when ceirn touches the surface of the mirror, it ripples, similiar to that of a pond when a rock is thrown into it. The image of ceirn undulates, and reforms into is normal shape.
Nazarre, suiting words to actions, walks slowly down the darkening hall. four closed doors are set into the stone walls that compose the center hall. At the far end, a narrow window (arrow slit?) casts a narrow stream of moonlight onto the floor, seeming to enhance the darkness rather than push it back.
As Navarre moves down the hallway he resists the urge to attempt to open the doors. They may be trapped or alarmed, and worse, he'd have to sheath a knife to do so. Intent on looking out the narrow window, he continues on as quietly as possible.
"That was a weird light effect. What's going on?"
While ceirn and Lazar look at the mirror, Navarre steps slowly down the hall into the darkness. Hey, another set of stairs! Leave it alone! he whispers out. Ceirn and Lazar look at each other, at the odd mirror, and nod in agreement between themselves. they both link up with navarre and go down the stairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, it is dark, but not to dark, for again another window slit allows light to creep in. You to the right and right again, and there you see another narrow ray of moonlight lighting the way. You cannot make out what you see inside this hall, yet walk with confidence that nothing should be in your way. By the back ray, you look out into another hall, this one that leads straight towards the front of the building. And there, you see the front door and an odd mound laying upon the floor before it.
Lazar looks to the others and wonders if there are any more smells in here.
Pleased that they were headed the right direction Navarre cautiously proceeds through the dark hallway. Freezing when he sees the mound, whispering, "We should have brought the light." Knives in hand, moving closer he tries to identify the what the mound may be.
Ceirn nods and then holds out his hand and a fiery spear appears in it. He moves forward to see what the mound is using the weapon to light his way.
Sorry, I forgot that we were in a place where you could not do that. I have flint and steel, but nothing to light on fire.
Gesturing back down the hallway, Navarre asks, "Will the light on the wall detach?"
Not saying anything, Garl moves to find out. Can he pick up the light source and carry it with him?
"Lets us see' Lazar says looking at the light and pulls out his roll of tools.
"Got it. Not like I'm going to use the bow in here, anyway. Keep your knives handy, though, okay?"
Pleased that they were headed the right direction Navarre cautiously proceeds through the dark hallway. Freezing when he sees the mound, whispering, "We should have brought the light." Knives in hand, moving closer he tries to identify the what the mound may be.
perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20
As Garl moved forward with the light, Navarre chuckled at his request, "Will do." He then continued examining the mound in the hallway.
Lazar feigned a look of innocence "Knives? Me? NO" he then chuckles softly with a sheepish grin as he flicked his wrist and out came a dagger!
With the light brought from upstairs, the darkness is pushed back into nothingness, retreating to wherever the darkness goes when the light arrives. A hallway made of fine, foreign woods shimmers and reflects the light, giving a warmth to the overall stone structure. Four sets of double doors stand closed, guarding what ever lays behind their stout structures.
The front door stands closed, barred with a large squared timber resting upon iron brackets sunk deep into the stone door frame. Polished to a bright sheen, the wood grain runs at a regular slanted interval, from upper right to lower left, similiar to that of a stripped cat.
The mound is that of a man. If he was standing, hedve been summed up in one word Hulking. Thick arms, thick legs, wide neck, everything about this man spoke to a strength that could move whatever he wanted. Yet, he lay upon the floor, dead.
his boots though, those are odd. Given the man's size, he should have been wearing a more stout boot, but instead, what is upon his feet is thin and soft.
"Hard to get much help from a dead man. Doesn't look much like a bookseller, though, does he? Far too big."
Lazar reaches up to cover his nose and begins to tug and pinch it as he tries to focus.
Kneeling beside the body Navarre points out, "His hands are busted up, looks like a thumb has a bite out of it. Maybe a pit fighter or something like that." Reluctantly sheathing his knives, Navarre starts to frisk the man, looking for anything that might help explain who he is or what he's doing here.
"It stinks in here!" Lazar laments as he watches and waits for whatever his nostrils tell him.
