Niccan reaches up to take Quintus' hands. "Thank you Quintus. You're a good tall folk. I don't want to risk any more than is needed. We need this answered. With this kind of trap I think this is the best way. But I'll be glad to know you're outside the door ready to try and open the door for me if needed."
Thinking that perhaps he's already said too much he turns and goes back in to the room, closing the door when the mouth forms and makes its statement. Then he tries....
"Floreat qui laborat" He pauses for just a second. If nothing happens he tries the other two, barely taking more than a quick breath between. "He prospers who labors! Prosperity through labor!"
Kalig nods at Niccan. "We'll go, but also watch the door. If it seals after you close it, we can try to bust it open with the pick and crowbar from the other side."
Quintus sheathes his falcata and retrieves his crowbar in case it's needed to open the first door.
Like a coffin lid closing shut. The door shunted into place behind Niccan, heavily, and an unbidden thought came to him: this chamber wasn't airtight, was it? It was certainly soundproof; any hint of his companions died away the instant the portal closed. It was no comfort that a lack of air was probably the least of his worries. Locked in an underground cupboard as fortified as it was small, his only company the unseen deathtrap he excepted to spring at any moment... It was enough to make even a ratfolk feel claustrophobic! Although truth be told, he almost felt more like a rodent in a mousetrap. Hells, Niccan hoped he hadn't made a mistake volunteering for this.
No way out but forward, he supposed. And so, as soon as the magic mouth went mum, his own set to yabbering. Of course, Niccan's Azlanti was weaker than his soufflés (on which he was still working), but the Abadaran had done his meager best to instruct him on proper pronunciation. If the Canteclure family motto really was the pass phrase, then it was probably best to start with the version inscribed on their actual heraldry.
Of course, this didn't stop a cautious Niccan from tossing in any other variation of the phrase he thought he'd heard, just for good measure. All the more concerning then when nothing happened. The metallic mouth didn't reappear. The doors didn't open. There was only him in this barren hole, him and his thundering heartbeat that threatened to deafen in this leaden silence.
A sound. So perked were the ratfolk's ears for any sound at all that when it appeared, it almost really did seem deafening. Just the skewed perception of a stressed mind. For it was in fact a low clattering, hidden and muffled. Machinery. Something in the walls. Gears turning. And just like that he saw a black partition open in the deeper darkness. The opposite door had swung open. Success!
The relief was great outside the little vault as well. There the group had merely witnessed their slight companion step inside and close the door, waited some seconds, and then seen the hefty thing open again, ratfolk and all. Except now with the opposite door also open. Easy-peasy!
A bit of a shock for all then when someone interrupted celebrations. "Request: Please present the emblem."
The voice was singularly tinny and unnatural, as if spoken through a tuba. Strange as the cadence was, the tone of it was stranger still, namely in how it had none. None among the group had ever heard a voice so bereft of emotion. It came from beyond the vault. They lifted their conjured lights high and there, at the edge of what shadows remained stood a creature.
Could it be called a creature? This thing - it looked to be made of metal. Three sturdy legs supported a tall cylinder of a body, the copper of its construction dull under their lights. A multitude of limbs, each more inscrutable than the last sprouted from this body, it also topped by a dome charitably described as a head. Glass lenses substituted for eyes, staring and soulless.
"Command: Present the emblem at once," it blared. How it spoke without a mouth was the least of the dungeon's mysteries.
"It's a clockwork construct. Programed for specific responses. A guard I think, and it won't let us by without.... the emblem? The Canteclures.... Maybe that Coat of Arms?"
"I think we need that Coat of Arms. Or maybe a drawing of it will do? We don't want to fight that thing!"
[dice=Know-Arcana]1d20 +9
"It's a clockwork construct. Programed for specific responses. A guard I think, and it won't let us by without.... the emblem? The Canteclures.... Maybe that Coat of Arms?"
"I think we need that Coat of Arms. Or maybe a drawing of it will do? We don't want to fight that thing!"
Concerned at the construct's lack of patience, and use of the phrase "at once", Quintus doubles down on his hunch:
"The ring, the coat of arms is on the ring!"
As the door does indeed seal Niccan and Quintus in, Kalig examines the door. She has not prepared detect magic, but she tries to guess if there is a magical mechanism or if it is simply a mechanical one, asking Khavel aloud her thoughts as he might know better.
Also, what is the floor made of?
Niccan had stepped/stumbled back. That mechanical thing looked really dangerous. He heard Quintus but his brain seemed to be working slow, what ring?
