The lock is sturdy and stubborn. With a bit more effort Tiny couls do it but for now its frustratingly resistant.
Variel quickly pans the room and finds some kind of aura emanating from the pile of vlankets and pillows Paquen overturned revealing the vomir possums treasure hoard.
Paquen returns to the pile to see what was uncovered with Variel.
Half to herself she mutters "I'm starting to think the pipes player is pulling the strings. They play, something annoying shows up to hassle us, they stop playing, we deal with whatever's shown up to hassle us, they play... Get the idea?"
Perhaps I could do a jaunty tune to counteract the pipes?
"Magic's gonna take a bit more time, guys! " Litsy shouts, unaware of what her companions have just discovered. She remains focused on the lock.
Meanwhile, Malgar pulls two tankards from his backpack, summons a huge splash of water to fill them and waves his hands over the contents a second time! Suddenly, the contents are, again, a quite potent (if low quality) beverage!
"Here you go, Variel. Lots more where that came from! Back in the unit, we had a saying: "You can never be too drunk on the job!" The dwarf laughs, then frowns. "Wait... was it...? Hm. Might have been part of Cayden's tenets instead. Eh, who cares! One pint of spirits won't put ye under, right?"
He toasts the magus and being drinking his own mug. "Anyone else want some too? Just while Tiny is lockpicking the gate."
Always time for a stiff drink to chase away the chill of a dank basement!
The cloak is a cloak of resistance +1. There are other treasures in the pile including a good amount of assorted coinage and other potentially valiable knick knacks.
On the other side of the room Tiny continues pooling all the knowledge and skill of her craft as others drink and watch. The gate eventually aquiesces and before long the dim staircase leading further underground is open before you.
Clank. Clank.
Click.
"Oh, look at that!" Litsy exclaims, in falsely cheerful tone. "It's open! How fortunate that one worthy member of the party," she deliberately makes eye contact with Variel. "Just got the job done, while everyone else is getting drunk and pocketing stuff without telling her!"
"Don't worry about it" Paquen, who hasn't been drinking, tells Litsy. "I've been keeping account. I know exactly what was collected. And thanks."
Paquen does not volunteer to go first.
Clank. Clank.
Click.
"Oh, look at that!" Litsy exclaims, in falsely cheerful tone. "It's open! How fortunate that i]one[/i] worthy member of the party," she deliberately makes eye contact with Variel. "Just got the job done, while everyone else is getting drunk and pocketing stuff without telling her!"
"Hey, I object ter that notion! I'm just drinking, is all. An' I know where my limits lie. It's called delegation, recruit! But good job anyway. I'd offer you a pint as well but you seem a wee bit young," He toasts Beorn and variel, then smiles at the rogue with a nod and heads down the newly revealed stairs after drawing his buckler.
"It wouldn't be my first pint," Litsy grumbles, drawing her blade and following Malgar down the stairs.
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Malgar's reply leaves Paquen wondering what particular excuse there is for why she wasn't offered anything either. Not that she would have taken it, that would be irresponsible given their current business.
As Litsy passes her Paquen softly mumble-sighs "men are usually dicks" close to her ear.
Malgar's reply leaves Paquen wondering what particular excuse there is for why she wasn't offered anything either.
Borgan raises an eyebrow at the exchange between Malgar, List and Variel.
As Litsy manages to open up the door to the next room, Borgan claps a hand on her shoulder.
"Well done Litsy, you've got skilled hands. Your skills may be much needed in the future."
Borgan smiles faintly at her, a thought of a memory crept into his mind and his smiles fades into a face of grim determination.
Gren...
He moves down as well, after Malgar and Litsy, his mind partly clouded.
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Variel notices the look given him by Tiny and makes a point not to deepen the wound she is feeling. Instead he takes the cloak and places it on her shoulders. May this keep you safe as we go further down. At their rate we don’t know what we are going to face next and it would make me feel better knowing you have this.
Variel then follows those in the lead down below with dancing lights leading the way.
