GM Tyranius Age of Ashes (PF2E) (Inactive)

Game Master Tyranius

Cuthberwyn and Dori are up.

Dakapos grabs ahold of Raspar and makes his way to the doors of freedom. Each grueling inch after the other becomes harder and harder as the smoke chokes your lungs.

Dakapos Smoke Inhalation Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3 1 for half

Cabaguil barely escapes the hall. Looking outside he sees lots of wide-eyed locals. Most scared and helping bring water from the fountain while others cradle their wounded, doing what little they can while comforting the younger ones. Getting out a small first aid kit Cabaguil finds a man with blood oozing from his head and numerous burns across his body. With Cabaguil's aid he begins to regain consciousness. "Wh....wha...what happened?"

Cuthberwyn, Kelvin, and Dori work as a team and are able to barely get out the remaining three locals that were trapped and unconscious. One by one they are drug to the entrance where helping hands lift them to safety. A voice calls back into the building from outside. "IS ANYONE STILL INSIDE!? GET OUT NOW! IT'S TOO LATE, THE FIRE HAS SPREAD TOO FAR!"

Cuthberwyn Smoke Inhalation Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Dori Smoke Inhalation Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Outside the people cough violently as the smoke filled their lungs. Any longer and they likely would not have survived. The fire continues to engulf the building at a rapid pace.

What do you do? Do you escape outside letting the building burn or do you risk your lives and try to put it out?

Total Spectators saved: 20

Round 7
Ðakaþos (10/17; Wounded 1; filtered)
Cabaguil (4/14)
Cuthberwyn (12/18)
Dori (10/23)
Kelvin (14/20)
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Town Hall Fire
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Raspar (0/17; Unconscious; filtered)

Coughing violently, Cuthberwyn hurries outside, then sinks to his knees once there, trying to get the smoke out of his lungs. At one point the coughing is so bad that he nearly vomits.

That's all the townsfolk, right? If it is, Cuthberwyn has no attachment to the building and feels little compelled to save it, though he'll certainly help the bucket brigade part.

Round: 7

Cabaguil gathers the most wounded around him (•>>>), especially Raspar and anyone in need of healing. He calls out, his voice raspy from the smoke, ”Bring the most wounded forward, quickly! I can heal many!”

He tries to gather the most wounded within, oh, say 30' or so, and he's rushing as he fears some may be dying, and time is short, especially those most recently retrieved from the inferno.

Raspar lays quietly outside, saying nothing, but his hand is probably outstretched for his starknife that lay burning inside the building.

Fort: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16

Dak takes a solid look at the building and tries to make a dispassionate decision on the feasibility of saving it. Engineering Lore (T): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

Dori moves towards the door and grabs a rag, dips it in the bucket and wraps it around his face. He looks at the fire "We have**cough** **hack** to try!" He looks at the group. " bring the bucket line into the building and we can get this fire out faster!"

Fleeing the burning building you find yourselves outside with the other harried survivors. Ðakaþos attempts to survey the building. he come to the conclusion that at this point the fire is too much out of control and will likely consume the building in a matter of moments.

Dori continues to try and leap in to help, only to be stop by a couple of the guards holding him back. "Please stay back, you guys barely got out alive. It can be rebuilt." Looking around him Dori notices most of the people, even those tossing small bits of water to slow the fire seem exhausted and most are wounded to varying degrees, not able to withstand the smoke for much longer.

As the flames consume the Town Hall, the soot-stained councilors emerge from the crowd, and Greta Gardania whistles loudly to get the scared crowd’s attention. Greta Gardania looks around, hugging some of the townspeople next to her, while others wearily clap her on the back in thanks for their lives. “What manner of madness just happened?” This can be no accident! Did anyone see anything?”

One of the guards who was stationed outside before the fire began raises his hand, then his voice. “Aye,” says the wearied, uniformed man. “The clerks saw everything—it was Calmont, that cad of a bookseller’s apprentice. He lit the fires in the halls next to the chamber. He also set that fire monster loose on the crowd!” The second guard shouts in assent. “Indeed!” says the grave but steely woman. “And witnesses outside the building saw him run toward Hellknight Hill!”

A surprised and worried wave ripples through the crowd at this information, including Warbal’s distinct voice: “The citadel!
My Bumblebrashers!” Greta raises her hand authoritatively, and the crowd begins to calm. “Friends, we’ll get to the bottom of this,” she assures them. “But we can’t do it alone. Who are the heroes in attendance today? Heroes, are you willing to investigate Hellknight Hill?”

