I assume you all remember the New Mechanics I talked about in the Recruitment thread: Souls and Respawning. These are all the new mechanics you need to learn, don't worry. This info box solidifies some other set of gameplay mechanics and rules for Pathfinder.
Skill Usage
Some skill checks are made in secret. To decrease metagaming potential and to keep the players on their toes, some skill checks are rolled by the GM. Players do not know when such skill checks are made.This kind of rolling is referred to as "passive" rolling from now on.
The skills rolled passively are:
- Perception, whenever someone has a chance to notice something hidden
- Sense Motive, whenever someone else is lying to the party
- Knowledge (all), whenever someone hears a piece of lore that they could know something about
Do note that this doesn't mean you can't use these skills actively. You can roll Perception when you actively search for something (like look around a place, looking for a place to hide), you can roll Knowledge to see if you remember a piece of lore someone told you. When in doubt whether you can roll one of these skills or not, ask the GM! Creativity is encouraged.
Also, due to the way how lore is handed to the players...
Lore Bonus
Whenever you attempt a Knowledge check actively, if you quote (or copy-paste) relevant flavor text from an item description, you can get a bonus on the check! The bonus varies depending on how relevant the copy-pasted flavor text is, but is usually +2, +4 or even +6. When copy-pasting relevant flavor text, you can make the check untrained.
(For example, if you want to roll Knowledge to see if you know anything about Bob the Example NPC and happen to copy-paste the description of Example Sword that refers to Bob the Example NPC, you can get a +4 bonus on the Knowledge check)
This leads me to...
Item Descriptions
During your journey in the Labyrinth, you'll come across many different items. From weapons to consumables to magical artifacts to pieces of junk, you'll get a short item description (nearly) each time. It looks like this:
Item Name
The first line of text is descriptive flavor. What this item looks like, how it feels, smells, etc.The second line of text is pure mechanics, related to the gameplay. Always refer to the second line of text when dealing with the mechanical aspects of the item.
The last line of text is mostly flavor and lore, but may offer some hints related to the game. Keep an eye out for this line!
Reading these item descriptions will definitely enhance the Labyrinth Souls experience - it sets the atmosphere and is the key to understanding the story of this game.
That's all for the mechanics for now. More mechanics-related info is revealed later, like how to use souls to level-up. Now, let the game begin...
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You suddenly open your eyes as you awake from a long, undisturbed sleep full of nightmares, though you cannot remember what sort of nightmares you experienced last night. Cold sweat slowly drips from your forehead as you start to fully awaken.
To your shock, you notice that you’re lying on cold, hard stone floor and the room around you is dark as night and cold as cellar. This is not where you went to sleep last night… though you cannot remember how exactly you got asleep in the first place.
You can’t help but notice other people lying next to you. One at a time, they too start to awaken and look around. The tension is noticeable among you strangers, but none of them seem hostile.
A sudden, excruciating pain strikes you! Hunger! Never before have you felt hunger like this! But it’s not food or drink you crave: somehow you know that this hunger can only be satiated with souls. Souls...
Rapier
A slender sword, best suited for thrusting attacks.Standard rapier. Worth 2 souls.
Most denizens of the Labyrinth prefer strong and destructive over agile and elegant. Many of those who swear on mobility and quickness over raw power often find their place in Company of Daredevils, Temael the Daredevil himself included.
Mask of the Lost
A wooden mask. Colored with crimson and ash paint.Unknown effect(s). Worth 9 souls.
Some say the mask is cursed, others claim it grants protection to its user. In a place like the Labyrinth, many are ready to take the risk. Whatever the truth is, the mask looks scary. Origin of the name is long forgotten.
Pendant
A pendant made of fool's gold. Scratched and old, the only value it has is sentimental.Weighs - lbs. Worth 0 souls.
This pendant was given to you by someone special, so perhaps it offers some mental comfort. Absolutely worthless otherwise.
Longsword
A sword with a straight double-edged blade and a grip intended for one-handed use.Standard longsword. Worth 2 souls.
A very popular weapon in the Labyrinth due to its affordable price and simple-yet-deadly effectiveness. Red Flare Kiehinen favors this model modified with flame-blades, not unlike the flamberge.