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Litsy snorts at Paquen's remark.
"I know," she winks at her. "He didn't even let you have that nice cloak you found." Then, to Variel and Borgan, and only slightly overdoing it : "Wow!!! Thanks, guys!!!"
She admires the cloth, still soft in spite of its grubiness.
Then she sniffs it, and makes a face.
"Yeah, I'll just... Put it away for the moment," she mumbles, crumpling the magic cloak and stuffing it in her backpack. "Give it a good wash. Wear it when it's hit less possum puke on it."
for reasons
Beorn was to busy enjoying the fine bew to overhear but snaps back to attention and follows the others.
"Hey Beorn, if those pipes turn out to be magical, can you do anything to counter it? I've seen you turn that crowd of protesters into frienzed madmen ready to rip into the dottari yesterday. That sure looked like magic! Can you override people's minds or magic that way?"
I can try to countersong it, but I have never tried that before. We'll just have to see.
Malgar, perhaps you can take the lead with myself backing you up? Then Litsy, Paquen, Variel and then Borgan?
"Countersoung?" Litsy shakes her head, impressed. "The things they teach you in opera!"
"Yeah, sure. I don't mind," she steps aside to let Beorn go ahead. Then, as if she just remembered it, she unsheathes her rapier. "You're never too careful. I'll try not to tickle your back, Beorn!"
"Works for me."
Kintargo is not unlike many cities. It's a city built on itself. And down the stairs is evidence of a Kintargo that existed before.
A fifty-foot-diameter pool of rancid, brown slurry fills most of this circular chamber. Chunks of plaster have fallen away, leaving ragged patches behind in the walls and ceiling and mounds of rubble on the floor. What wall space remains is decorated in crude drawings and symbols of sinister form. Greasy-looking chains run between four stout pillars rising from the muck and anchor to various points on the wall.
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Malgar, perhaps you can take the lead with myself backing you up? Then Litsy, Paquen, Variel and then Borgan?
"Eh? What's that? Cannae here you from down here! What's keeping ye young lads? Robin, whip them into shape with that spiked chain of yers, will ye?" Malgar calls back, having already gone down.
Once he reaches the basement, he whistles. "Wonder if the butcher was into secret fun times with the Calistrians down here. Let's see what these pillars are for... I'd expect ter find some hidden way forward from here. Somethin' built just in case the most determined lackey ever dared defy his nose long enough to get here."
He looks through the room for hidden dangers, leaving the symbols for others with light sources to check out, starting with the path to these pillars and the pillars themselves.
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"Butcher? More like a serial killer's den," Litsy shivers, maybe not entirely from the cold. "And the Silver Ravens were supposed to be down here?" She looks at Rex suspiciously. "'Cause each new room we find, I expect to find some clue, but so far it's only rats, puke possums and creepy music. You're not planning an ambush, boss, don't you?"
"And don't forget, each room is worse than the last" Paquen grumbles.
"It seems such a shame for the Silver Ravens hideout to pass away in time like this. I wonder what these rooms looked like when it was in their prime. I imagine it could have been quite beautiful before."
Borgan says as he still wrinkles his nose in disgust at the overall scent hanging in the air.
"Yeah, shiny chains back in the day! Fresh creepy graffiti! I'll bet it was quite the sight!" Paquen snarks.
Borgan shrugs at Paquen's comment. "Who knows. I would rather think those puking vermin, the pipe player or any other thing has used these rooms in the meantime. What we see now, may not have been here during their time."
Borgan himself looks at the chains and wonders aloud.
"Though perhaps even the Silver Ravens kept a torture chamber to interrogate captured guardsmen or the like."
I am certain the Silver Ravens would never do something so brutish!. Although I have heard that Calistrians do have a fondness for binding each other.
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Unfortunately until we clean this entire place out and remove this water we won’t know the true state of this place. We might find that under the water is a shrine dedicated to Erastil or Abadar or Gorum even. It is too soon to judge them even if I agree with the speculation about the chains. Variel helps search the area for anything of interest but specifically looks for some way to drain the water.