Raspar lays quietly outside, saying nothing tp Greta's call for adventurers.

Whether he chooses to remain silent because he cannot volunteer or because he's still unconscious is up to debate.

Dori sighs and moves towards Kelvin and whispers to him," These folks will need our strength to get answers. As Elder here, you should follow my lead. it's time to live up to your potential..." and with that Dori raises his hand with the loud,"AYE! We are new too this land, but my kinsman and I will go to this keep and see why you were attacked."

Ðakaþos, through stifled coughs manages his agreement. The words don't form hell, so instead he raises his long sword in time with Dori.

He captures his breath finally and with the burning husk in the background adds, "Aye. I'll see this through. We'll need, rest, supplies, and a map if there be one to have."

Once the worst of the wounded have gathered, Cabaguil finishes his healing wave casting Heal (•>>>) in an area effect (everyone within 30’ heals - including the party if they wish, even Raspar).
Heal: 1d8 ⇒ 1 (doh!)

It might not be much, but at least it stops the bleeding for some, and barely revives a few others. He then ministers to the others with his healing kit. When Greta makes her pronouncements, Cabaguil is busy bandaging superficial burns and giving advice about smoke inhalation.

He moves to the front of the crowd nervously and slowly raises a hand, ”I had come to the call today ma’am. And if this is the call for this meeting, then I too will go, though I’ll need a new dagger, mine being lost to the fire. If someone can loan me theirs, I can leave now.” he stumbles a bit, scarcely able to stand still from his coughing and other injuries.

Cuthberwyn finishes a coughing fit as the accusations fly. Calmont? he thinks to himself, trying to focus through his watery eyes. That...doesn't seem right. But what is inside a person is often not visible from the outside.

When Warbal mentions the Brumblebrashers, the gnome quickly forgets the smoke inhalation and remembers his purpose here. He responds to Greta's call and Dori and Cabaguil's response with a wave. I am no hero, he says, his voice no louder than a hoarse whisper, but with the help of strong companions I will tag along to give any aid I may.

(•>>>) in an area effect (everyone within 30’ heals - including the party if they wish, even Raspar).

!!! Thank you!

Raspar stirs, slowly regaining consciousness. His hands grasp; they clench and unclench to find only thin air. What happened?

The acrid burn of smoke in his lungs reminds him of what happened. He touches his soot-stained forehead, rubs ash into his palms. He gets on his knees, arms stretched out in supplication, praising Desna for saving him from the flames. Her glory shines brightly.

He then notices the bucket brigade forming in earnestly now, and though the building seems to be succumbing to the flames, he stumbles to his feet, and joins the locals in their last-ditch effort to save the structure for at least 10 minutes -> 1 Focus Point.

His mind never strays far from his beloved starknife, receiving a baptism of flames in this very moment. Later, he will move all planes of the Great Beyond to retrieve it, if necessary. Even at great peril and personal cost. It must be done; it's his favorite starknife, the first one he was able to buy with his own money.

* * *

“But we can’t do it alone. Who are the heroes in attendance today? Heroes, are you willing to investigate Hellknight Hill?”

Still greatly weakened, and now even more sooty, Rasp staggers over when the call is made. His body is broken, yet he desires to labor on in service. Most of his blood lay within the burning structure, but the rest of it urges him to help more, to repay the kindness that is his continued life.

”I will bleed for them. Count me in as well.” Raspar stands until he is acknowledged, but he also wants to get back to work making sure the flames do not spread. There is much to be done.

For all of your heroic efforts in the Town hall you each receive a hero point.

Greta waves each of the volunteers in closer, glad that there are so many. "Track down Calmont and bring him to justice-At least haul him in for questioning." She looks over all of you injuries and produces five vials, handing each of them to you. "Minor thanks for saving everyone within the building. Hopefully they will help you with the trials you might face on Hellknight Hill." She hands the lot of you a trio of minor healing potions, one lesser antidote and one lesser antiplague. A guard returns carrying a chest full of small leather satchels. She hands one to each of you with 50 silver each.

"If you are able to track down Calmont and bring him back, alive, for questioning then I can procure another 10 gold pieces as a reward." She looks over at the nervous goblin ambassador. "While you are up there, check in on the Bumblebrasher Tribe and I'll toss in another 10 gold."