Deck of Harrow Cards (22)
A deck of 22 cards. Each card represents one of the twenty-two major arcana.A harrowing deck of masterwork cards. Worth 0 souls.
It is said that the fate of humanity lies in the cards. Who knows whether the fortune-teller rewrites reality instead of divining it?
Kekkle's Spellbook
A spellbook that belongs to Kekkle Smoughbon.Refer to character profile for more info.
Despite the fact that wizardy is a considered a noble pursuit, there aren't any schools in the Labyrinth. Even Yro, the Researcher of Labyrinth, shares his knowledge by leaving books in the halls of Labyrinth instead of teaching face-to-face.
Pendant
A pendant made of fool's gold. Scratched and old, the only value it has is sentimental.Weighs - lbs. Worth 0 souls.
This pendant was given to you by someone special, so perhaps it offers some mental comfort. Absolutely worthless otherwise.
Scythe
A farming tool used for mowing grass and reaping crops, it makes a surprisingly good weapon.Standard scythe. Worth 2 souls.
Scythes have always had symbolism for death. Grim Reaper is often pictured reaping souls. Pray that you never face Him here.
Seer's Mirror (1)
A small shard of a mirror. It's a bit dusty, but still reflects your image.Unknown effect(s). Worth 10 souls.
It is said that the more shards one collects, the clearer things become. Graughop the Seer crafted the mirror, but it shattered the moment he was slain.
Wooden Holy Symbol of Sun
A holy symbol made of wood. Fits your hand nicely. Depicts Auorink, the god of sun.Wooden holy symbol. Worth 1 soul.
Divine magic is considered to be less trustworthy than arcane magic in the Labyrinth. After all, what kind of god would allow anyone to end up here?
Seer's Mirror (1)
A small shard of a mirror. It's a bit dusty, but still reflects your image.Unknown effect(s). Worth 10 souls.
It is said that the more shards one collects, the clearer things become. Graughop the Seer crafted the mirror, but it shattered the moment he was slain.
You agreed to the deal and the man disappeared, leaving behind a dusty black tome, labeled "Labyrinthika".
After examining the tome briefly, you are able to return to where you first woke up. There you notice that others are starting to wake up as well.
Labyrinthika
A dusty, black grimoire. Its text is said to guide those who roam the Labyrinth.A book that weighs 1 lb. Reading it takes hours. For every 1 hour you read this book, make an Intelligence check to see how much you learn during the hour. The information in this book may or may not be false, so this book always grants its owner either a +1 circumstance bonus or a -2 penalty on all Knowledge checks made to know things related to the Labyrinth and either a +1 circumstance bonus or a -2 penalty on Survival checks to avoid getting lost. Worth 10 souls.
Written by the enigmatic scholar named Yro, the Researcher of Labyrinth. Yro himself is an author to many a book found in the Labyrinth, but no one has ever seen him. Some say his books spread false information, but hope can be blinding.
Seer's Mirror (1)
A small shard of a mirror. It's a bit dusty, but still reflects your image.Unknown effect(s). Worth 10 souls.
It is said that the more shards one collects, the clearer things become. Graughop the Seer crafted the mirror, but it shattered the moment he was slain.
Master Key
A brass key that has strange letters inscribed on it.Masterwork thieves' tools. Worth 10 souls.
A key said to open any lock. Obviously that's a lie. Who in their right mind would believe the word of thieves?
Labyrinthika
A dusty, black grimoire. Its text is said to guide those who roam the Labyrinth.A book that weighs 1 lb. Reading it takes hours. For every 1 hour you read this book, make an Intelligence check to see how much you learn during the hour. The information in this book may or may not be false, so this book always grants its owner either a +1 circumstance bonus or a -2 penalty on all Knowledge checks made to know things related to the Labyrinth and either a +1 circumstance bonus or a -2 penalty on Survival checks to avoid getting lost. Worth 10 souls.
Written by the enigmatic scholar named Yro, the Researcher of Labyrinth. Yro himself is an author to many a book found in the Labyrinth, but no one has ever seen him. Some say his books spread false information, but hope can be blinding.
The room you are in is relatively small to house eight people, approximately 20 feet by 30 feet. The floor is cold stone. The walls are equally cold and party covered in moss. You see no ceiling, instead looking at darkness above.
