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It is the middle of the day, and you have finally trekked through miles of forest to come to a circular plain, a cylindrical house in the center. This stone house has no clear entrance, and is only about as tall as a half-orc. All around, you see warning signs in every language, and hear the screams of adventurers past echo in your minds.
This is the home of the wizard, the man responsible for the monstrous guards in every town. He has ruled over the land for centuries, and given his recent vulnerability, you have been sent here to kill him. Though the lack of guards is strange, it is obvious something is doing lawn work, as the grass below your feet is perfectly level and green.
Omar will carefully scope out the area for threats before moving in for a closer examination.
Grookle takes in a deep breath of air as he looks around the area. "Wonderful day out, isn't it boys? Quaint lil' place. Wonder who the gardener is." He hums aloud, rubbing his chin and goatee in thought.
"Yeah, nice yard. "
Seeing no threats Omar will move in for a close examination of the house. He will take 20 searching for secret doors in for a 56.
"Hrn. Could be the house itself is the gardener, don't get too close. Heard about things like that before, clever things them wizzers." He looks over to the arcane half-orc, the one with the pretty smiling face. "Oi oi, ye see anything with your fancy wizard eyes?"
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As the four of you all step into the circular plain, a translucent figure of a hooded man appears on the house, announcing in a strangely joking voice,
"If you are not here to kill me, I suggest leaving. But I assume you are. So, please, try. I'd love an actual fight. If an animal accidentally triggered this, SHOO."
"...He left an automated message?" Grookle seems a little dumbfounded at the concept.
"I feel rather slighted. "
After casting Detect Magic, Wilhaim shrugged. He spoke in his soft, refined voice, with a trace of an accent.
"There is a quaint aura above the house. Nothing much there. Beneath the house however...That is another story. That is certainly where his power lies.
"Down below? Thought the wizzer had himself one of those big fancy towers. Was kinda hopping to try my hand at knocking the whole thing over!" He seems to giggle at the thought, a grin on his face.
Unfortunately, that seems to be the case. Nevertheless, we know why we're here.
He gazes at the house, examining the magical fields.
"Well I don't see a way in. I think it's up to you hocus pocus types. "
Wilhaim mutters to himself, and speaks in draconic. His hands flail around a little, and he casts a spell.
"Now let's see what we are dealing with..."
Grookle tilts his head, as he looks between Wilhaim and the structure. "Heard the fancy lizard-speak, but didn't see any flashy flash magical happenings."
"Grooklepop, I love your faith in me." He spoke dryly.
"I dispelled an illusion over the house. Nothing has changed, because it was likely the illusion of his voice. I was checking it wasn't hiding anything that would be hazardous to our health.
Wilhaim looks concerned, but not worried.
The gnomish warrior shrugs, "Well, if we don't find a way in soon, I'm just gonna make us one." He hefts , giving the greataxe a swing over the grass for emphasis.
"Nothing wrong with a direct approach. "
Nastarok's curved knives flash out of their sheaths and into his hands at the stranger's sudden appearance.
"Easy there friend .... everybody here is a little jumpy .... let's not make any sudden moves and kick off something that someone will regret later." Nastarok says in common.
"Ok, looks like we found an entrance. "
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The elf speaks quickly and loudly, shaking.
You actually recognize this elf once you look at him long enough. Although he is charred and bloody, you notice that his warhammer belonged to a famous elven hero, a legendary adventurer who has saved nations single-handedly. His ears, or what is left, have magical earrings hanging from them, and some skin that you can see on his arms have magical tattoos, half burnt off.
"Oi oi, do any of you people speak hippie, 'cause all I'm hearing here is nonsense. Bet he came up here to kill us and take the credit of wizzer murdering for himself!"
Wilhaim sighed.
"Yes, I speak Elven. He was telling us everyone from his adventuring band is dead. He implores us to not descend, but rather to lock the entryway up with something sturdier than stone. Like, say, magic."
He looked at the burnt elf.
"Can we assist you in any way, my good man?"
"Sounds like they should have sent us the first time instead of this guy and his lot." Nastarok says.
To the butcher's son: "Ask him if he needs any healing, we can probably spare the magic to make sure he survives."
"Eh, tell us if he says something less pessimistic or useful. ...Oh! And tell him I can give him some drink if he wants, probably needs it when he's come up looking like a half-cooked roast."