Raspar trudges back from his labors when it appears Greta is about to speak, having gathered silvers for the band of heroes. He takes a moment to heal himself. +6 hp, - 1 focus point.

As the smoke slowly begins to clear, so lifts the fog from Raspar's mind. He listens carefully to Greta's instructions, nodding along intently.

He agrees to the tasks, but has preparations to make before he can leave. With his small voice, he informs the others that he will be back and ready to head out in a day's time if possible. Before leaving, he finds Warbal to reassure her that he and the others will serve her and her people, on behalf of the town.

As soon as Greta is finished, he gets ready to rush back to the Dreamhouse. He then takes one last look at the smoldering ruins, and makes a promise to come back to find the cherished weapon among the rubble. Then he slowly trudges to the Dreamhouse.

He must pay his proper respects to Desna, check on his gnome friend Fuonavunnem Igleeck, and prepare for the trip ahead. It's crucial that his chores are handled during his absence - he would never abandon his labors, not for money nor fame: Desna alone is his guide and shelter.

”Hey Fuonavenuum? Are you going to the adventuring? Do you mind covering my chores while I’m gone?” Raspar cheerily asks, still covered in burns, bites, and soot. Further, he will beg permission to leave from Kellen, the high priest of the Dreamhouse. ”Do you mind if I go? Will someone help do my chores while I’m gone?” Raspar implores Kellen with big soulful and pleading eyes.

Shopping list to come. Will put in discussion.

”Let us leave at first light, there are still some wounded to tend to, and I need to visit the blacksmith to replace my dagger, lost to the fire. By the time I’m done with that, and other purchases for the trip, it’ll be late. I am not skilled at this sort of thing, so would prefer to do it by daylight. I hope that is agreeable.” he particularly glances at the goblin, already seemingly out of her mind with worry.

When Dori chastises him, Kelvin responds. "Don't lecture me, Old Dwarf. I'm the reason you're even in this town. This... This is related to what I told you, I'm sure of it."

He has trouble accepting the coins and healing, though he recognizes that he's better off than most. "You've got a deal, Greta. I'll even try to bring the cad back alive. Try."

Kelvin will also do some of his own preparations before traveling...
I will try to get some shopping done. Any restrictions worth noting?

Cuthberwyn intervenes as the halfling who was speaking with Warbal looks like he is trying to go back into the Town Hall. Whoa, there, friend, he says, resting a hand gently on his shoulder. Can't go back in, even with the fire finally out, yet. We'll need to let it cool. We can dig in tomorrow just before we leave if you want, but L'm sure there's nothing there that can't be replaced. We got the people out, and that's what matters.

Ðakaþos's eyes go wide at the mention of ten gold pieces. He takes his 50 silver with a bow. "Thank you. Indeed, I'd gladly churn this money back into your town and spend it now before leaving."

The lithe elf turns to the ashes, "Aye, we'll bring Calmont back, come Abyss or Hell." The elf returns to his taciturn nature and begins planning.

Lesson learned. Need a Healer's Kit. Also maybe some manacles (poor). Will refrain for a moment until we confirm when we leave.

Cuthberwyn intervenes as the halfling...Can't go back in, even with the fire finally out, yet. We'll need to let it cool. We can dig in tomorrow just before we leave if you want...

Raspar stops short as he was, in all likelihood about to walk into the hot embers to find his lost knife.

”What? Oh yeah, no. No, I wasn’t really going to go in there,” Raspar looks at the gnome, but then his eyes flit over the gnomes shoulder as if hoping to see the knife glinting in the soot. ”Yeah, you’re right.” Raspar finally manages to turn his eyes away from the building and look Cuthberwyn in the eyes. He smiles.

”Say, you were around? Did you...did you happen to see who dragged me out? I...I...want to thank them,” Raspar asks, looking down at his sooty hands. ”Last thing I remember was that I was fighting that mean fire monster...and then its brains exploded...then...I don’t remember much. I mean, it’s terrible what happened.” His eyes go again to the ruins, looking for something he lost.

”I’m Raspar by the way,” Raspar offers a sooty hand to Cuthberwyn. He smiles earnestly again.

Cuthberwyn Fizzkomingus, at your service, the gnome responds, grasping the halfling's sooty hand with his own and giving it a shake of greeting. Cuth for short. And you've the long-haired elf over there to thank for that. He grabbed you on his way out the door.

