Palace of the Vampire Queen (Inactive)

Game Master Terquem

Day 7, Late Morning, 9/62 (Current Turn/Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 10:20 am)

Before the party takes a rest…

Windel invokes a special prayer to summon the sight he needs to examine the treasure found for the tale tell signs of magical auras.

Rowning, using the tip of his axe, lifts the warped lid of the metal chest (it is a small chest and the lid would be flat, if it had not been warped by the fire). The lid is light, and the hinges are broken. He can see the remains of a poisoned needle concealed under the front edge of the lid, but the fire has burnt away all of the poison, and the small piece of cloth that concealed the trap. Inside the chest he sees hundreds of coins, both silver and gold, as well as a few plain gold and silver rings, a few earrings, some with small gemstones, and a small silver filigreed box.

"This 'ere has magic in it," Windel states with some authority, "it's some sort of abjuration which are protective spells or barriers." He hands the ring to the first person wanting to look at it.

Unexpectedly Windel blurts out, "I tell y'folks sumethin', there's been lots of weird things happening in this tomb but I think...now listen up, I think the root cause are spiders. I hate 'em, with all their beady eyes and legs, wit their sting'rs lettin' off foul unholy poisons...its time to kill me some."

Rownig looks over at the cleric dumbfounded, "Ok...think the smoke's gone t'ya brain a bit but whatever." He shrugs the comment off.

Sudden fear washes over the cleric as he looks at the goblins, "Promise me....if we come 'cross any spiders yer gonna let me slash a few wit me axe...don't burn away all me fun." He asks this question very seriously.

He points down at the once poisoned trapped lid, "that's a fine example of nasty poison that just gets me angry a the foul beasts. He exclaims.

Stephanie slowly closes the leatherbound book that rests in her lap. She has been studying in her corner for the past hour, to the faint sound of distant violins and chimes. The almost haunting music soothes her and aids in focus. With her studies finished, she begins to whisper softly over her singed garments--a faint glow begins to burn at the edges of the frayed fabric, and slowly but surely the robes begin to repair themselves. Even the delicate embroidery that embelishes the hem is restored. She then rises to her feet, sweeps a few strands of her hair back behind her ear, and dismisses the music with a wave of her hand.

Casts Mending

She approaches Windel, her soft shoes padding along the stones. "Let me see the ring." She requests... sort of, with a small hand extended and her eyes already beginning to grow milky as she examines the piece of jewelry.

Cast Detect Magic -- Taking 10 on Spellcraft, for 21

Even as she studies the ring, she adds off-handedly, "And I believe there were some items that needed repairing? I'm not sure how extensive the destruction that insect caused may be, but I would be willing to provide my arts."

Can cast Mending on damaged equipment. It can mend 1d4 points of damage, or restore to at least half hp if broken... but I can't find a ruling on whether it can be cast multiple times.

Mending: 1d4 ⇒ 4

"That ring'll look guud on yer finger...missy." he blushes a bit, "Errr, I mean Princess."

You can cast mending on the small metal chest, but only if you feel it is necessary. It will restore the chest to a workable condition, but it will not repair the trap, and it will still seem a little warped

Doing my homework on Detect Magic, be right back!

"Princess I'm guud with small delicate things in me hands." he suddenly stops and turns beet red, "I...I mean the chest not y...you. Not that you wouldn't be guud in me hands..." He grows a deeper crimson, "I mean ta say...Ohhhh, just insert yer fat toes in me mouth." He stammers, "Not that ye have fat toes Princess..I mean my big ole foot." He is thoroughly embarrassed and kicking the sooty ground now.

I was refrencing Hallister's damaged armor from the Rustmonster. I told him in this post that I would try to mend it the following day. I'm not sure if I'm able to mend an object that size or not, however.

Also, if you need Stephanie to roll that Spellcraft check instead of take 10, I'll do so here:
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (15) + 11 = 26

Day 7, late evening, 110 (Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 6:20 pm)

the above time is for when you finish resting…we are getting a little muddled with the time. So we are all in agreement that we have finished 8 hours of rest, counting and cataloged the treasure, and now Stephanie is taking a crack at the Magic Ring, yes?

AS Stephanie examines the ring, in the darkness, her eyes can almost make out a pattern or shape to the ring that is nearly impossible to notice unless you hold the ring just right. Her twisting and turning of the ring, draws everyone’s attention.

