Round 3, Init 14
Undzo, biting, this time for real!
Silfr will cast the common cantrip guidance and will attempt to move, climb and touch the person above the opening.
"Magical battle strength, now strike!"
Round 3 Initiative 12
HP = 8/10
AC = 13
Weapon Equipped = Greatsword
Oracle Spells Left (CL 1, +4 melee touch, +0 ranged touch):
1 (2) Divine Favor, Shield of Faith, Cure Light Wounds
Status Effects = None
"We have him now!"
I hope
Silfr unhappily thinks, if only I could re-summon my armor, I could be up there brawling with that foe!
On his action, Dyrant again blesses Finneas, willing him to truly believe the power of St. Cuthbert.
Glimmil tries to be supportive to Finneas in the hope the half-orc can get the killing blow on the silver-man.
"Swing high for his torso, while I go for the knees!"
Round 4, Init 19
Glimmil's strike cuts deep into the leg of the silver man. He responds by pointing his rapier to the ground and lifting up a silver key around his neck. "Still waters. Gift. Gift for you."
Initiative
Silver man = 19
Silfir = 14
Finneas = 12
Dyrant = 7+
Glimmil = 7
Atol = 2
Round 3, Initiative 2
Weapon Equipped = Crossbow
Channel Energy Left: x5
Resistant Touch Left: x8
Strength Surge Left: x6
Cleric Spells Left: 1) Command
Glimmil is in my way! These tiny hallways are unfortunate. I hope everyone is OK.
Delay
"These people love to talk about themselves like water, don't they. Still water is calm....hmmm....he might be surrendering?!"
Dyrant yells up the hole: "Is he surrendering?"
"The creature appears to be surrendering and offering us a key. Do we accept?"
Male voice: Kill him now! He'll never expect it.
"Is there room for another up there? Is there a door? I'd come up and talk to him."
Finneas
Glimmil
Dyrant
Neither Glimmil nor Finneas immediately see anything. Neither does Dyrant looking up from the hole.
"I think it's right and proper to accept his surrender. I don't know what we'll do with a prisoner though. Perhaps we should take his key and let him go."
If he returns later with a sword we at least have the upper hand with righteousness!
Atol squirms and jumps to see if anyone is wounded other than the silver man.
The gleam of the key reflected in Glimmil's eye.
Shiny!
While the less menacing between himself and Finneas, Glimmil made every motion to show he intended to allow the silver-man to surrender his treasure to them.
He saw the half-orc was still ready to swing, but appeared to have the same idea.
Holding his small hand out, Glimmil nodded.
"Yes, yes, we agree."
"Uh...you may want to disarm him. That would definitely be a good idea."
The silver man hesitates about handing over his rapier, but does. He then hands over the key to Glimmil, "Rat free. Me free. Yes?"
Handing the silver-man's rapier to Finneas, Glimmil quickly stows away the silver key and gestures for the silver-man to descend.
"I have no plan to hurt you" he says with a smile, pointing down to indicate climbing is the next desired step for the silver-man.
Although I can't speak for Dyrant, Finneas or Silfr.
"Glimmil, what is the key he gave you?"
"Ask him where the key goes. And where the children are. If he won't tell, then we still have issues. One must repent to have forgiveness."
Once descended, Glimmil produces the silver key and hands it to Dyrant.
The old one likes to be important, perhaps holding this shiny key will help him until we find him some shiny armor like Silfr's.
Glimmil nods at the request to ask the silver-man questions.
The gnome first points at the key and then pantomimes holding an imaginary object, inserting it into something and turning it.
"Gift. Gift go to?"
Glimmil then points in a number of arbitrary directions and then performs an over-dramatic shrug with his arms outstretched as if he were a parent speaking to a child.
Dyrant accepts the key and puts away the map.
Drawing his club and nodding and giving a expectant and knowing look to Atol*, Dyrant climbs up the hole.
Climb
"We may need to beat forgiveness into him."