Then he remembered. They'd cleaned it up, but it was bent a little. It hadn't looked like much so it was just tucked in his sash. Maybe? He pulls out the signet ring that they'd found on the bloody mess of the ratling's body. "Here is the emblem!" He glances at the ring and makes sure that the emblem is facing the creature. "Right here!"
As the door does indeed seal Niccan and Quintus in, Kalig examines the door. She has not prepared detect magic, but she tries to guess if there is a magical mechanism or if it is simply a mechanical one, asking Khavel aloud her thoughts as he might know better.
[dice=Intelligence]1d20+1
Also, what is the floor made of?
It sounded like a hammerblow, the singular step forward. When Niccan did not immediately present the demanded 'emblem', the clockwork creature advanced, one of its three sturdy bronze stilts almost cracking the stone floor in the process. It struck them all what sort of being this was, what power lay behind a machinery that could maneuver such heavy metal limbs - and especially how much it'd hurt should one such pummel into soft flesh.
"Warning:" that tinny voice blared again, sounding like a brass section given life. "Employing physical force to...!"
"Here is the emblem!" He glances at the ring and makes sure that the emblem is facing the creature. "Right here!"
Just as Quintus thought furiously on how to combat such an automaton (wasn't there something about them being susceptible to the same tamed lightning that partly powered them?), it stopped. Like a dew drop frozen on a blade of grass a midwinter morning, the construct simply ceased, one leg suspended midstride. If it hadn't had three such supporting its cylindrical body, it's quite likely it would have toppled. It said nothing. Instead a muffled sound, one recognized as the clicking of tiny gears, emerged from somewhere behind the lenses that served as its blanks eyes.
Only for a sudden call to break the silence. "Prompt: Emblem acknowledged. Welcome, [UNKNOWN CANTECLURE]."
The metal man-thing righted itself to stand at attention.
Niccan stood, all 3' 10" tall.... holding the ring as steady as his trembling frame could. Well, maybe more like 3' 4" as he was cringing with uncontrollable terror holding him in its grip. But he was alive. Unlike the ratling that had been crushed almost to goo, he was still breathing! Well, he was able to force himself to take a breath....
"Thank you Quintus! I think you just saved my life." He continues standing where he was though. He wasn't sure if he moved a leg that the other would hold him.
The priest watched the party's resourcefulness.
They are very competent. I will definitely have to get them a raise.
Danton gave a silent smile. Perhaps I will be able to get out of this podunk town sooner rather than later.
Kalig finds herself exhaling breath she did not know she was holding. "Well done. Let's go." She looks at her arm. "There is swelling that isn't going down on me or Khavel's rat bites. We need to find a clean spot as possible so I can change bandages. And then I can focus better on what comes next."
Niccan stood, all 3' 10" tall.... holding the ring as steady as his trembling frame could. Well, maybe more like 3' 4" as he was cringing with uncontrollable terror holding him in its grip. But he was alive. Unlike the ratling that had been crushed almost to goo, he was still breathing! Well, he was able to force himself to take a breath....
"Thank you Quintus! I think you just saved my life." He continues standing where he was though. He wasn't sure if he moved a leg that the other would hold him.
Quintus nods to Niccan and offers him a supporting arm to venture into the next room.
"Your heroism would fit right in with any of the bardic tales spun at the Kith."
Shaken loose from his petrified condition, Niccan chuckles at Quintus' words. "I've never heard a Bard sing of a heroic rat.... That would be a funny tale!" He moves with his friend into the next room.
This was a change of pace in the otherwise so hostile dungeon: a tin solider practically saluting them like lords returning to their manse. Granted, said solider had come awfully close to charging the group, but still. That had been some quick thinking on the Opparan's part. Clearly the man was more than just brawn!
Inscrutable as the mind of a machine was, the construct seemed content to stand at attention even as the entire group filtered past it. Supposedly they were simple-minded things, these constructs. A flesh and blood guardian might cry foul at a supposed Canteclure with whiskers and tail, to say nothing of his ragtag ensemble, but this one appeared happy as long as at least one of them carried the family crest. Limited by their creators, one had to suppose.
Then again, wasn't everyone?
Nevertheless, a marvelous creation. This much the group had to admit in passing it. Just look at all those tiny cogs visible between the seams of that weathered chassis... The machine man paid them no further mind, its blank lenses going back to staring at the little waystation vault. What it had been guarding was another stretch of hallway, though a mercifully short one. After turning a corner, it terminated in another iron door. It looked secure, but was in fact unlocked. Old hinges groaned as they made their way in.