The room seems to have two exits: one archway door that leads to a corridor and ladders that lead up to darkness. The corridor is lit with one torch on the wall while the ladders go up to darkness, at least 30 feet high, you estimate.
Ulrich wakes with a start, looking about in confusion. He feels his side and chest, bewildered and searching for something. He calms only when, hand shaking, he feels the wound in his left eye socket. Steadying himself against the wall, he rises to his feet. Ripping a strip of cloth from the end of his tunic, he covers his missing eye.
"Have to stay presentable, if I'm to have company. Even if it is in damnation and purgatory, have to keep your pride. Have at least that to lose, yes.", he mutters to himself.
"Who are you lot? Let's have some introductions, yes, if we're to be damned together. I was Ulrich. Maybe what's left of me still is."
The indistinct figure of a woman was staring down Moritat, surrounded by unspeakable nightmares. The contempt on her face was obvious, and there was the sound of the laughter the creatures were emitting. "Vermin like you doesn't deserve to be in my presence. Take her away, darlings. And do whatever you want with her while you're at it. I think you've earned the reward."
As soon as the woman said the words, the nightmares leaped forward, a hellish cacophony of joy surging forth with them. Moritat tightened her grip upon her weapon, feeling her rage grasp at her very soul, an icy grip that was as close to purity as she had ever come. Charging forward towards the fiends, meeting the sound that they made with a roar of her own....
"MYZARAPHISTON!!!!!" This was the first word that Moritat uttered as she awoke, a thunderous bellow that those not of orcish blood could never truly hope to match. In an instant, the woman had surged up, scythe in hand as she turned back and forth in the room. Her eyes moved from person to person, a cold fury burning within them as she looked at the others. But look as she might, she just knew that who or what she was looking for was not there. Slowly, the rage would fade out of her eyes as she saw the others stir. But in its place were other feelings, ones even more primal than her hate: Hunger. Loss. And a crushing weight that she couldn't quite identify....
She would stumble for a moment, eventually bracing herself upon a nearby wall. She would stand there for a moment, panting as she did so. Where was she? Who was she? What was this place? She waited for the answers to come, but only one did. It stirred only as one of her companions finally awakened and began to ask a question, the only one that she knew the answer to.
"I... I am Moritat," she said, her tone uncertain. "I am Death."
Slowly the pale-faced, dark-haired gnome pushes herself from her belly to her knees, she lifts one hand to her face staring at it, as with a popping sound a flame flickers to life in the palm and just as suddenly dies out, her hand wanders up further holding her head as she shifts her weight back to lift her other hand and look at the small reflective shard it is holding. She finally raises her head.
At the man's question she looks down for a moment in confusion. "... E- Elyna. I think I'm Elyna."
Kekkle had found one of the walls to lean against, apparently seeking a relaxed position even in troubled slumber. He dreams of nothing, he was not made to dream. The fire in his breast smolders slowly while he rests, warming the immediate area around him by a few degrees. The ragged brim of his hat is pulled down low, covering his face.
He wakes with a start once people start shouting and stumbling around.
"Gods, you lot sure are morbid bunch if I've ever seen one. You'll wake the dead with such a ruckus! "
Rilian clutches the blackened tome close to her chest as she enters the area. Seeing the others wake granted her a breif respite, she wasn't so alone as she had been. She allowed herself to settle down and started to let her arms fall to her side.
"Friends? Or Foe? It doesn't matter much - you've always got a friend in me. Ah-ha...ah-ha...ah-ha." A deep breathy voice whispers just behind her. She quickly whips around her eyes wide with terror. There is nothing there. With a hard swallow Rilian turns back around and moves towards the group, grasping the tome so hard that her knuckles are white.
"I'm Rilian. Rilian Sol." She forces out, giving a small smile despite the circumstances.
Yes, there it is! My destiny, I can almost see...aaagghh!..
...to grasp at what no mortal can comprehend, you court death itself. Your reward shall be pain and loneliness, you shall be torn from your friends and allies and tossed to the unforgiving winds...