"The virtues of the Cuthbertine faith include many of the values stated above: charity, compassion, honesty, faithfulness, hard work, and keeping promises and oaths. St. Cuthbert is said to look favorably on those who maintain moral conduct in spite of whatever difficulties and problems a person may suffer, and refuse to give in to temptation.
The sins of the Cuthbertine faith include breaking an oath or a promise, refusing to help a friend or a neighbor in need, refusing to obey a king, lord or other leader who has acted in good faith, living in a slothful or lazy manner, showing defiance or disobedience towards other members of a community, committing theft, adultery or murder, or otherwise grossly violating the rules of whatever community a person lives in. The Cuthbertine faith is well known for its strict punishments of those who break its rules-beatings with wooden clubs being the most common."
"But Dyrant. Why?
Atol remembers the many beatings of his youth with a kind of fondness...
"What has he done other than oppose us here in the hall? Is not his key enough proof he is sorry for blocking us so?"
Atol looks for a way to get into the cramped hall.
The silver man moves slowly to the west wall and slides a rock aside to reveal a latch. He pulls the latch and a secret door opens. Empty weapon racks line the walls of this dusty, 10-foot high room. In the middle of the floor rests a large wooden chest with a flat lid and iron hinges. Atop the chest sits a small silver cage holding a rat with a white star-shaped splotch of fur on its tiny forehead. It grips the bars and squeaks excitedly. To your right is the other side of a gear door you've already seen. Across the room is a gear door marked with an 'R'.
"Feed. It needs feed." Pointing towards the rat. The silver man than begins to descend.
Disappointed that the silver man is acting repentant and cooperative, Dyrant puts away his trusty cudgel.
"What do you know about the children? Where are the children from above?"
Looking at the man more closely, he tries to remember anything else about what he might be.
Knowledge (nature)
* * *
After that, Dyrant will take a good look at the rat and chest, examining both.
Take 20 perception: 24.
"How very odd."
As the door to the weapon room slides open, Glimmil stands with a look of amazement on his face.
Secrets!
He felt privileged, as if he was just inducted into some secret society of silver-skinned rat-keepers.
Seeing the rat, Glimmil hoped it would provide better answers than the silver-men.
Leaning towards the cage, he decided to ask it a few questions.
"Hey there! Are you the silver-man's pet? Are you hungry?"
Glimmil begins fishing around in his pockets, dropping an occasional fragment of lint to the floor in his search.
The silver man moves slowly to the west wall and slides a rock aside to reveal a latch. He pulls the latch and a secret door opens. Empty weapon racks line the walls of this dusty, 10-foot high room. In the middle of the floor rests a large wooden chest with a flat lid and iron hinges. Atop the chest sits a small silver cage holding a rat with a white star-shaped splotch of fur on its tiny forehead. It grips the bars and squeaks excitedly. To your right is the other side of a gear door you've already seen. Across the room is a gear door marked with an 'R'.
"Feed. It needs feed." Pointing towards the rat. The silver man than begins to descend.
A rat with a star shaped blaze on its head, how unusual. I wonder if I have ever come across a rodent worshiping cult, or perhaps rats have their own religion...
"Anyone in the habit of carrying snacks around? Dryant, you seem like the sort that would pocket a roll or two from the Slippery Eel. Lets feed this rat and improve Glimmil's chittering chances."
Silfr will put his hand on the silver man's arm as it begins descending and speak to it, "We can speak with words or with weapons. Stay. We wish to talk with your leader."
If the silver man continues, Silfr will not attempt to stop him with a grapple, but instead will try calling out the word "wait" in the multi-syllable elvish, the haunting celestial and lastly the harsh infernal.
"Hey there! Are you the silver-man's pet? Are you hungry?"
As Glimmil approaches, the chest grins and begins to speak in a language no one understands.
Meanwhile, the silver man stops at Silfir's touch and looks at him and Dyrant. "Leader. Yes. Down. Small ones down. Me a cloud in sky. Rat free. Me free."
Neither Dyrant nor Silfir recall any relevant knowledge.
"Leader. Yes. Down. Small ones down. Me a cloud in sky. Rat free. Me free."
"You are repentant. That is good. Thank you and walk in the light."
