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As they travel down the passageway, San has a mounting feeling of unease. The feeling is vindicated as they find the very same door they were fleeing out of only a day or so ago. "Are we sure we want to go back in there right now? There were a lot of spells flying around at Stonehome. Do you all need to rest and recharge?" The perceptive among us can detect a hint of jealousy as San talks about being able to cast spells but the situation prevents it from being to overt.
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Morga growls softly, whispering back: "As much as I want to find Great-Aunt Hilga, I don't think we'll survive here any better than last time if we rush in now. Urrgh! Let's go back. We can tend to the victims until Vanda and Trygve bring help, then head back in first thing tomorrow." Her fists clench and unclench in frustration at the delay.
Vildran sighs in resign.
I have the ability to cast one more spell, aside from my cantrips.
He's hesitant about returning, but he won't argue Morga's assessment of her own spell reserves, or Autumn.
I suppose you're right. It's just... I wonder what being down here could be aware of Azomi's demise and might move on the town quickly. Maybe we could have friends from in-town watch the exit above us and alert us if the cultists make a move.
There’s no disagreement from Autumn, not when Morga, normally the most eager of them to press on, decides that prudence is the better part of valor. Nodding, she wryly notes “We’ve already run away twice. Might as well get that out of the way first this time—maybe we’ll fare better.” Although her leg has stopped bleeding, the wound still looks very nasty and she has no objection to having it treated properly first.
As she retraces her steps back to Stonehome, she says, with an obvious hint of relief, “On the bright side, at least we’ve found a way into Rusthenge that doesn’t involve getting wet.” Thank the gods for small mercies. She shakes her head at Vildran’s suggestion. “I’d be more worried about the cultists making a move on us. We’ll need to keep watch—make sure no one comes in through the tunnel or the main gate.”
Deciding to play it safe, you make your way slowly back through the quarter mile long tunnel. There's no sign that you've attracted any attention, and the only noises you hear echoing through the tunnel is the dripping of water and your own footsteps. When you emerge back in Stonehome you find Vanda is back, with Elsie and a middle aged woman you don't recognize. They're clustered around the sick acolytes and are so focused on coaxing some food and water into their charges that Elsie yelps with surprise when you announce your presence.
"This is all so much more horrible than I imagined..." Elsie says "But I'm glad you lot came and intervened. Vanda says you saved these three, and that the rest went crazy along with Lord Ragnulf. Even seeing everything, it's hard to believe. But thank you even so."
They spend a moment checking the ointment that Elsie has dabbed on the rust-bruises before Elsie steps back and says to you all "We'll take care of them here for now, though tomorrow we might try to bring them back into town. Vanda and Trygve didn't catch this Rust Creep they have, so it must be spread some other way. In addition to gettin' bit by that monster you lot fought, of course. But it means we should be able to get them somewhere more comfortable without endangering the others in town. As for you all, you're welcome to rest here or where you've been staying. Vanda'll be keeping an eye on things."
More at ease away from the site of their previous routing, San informs the others of the situation so far. "Judging by the picture in the other hall of Lord Ragnulf, he's already been, well, taken care of I suppose." San rests a hand on the warhammer at his side, "He was one of the first foes we encountered under Rusthenge. Very insane... spouting off about the grand works of Xar-Azmak. And speaking of going under Rusthenge, that tunnel in the basement leads to the cultist lair. Looks like there is more evidence they are related after all."
"Thank you, Elsie. You're a gem and this town's lucky to have you." Morga turns to the middle-aged woman. "I'm Morga Blackhammer, relative of the late Guntrand Fistcrusher and his wife, Hilga. We...haven't found her yet." Her eyes flick back to the tunnel, worry and mourning etched on her face. She shakes her head, dispelling despair, and offers to assist with treating the patients.