Knowledge (History): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

Ha, and Identify wasn't memorized today. So we'll have to wait until I get another chance to select slots... plight of the wizard = greater choice, less flexibility.

"Wow." Stephanie mouths, not even aware of her own reaction. Suddenly she is shocked by Rownig's words as well, growing quite flush at the comments, then almost agitated at the insinuations regarding her toes.

With another quick gesture, she masks her blushing cheeks behind flesh colored tones and quickly shakes her head to free the agitation. The remark clearly was unintended, but the shock had caught her off guard. Composed again, she shirks the comments with an understanding if not pretensious grin while lifting the ring into the air.

"If I'm not mistaken, this ring is not only unique... it is legendary. I've heard mention of it in a handful of stories from the life of Emthuil Suikos, a dwarven pirate of renown--if one could consider infamy 'renown'. That is, after it was filched from the Dwarven King of the Island of Ginoponos. If you look close here, you'll recognize that this thicker portion resembles the head of a wyrm. If I'm not mistaken, which I rarely am, this could very well be the Ring of the Dragon King."

After letting the gravity of such a claim settle, she continues with the unfortunate news, "However, there is regretfully little reference in this tales to what the ring is actually capable of. And I've already prepared my own arcane arts with the intention of spelunking and potential conflict--not necessarily scholarly pursuits. So until I can get more rest and prepare new incantations, that's all the information I currently possess."

"Smokes gone ta who's brain now...Casanova ." The cleric chuckles at Rownig's expense.

Knowledge History: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

As Stephanie draws attention to the ring, Miagniks eyes light up and he scrambles over to look at the ring more closely.

"Such an artifact, in the hands of thieving Undead monstrosities. Stephanie let me see."

It had to be the ring of the Dragon King. Never thought I'd actually do this, but this is cool enough in my head to make it worthwhile. I'm using the Sorcerer spell ability to turn my so far unused Expeditious Retreat spell into Identify.

Without actually waiting for any response, Miagnik grabs Stephanie's hand and inspiration suddenly flooding into him he uttered a single phrase "Arthaakeklec" before white light began filling his eyes.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 10 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 10 + 6 = 35

"Thanks Princess," Hal says as Stephanie's magics restore his armor. 'Much appreciated."

"I tell y'folks sumethin', there's been lots of weird things happening in this tomb but I think...now listen up, I think the root cause are spiders. I hate 'em, with all their beady eyes and legs, wit their sting'rs lettin' off foul unholy poisons...its time to kill me some."

"Actually it's th' other way around. Death magics have a way of upsettin' the balance o' the world. Ah aint much fer that druidic type stuff, but that part they got right."

"Magics all have a kind o' alignment. Like a frequency they send out. Elemental magics draw elemental spirits, for example. Like draws like."

"Death magics call creatures who are aligned with death."

"There ain't actually nothin' inherently evil about death magic., jus' like there ain't nothin' inherently evil 'bout spiders. They jus both have a natural alignment that runs counter to ours, so they make us uncomfortable."

"But, Death magic can be very easily used to do evil. That's why one of the things ye c'n look for when trying to root out necromancers an' cultists is to look for areas with an overabundance of poisonous things, or things that tend to live in the dark."

"It ain't the spiders causing the bad stuff. It's the bad stuff causing the spiders."

"NO disrespect intended to yer knowledge but big poisonous spiders ARE inherently ev'l dey be the cause of much the ev'l in this world." The cleric states emphatically as he leans on his that axe he found. 'Now don't git me wrong, death magic can exist independent of spiders BUT those evil beast are demons in th'makin!'

Hal rubs his hand across his eyes for a moment.

"So sayeth Praggul Battlegod?" he says stonefaced.

"NO disrespect intended to yer knowledge but big poisonous spiders ARE inherently ev'l dey be the cause of much the ev'l in this world." The cleric states emphatically as he leans on his that axe he found. 'Now don't git me wrong, death magic can exist independent of spiders BUT those evil beast are demons in th'makin!'

A chill runs visibly down Stephanie's spine, even as she holds the ring out for Miagnik to examine. She twists and crinkles her nose at the thought of those 8 spindly legs, the multitude of eyes, and the dripping fangs. "Guh! Kill 'em all!" She blurts out at the end of her involuntary convulsion.