Noting Raspar's attentive glance, Cuth asks gently, What did you leave behind?

Not hearing any opposition, Cabaguil goes back to work on the wounded, spending as much time as is needed to tend to them. When he finally breaks free, he shops first for a replacement dagger, a spare, then some other gear. All in all, he buys much for the journey for he does not expect to return to town to sleep. He also refreshes his bandage supply, for he’s sure to need that as well in the coming endeavor.

Dagger x2 (4sp 2L)
Tindertwig x5 (10sp)
Bedroll (1cp, L)
Oil x2 (2cp)
Rations (4sp, L)
Rope (5sp, L)
Pup Tent (8sp, L)

31sp, 3cp spent

He sleeps restlessly that night, and there are several times when his cat yowls quietly with annoyance and warning at his constant shifting. In the morning, he carefully prepares himself, packs all his gear tightly, and returns to the spot of the fire to meet up with the others. He is very early, and may very well be the first one there, though he wouldn’t be surprised if that strange halfling beat him to it to get his knife.

What did you leave behind?

Raspar looks at his hands, somewhat ashamed. ”Well, it was my knife. My starknife. It...it was special to me,” he whispers ashamed. ”It was the first one I bought with my free labors. It’s...important.” Rasp’s eyes again go to the wreckage.

”But maybe you’re right. Maybe we can find it after it cools,” Raspar smiles hopefully, knowing that he’s being foolish. It’s just a knife. A starknife. Desna’s knife.

Then he crestfalls. But it’s my special knife. He sighs, looking again at Cuthberwyn.

”Are you going to help? Are you coming to find Camont? This will be fun, won’t it? And we get to help Warbal?” Raspar smiles, trying to make the best of a new friendship. ”Nice to meet you, Cuth.”

Cuth gets visibly excited when Raspar mentions the goblin envoy. Oh! That's right, yes, you were the one talking with Ms. Warbal before the meeting! Oh, you must tell me about her. Goblins are fascinating creatures, I must tell you. Why... and the gnome pontificates at length about his studies of goblins, without ever giving Raspar a single chance to discuss the Brumblebrasher liaison.

When at last Raspar is able to extricate himself from the conversation, Cuth swings by the Breachill Archives to let someone know they'll be delving into the wreckage at first light for Raspar's starknife, and then makes for Quarters and Bits to procure a set of healer's tools.

Before heading back to his room at Cayden's Keg, Cuth makes a return to the Reliant Book Company to ask the proprietor about her erstwhile apprentice Calmont.

"Aye, we'll bring Calmont back, come Abyss or Hell."

When he leaves Cuth (after getting an earful and really wanting to get back to work but being as patient as he can), Raspar politely excuses himself to approach Dakapos.

”I will bleed for you,” Raspar says to Dak. ”I will bleed *for* you.” Raspar repeats and smiles, meaning every word of it. ”I was told you saved my life from the fire. And I will bleed for you.” Raspar offers his sooty, tiny hand to Dak. ”I’m glad you saved me. I have much work to do...and I’m not done bleeding yet.”

”I am Raspar, by the way. That gnome over there is Cuthberwyn, Cuth for short,” he thumb points over his shoulder at the gnome. ”I hear that you’re also going to get Calmont, huh? Yeah, me too. I hope I don’t need to save your life, but I will try to keep you safe.” Raspar smiles an earnest smile.

Ðakaþosanaþalas, Ðakaþos to my friends, Ðak when blade and spell flash." His bow contains just enough of a supercilious flourish to be noticeable. "I'm in search of dragons, but so fare I've only found fire. I suggest that we leave ere break of day. The local folk can clean the rubble. We were here to answer a call for that which they cannot handle."

He accompanies Cabaguil. "I fear that we will need weapons and armor beyond what they have here. They have money aplenty, but I'd feel better with some runes of power. I thought I saw Cuthberwyn pick up healer's tools. I think, for now, I just need some manacles."

Manacles (Poor)

Despite the brush with the Boneyard, the elf rests easily. In the morning, Ðakaþos spends some time reading in his book, and then after a light bit of faire, heads to the edge of town, ready to go.

Apologies to Rasper I had the thread open before his post, and skipped the reply.