Pahleg jolts up, his bright green eyes wide in shock and confusion as he looks around, breathing heavily. Wha..? Where am I? He sits, then stands up, his moderately tall and strong frame casting a shadow. He runs a hand through his sweat-soaked, curly blond hair. "Well met, I suppose. I am Pahleg, Lightning Pahleg, cleric of Aurorink." He looks around at the odd collection, all as scared and confused as he is. He takes a deep breath and gives a friendly smile. At least we are not alone. "I don't know what's happened to us, but whatever challenges lie ahead I know we stand a better chance against them together." He moves around and gives everybody a reassuring smile and a helping hand to stand if they need it. All in all, he has a very reassuring presence, an optimist despite the circumstances.
As Goramar wakes he struggles to recall the events of the previous night, but becomes painfully more aware as he regains consciousness that he doesn't recognize his surroundings. The half-orc struggles to orient himself to the dim lit surroundings at first, before he hears the voices of others. Many years on the streets have taught him to be ever mindful of his surroundings, and able to move at a moments notice. Blinking rapidly, the orc blood coursing through Goramar quickly adjusts his eyes the dark room as he notices the figures moving about. As Goramar stands he racks his brain trying to remember something about his current location, or even what brought him here.
What is this place? How did I get here? With those thoughts, Goramar's hands quickly reach for his sides feeling for his weapon and mask. "Glad to see you're still with me" Goramar mutters disdainfully under his breath after his fingers caress the familiar ridges of the mask. A small smirk spreads across Goramar's lips as he feels the edge of the blade on the other side of him. Now to figure out which one of these people brought me here, and more importantly why.
"I'm Goramar. Tell me now, which one of you has brought me here so we can settle our differences and I can return to the business at home I have to attend to." Goramar continues to eye the others in the room awaiting their response and watching their every movement. "Don't be so quick to work together with others cleric, you never know what sorts you are inviting along with you."
The whisper on the wind returns to her,"Aurorink. That misera - " before Rilian dampens it with her own voice.
"Aurorink! I am a follower too - or I was in the orphanage. We all were." Rilian smiles sheepishly, letting her arms fall loose to her sides as she strides closer to the cleric. "It's good to see a familiar bit of home in this dark place. The brothers who watched over us were always very kind." She stands a good deal shorter than the cleric and stares up at him with twinkling eyes - seeming to have forgotten all about the darkness surrounding them.
Ulrich listens to others, one eye glazed and seemingly vacant.
"I doubt any of us brought you here... Goramar, is it? No, no, far too simple. After all... turnkeys never condemn themselves to join their prisoners, do they?"
He peels himself from the wall and walks to the end of the cell. He looks left and right, before taking the torch from the wall sconce.
Perception, in the hallway:
"That is true. If none of you are responsible for me being here, then what brought us all here together?"
Goramar notices Ulrich move to the door and creeps behind him hoping to see something in the darkness.
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Still kneeling on the floor Elyna startles a little as the scarecrow creature speaks.
"What I wonder more than that is where is here."
Ulrich grabs the torch that had illuminated the corridor.
Torch
A wooden stick with a flame on one end. Used as a source of light, but also makes a weapon in emergency.Standard torch. Worth 0 souls.
For many, light and warmth are the last of humane comforts. But remember: light can blind and fire can sear.
He then peeks at the corridor, followed by Goramar. Ulrich, with one eye damaged and the other momentarily blinded by the torch, is unable to see focus his sight on anything in the hallway.
Goramar on the other hand, with his tireless orcish eyes, gazes far to the corridor. He sees no movement in the dark hallway. Puddles of what appears to be water decorate the floor. The corridor stretches about 50 feet from the archway door before taking a turn to the right, preventing Goramar from seeing further.
After a more careful look, Goramar notices something in one of the puddles. Something small and shiny, as it reflects the torch light. As he goes to pick it up he notices the puddle is mixture of both water and blood.
Kekkle's heart falls a bit as a handful of the strangers rush out of the room. He didn't like being left alone, it made him feel cold.
"Don't mind me!" he calls out "I'll be just a minute, gotta reacquaint myself."
He reaches into the straw of his hat and pulls out a small book. He opens it up, intending to start his morning ritual before he realizes that reading is impossible in the dungeon without the light of the torch!