She keeps mum about the healing supplies, however. She and San need to be in top form to survive tomorrow, so these poor invalids will have to muddle through on their own. Her heart is leaden at the thought. What am I becoming? The faintest whisper at the back of her mind answers: "You are becoming someone who will improve the world." She blinks, startled. Where did that voice come from? Ahg. Nevermind. I'm just worn down and worried. Back to work.
“Thanks for coming to help Elsie,” Autumn flashes the halfling a grateful smile as she deflects her praise. “What would we do without you!” With a nod to the middle-aged stranger, she adds “Thank you for coming too. I’m Autumn.”
With Morga busy tending the three survivors, Autumn takes out her own healing kit and, rather to her surprise, completely heals the injury on her leg. Not even a blemish remains. She can't resist giving the dwarf a smug look.
“I think we should spend the night here—we don’t want to leave you alone in case some cultists come here while you’re sleeping. But, in the interest of being better prepared,” she exchanges a glance with her companions, “we should probably try to get some more information about Meitremar first—we know absolutely nothing about him. Shall we pay a quick visit to the Thassilonian ship?”
Vildran likewise greets the newcomers who returned with Vanda.
Thanks for your help too! You welcomed us into town and gave us a place to rest and think. offering genuine warmth and appreciation to Elise.
He turns to the stranger.
I am Vildran, a research student recently stationed at Sandpoint. Obviously strange events brought us here.
“we should probably try to get some more information about Meitremar first—we know absolutely nothing about him. Shall we pay a quick visit to the Thassilonian ship?”
He nods when she glances his way. We should, and quickly. I wonder, with our news and intel ,if they'd be willing to supply extra help watching entrances and adding numbers for safety here while we venture deeper.
The woman responds to Morga "Not meeting in the best of circumstances, but these folks needed my help, so I came. The name's Irma. Poor Hilga had been suffering for a while even before she got sick. And considering how frail she was getting... well, I hope you find her soon."
While this conversation is taking place and Autumn mends her wound, San and Vildran work on identifying the magical items you found. The eyepiece proves to be an unfinished crafter's eyepiece . The hawk talon on the other hand is a fully functional predator's claw talisman.
---
Excusing yourselves from the trio tending the acolytes, you make your way back into Iron Harbor. By this point in the day the sun well on its way down to the horizon and although it is relatively overcast a hazy glow fills the air. The Swordfish still floats at the dock, as does Art's sloop. You can see a few figures up on the larger ship, idling away.
As they approach the ship, San retrieves the captains hat from where it had been stowed. "Hello up there. We're here to see... Captain Janis. We come bearing news of the disposition of Captain Perrios and the Gorumites at Stonehome." As proof of his information, he holds up the hat and feather retrieved from the floating skulls atop Stonehome.
Morga looks up from administering to her patient just in time to catch Autumn's glance. She flushes with shame; why didn't she think to try again? "Oh... Sorry. Uh, looks like you did a better job than me, anyway."
On the way to the ship, she asks the others to remind her of what they told her about their last visit onboard. She hangs at the back of the group this time, since she doesn't anticipate needing to protect Autumn and Vildran here.
“Oh, that.” Autumn furrows her brow in thought when Morga asks for a reminder of what they had learned from their last visit to the Swordfish. “They brought Meitremar here on a supposedly run-of-the-mill trip—it was supposed to be a simple stop for a day or two. He was escorted to Stonehome and didn’t come back, so after several days the Captain and two of the crew went to investigate. You know how that turned out.” She glances away at the memory of the three disembodied heads.
“Janis wouldn’t tell us why Meitremar was here—she just described it as official business. Hopefully she’ll be willing to share more now. The only thing she did tell us about Meitremar is that he’s a gloomy, unpleasant human with a long brown beard and a piercing stare. And she could care less if he never comes back.”
When they arrive at the Swordfish, she waits to speak in private with Janis before sharing what they’ve discovered.