Previously: "I did. The choice was logical though, death benefits no one here." He looks at the sooty hand and face. "I don't mean to sound cold. Honestly, I value life, and that includes yours. In time I suspect this mission will thrust us ever more into the roles of swordmates."

Dak looks solidly into Raspar eyes. "If you ever fall again, to fire, steel, or trap, I'll also find you. I shall count you in the number of my friends."

Dak gives a curt bow before turning, the corner of his mouth twisting upward, "Just do me a favor my friend, don't make a habit out of it."

"lectures? This isn't class anymore, Kelvin. This is deadly serious business." The older dwarf's brow tighten as he speaks, but quickly soften again. He continues more quietly when he see the look on kelvin's face when he sees his reaction to taking the money,"Aye, if we were not in desperate need of coin, I would not accept this either. But we need equipment to complete this task. don't let dwarven pride be your downfall here." He says the last bit with a smile as he turns take his bag of coins with a short nod to the mayor.

”Hey Fuonavenuum? Are you going to the adventuring? Do you mind covering my chores while I’m gone?” Raspar cheerily asks, still covered in burns, bites, and soot. Further, he will beg permission to leave from Kellen, the high priest of the Dreamhouse. ”Do you mind if I go? Will someone help do my chores while I’m gone?” Raspar implores Kellen with big soulful and pleading eyes.

Fuonavenuum walks back to the Dreamhouse with Raspar. He is unnaturaaly quiet after the ordeal until Raspar breaks the gnome from his thoughts. "HuhOhno...Iamnoadventurer." He looks to Raspar with a bit of curiosity. "ThoughDesnaleadsusalldowndifferentpathsdoesn'tshe?" He talks fast, not caring much about slowing it down for Raspar. "Icantakeyourchores'tilyougetback."

The group answering the Hero's Call converse for a short bit before heading off to be for the night. Everyone tosses and turns in their beds, not at all eager for the next day. Early in the morning each rise, some with new equipment, others not looking much better than they did the day before.

Cuthberwyn helps Raspar dig through the charred shell of the Town Hall. Trails of smoke still rises in areas as the wooden beams collapse under the halfling's weight. Shifting a couple of the blackened benches aside the pair locate a darkened, soot covered starknife and another dagger a few feet away.

One by one the group gathers, ready to head out to Hellknight Hill.

If anyone still has further purchases please go ahead and make them.

Citadel Altaerein, formerly a Hellknight fortress, stands just over a mile northeast of Breachill, at the end of a rocky but well-demarcated path that leads up the gradually sloping sides of Hellknight Hill. The path to Citadel Altaerein is known to be fairly safe allowing you to hustle nearby.

Rising from the hilltop above is a looming structure of crumbling stone and still-imposing battlements, though verdant nature is reclaiming the site. Plumes of red smoke—which ambassador Warbal believes to be distress signals from the Bumblebrasher goblins—rise from the roof of the keep’s central tower. This place can only be Citadel Altaerein, the infamous former home of the Order of the Nail Hellknights, now fallen into ruin. The gate-like doors in the center of the keep hang ajar—not surprising, since no one has maintained this facility in years.

New map is posted. How do you approach? There are multiple doors as well as the grey rubble areas are collapsed portions of the wall that you can also enter through.

Dori makes a quick trip to the the general store and selects a solid looking steel shield. He straps it on his right arm and hefts it with his axe in his stronger left. He had trained with shield and warhammer but never dwarven axe and shield together. To his surprise, it felt comfortable. He pays the merchant with a grateful nod and makes his way to his bed.

Raspar arises early like he usually does to ensure a full day of work. He smiles at the idea that his gnomic friend will be doing his chores (because he worries about such things). He would go check on him, but he’s in a rush to find his favorite knife and wants a thorough search of the ruins before the party arrives.

After packing most of his necessities (and even some non-necessities) in his stout pack, Raspar hurried to the meeting spot, striking a torch as he moves. After checking the ashes for heat, Raspar sifts through the rubble on his knees. Pausing every once in a while from his labors to heal.

The torch’s light gives way to the first flickers of daybreak’s light as he searches, his face and arms again becoming greased with soot. He worries that we won’t find it (or that the fire might have reclaimed the iron to slag) when turning over a scorched pew reveals a glint of metal from the light in the caved-in roof.

My knife!! Raspar exhales with relief, as he worried his first mission might start off with him being so incomplete. Tying the blackened blade with its 3 brothers at his belt, the besootted halfling is ready to go.

