Zestel's quickly fired bolt, pierces the spider's scales. It exits the creature's other side, trailing a sinious red strand not unlike the those silken ones that fill this room.
Vaoroma's magic splashes into the creature and it falls from its perch. It rolls down some of the webbing before catching in its own strands, legs twitching in death.
The west wing is mostly choked with rubble, but a door in the eastern wall is still accessible.
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Zestel makes a Face of disgust off of seeing all the spider vicera from his misfired crossbow bolt.
"I uh . . . I appologize for that everyone. . . I mean the display not the . . . well, the saving . . . nevermind. Here let me help you Mr. . . . actually I don't believe I've caught your name." the last part of the conversation was said to Drogun as he starts casting repeated acid splash spells on the webs to try and extricate him from the sticky substance, careful not to get any on the dwarf himself.
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"Thes blasted web!" Drogun curses as he thrashes with large amounts of uncoordination. One might imagine a fish caught in a net, except a short stout drunken fish with arms and legs. " Blasted!....Caugh' in me beard!"
After being aided out of the web, Drogun unlashes one of the four gallons from his back and pours the remainder its contents into his stein. He then offers the stein to Zestel. "Th' names Drogun! he introduces enthusiastically, "This' some o' the best, have some."
****************
After the pleasantries, Drogun carries the now empty gallon container under his arm. He moves to open the door to the east and reports back that the way is blocked and it looks like the only way forward is climbing.
No magic is detected in any of the first floor rooms.
Gaderffi has discovered the collar & the information can be shared among the party.*
Two sets of ropes are retrived and the dwarf climbs the rubble pile with little trouble. The rest of the party have even less trouble reaching the part of the second floor which is not a balcony.
Three walls of the formerly hexagonal room remain. A door is set in both the north and the south walls. The shorter central wall has no doors.
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Torgat prods the desiccated remains for any further information before they move upstairs; if no one else is carrying the collar, Torgat will put it in his pack to turn over to the Pathfinders when they get back to town.
Once they have all climbed up to the second level, he looks between the two doors and shrugs.
"We entered by the north at ground level. If there is no obvious reason to choose one or the other, perhaps we should start with the south entrance up here."
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Torgat prods the desiccated remains for any further information before they move upstairs; if no one else is carrying the collar, Torgat will put it in his pack to turn over to the Pathfinders when they get back to town.
Once they have all climbed up to the second level, he looks between the two doors and shrugs.
"We entered by the north at ground level. If there is no obvious reason to choose one or the other, perhaps we should start with the south entrance up here."
"Sounds fine to me. Zestel says, sipping the thick alchohol from its stein. "Oh, this is quite strong. Not really used to it, but I've had worse."
This octagonal room is covered in a fine layer of dust. It's clearly been abandoned for a long time.
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Heart still pumping from the climb, Torgat follows closely behind Gaderffi and Drogun, chuckling to himself.
"To think that, with so much adventure to be had, my old teachers wanted me to stay at the Magaambya to keep learning from old men and older books before I went out on my own!"
“Not much adventure to be had in here, though, unless...” — the half-orc stifles a sneeze from the dust he kicks up when he enters the room — "... you find allergies particularly exciting."
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"I must say I am a bit jelous. I have always wanted to peruse Magaambya's libraries" Zestel comments while still sipping from the Dwarf's stein. "Unfortunatly my own tutelage was more. . . Haphazard. Though I did finish up my studies with the Runeguards of Magnamar, which was . . . enlightening to say the least."
Ylania notices the far door seems to have a heavy weight pushing on it. The weight is not enough to prevent it opening, and whatever the weight is will probably fall through when the door is opened, threatening whomever is standing nearby.
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"Hmmm. Before we give up, perhaps there is something we can try. If everyone would move away from the door, please?"
Once the others have backed out of the way of the far door, Torgat moves back himself, until he is standing just inside the doorway from the half-balcony.
"Anyone who has a bow or crossbow might want to get it ready, and get ready to fire at whatever comes through."
Torgat taps into the power of his arcane bond ring, and calls up the memory of one of the first cantrips he learned as an apprentice. He retrieves a small brass key from the pouch on his belt, and barks out words of arcane power while pointing the key at the trapped door.
Torgat calls upon his arcane knowledge, and silver energy coalesces around the key in his hand. The energy takes the key in a tiny paw as it forms into a ghostly monkey that scampers across the floor and to the door. The door opens when the monkey touches it. The little primate touches its brow and disappears after returning the key to the junglekin.*
A weight drops, pulling a string which in turn pulls a trigger. A bolt hisses through the air at the barbarian nearest the door.
,
The room beyond, from what is visible, walls lined with racks for weapons. Above the racks hang various shields, pieces of armor, weapons, and standards on display. Most of the racks are empty, but a few weapons remain in place. A horrible stench emanates from the room as well, akin to the smell of rotten eggs mixed with the reek of an open sewer.
”Uh, Dorgun? Did. . . Did you want one of us to see about patching you up? I’m not great at activating healing wands, but I’ve been known to be able to do so before.”
He pulls out a wand but doesn’t move closer to the door because of the ‘bad air.’
Drogun steps into the room and belches a good beer belch. It seems to counter some of the stench coming from the room, but not before javelin crashes into the floor and another into his thigh.
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Voarima moves into the room as her hardy ally enters the room that is farther ahead of her. The smells hits her nostrils, which instantly curdle like sour milk. She presses onwards as her stomach settles. She begins to breath through her mouth to combat the smell. She sees the outline of some scaly creature and lets an arrow fly past Drogun’s head, toward the gray scaled foe.
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And succeeds in the first try!
”Oh dear, what’s happening?”
Without clear sight of what is hurting his ‘friend’ Zestel tries to hold his breath and enter the room, hugging the wall to stay clear of sight lines.
If still allowed to act (though I suspect he won’t be), he’ll try to Snowball the enemy he has the clearest shot to.
Drogun charges at the first youngling. The keg crashes into its skull and the creature's eyes begin to spin inside their sockets. The creature stabs the dwarf with with his javelin, but the exertion proves too much and he swoons to ground.
Torgat's magic creates a green dart of acidic energy that smashes into the second troglodyte with a sizzling hiss. Voarima sends an arrow in the same direction, but fails to connect. The troglodyte throws his javelin at the dwarf, then draws a mace.
Zestel slips into the room staying away from the fight. He calls cold energy to his hands, but his cautious advance throws off his aim and the spell fails to connect with its target.
R2:
R1
Torgat (19): acid darts G
Drogun (18): charges Y (odd damages barrel:
Voarima (12): misses G
Young Troglodytes (11): hits D, hits D (& drops); Y9, G5
Zestel (8): misses G
The troglodyte yells as the acid continues to burn, then it too drops.
Torgat moves to the doorway to get a clear shot, then fires an acid bolt at one of the creatures.
Acid dart (ranged touch)]1d20 + 2; 1d6
Most of the few remaining arms in the room have rusted away, making them useless in combat.
Gaderffi enters the room.
[dice=Fortitude Save]1d20+2
"This stench assaults my nostrils! And nothing but junk remains! Bah, what a waste!"
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Still choking, coughing, and with his eyes watering, Zestel enters the room.
"Oh, Soralyon, the stench is even worse in here! Let's search this place and be done with it."
Zestel casts detect magic and searches around for anything of use while keeping one hand over his nose and mouth.
Unfortunately he is too distracted by the terrible smell to do much more than a cursory glance.