"Ah, wait! Hold on! The light!" he gets to his feet and quickly follows after Goramar and Ulrich. As he passes Rilian and Pahleg he nods. "Praise be! Eh? The Sun always shines on friends in strange places."
"If one of us is responsible for our capture here, they are playing a subtle game indeed. For the time I intend to work with what allies I have available to me, as I think it will benefit all of our survival." Pahleg follows the others, glancing around with narrowed eyes. "Ickrak'ey arcaniss." His eyes glow blue.
Goramar's eyes lock on the shiny object, and despite the feeling he should avoid touching it, he plunges his hand into the fluid.
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Goramar's eyes lock on the shiny object, and despite the feeling he should avoid touching it, he plunges his hand into the fluid.
While his friends are gazing into the darkness of the corridor, Pahleg scans the area with his divine magics. Everything in the room you woke up in is non-magical, as is the corridor, save for the puddle. Something small in the puddle faintly emits magical aura, but the puddle itself is non-magical.
Before Pahleg can inform his comrades of the magical nature of the item, Goramar dips his hand into the puddle and grabs it. The bloody texture of the puddle makes him feel a bit sick, but his curiosity trumps his disgust. Goramar looks at the small item he just picked up and notices it's a ring of some sort.
Ring of Tholing
A copper ring. An inscription distantly resembling a sheep is carved on it.Use detect magic spell and Spellcraft skill to determine the effects of this item. Use Appraise to determine the value of this item.
The sheep has become a recurring symbol in the Labyrinth. For some it symbolises safety, but be warned! Some use it to deceive, like a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Good find Goramar! I can tell it's magical but I don't know what its function is."
As Goramar picks up the item, he rolls it in his hands. The ring looks like it is nothing special to Goramar, but as would be expected from a man living on the streets the half-orc slips it on his finger, hoping to eventually find out it is valuable to someone.
"I can find a use for this I'm sure, or at least get some coin out of it," Goramar says flashing a toothy grin.
Moritat would eye the others with obvious suspicion as they all spoke, her hands not leaving her scythe once she stopped using the wall to support herself. However, as the other half-orc spoke, all of her attention would go to him. She snorted at his question, shaking her head in derision.
"Moritat has no need for prisoners. It is best to treat opponents with the honor they deserve, and give them a death by your hands. Such is the fate that Moritat will give the one who sent Moritat here."
However, despite her apparent hostility, Moritat would still follow the half-orc and one-eyed man towards the hallway, if only to keep an eye on them. The scarecrow (admittedly an oddity, or possibly not seeing as she couldn't remember either way) seemed to have the same idea. She would sneer at the scarecrow's statement to the other two, pausing momentarily.
"Moritat sees no sunlight here, nor any friends."
"The light is always there, even if you can't see it. Consider us...opportunistic allies. Like a makeshift weapon. Maybe not exactly what you want, but at least you have something that will help."
Ulrich squints his good eye.
"What? Who's- oh, yes, you all. The noise, it's all a bit confusing."
He looks over his fellow prisoners again, torch in hand, before turning to Kekkle with genuine wonder and confusion.
"You're a scarecrow!"
... A month went by, and Ushio had barely eaten and barely slept; spending every waking hour devout in prayer. However, Shiro's condition continued to worsen. He could not understand what kind of God would allow his constant prayer to go unanswered; to allow his innocent sister to continue to die. And on the night the snowflakes had fell, autumn turning over for winter, Ushio in his weakened state cursed his god's name and left the church, a man no longer under Immortals. That night venturing home, the chill and cold seaped into his wasted muscles and collapsed him. Ushio lost consciousness... His last goal in life to return to his sister and make her well....
Ushio awakes in the Labyrinth...
Ushio awakens, slumped against a wall. He rubs his eyes clean of dust; a single snowflake falls, unbeknownst to him, to the ground below and disappears forever. 2 Items lie next to him, familiar yet distant somehow. He takes them under his wrappings. His gaze shifts upwards and he is slightly surprised to find people, here... here in this unfamiliar place. It seems he has went unseen or unnoticed. Pity... or quite fortunate. He reaches out his hand, going to call out from amidst his dark position, when he sees his hand and its faintly glowing engravings. A small gasp is blown from betwixt his lips as he clutches his hand to his chest. He only briefly examines it for some of the others begin to leave him. Double wrapping it under his vestments, he crawls to his feet.