The sailors are more than happy to bring you on board when they catch sight of the captain's iconic tricorn. It doesn't take long after that before you're back in the ship's smokily-lit meeting room and face to face with Janis. She eyes the hat with concern and extends a hand to take it. "What news do you have? I can't think it's good if you're bringing me his hat rather than the man himself." She scowls "I saw some people running through the town earlier toward Stonehome. I suppose that was you as well, wasn't it."
Vildran follows behind wondering how much of the copious information that they've uncovered should be shared. On the ship, he shifts nervously as they start to ask questions.
Well, it seems your most unpleasant passenger was dabbling in some... "interesting" things. He was supporting the cultists of Xar-Azmak completing a ritual. We don't exactly know what it is yet.
"But a threatening note signed by "M" was left on the door where we were staying. So we know it's bad news, whatever it is." Morga adds.
Perhaps for the first time, Autumn is the one to respond with open honesty. No doubt she remembers how, on their last visit, Janis had favored such a direct approach.
“So not good news,” the sorceress begins with an apologetic tone as she returns the quill that Janis had lent them. “I’m afraid your captain—and the crew who accompanied him—are no longer with the living.” She pauses, eyes lowered out of respect and sympathy, before continuing.
“Meitremar and Ragnulf are responsible—they had them beheaded. Ragnulf is dead at least,” she glances over at the elf mage, “thanks to Vildran, but Meitremar is still at large. We would like to help avenge your captain’s death … but we know virtually nothing about Meitremar.” She lets the unspoken request hang meaningfully in the ensuing silence.
“Other than he’s sacrificing people and consorting with monsters for this unknown ritual.”
Janis grimaces "Beheaded? I knew Meitremar was a vile little man, but this is something else." She clutches the captain's hat.
"I can't tell you much more about Meitremar. He came aboard in Xin-Edasseril, supposedly to extract taxes from the towns along the coast of these isles. Brought aboard a 'pet' he said he planned to drop off with a friend along the way, but the creature he brought in a covered crate was some monstrosity. A few of the crew caught glimpses and said it was some fungal wolf, with a stalk growing from its back." She shakes her head "None of us were happy about that, but sometimes you've got to pinch your nose 'til the work's done."
"Meitremar mostly avoided us, and the little he spoke made it clear he thought we were beneath him. We were ready to be done with him as soon as possible. The day we dropped anchor in Iron Harbor, he headed to Stonehome to talk with the Lord here, but he didn't come back the next day. Worse, the crate with his pet goes missing and no one saw when or how. We were due to take him to a few more towns, so the captain went to that Stonehome place to ask him to wrap things up and-"
"-well, you know the rest."
She gets up and heads for a cabinet in a corner of the room. She unlocks it and takes out two small pouches before locking it again. Seating herself again, she passes both pouches to you across the table. "With the captain dead at Meitremar's hands, our contract with that man is null and void. Foolhardy souls like yourselves might want to tangle with whatever is happening here between Meitremar and this cult. Me, I can listen to the crew well enough to know its time we made our leave. Still, I can hope you can do a little avenging on our behalf. These are yours." Inside one pouch you find a runestone that Janis explains with make a weapon more accurate . Inside the other pouch you find a small bounty of coinage amounting to 34 silver and 28 gold.
Vildran winces as the details fall out of Autumn. He figured they could be spared it, but then Janis details the crate Meitremar had brought along.
Oh... the cythnigot.
He shudders visibly.
That was almost our end.
Eyeing the rune he remarks I suppose these would help next time, though I rather hope there isn't a next time.
"I can understand not wanting to put your people in unnecessary danger. We tangled with the wolf thing before... not a pretty sight, the cynthigot nor the result of it's attacks. This rune will come in handy though, we just need someone to affix it." San ponders who might be able to help with that task. Shaking off his reverie, "Thank you for these. Hopefully your journey home is uneventful."