A crowbar juts out from underneath his chest, the telltale hook casting a dark line upon the brown hardwood floor, the area by it also scuffed up, the bit end having caught and dug small chunks out of the wood surface.
Inside the pockets, a small length of twine, a narrow pouch holding several types of lock picks, a small bag tucked behind his pants band on his left side, a still warm coal tin, and a single stubby wax candle. A stiletto blade is latched into it's sheath tucked into the top of his left boot, a push dagger strapped to his right forearm, a knife strapped to his left forearm, and a bigger dagger (more like a short sword) is sheathed and lays flat on his back with the pommel sticking up out the top of his shirt.
His clothes are dark browns and greens, faded.
Boht of you are about ready to stand up when the light catches an oddity in the man's hair.
Slightly longer than usual, the hair drapes over the man's ears, hiding them and providing him with a shaggy appearance. What catches your eye is a small, round thing tangled up in the mane. from where you squat right now, and the light from the glowing orb, you think that the object is covered with sharp pin ends.
"I think this may be a trap, something smells off" He says on his guard now as he shifts slightly. If need be he could throw with ease before brining up his staff and let it whirl.
"Its too much to be just this mans death something, Something is really off" He says his face going a bit pale though he keep most of his composure.
Kneeling cautiously beside the dead man, Navarre had seen violent deaths before, but not any with no blood. Hearing Lazar say it stinks, Navarre looked up confused, he didn't really smell anything. As he searched the man, he withdrew the items of the man's craft. Setting the crowbar aside, then the twine, the lock picks, the small bag, the coal tin and the wax candle. Finding the stiletto, he held it up for the others to see, doing the same as he unstrapped the push dagger and knife sheaths from his forearms; then setting them aside as well. Smiling as he drew the short sword from its sheath, he held on to it as he continued searching the body.
Finding the odd object covered with sharp pin ends, he pointed to it with the shortsword. "I think I've found the cause of death." Poking at the thing with the tip of the shortsword, "I was surprised not to find any blood, I didn't find any marks where it may have been drained, so I assume it's still in there." He points towards the scuffs on the floor and the gouges from the crowbar, "But clearly something happened."
Looking at the others, "Eran always said 'you can never have too many knives'. If any of you want any of his gear, go ahead and take it. It won't do him any good anymore." Looking towards Lazar, "I agree, maybe some kind of projectile launching these objects?" Then furrowing his brow, remembering what Lazar had said earlier, "What do you mean 'smells off."
As he asked, he refocused on the scuff marks on the floor, if it had been a trap, the scuff marks would only be from the dead man, or possibly other victims of the trap. Not really being trained to track, he asks, pointing to the scuff marks, "Can any of you tell if all these scuff marks were made by out burglar here, or if some of them were from other victims?"
Lazar keeps looking around as he speaks. "Look the smell is more than just the death of one, but many, as well as other foul and disgusting things. I just have a talent for picking these things up!"
Lazar pokes the dead man again and pockets a knife in his coat and then looks to Navarre."Roll him over for me"
Nodding at lazar's explanation, Navarre nods, rolling the dead man over. While Lazar examins the man, Navarre finds the buckle for the shortswords scabbard and undoes it.
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"The more time we spend standing in the scuffs, and you spend moving him and his things around, the harder it will be to tell, but I can look and try to figure it out."
"His boots look out of place on him. They look like they were made by Aiel." Ceirn tells the others as he wonders how the man came by gear made in the Three-Fold Land.
Ceirn squats onto his haunches, and looks around. The boots are odd. In the style of mine. yet made by a wetlander it would seem. he grunts slightly. Very odd. he spins his spear around and prods the dead man in the foot. Very odd. yet well made. Soft. Minimal sound, and wouldnt leave too much of a trail behind. But the back of the heel. The stiffened ankle support. Very similar. Looks like whomever made this used a piece of wood instead of boiled leather.
he looks up at at the door. Is...it is normal for doors to be barred like that?