She quickly coughs into her other hand, and releases the jewelry for the goblin sorceror to hold. "That is to say, I agree with Windel, that spiders are more likely a cause of evil than a repercusion." You can tell that she is trying hard to prevent herself from convulsing further, and push the previous image from her mind.

And fantastic role Miagnik!

Day 7, late evening, 110 (Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 6:20 pm)

Miagnik’s eyes seem to grow as he stares at the ring.

Windel nods in agreement, "Princess' has her wits 'bout her." As if the Princess' statement was gospel.

Largely ignoring the conversation, Miagnik holds the ring almost reverently before he begins speaking. "The ring contains a great deal of magic within it. One part will act as a barrier from harm, another will act as a cache for any less powerful magic we can place inside, while the final part will mark you as a friend of Dragons. I won't say I don't want it. Every fiber of who I am says I should keep it. But I think it will be more useful in the hands of someone more accustomed to Diplomacy." He offers the ring back to Stephanie.

Then stops and tries thinking about what the conversation was about before the fire in his eyes dampens and he begins speaking again, sounding slightly disappointed. "... I have to agree with Hallister and disagree with both Windel and yourself Stephanie. I thought that as one of the royalty on the island, you would know that Goblins work and live with giant spiders. Peacefully. There's actually a great variety of spiders on the island, just like there are of Goblin tribes. Did you know that? I actually come from a tribe that has jumping spiders. Do you think that we're evil because of our bond with spiders? Do you see us as a problem and that we should all be killed!?" He takes a step back and stares hard. Waiting for a response.

Melodak is half zoned out, not caring about magic that much... But her head snaps up when she hears Miagnik's statement.

her eyes are fiery and flintlike, staring at the dwarves, a slow grin creeping across her face, revealing sharp yellow teeth again... her hand tightening on her weapon.

Stephanie's face grows bright red as Miagnik confronts her. You doubt that even her magicks could conceal the shade, as you watch the whites of her eyes grow. She has never been amongst the goblins that utilize spiders and is immediately caught in her own ignorance. Even more embarrassing is the fact that she has heard several stories of the spider riders, but childhood tales have a habit of becoming so common that one ceases to think of the components that make them up.

She is beginning to connect the dots. She opens her mouth to say something, to protest, to defend her words, to explain her perspective... but nothing comes out. She realizes how beligerant the comment she just made sounds, but is unable to articulate why she isn't as prejudiced as conveyed. But spiders are really gross.

As the seconds drag on Miagnik lets out a derisive sigh. "So that's it then? Nothing."

He puts the Dragon ring on his finger and spends a moment casting a spell. "Ghaarlan Aguur." As the field of force appears in front of him, he looks at the rest of the group.

"I think we've rested enough. We should get moving."

He simply spits on the ground.

Rownig will unspike the north door D,38 and push on through resuming his point position.

perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19

Day 7, late evening, 111 (Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 6:30 pm)

Rownig pushes open the secret door leading to an unexplored area to the north with great caution. He only opens the door slightly, just enough to peer beyond it. He sees a chamber, and for the first time has a sense of familiarity as he sees another burial room very much like the one where the party encountered the large group of goblins. When he is satisfied it is safe, he opens the door all the way, and one by one the party enters the room.

this is room # 10, I’m going to start making notes like this so I can quickly get to my notes

It is a large chamber, at least forty feet wide (east to west) and fifty feet deep (north to south). In the center of the far wall (the north wall) there are a pair of large stone doors set in a recess in the wall 9remeber these are the common doors you’ve seen, and you know from experience that they must be enormously heavy, but swing easily in place due to a type of construction you have never seen before). There is a second pair of stone doors to the left (the west wall) just a little past half way up the wall to the north (these doors are not centered in the west wall). The center of this room is dominated by a familiar sight. It is a platform, made of stone, about one foot in height. It is ten feet wide (east to west) and fifteen feet long (north to south)*.

The room appears to be empty.

*You have learned from the few things Miagnik has told the party, that these platforms would normally be places where burial urns would be placed. In ancient times (and among a few very traditional tribes of Goblins still today) Goblins buried their dead in “jars” or “urns”, often (but not always) cremating the remains before placing them into the jars. In ancient times, it is believed, that the more prestigious, wealthy, or powerful a goblin was, the larger the urn would be (and the less likely it would be that the remains would be cremated) even leading to some legends of huge funeral jars being found that contain a powerful Goblin witch or king and many of their worldly possessions including favorite pets.