His puts his tiny hands in fists on his hips in victory, the first he’s had since, well, that big stump he levered out last week. *That* was a good day, full of labors.

Ðakaþos double checks everything in his pack, twice, before heading out to the fortress. "We haven't had a chance to discuss teamwork yet. I'm good with a blade, but I'm also adept at some cantrips. We should be ready for anything and everything. Depending on how you lot feel I can either stand out front with a blade, or closer to the middle and maintain a spell of magical detection."

Dak's default Exploration tactic will be Detect Magic at 150'/minute if no one else can do it, or simply advance from the front otherwise.

Craft: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21

Geared adequately, Kelvin simply spends the night drinking...

Kelvin grins at the talk of tactics. "I'm handy with this here spiked ball on a stick, as you might have seen if you could see through smoke, " he lifts his weapon, showing the dried up ichor the mephits unwillingly left behind. "And you can expect Dori and I will keep to the front. He's a fine distraction for most foes!"

Kevin's default exploration mode is Sneak (+4)

As they get close, Kelvin shares some of his insight. "Places like this usually have stairs up to a lookout or battlement. Best that we head inside if we want to find a path to goblins. Get a high vantage point, look around. That sort of thing."

Cabaguil would have healed himself along with the townspeople after the fire the day before, though I didn’t mention it so here are my rolls for this morning/yesterday healing…

Medicine: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22 over ten minutes to heal: 2d8 ⇒ (7, 5) = 12

As mentioned he is at the fire site early the next day, though likely Raspar is already there searching when he arrives. He calls out by way of friendly greeting, but leaves him to his hunt, not wanting to interfere, or get covered in ash and soot so early in the day.

When Ðakaþos arrives and seems to take charge, Cabaguil shrugs and says, ”Well I’m Cabaguil, and I'm new to this whole adventuring thing. Not very good with my dagger, but I’ve been able to throw fire some little distance since a small child - much to the chagrin of my parents. Not too helpful yesterday mind, but it should come in handy for more normal opponents.”

”And I’m somewhat handy with the medicinals if anyone needs further aid.”

As they make their way to the keep, he’s surprised at the slowness of the group with folks sneaking and checking for magics every so often. Seems a slow way to travel, but he’s new to all this and so he goes with the flow, doing his own Detect Magic from time to time in solidarity with the group as they make their way forward.

As he walks, he fiddles with a large tooth, perhaps from some sea-borne mammal, and a long slender pick with a sharp point. When the group arrives, he looks up at the structure.

Crafting: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15 vs DC 15

He studies the architecture a moment and pauses, "Just a moment. Keeps in the style of Citadel Altaerein are typically built with stairways that lead up to any lookout or battlement areas deep inside. So venturing inside the citadel is the best way to find a path toward the areas the master dwarf suggested. What path though I'm uncertain. It may not matter overmuch."

"Let's try the left door." he suggests mostly randomly. He puts away his tooth, and takes out his dagger.

You guys are already up there doing tactics already? I’ll check up in the RP eventually. Introductions are important sometimes.

Raspar smiles broadly, hands still on hips, as the party begins to emerge. He notes the dwarf who says nothing (Kelvin) and does not intrude on what must be his deep though and meditations upon the nature of flowers.

When Dori or Caba arrive at the meeting spot, Raspar smiles and offers them each a sooty hand and an earnest smile. His grip is strong, confident, but not overbearing. ”Greetings, I am Raspar. I am glad you are here and I will bleed for you.”

The halfling stands about 3’ tall, with 3 normal and 1 blackened starknife at his waist. He wears cheap, but hopefully protective hide armor. A sturdy backpack on his back with a wooden shield within easy reach. His two pouches at his belt probably hold some silver and other odds and ends. His hair is dark, eyes green, and has an earnest look about him.

* * *
On the way up, Raspar keeps his hands free so that he might use them should he need to scramble over rock or log. He doesn’t say *too* much, listening more than speaking, but it’s clear he is enjoying the movement, the labor, the hiking. His face has a constant look of wonder and joy at what might be over the next hill or around the next bend. He’s happy to be where he is in this moment.

"I'm good with a blade, but I'm also adept at some cantrips."

Raspar smiles at the elf as he describes himself.

And I will bleed for you.