Ushio slowly steps from the darkness of his corner, "Hello all. Umm, Where are we? Ushio's gaze shifts to the scarecrow. He stares for a bit... "Am I just dreaming? Or have we been thrown to a game most shadowy and dark that Screams and Cries never dare escape it?" He continues staring for a little while before remembering what manners are, coughs slightly, and continues to say "I'm sorry, forgive me please. My sleep must have taken more from me than I have gained from it. My name is Ushio Takei."
"Moritat sees no sunlight here, nor any friends."
"Well aren't you just a gloomy goblin? It's all just a matter of perspective dear, a slight shift in ones point of view can change so much. you know. A passage comes to mind:"
"That is not dead which can eternal lie. And with stange aeons even death may die."
"Wise words I'd say, don't you agree Miss Moritat?"
"You're a scarecrow!"
"I am~! Though 'Kekkle' will do just fine, sir. You appear to have taken quite the thrashing, how are you feeling?"
"I'm sorry, forgive me please. My sleep must have taken more from me than I have gained from it. My name is Ushio Takei."
"So it is that the last player takes the stage. It is good to see that so many warm bodies have decided to grace the confines of our cell here. I'm sure we'll get along famously."
Ushio lightly scratches his face-
"Hopefully, Sir Scarecrow. Kekkle is it? That will do just fine."
Ushio grabs his hood and pulls it downward.
"Just fine indeed, then."
Ushio joins the group... towards the back that is...
"Welcome to whatever miserable party this is, Ushio.", Elyna says off-handedly, then turns to Moritat: "I don't think anyone here has a good reason to trust anyone else. But let's not start dispatching each other at least until we know where we are.", she finally gets off her knees and onto her feet. The shard still clutched in her hand.
"Speaking of which. Lend me a light, Ulrich.", Elyna walks down the corridor and carefully sneaks a peek around the corner.
Elyna walks next to Ulrich to stand in the torch light. She looks at the dark corridor, and sees the bloody puddle that used to hide the ring. Like Goramar, she sees no movement in the corridor.
A sound of dripping water catches her attention. She sees a drop of liquid, presumably water, dripping from the corridor ceiling. It appears that the puddles have formed from water dripping from the corridor ceiling, combined with the blood of whatever creature bled here.
Rilian suddenly crouches and starts running her hand along the baren floor. Finally she finds a small, nondescript, stone.
She stares at it as her eyes seem to glaze over. Covering the stone with her hand she mumbles "Lucerent" in a dull voice. Light suddenly seems to bleed through her hand, and she opens it to reveal a small ball of light resting in her palm.
She gives a small shake of her head as her eyes refocus on the light in her hand.
"There, some extra light to cast back the darkness!" She smiles proudly at her accomplishment as she holds it aloft to help light up the area around her.
"Which way do you all think we should travel?" She strides over to a ladder and holds her light high up, trying to see how far the ladder ascends.
Rilian picks up a small pebble.
Pebble
A small, smooth stone that fits in hand comfortably.Weighs 1/3 lbs. Usable as a sling bullet. Worth 0 souls.
Tossing one might catch the attention of monsters.
She then makes the pebble shine in white light, providing herself a source of illumination. With the shining pebble in hand, she gazes above at the ladder and where it might lead.
The ladders are made of iron, party rusted. They seem stable enough to ascend without breaking, though you'd estimate it might be unsafe for all eight of you to climb at the same time.
The ladders go up as high as approximately 30 feet, attached to the stone wall all the way up. The ladders seem to lead to a level above: what else would ladders be needed for?
With his new prize slid over his finger, Goramar moves towards the end of the passageway. Along the way, the Half-Orc's eyes glance towards the ceiling.
When Goramar reaches the end of the passage he beckons for those behind him to remain still. "Quiet. Wait for me to check, many years hiding in the shadows on the streets should allow me to be unseen. "
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Walking towards the end of the passageway, the half-orc glances at the ceiling. Even an untrained eye can see the masonry is of varying quality, with some bricks placed sloppily. The ceiling is damp, and an occasional water droplet slowly forms and falls from it. Nothing dangerous catches Goramar's eye in the ceiling.
