.". He then cocks his head, "Would you be after recognizing the language if you heard it again? Maybe it's a tongue one of us do be knowing? "
He crinkles his brow as another thought comes to him. He turns to the boy, "Do you remember ever being this hungry before, lad? Just wondering if your stomach might be able to tell us how long you've been here."
"I get hungry plenty..."
Mortoth doesn't get the impression he is being deceived, and assuming Shivarra casts detect magic, none is detected on the boy.
Come on then, let's get you out of here. Same says, feeling slightly envious because he knows he isn't finished in the Plague House yet.
As they begin moving out of the small furnace room he whispers to the young man:
Oh and do tell your friends that it was these fine half-orc folks that rescued you, there seems to be some awful misconceptions around town about our be-tusked friends.
"Sure thing, mister! Hey, when you get back, come find me. I got a something you can have for helping me out."
Grod does his best not to look threatening, but it mostly amounts to smiling and nodding. He knows he comes across as a bit gruff to humans.
The door to the south is locked (in case anyone tries it).
Mortoth will search it for traps and then attempt to unlock it . If the first attempt fails, he will take 20 for a 26 (taking another 2 minutes to do so).
Sam waves the young man off from the entrance to the Plague House as if he were bidding farewell to a caller just popped in for tea. Spirits raised by having tangibly helped someone, he returns to the others and says;
Flood Troll or no it was worth the trip just to help him out. Poor soul he must have been out of his wits with fear.
He then keeps an eye out within the radius of his light for sight or sound of enemies creeping up.
The first attempt fails, but eventually Mortoth is able to open the lock.
Embedded into the floor of this chamber is a ten-foot-diameter granite emblem of a faded gold and white longsword. Four passages lead out of the chamber in different directions. A portcullis blocks the southern exit, and a sturdy wooden door leads west. A ladder in the southern corner of the room leads upward, and a small chest and decrepit bookshelf face one another from opposite walls.
Grod walks up to the bookcase and looks for any interesting tomes (assuming there are still books in it).
Mortoth moves to the chest and begins examining it.
Grod finds that the bookshelf holds little of value—only the mostly destroyed pages of Iomedae’s holy text, Acts of Iomedae, and several other weathered scriptures.
The chest, however, contains 1 ounce of sovereign glue, 2 doses of universal solvent, 50 feet of silk rope, a disguise kit (with 6 uses remaining), a set of thieves’ tools, a noble’s outfit worth 75 gp, a signet ring worth 50 gp, and coins totaling 237 gp, 155 sp, and 55 cp.
"Now we're talking,"the witch grins. "Looks like this outing will be worthwhile after all."