Autumn quickly pockets the money pouch—for the party, of course—while thanking Janis. “Believe me, I would so rather leave this place with you. But … in for a copper, in for a platinum. We need to see this through.” She doesn’t look happy at the prospect—rather, she wears an expression of grim, hopeful determination, hoping that, some how, some way, there is more gold to be found within the bowels of Rusthenge. Maybe from Meitremar’s ‘taxes’?
“Thank you again. We wish you fair winds and Desna’s blessing,” Autumn bids the new captain adieu. Turning to the others, she suggests “Shall we pay Derrol a quick visit? He was pretty handy making the key—maybe he can help you with that runestone.”
Morga fingers the runestone absentmindedly. "Thank you, Janis. I'm...sorry for your loss. Good luck, and may the wind be in your favor."
“Shall we pay Derrol a quick visit?
"Might as well," she replies moodily, her mind vacillating between vague images of her great-aunt just barely alive...or very, gruesomely dead.
"we just need someone to affix it."
Vildran raises his hand subtly and catches San's gaze.
I can, and I can show you how if you like.
Turning to the others, she suggests “Shall we pay Derrol a quick visit? He was pretty handy making the key—maybe he can help you with that runestone.”
I should be able to, but perhaps he's got some spare time for it while we do other things. It can't hurt to thank him for the key and let him know how it turned out.
Janis shakes her head "It's nothing. Least I could do. And while we can hope for good winds and safe travel, I have an itch that tells me it won't be all that pleasant. A captain-less crew gets... ideas." And with that she shoos you out of the ship and starts shouting at the crew to get ready immediately to set sail. From the response it sounds like half the crew can't wait to leave, while the other half are groaning over their idle time being cut short. Nevertheless, the ship quickly becomes a hive of activity.
As for yourselves, you decide to make the trip across town to the crumbling manor homes of Gold's Ruin. With a knock at the door of the one currently in the midst of repairs, you hear a crash from within and a man swearing. A minute later you find yourselves once more face to face with the artisan, Derrol. He seems lost in thought at first, and then he recognizes you "Ah! The ne'er-do-wells with the key that needed to be copied, of course. Welcome back, come in. How did your escapade go?"
“Thank you,” Autumn greets Derrol with a friendly nod and an easy smile as she enters his abode. She finds a chair, dusts it off, and gracefully sits down.
How did your escapade go?
“Both better and worse than expected,” she responds. “You’ll be glad to hear that your copy of the key worked perfectly. Unfortunately we didn’t find our friend Ordwi, though we did rescue three other sick people. And we have something even better than Vildran’s sketch of the interior layout …” she glances at the elven wizard, not knowing if he’s actually made such a sketch yet, “… we can take you to see the inside of Stonehome in person, for yourself!”
“Oh,” she adds in a disinterested voice, glancing at the rune on San’s warhammer and on the stone in his hand, “and I think they were wondering if you could do something with these runes?” The sorceress instinctively recognizes the magic within the runes, but without the training and discipline of a wizard, she doesn’t really know what they do, nor does she much care. Runes remind her too much of books.
Vildran gets a bit of a shocked, or incredulous expression at the designation of "ne'er-do-wells." His antennae lie down on his head in shame.
Hey! We're trying to do well. There was some nasty stuff going on at Stonehome.
“You’ll be glad to hear that your copy of the key worked perfectly. Unfortunately we didn’t find our friend Ordwi, though we did rescue three other sick people.
Not finding Ordwi doesn't help his argument, but
Yeah! We did find some sick captives. You might stop by and see if they are anyone you know. They may benefit from encouragement as they recover. They were quit malnourished.
And we have something even better than Vildran’s sketch of the interior layout …” she glances at the elven wizard, not knowing if he’s actually made such a sketch yet
Vildran averts his eyes, hiding a "lost my homework" look.
Sketch...?!? Oh dear, I hadn't gotten to that yet. I hope he doesn't call her bluff.
“Oh,” she adds in a disinterested voice, glancing at the rune on San’s warhammer and on the stone in his hand, “and I think they were wondering if you could do something with these runes?”