Miagnik walks over to the platform I-35 and glances around looking at the platform.

Rownig will begin walking and searching the eastern wall, looking for anything unusual with the stonework. This place is series of secret doors and passages. He is methodical, not rushing.

perception, stonework: 1d20 + 9 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 9 + 2 = 15
+1 if trap.
He'll take ten if you permit it.

Windel knowing better then venturing in the room before it has been cleared of potential traps stays put just inside the southern doorway, axe drawn.

Day 7, late evening, 111 (Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 6:30 pm)

As Rownig examines the eastern wall, Miagnik examines the platform in the center of the room.

Rownig will turn his attention to the north wall and then the double doors.

Hal lets the scouts work staying back with the ladies and scanning the room.

"This is more along th' lines of th' sorts of things I expected to find. I was beginning to wonder if we were in th' right place at all."

"Right place. Bad timing." Miagnik says distractedly, looking at the place where the urns once sat.

He then made his way over to the double doors and listened at them, discerning if anything was beyond them.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

Stephanie hesitantly walks toward the platform. She's currently feeling rather uncomfortable, but trying hard not to show it. With a quick incantation on her lips, she tries to detect anything supernatural about the platform.

Detect Magic, checking the platform along with Miagnik
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10

Day 7, late evening, 111 (Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 6:30 pm)

Moralane notches an arrow in her bow and moves off slowly to the right, following Rownig, while Atharessa holds her spear with both hands and stays close to Stephanie and Miagnik.

The party fans out across the large room taking time to examine it in detail. Miagnik pauses, briefly to notice the circles on the platform, and when the others begin to move into the room more deeply he moves over to the doors on the west wall.

Stephanie examines the platform, but sees nothing out of the ordinary. She cast a simple spell, and out of the corner of her eye notices that Atharessa is watching her intently.

Rownig approaches the double doors in the north wall, and leans his ear toward the small crack between the two doors.

Stephanie instinctually reaches for a small compartment that catches her eye, but prudence stalls her at the last moment. Pulling her hand back quickly to cover her mouth, as if astonished by her own actions, she then turns quickly to Rownig. While the dwarf is busy listening at the door, she pauses before trying to grab his attention.

"Mr. Fleetfoot," she whispers, with her right hand still held up near her face. "I have found something here that I would very much like you to look at before I open it the rest of the way."

Windel gets a quizzical look on his face, "Mr. who?"

Rownig turns and blinks several times, "My daddy's not here Princess...Rownig will do." He walks over shaking his head mumbling to himself, "fat toes in my mouth."

Day 7, late evening, 111 (Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 6:30 pm)

Rownig carefully examines the area the Princess is pointing, then he slowly opens a hidden drawer, "More blasted secrets in this place." He eyes the cloth for anything suspicious.

perception, if needed: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

Miagnik nods to himself, fairly certain nothing would come from the west.
I wonder if this is how the tomb should be... quiet and undisturbed.

The thoughts came unbidden. He imagined this place unbefouled by such creatures as the Undead or the rebels. It was peaceful. The Order of Mafolin's library's mentioned places like these. There was a sense of spirituality to them.
And yet...

The glint of torch-light from the golden ring he wore hit the undisturbed door and Miagnik came out of his unusual calmness, he turned back to see what the rest were doing.

Despite Rownig's apparent confidence, Stephanie steps back from the hidden drawer as he slowly pulls it open. Her aversion to poison trumps her curiousity.

Day 7, late evening, 111 (Turn of the Clock, The approximate time of day is 6:30 pm)

Rownig is confident the drawer is not trapped, and carefully pulls it open a few inches. It is a small drawer, shallow (in depth) and deep (in length) but not wide. There is a brown or perhaps red cloth lining the inside of the drawer and it is old and worn to just frayed threads in places. Rownig notices that there are traces of mold on the cloth and this bothers him.

Otherwise there is nothing of interest in the drawer, and there is nothing left to examine in this room.

"The way west is clear of any recent foot traffic." Miagnik says. "Anything northward?"

"Doors been spiked...trying to keep something out."

"Odd, maybe we should see what is behind there."

After Miagnik's comment Rownig walk back and work at de-spiking the door. He motion for everyone to move forward. "Let's go this way."