What their lights revealed was a large-ish space, rather blank and featureless. No remains of furniture, manacles or torture devices obscured these stone walls. Which made what sat here all the more prominent: chests. Seven large, sturdy black iron chests sat enclosed within a cage of thick iron bars. These bars were a feature of the room; they extended from floor to ceiling, seemingly part of the construction. Well, this was rather tantalizing.
Yet tempting as a locked chest could be, something else about the place demanded their attention. Something decidedly not part of the original construction: a section of the wall had been knocked down. To the north yawned a rough-hewn tunnel. Someone had dug through here. And recently, at that. What's more, the scattered debris of brick and earth on the floor indicated that this someone hadn't begun the project here, but had instead dug their way into the chamber from somewhere else.
And... Were those wooden barricades inside the tunnel? Yes, it seemed like an attempt had been made at blocking passage by stuffing it with low barricades - like those seen on a battlefield, all poles turned pointed stakes.
Had the party found their kobolds?
Interesting. Almost as interesting as that strange indentation on the floor. Over by the iron cage safeguarding the chests, brushing aside some dust revealed a funny feature on a floor tile. It was a little slot of sorts, almost like a keyhole. Except the shape wasn't right for a key. It almost looked more like a blade had somehow - impossibly - sunk into the stone at some point.
Shaken loose from his petrified condition, Niccan chuckles at Quintus' words. "I've never heard a Bard sing of a heroic rat.... That would be a funny tale!" He moves with his friend into the next room.
Kalig chuckles softly. She mutters, more to herself than anyone, "A funny tail..."
As they walk into the next chamber, she takes it in and eyes the big hole in the wall. "So someone... the kobolds maybe... dug their way in here. Which may have led to the collapse. Question is, why on earth would you want to break into this godsforsaken place?"
She squints at the door and looks for signs of activity in the room. That the door they came through was picked open isn't a shock given the creatures that came through here would want to move forward.
But that wasn't nearly so interesting as the odd floor tile by the iron chests. That strange crack in the floor wasn't just a crack...
Kalig moves over with a speed spurred by a rare curiosity, brushing off the dust on the floor. The blade-shaped indentation becomes more evident, and she smiles. "A ha!" She pulls out the notched cold-iron knife they had found earlier. "Shall I try it?"
Shaken loose from his petrified condition, Niccan chuckles at Quintus' words. "I've never heard a Bard sing of a heroic rat.... That would be a funny tale!" He moves with his friend into the next room.Kalig chuckles softly. She mutters, more to herself than anyone, "A funny tail..."
As they walk into the next chamber, she takes it in and eyes the big hole in the wall. "So someone... the kobolds maybe... dug their way in here. Which may have led to the collapse. Question is, why on earth would you want to break into this godsforsaken place?"
She squints at the door and looks for signs of activity in the room. That the door they came through was picked open isn't a shock given the creatures that came through here would want to move forward.
But that wasn't nearly so interesting as the odd floor tile by the iron chests. That strange crack in the floor wasn't just a crack...
Kalig moves over with a speed spurred by a rare curiosity, brushing off the dust on the floor. The blade-shaped indentation becomes more evident, and she smiles. "A ha!" She pulls out the notched cold-iron knife they had found earlier. "Shall I try it?"
"Break into here or were they tunneling and just happened upon this place? We won't know unless we can converse with one of the kobolds. As for trying the knife it seems as good a guess as any. We think it might have been one of the Canteclures stuffed inside that iron maiden so that could be the 'key' to this particular lock. Should we check the area for traps first?"
Quintus will assist whomever wants to check for traps:
Niccan looks the cage and what appears to be a lock over and nods, then leaves his light with Quintus as he moves over by the tunnel to examine it. "Could be the kobolds? But where are they then?"
The cold iron whispered its way out of its scabbard. Kalig considered the curious blade, spine all irregularly notched. Could it be? If so, this held certain implications for the unfortunate soul she'd taken the dagger off, perforated in an iron maiden.
But why think when you could test? Sinking down to one knee, the druid aligned it with the slot on the floor. Sure enough, they looked to be a match. Pushing the covert 'key' into its home, all was confirmed when satisfying mechanical clicks spoke of the indentations aligning with some hidden mechanism therein. Almost by instinct - because apparently Kalig could trust her intuition - she twisted the handle. The floor shook. A low rumbling of machinery could be heard, even felt, as something within the ground set to work. It did not last long, but before it stopped, the iron bars surrounding the chests began to sink. Slowly, they retracted into the floor, leaving the ex-caravanners with seven black iron chests for the taking.
Now if only they weren't all locked.