Vildran feigns nonchalance, offering
If you're busy though, I think I can manage transferring and etching them! It's in my training. Most of all Vildran likes being useful.
Derrol's eyes go wide at your description "Nasty stuff? And sick captives? Dear, it seems this place is worse than I imagined." Meanwhile Autumn's offer pique's his interest "On the other hand, seeing it in person is by far the best. Is it safe though? And the sick, are they still contagious? Wait, are you all contagious?" He seems to have entirely forgotten about the sketches.
After he's reassured he agrees to come along to Stonehome to get his first hand impressions of the architecture. The question about transferring runes on the other hand earns a shake of his head "Unfortunately I can't help you there. I never had the patience for all the magical inscription."
“Is it safe though? And the sick, are they still contagious? Wait, are you all contagious?"
“Don’t worry, it’s not like the plague. Nobody’s contagious—the disease doesn’t spread that way. And it’s about as safe as it’ll ever be right now.” Autumn decides it’s best to not mention the number of dead acolytes required to obtain this safety—never mind Azomi and the esipils.
"Unfortunately I can't help you there. I never had the patience for all the magical inscription."
As they walk back to Stonehome together she flashes a knowing smile at Derrol. “I know, right? So boring. But don’t worry, Vildran is confident that he can do all this rune stuff himself.”
"As Autumn says, you'll be fine visiting Stonehome. I hope you find all you need there. For the rune... As far as we know, you're the best craftsman on the island. We were hoping you could help. No worries though!"
Morga keeps quiet as the others converse with Derrol. Gosh, they really got into it before we crossed paths! Her legs feel leaden as they trudge back to Stonehome. The tedious agony of waiting for her powers to be refreshed weighs heavily on her soul, and she still has a long night of tending to San's Rust Creep ahead of her. Again. I hope I can cure him this time...and that I don't succumb like those poor people, she muses glumly. It's hard to keep her hopes up.
“I know, right? So boring. But don’t worry, Vildran is confident that he can do all this rune stuff himself.”
Sooner or later Vildran lets a nervous laugh slip.
Derrol is easily reassured. He comments "Well then, I'll gather my sketching supplies and join you on your next walk there. You can explain my presence, I assume." He wastes no time in digging through his mounds of stuff for a set of quills, a pouch of charcoal and some sheets of paper. "Just let me know when."
Though Autumn certainly doesn’t want to sleep in a place that’s been decimated by a mysterious illness, civil war, and gods knows what monsters, she feels they need to—after all they’ve been through to secure Stonehome, she’ll be damned if they let it fall into the cultists’ hands again. The prospect of having to retake the fort, or once again wading across those miserable muddy shallows to reach Rusthenge, is not something she wants to face. Oh, and it’d probably be a good idea to protect Vanda and Elsie and Irma and their sick patients—at least that’ll be her public reason.
"Meitremar has shown he can find us so trying to separate from the others helping probably isn't a good idea. Strength in numbers and all that. I'm sure we can make sufficient bedding at Stonehome. Good idea to keep watch too." San nods along with Autumn's plan, agreeing that protecting their new friends is a priority this evening.
"Yes, of course." Morga agrees to stay at Stonehome overnight.
Once they're settled, she reverently takes out the scroll of Remove Disease, holding it for a moment as if it is a most precious gift. She exhales deeply, praying: Please let this work. I need to be able to help them, but I can't if I'm like that. The image of the sick patients, nearly catatonic, in the infirmary lingers in her mind. With another sigh, she clears her mind and casts the spell.
After that, she approaches San. "The healer's kit from the infirmary has some more herbs in it that could help with the rust creep." If he consents, she spends the next 8 hours treating him.
1st: Bless (2), Fear
With the runestone in skilled hands you make your way back to Stonehome and find Vanda asleep - likely exhausted by the trials of the day. Irma and Elsie are still tending to the sick. It seems like their recovery won't be easy.