He reaches the end of the passageway, silently places his back against the corner wall, and stealthily peeks behind the corner.
Behind the corner is a hall, roughly twice the size of the room you woke up in, 30 feet by 40 feet. What immediately catches his attention is that there's a person in the hall, sitting with his back against the wall. Even with your darkvision, the darkness prevents you from being certain he's a male. Neither can you distinguish his race, but you hazard a guess the person's a human. He doesn't seem to notice you.
You cannot see whether the man is armed or not.
Pahleg takes Goramar's advice and waits with the others.
Ushio looks up at the ladder, curious-er and curious-er about whats beyond it. He grabs the ladder and half-heartedly tries to see if he can budge it, testing for its strength and durability after such gruesome and dark surroundings have rusted it.
"There is someone down the hallway, but I cannot make out enough of them to tell if they are armed," Goramar says to the others as he comes back around the corner into the original passageway. "We have two options. I can sneak ahead or we move together. Choose."
"Let us confront this person together. If they are a threat we will all be able to deal with it. If not, then we can all meet at once."
Moritat gave no more than a snort to the responses she received, and put her attention back onto Goramar. Another individual in this place, hmmm? Well, that was something that was going to have to be dealt with. Who knew, perhaps he actually had some information about this place. She would go up next to her fellow half-orc, scythe in hands. She could have probably said something, but actions had more weight than words.
Rilian looks between the ladder and her new compatriots, deciding it's best to stick together as a group she moves back towards the group, preparing herself to deal with whatever lies beyond the light. "I'm in agreement, whatever we do it'll be easier if we are together."
"I am~! Though 'Kekkle' will do just fine, sir. You appear to have taken quite the thrashing, how are you feeling?"
"You're a scarecrow!"
"I'm... fine. Considering that I should be dead, perhaps am dead, I'd say I'm doing remarkably well... physically at the least."
At the mention of another person in the adjoining chamber, Ulrich tilts his head and considers for a moment while the others talk.
"Yes. Let's see who this is. I'll bring the torch, yes. Important to have enough light."
Kekkle shrugs as the majority of his companions move down the hall. He notices Ushio, all lonely, investigating the ladder on the other side of the room and decides to join him.
"What have you found here, friend? Something interesting? How can I help?"
Goramar, Pahleg, Moritat, Rilian and Ulrich decide to move to the hall and meet the person Goramar saw. They proceed with caution, with their respective weapons in hand. Goramar, Moritat and Ulrich leading the way.
They walk to the end of the hallway and turn to the right, facing the hall.
The walls in the hall are made of the same stone material that you saw in the previous room and the passageway: sloppily masoned, a bit damp and partly covered in moss. However, the walls of this hall are decorated by paintings. They are portraits, depicting people of various races: you see humans, half-orcs, elves, dwarves, halflings, even spotting a catfolk portrait. But you pay little more mind to these portraits, as your attention is directed towards the person sitting in the hall.
The person notices your presence and gasps in surprise. He speaks with exhaustion in his voice.
Hellfire has finally found me, has it? Go on, do what you must. But please, do it quickly, the man says. He closes his eyes and looks away from you. He then turns his head back to you.
Wait, you aren't Hellfire, are you. You must be newcomers then, correct? His voice is now calmer, if a bit more sorrowful. Such a... cruel ending to my story...
If you are hungry, feel free to end me. Though I'm 'fraid I have few souls to give you. The man continues to sit, leaning to the wall. His gaze is fixed on the paintings on the opposite wall.
Pahleg looks at the paintings for a moment before going over to the man. "We are neither hellfire nor hungry monsters. We are but lost and confused people, thrown in this place without any reason. Perhaps we can help each other out."
No one can help me... not any longer. The man does not look Pahleg in the face, keeping his sight fixed on the paintings.
I have sinned, and now I meet my punishment. If you want to help me, do it by leaving me be or by killing me mercifully.
"Oh, I think we've all sinned. That's why we're here, isn't it? 'Hellfire'? Who would that be and why would they want you dead?"
He puts a reassuring hand on the man's shoulder. "There is always something to be done. Do not give up hope." He follows the man's gaze. "What are you looking at?"