"This is . . . unusual. I don't see any sign that there was someone here for him to struggle with, but the scuff marks look like he was struggling by himself, anyway? It is possible he had an opponent, but feet that light through a fight? I've never seen the like." He looks sideways at Ceirn.
"A barred door isn't that unusual if you are home alone in a dangerous place or trying to protect something valuable. But they aren't common, either, not in homes or simple shops, at least, not in my experience."
"You don't get it, hundreds of murders, rapes, and worse emanate from this spot, not just this man, two distinct smells both repulsive, but one worse than the other. It's almost inhuman as to what caused this." Lazar says backing away from the man fighting against his stomach the stench so strong he felt as if the evil not only had a scent but a taste as well.
The front door stands closed, barred with a large squared timber resting upon iron brackets sunk deep into the stone door frame. Polished to a bright sheen, the wood grain runs at a regular slanted interval, from upper right to lower left, similiar to that of a stripped cat.
Still holding the burglars shortsword in one hand and the scabbard in the other, Navarre stands up and begins looking at the door. Thinking aloud, "So the doors trapped." He looks at Lazar, "Not with just any trap, but a trap that has been around for years and has dealt a massive amount of death." Furrowing his brow, "Makes you wonder if it's been in this building the whole time or has been put here by an obvious collector of ter'angreals"
"Yes and No, I..." Lazar says as he pauses and sighs. They would probably think him crazy, others did but it was something he knew was true.
"I can smell those tainted by evil, often those committing heinous acts, and can well follow them like a dog can a fowl or deer. It's a gift and a curse. Thankfully I didn't have to deal with it around the sisters at the tower so that is the gift part, However, this here is strange as the area seems evil as does the man, but the trail..."He says looking about to reconstitute his nose to the smells in the room.
Looking from Lazar to Garl then Ceirn, he points the shortsword at the door, "How do we get that open and get Talia and Jak in here out of the street?"
"I'll work on it, someone holds my staff" Lazar says as he sets it off to the side and then pulls out his chef's cutlery set and then unties a few bindings and folds down the blades to show that a series of various tools.
Setting it next to him as he stands by the door he begins to overlook the door and takes his time to see if any mundane traps.
Lazar pulls out a few tools and begins to work them tentatively, and delicately on the mechanisms in hopes to disarm the trap.
The woodsman looks confused as Lazar talks about working on it and pulls out a bunch of tools. "All we should have to do is move the bar and open the door? What kind of work are you talking about?"
Hoping that Lazar could disable whatever killed the man laying in front of the door, Navarre turns to Garl as the woodsman points out the door's bar. Pointing the shortsword at the dead man, he added, "That's what I think he thought as well. I would like to make sure whatever killed him is disabled."
"Never hurts to check for a trap, though I am not sure it's a trap. Still never hurts" Lazar says with a piece of strange wire as his fingers worked some other strange tools probing and prodding the door and its frame.
lazar probes and examines the door jamb, and the stout wood cross beam.
" No mechanisms, though it seems our dead friend there sprung one?" points to the thing in the dead man's hair.
" Now for our friends to enter"The roguosh Domani says as he begins to u latch the door.
Nodding as Lazar points towards the thing in the dead man's hair, Navarre realizes the Domani intends to open the door. Turning towards Garl, "Pardon me Garl, I'm stepping back out of the line of fire." Keeping a tight grip on the borrowed shortsword, Navarre moves back the hallway a short distance.
Ceirn watches quietly waiting to see what Lazar finds.
the doors heavy cross beam is lifted off and set to the side, and the large black bolt and thrown back with a heavy metallic clang. Lifting the handle, lazar pulls back with some strength, but is surprised to feel the door open easily towards him, as if weightless. Silently upon well oiled hinges, the door swings open to the night shrouded road beyond.
When the door quietly opens, Talia glances in and sees the body on the floor and softly asks as she points to the body, "Alive or dead, and is anyone injured?"
"Dead. No one else seen. No injuries. Get inside."
"Welcome to my humble abode, please watch your step their is a corpse in the way" Lazar says with a smile as if a seasoned door man.