You find yourselves beds to sleep in upstairs in the quarters, once you move the slain Gorumites elsewhere and do your best to ignore the smells. Before resting for the night Morga invokes your single scroll of remove disease. Although her channeling of the scroll's power is a little less than refined, its magic is exceptionally potent. It runs through Morga's system and purges the Rust Creep in short order. Within half an hour she's feeling perfectly healthy once more.
The night is peaceful as you each take turn keeping watch. During the night, Morga tends to San's own less-severe Rust Creep. The tinctures and salves fortify him, and as morning dawns you can see that his bruises have cleared! Morga on the other hand is left rather fatigued by the second night staying up late and treating illnesses.
Vildran nervously fidgets and paces back and forth before picking a bed in the quarters. While they've "cleared" Stonehome of immediate threats, it still gives him an eerie feeling.
He throws his pack on the ground next to the wall and heads to see if Irma and Elsie need help. At least for a while. Eventually he does return and pick a bed at random to pass out on.
--------------------
After the long treatment...
Morga, you look pretty tired. Maybe we should take another day before venturing into the tunnels?
He makes her a coffee while they consider it.
San thanks the smith and leaves him with a composite longbow and the runestone. As they leave Elsie's, he strings up the other bow retrieved from the roof of Stonehome to use in the mean time. Back at their makeshift camp, he attempts to help where he can, mainly carrying the bodies out. While he's outside he brings the ram more food and water, hoping it decides to be friendly with the people not abusing it.
It's not long before he's ushered to a bed to submit to Morga's ministrations. "I appreciate you putting yourself out like this. This is a heck of a disease." Waking up the next morning he does his usual morning exercises but without what was becoming the usual aches and pains he had associated with the budding disease. He almost doesn't notice it was gone until he was nearly finished. He quickly pulls up his pant leg to see where the bruise would have been to find normal skin instead! Excitedly he goes to find Morga only to find her still asleep. Deciding to let her rest, he moves around Stonehome making sure everything is still secure. While he's out and about again, he checks on the ram in the stables again.
Despite the eeriness of the situation and the strange surroundings, Autumn sleeps fairly well. It helps that she took her watch first, rather than in the middle of the night, and that she claimed the nicest bed for herself.
In the morning she gives San an approving nod and grateful smile, glad for the selfless elf’s help in securing the keep, getting rid of the bodies, and everything else. He seems to be moving better today too. But when she overhears Vildran’s suggestion to wait another day so that Morga feels less tired, she can’t resist interjecting. “I’m sure Morga’s great-aunt is pretty tired too. And Ordwi. Maybe tomorrow they’ll be dead tired.” It feels odd to be on the side willfully rushing into danger, but then again, Ordwi did save her life back on the boat.
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Bone-weary, Morga sleeps until someone wakes her. Dark circles hang below her eyes as she drags herself from the borrowed bed. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she grumbles as Vildran notes her fatigue. She nods to his offer of coffee, hunching over it like a gargoyle with her head drooping. "Leave my great-aunt down there for another day, just because I'm a little tired? Some family I'd be. No, Vildran." She raises her bloodshot eyes to meet his. "We've waited too long already."
The night passes uneventfully, with no activity from the Stonehome basement or surroundings that any of you notice. Having rested, you organize yourselves for the morning. San's patient and cautious feeding and watering of the ram the night before seems to have paid dividends, because the creature is quite a bit less skittish around him when he arrives the following morning. It still looks to be cautious around humanoids other than him though, speaking to the mistreatment it must have suffered.
While you discuss whether to rest for another day, Elsie wakes to take care of the sick together with a less-than-helpful Vanda while Irma goes to sleep. From the look of the three survivors, they're in no better or worse shape than yesterday, despite the treatment. It doesn't seem like their recovery will be nearly as swift as Morga's or San's.
He gets a slightly worried look at Morga's response. Well... okay. You know yourself better. We're still far better off than we were yesterday.