No need to dispense a good clubbing.
Focusing again on the chest, cast Detect Magic.
Is the chest talking to me?
Glimmil stood warily, still holding his shield and hammer and wondered how he would feed a chest.
Deciding that the rat was wiser on the matter, he continued his questioning.
"Erm, what do chests eat?"
As Glimmil approaches, the chest grins and begins to speak in a language no one understands.
"These dungeon denizens are so talkative, it is a pity we still struggle to communicate."
Focusing again on the chest, cast Detect Magic.
"This would be an opportune time for magic to enhance communication. Unfortunate that none of us seem to posses that."
No magic is detected.
The silver man continues to depart.
The silver man continues to depart.
Dyrant jumps at the sound of the talking chest.
How very odd...luckily I have just the gift from my Angel for things like this.
Dyrant will retrieve his scroll of Comp Languages from his pack and cast it.
Standing back from the chest, Dyrant will address it Common.
"Mr. Chest...repeat what you just said? We mean you no harm."
If it would speak again, I would understand. Blessed is the Angel to prepare for these tests.
Nothing else.
Dyrant will nod vigorously.
"Food. Does anyone have any food? It's telling me it wants some good eats and I don't want it to us."
Glimmil nods in thanks to the furry animal.
"The star-rodent here says the chest likes to eat normal things and is probably tired of eating spiders."
It would probably like some of that tasty stew that Atol is always talking about that Dryant loves.
Glimmil will continue to converse with the star-rodent while the others determine what is appropriate to feed a talking chest.
"Hey, are you Ghelve's familiar? Do you think the chest would bite me if I let you out?"
The chest licks its lips and moans as it talks at Dyrant and then turns toward Glimmil.
"Hey, are you Ghelve's familiar? Do you think the chest would bite me if I let you out?"
Glimmil's eyes cheer with success.
"The star-mouse here says it's Ghelve's familiar! We have found it!"
The gnomish victory is stopped short as Glimmil sees the chest turn his way. The star-rodent had suggested that it would bite him if he moved too close. Glimmil turns left slightly, keeping his shield ready.
I wonder if it's evil? Perhaps I should destroy it if it is?
The gnome concentrates on the chest for a few moments trying to sense it's friendliness to gnomekind.
Atol shrugs his shoulders, "The church has always provided me with the food I need, so aside from a few random herbs from this morning, er, yesterday, I have nothing that would be called food. Nor do I think my cudgel would do much to that chest... er, I could maybe take out the rat if that's the plan."
A talking chest? Glimmil seems to be communicating with the rat and the chest. How odd!!
"Glimmil, what does the chest say?"
The gnome concentrates on the chest for a few moments trying to sense it's friendliness to gnomekind.
It does not detect as evil.
Dyrant *facepalms*, his scroll in hand earning yet another crinkle.
Angel, is Atol's purpose here to be food so that we may save the children?
"Atol, the chest speaks to me and it wants food. It may be we go back to Master Ghelve to get more food."
Glimmil gets an idea, which is usually trouble.
"Hey Dyrant, can you ask the chest if I can take the star-rodent back up to Ghelve, and get some food for him while I'm upstairs?"
Glimmil nods to the rat, as if to say Hey, we got this, don't you worry little fuzzy fellow.
"Be easy my friends , I have 10 days of food in my backpack. How much food does this chest require? As Kord teaches, the man who leaves his house without lunch may find himself dinner."
Of course they never said if it was becoming dinner...
Dyrant looks at the size of the chest and gives a rough estimate in reply.
"Uhm...4 days worth? We can get more soon...but maybe that will be enough."
Dyrant will nod again to the chest and help Finneas retrieve the food from is pack.
"Be easy my friends , I have 10 days of food in my backpack. How much food does this chest require? As Kord teaches, the man who leaves his house without lunch may find himself dinner."
"Finneas, you are truly well prepared and I commend your foresight. As you can see, I did not dress for dungeon delving, and on consideration this is rather surprising how quickly we raced into this buried town of clockwork traps."
"Now that we are here, and the chest is fed, what more can it tell us, Dryant?"