"I have to imagine he's looked better. At least he showed us how to get in. See if you can pump him for any details of what he encountered in there. "
"Yeah, what he said." Grookle jerks a thumb at Omar.
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After a few moments, he looks less panicked and seems a bit more calm around the four of you. Speaking in common, he says, "I apologize, I was not myself... Let me try to go through what we encountered."
He falls back, sitting in the grass and taking out a potion. He drinks it before continuing his story, if you let him.
"Please, sir elf, tell us what you can about the wizard's fortress."
"Oh, you speak English? Fantastic! That makes things easier. I'm still offering you a good hard drink, if you'll tell us what's what." He pats his magical Sake jug, which he always keeps hanging off his bag.
"Grooklepop, I don't care what the bartender told you, I don't think that sake is magical."
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"I am Gedulan, the Savior of Kelesh. There were three of us, the best adventurers in the world at the time. Myself, a warrior, and a priest of Iomedae. We set foot down a spiral staircase just behind me, and eventually reached a large room. After some exploring, we fought two clockwork soldiers, extremely easy for us to handle, before descending again. Then we received a message. From the wizard. He said that he wanted a challenge, but that he would put us through trials to see if we were worthy. We were so prideful and arrogant, we said that we would destroy his pitiful trials and come for him, but..."
He shakes for a moment, then continues.
"The first trial was a room, miles wide, full of water. We knew there were monsters under the surface, and we were right. We had items so that we didn't need to breathe, and the fights were not difficult. I believe that trial was a warm-up, to see if we were prepared. The second trial..."
He begins shaking again, gulping.
"The forest. There was... a forest down there. Miles wide covered with trees. We were ready for something big to come at us but we never... There was a fire, a campfire that we set up, since it was always so dark. We didn't need the rest but... They were everywhere. If we could just get our hands on them they'd die in an instant but they were smart. They used traps, they never let us rest, I ran out of spells eventually and so did our priest, they wore us down, they... That was the second trial, and we never made it further."
"What? Oh, naw naw. I already pissed that batch. This–!" He uncorks the bottle, and holds it just over his face. "Will never go dry. " Instantly, wine pours out of the thing, which he valiantly tries to catch most of. Once the magic has run it's course, he re-corks the jug and wipes his face with a rag he pulled from his pack.
"Got that baby after beating a giant in a drinking contest. It's always been there for me, the lovely thing." He pats it affectionately.
Afterwards, he listens to the tale, and let's at a whistle at the end. "Yeah, you could definitely use a drink."
Wilhaim nods his head along with Gedulan's story, taking mental notes.
"That is good information. If you don't mind, can you tell us what kind of monsters you faced?"
He perks up noticeably at the mention of a giant. "Aha, yes! I've been wanting to knock down a tree or two!"
"Did these large rooms seem to be part of this plane? or were they extradimensional in nature?"
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He perks up. "Oh, also, I suppose I should tell you some of the traps so that you don't make the same mistakes. There are paths through the forest, and on the edges of them are falling traps, so that when they ambush you, you can't run straight into them. There are underground... corridors filled with fire traps and... Arrows and rocks and... I never thought mundane arrows would scare me so much, heh. They made it so that I couldn't cast any spells without hitting my companions, and they never got into areas where our warrior could get to them. It was... Terrifying."
The miniature warlord looks at his taller companions, shrugging. "Sounds like it'll be tough, but certainly not more then we can handle... Oh, hey, you got anything to spare for us going down there? I mean, not like you'd be using it for the intended purpose of putting a stop to an insane wizzer terrorizing the world, so... it'd be like you helped!" He gives off a toothy grin, clearly cemented in this obvious logic.
He makes a mildly impressed face, and turns to Wilhaim. "Free spells! Don't get the opportunity for that every day now do ya? And listen, uh... Nebulon. If we come across those friends of yours, we'll..." Loot them? Take their stuff then leave them to rot? He considers the options for a moment, before settling on something more general. "Do something I'm sure. Don't worry."
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"I doubt there'd be anything to steal, if that's what you meant. Those things stole everything we didn't bolt down. And it's Gedulan, not... Whatever you said. If you meant bury them or do something religious, go ahead, I don't really care. Just... I'm never going back down, so if you find anything that looks like an artifact, I'd much appreciate it if you could bring it to me. I'm a wizard, not as strong as this one, but still. I can give you whatever you want, within reason."
"I clearly just said that."
He clearly did not.
"Ahem, thank you though."