"If you're sure you want to go, I won't stop you. But we are also waiting on the rune to be transferred to the bow. I mean, I do have this other one to use, but it isn't magical. I do feel a little bit more confidant now that we've gotten rid of Azomi. Maybe we'll be fine?"
“So let’s go then. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Autumn blithely responds to San, not seeming to understand exactly what advantage the rune would confer. She too seems buoyed by Azomi’s destruction. “Besides, isn’t the warhammer magical? And worst case, we just run away and come back another day.” With a wink and a let’s-get-this-over-with expression, she heads to the infirmary, waiting for Vildran’s magical lights before descending into the basement of Stonehome and the long tunnel to Rusthenge.
Morga sighs about San's bow. "<sigh> The better bow will be sorely missed, but every day gives them time to prepare and overcome whatever advantage it would give us. Let's go." Eyes hooded and feet dragging slightly with exhaustion, Morga follows Autumn to try to get out in front of her before going down the basement steps. A vague thought, muffled as if through a mound of cotton, assumes that Autumn is practical enough to allow her to take the more dangerous position without a fuss.
After you spend a bit of time reassuring yourselves that the third visit to Rusthenge will be less dangerous than the previous ones, you gather up at the top of the stairs and descend into Stonehome's basement. The hike under the bay has you wading through pools of cold water and jumping at distant echoes, but it passes uneventfully. Before you know it you're back to the entrance to the strange complex. Luckily, it seems there are once more no guards present.
The massive rusted iron door stands closed at the northern end of this chamber. The glowing aegis of rust clings to it, concentrating around the strange symbols embossed on its surface (which include the words "Skymetal Workshop" in Thassilonian). The spiked horseshoe marking at the center is just as ominous as before. As you encountered the first time around, the door has no visible handles or latches.
Verily, Vildran hands out magical lights to weapons or worn items of the choice of his companions.
As they descend and enter the tunnel he will Detect Magic as he goes along.
As they reach the entry room again, Vildran wonders (in hushed tones)
Is there a way we could lay a trap for the cythnigot? I'd rather it not find us in the open again.
Thinking about the wounds from last time, he shudders.
San replies to Vildran, "While Autumn and I were trying to get you and Morga out last time, we found a cage that trapped it for a few moments. Not sure that we're going to find anything better than that though. It seems to have trouble with doors as well for whatever that's worth."
San turns to inspect the door again. "Last time we made a prayer to Torag to move the flakes out of the way but that only lasted long enough to get the door open. I have a feeling I got lucky last time... what do we try this time?"
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We found a cage that trapped it for a few moments.
“A rusty cage—of course—that almost disintegrated when it fell,” Autumn adds in a hushed whisper, making it clear that the cage probably couldn’t be used again. “Shutting a door in its face worked much better.” She looks directly at Vildran, sensing his unease at facing the monstrosity that almost killed him last time. “But if you’re really worried about the fungus wolf? This time, if Morga tells you to ‘back up’, do it.” She winks.
As they consider passage past the massive door, she frowns, nodding in reluctant agreement with San—as much as she’d prefer that the elf replicate his earlier feat, invoking a deity did seem like a long shot, and she was amazed that it had actually worked. It’d be asking too much for lightning to strike twice. “We could try scratching out the runes on the door … carefully,” she suggests, while eyeing her companions, wondering who—besides herself, of course—should attempt this risky task.
Sadly, she concludes that probably none of them possess the delicacy required—certainly not the nervous and twitchy wizard, prone to jumpy fits, nor the blurry-eyed dwarf. With a resigned sigh she steps forward and holds out her hand, beckoning for Vildran to lend her his staff. “Fine, I’ll do it. But I’m keeping my distance.” The sorceress remembers how rust floated off the door towards those who approached.
Should the wizard lend his staff—safely made from wood, not metal—Autumn would retrieve a scarf and tie it securely around one end. With this elongated improvised feather duster, she would carefully try to rub the runes off the door.