When Dori or Caba arrive at the meeting spot, Raspar smiles and offers them each a sooty hand and an earnest smile. His grip is strong, confident, but not overbearing. ”Greetings, I am Raspar. I am glad you are here and I will bleed for you.”

"Uh, hello Raspar, I'm Cabaguil. Er, let's hope that won't be necessary. Or at least not, you know, a lot."

Descriptions, right...

Cabaguil Hobnil is a somewhat gaunt, tall young man, scarcely an adult with a somewhat furtive smile and close-cropped hair. He wears heavy, durable clothing as is typical of the region, but sports the top eye-portion of a peacock feather in his lapel. A pair of daggers are the only visible weapons at his belt, though there is a pouch of something or other handy - perhaps sling bullets? A pack at his back rides high and tight on his shoulders but has seen little use though it is bulging.

A sharp well used scrimshaw-scribe (a sort of short steel spike with a sharp point) always seems to be dancing in his hands, along with some bit of unusual animal bone or tooth. When he’s not otherwise engaged, he’s often absurdly hunched over, peering at the small item as he scratches designs into its surface. Sometimes visible is a long cat’s fang tooth, itself covered in scrimshaw and tied to a leather strap around Cabaguil’s neck. Occasionally he wears glasses to work on the details.

A somewhat overweight, but perhaps not fat, calico cat, missing her left fang tooth as it happens, is often seen with Cabaguil, occasionally peeking out of his pack. A longtime friend, they are rarely parted.

Cuthberwyn is a gnome with every look of one who's spent his life deep in books and shallow in labor — hale, but not muscled. His clothing looks well-worn, though somewhat disheveled, apparently often an afterthought. His passion, which he is quick to discuss if an opportunity presents itself, is the studying goblin tribes of Golarion, with a particular emphasis on the Inner Sea region.

For all of his bluster when his studies are interrupted, he typically has an agreeable demeanor, with a ready smile and tidbits of knowledge — both about and beyond goblins — he is always happy to share.

★ ---- ★ ---- ★ ---- ★

When Cuth arrives at the remains of the town hall, he finds Raspar already hard at work searching. He produces a quartet of glowing orbs about him and sends them nearby the halfling, who looks up and gives a wave and a smile to Cuth. The gnome rolls up his sleeves and makes ready to join his new friend when all at once Raspar holds up a blackened ring with four blades about it. A starknife, Cuth notes quietly.

With a nod of approval that Raspar has found what he was so desperate to find, he turns to the human who walked up while he was preparing to join the halfling's search and to the newly arrived elf. Cuthberwyn Fizzkomingus, at your service, the gnome says. Cuth for short. Scholar of goblins. I fear I may not be much help in a fight, as yesterday demonstrated all too well; but knowledge can be helpful at times, and knowledge is something I dabble in here and there.

★ ---- ★ ---- ★ ---- ★

DC 15 Crafting: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16

Cuth has nothing to add to Cabaguil's observations, but is clearly excited and antsy to go inside. Left works fine for me, he says, though the front door might be most direct.

Raspar smiles as Cuth provides more light to his search. He smiles again when Cabaguil finds his knife, another auspicious portent to his own recovery that may signal success ahead.

”Mr. Cabaguil, did I see a cat in your bag? Is it a good cat? I haven’t seen many cats in my days and that you have one in your bag is...different. Would the cat prefer to be free and be running around?” Raspar asks earnestly, not knowing the ways of cats. It’s clear that Raspar is interested in the cat, but obviously cannot reach the calico beast with his short stature.

”Is it friendly? Does it have a name?” he asks before turning his attention to Cuth. ”Cuth? Have you seen this cat? There is a cat in his backpack, it’s the darnedest thing.”

* * *

”Let us try the left door.”

Seeing as Cabaguil and Cuth seem to know what they are talking about, Raspar leads them to the left door.

”Do you think there will be trouble inside?” Raspar asks Cuth, who seems knowledgeable on the subject of goblins. He’s clearly not afraid but does want to be prepared for more fire monsters.

He waits for others to get into position, whether it be Dak or Kelvin, and do whatever preparations they want, then opens the door.

Still milling about as the party figures out who does what and where, the elf points at the door, "Treachery abounds. Does anyone know how to tell if it's trapped?"

"Ah yes, but most direct might be most dangerous too. Still, it's just luck either way, so take your pick." he smiles at the gnome.