Aid perception with detect magic
"What jokesters, these Calistrians!" Linge approaches the symbols, squinting at them. "What are those anyway? We don't even know if it's religious or stuff that gangs leave behind to mark out places!"
Tiny knows for certain no gang has ever come down here. The scribbles speak more of the infernal than anything though without a grasp of the language, devils or the arcane you understand little.
Whatever magic was here has long since passed leaving little more than disgusting water in the cistern.
Further poking by malgar through the rubble shows that the piles to the north are not just natural neglect but deliberate obfuscation as tunnels near the top reveal rooms beyond that a tiny creature could comfortably get through or anyone could with a bit of digving and effort. The pipes seem to have fallen silent for now. Malgar understands the scribbles are much more recent than the timeline for the civil war and the ravens but older than the past few years.
"That looks like infernal," Litsy comments, though she'd been struggling to explain how she could recognize the language so quickly. It seems almost familiar her- early memories, perhaps. "Anyone can read it?" She looks at Paquen hopefully.
"Of course I can, Tiny! Not knowing the language of your enemy is a fatal mistake. Let me see what these buggers wrote... wouldn't be surprised if it's gibberish script praising Asmodeus just to throw off Dottari that did get down here," Malgar responds, moving up to read the script.
"...Because this refuse is a deception, as Robin no doubt already figured," he continues. "See them tunnels near the top? I can see rooms behind them, and a small crawhole to get to hem. Have to wiggle yerself REAL tightly, but even Borgan could squeeze through - probably. If not, we just oil him up. Seems fitting for what could have been some secret Calistrian meeting site, with her faith being outlawed and all. Ah... such a waste."
Then he pauses and looks at Tiny strangely. "Wait. Why are we talking about this, young lady? You mean to say you're into oiled-up orcs at your age...?"
Malgar can determine that the words seem to indicate a ritual or spell of some sort but without appropriate knowledge rolls its i.possi le to tell to what end
Borgan tries to look stoic after Malgar's remarks, but is obviously a bit perplexed.
"Uhm... what was that Malgar? I don't think I understood that correctly."
He looks to the rocks and clutter barring their way towards the next room and removes the pickaxe from his backpack.
"I'm not sure how much we need to clear away, but I'm not fitting through such a tiny opening. Let's clear away the greatest obstacles and see if we could fit through then."
Borgan attempts to break apart the greatest pieces of rock and debris with the pickaxe.
Paquen also takes a more attentive look at the graffiti to see if it contains some sort of useful message. She does no better than Malgar, and can only give Lisy a confused shrug when she's done.
"It is infernal, yes. But it's not regular conversation or a plain message. Maybe it's a ritual chant or something of the sort, but otherwise I can't make sense of it."
Kids grow up so fast these days. Beorn agrees with Malgar.
"Hey, you're the one who started talking about oiled-up orcs, not me!" Litsy laughs at Malgar. "You trying to tell Borgan and Beorn something? 'Cause I think our esteemed diva is all ears," she gives Beorn a playful shove.
Variel recognizes it as a ritual to open a portal to hell. Though it seems whomever tried this either lacked the power or the skill to make it last or large and all magical traces from the ritual have disappeared.
After Borgan digs the door out more its clear that their are rooms beyond that are not a normal part of the cistern.
While Borgan works on the blocked passage, Paquen spends the time waiting on looking around the room more thoroughly.
Borgan walks up to Variel and asks for the shovel, then spends the next minutes shovelling the smaller debris out of the way to widen the opening further.
Before long theres a space plwnty big enough for everyone to crawl through.
Litsy whistles admiratively.
"Nice work, Borgan!... After you," she quickly adds, all too happy to let the big guy go first.
Borgan lets a 'humph' sound escape his lips as Litsy mentions, the 'after you' bit.
"Of course."
Borgan carefully maneuvers into the next room, shield as fast at the ready when he comes out at the other side.
He quickly takes a glance around the room.