”Mr. Cabaguil, did I see a cat in your bag? Is it a good cat? I haven’t seen many cats in my days and that you have one in your bag is...different. Would the cat prefer to be free and be running around?” Raspar asks earnestly, not knowing the ways of cats. It’s clear that Raspar is interested in the cat, but obviously cannot reach the calico beast with his short stature.

”Is it friendly? Does it have a name?” he asks before turning his attention to Cuth. ”Cuth? Have you seen this cat? There is a cat in his backpack, it’s the darnedest thing.”

"Oh, it's Mr. Hobnil, but I just go by Cabaguil. Yes," he reaches around and lifts up his pack-flap as he leans down a bit so the short folk can see inside a bit. Inside is the previously mentioned cat, eyes open like slits, carefully watching the newcomers as it's curled up in a coil of rope.

"That's Spooky. Found her on the night of the Festival of the Witch in Irrisen. I'm not from around there, just always found that history fascinating. What I know of it. Anyway," he leans back up and closes the flap, "this little one likes her naps, and she's fairly lazy, so when we're on the move, she takes advantage of my easy walking rhythm to sleep."

"You'll meet her if we stop any length of time I'm sure. She's quite inquisitive. When she's awake." he chuckles.

Still milling about as the party figures out who does what and where, the elf points at the door, "Treachery abounds. Does anyone know how to tell if it's trapped?"

"Oh right, sorry, just yammering on there. Uh, ah, I don't know from traps really, but I have been known to spot an errant comma in the wrong place on legal documents! Let me see what I can see."

Not going too close, Cabaguil will check out each door, paying more attention to the left door as that's where he wants to go anyway.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 main door
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 'left' door

After securing his shield, Dori heads back to the his room. He is still fatigued by inhaling the smoke from earlier in the day. He sits on his bed removes his chainmail. He removes a container of leather soap and another of fine oil. He spends the next hours cleaning and polishing his armor and his new shield. Dori always finds working with is hands calms his mind of needs and demands of the world. He whispers a few lines from the 'Hammer and Tongs.' 60 minutes have passed as if it were two. Dori feels the tightness and pain in his lungs is gone and his shield and armor is impeccably clean. Calmed, healed and focused, Dori dons his armor and heads to the common room where is sees Kelvin drinking with a few locals. "good evening, friends, to who's health are we drinking to?" He sits down and orders another round for the group. He has to or three mugs of ale, a small amount in dwarven measurement and takes his leave. He is up before daybreak. He is eager to start this task.

(refocused and more lay on hands)x2 this is clear all damage from the fires

Kelvin growls, then steps before Cabaguil. "A comma ain't no trap. The tricks to traps are almost psychological. You've got to have a mind for it and reflexes to match. Let me check."

He scans both doors, still letting the human do his own look see.
Perception (Front door): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Perception (Left door): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

"A comma ain't no trap. "

Right, a kama is a weapon, but not one for me. Rasp pats his own blackened star knife, knowing his weapon of choice.

When others have cleared the doors, he will open them.

Dori adjusts the straps on his armor and checks his belt pouches to make sure they are secure. His eye for detail might be useful in seeing something that isn't supposed to be there...
perception(front door): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
perception(left door): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Dori's default exploration mode will be searching

Finding no signs of traps Raspar pushes on the door, it doesn't budge. Pushing a bit harder it feels like the doors are bolted and tied shut from the inside.

Athletics to slam them open or Thievery to jimmy the bolt open from the outside.

Feeling the door is jammed, Raspar begins to dig in his pack for an item. After a few moments, he pulls out a crowbar.

He's happy to use it himself or offer to another.

Kelvin's grin returns. "Yup, it takes a special kind of thinking. Allow me."

He retrieves a leather tool belt from his pack and cinches it around his waist. It looks like the type of belt a smith might wear, but the tools he pulls out definitely are not. Consisting of oddly shaped wires, counterweights, and magnets, the kit could only be that of a locksmith or... A burglar.

He sets about the work of jimmying the bolt. With all eyes on him Kelvin says, "What? Never turn down a skill you can learn. Especially when it's fun."
Thievery: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Thievery: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Thievery: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12
Thievery: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Not sure how many rolls you need. Keep rolling for me if need be

Cuth raises an eyebrow at Kelvin's revelation, but decides to let him go to work. A novel approach to what could have been a difficult obstacle. Nicely done.