"That was some trick, Kalig," Khavel smiled in considering one of the hefty coffers. "Don't suppose you've another one up your sleeve?" He jostled a perfectly sturdy padlock holding it sealed.
On the other side of the room, a distracted Niccan - for a locked strongbox is inherently intriguing - peered into the darkened tunnel. It was a rough thing, hewn out of earth and rock in a sort of irregular manner a dwarf would probably balk at. It also wasn't terribly large; the hard-packed ceiling stood no taller than five feet at most. Actually, it was rather sized for people like himself.
It led into a larger cavern, or so he thought. The ratfolk couldn't be entirely sure what with the barricades blocking his view. What strange constructions. With their sharpened poles, it was as if someone had made ready to defend this position. Still, they shouldn't prove impossible to clamber over.
No, the real problem was the tripwire. It was well hidden, just a sharp line through the dirt, but Niccan's eyes were sharper still. There was a trap here, immediately in front of the barricade. This was obviously recent, not part of any Canteclure design. That tripwire string - what did it connect to? It was all half-buried beneath dirt, making it difficult to discern this snare's intent, but it seemed to go up the wall to... Huh. Stalactites hung from above. Hold on, stalactites? How could there be a geological phenomenon hundreds of years in the making inside a newly carved tunnel?
Because they had been placed there to rain down like spears on whoever stepped on the tripwire. Right. What a devious device!
Explaining this to the rest of the group, a consternated dwarf scratched his beard in thought. "I, er, always bring my mess kit. Should we try tossing a pan or somethin' at the wire? See if that jostles it loose?"
It was a thought.
"Excellent work Kalig! We'll have to see if those locks are trapped or if I can put my trusty crowbar to work on opening them."
After helping Niccan spot the trap he looks to Khavel, "It's worth a try but we should consider the trap won't just damage whomever it catches. The noise could travel and alert others to our presence."
Niccan thinks about the trap. Quintus is probably right. Setting it off would be easy, but would almost certainly alert anybody in a reasonable range. And then they'd be ready when anybody tried to climb over the barriers.
"One good thing.... Nothing is coming through there toward us. Maybe Kalig can take a little time to treat wounds while Quintus and I try to open the chests. Any chance that door key fits these locks? Probably not, but.... ?? We haven't found any other keys? Not that I remember. Hmm." He looks over the locks for any little traps, pins or whatever that might 'sting' someone trying to open them. "I really should take some time and learn how locks work.... Magdh help me is there ever enough time!?!"
"Check the hinges too. Gotta find a weak spot to jam the crowbar into. Damage the chest but I doubt the owner will complain!"
Quintus once again attempts to assist Niccan, "Agreed. I studied arcane arts and martial training but not finding traps or disabling locks."
Quintus looks at the others, "Using a crowbar isn't the finesse method and, as old as these chests are, it might damage the contents. If anyone has any other ideas I'm all ears."
Knowing that the locks are beyond any skill that the group has Niccan examines the chests for possible weak points. Pounding on them with a hammer, or even trying to jam the crowbar through the lid to break it would probably make a lot of noise. Maybe the hinges were rusty and weak? Maybe some of the wood had softened with age? He also doesn't want to crush anything in them that might be fragile....
"If we can't quietly crack these things we might have to wait until later. Figure out how we want to handle the traps by the barricades and what might be beyond them. I'm betting that we're about to find the kobolds, and maybe what they did to bring down the tower!"
"Soot and slag, you'd think the Abadaran's vault keeper built these things..." Khavel huffed, the slight sacrilege reflecting frustration and tiredness. "Quintus, take over for me again."
They'd been at it for a while, the strongmen of the group - trying to goad open just one of the black iron chests. With whatever key paired to the things presumably lost centuries ago, they had to resort to that crudest but most universal of solutions: force. The dwarf passed the Opparan back their crowbar. Yet the chests were well preserved, damn them. The padlock being sturdy and secure, they had gone on the offense against the coffer's latches and hasp, an effort that rather felt like chipping away at an oak tree with a spoon. Possible. But very tedious.
Quintus wedged the crowbar into what little gap they'd been able to coax into the hasp. He could just barely make out the nails that held it all in place now, thick as a man's fingers. He gave it another few strong jerks, an effort that would have shifted the entire chest if it wasn't so damnably heavy. The metal creaked and groaned in protest, but finally...
He almost fell backwards as something gave. With one last tug, the latch was catapulted from the coffer to clatter along the floor. "Hey, you did it, lad!"
Success! They'd gotten the damnable thing open at last. Only six more to go... No, best not think on that. Not yet. Especially when they didn't know whether it was even worth the effort. Best to see what prize it was they had struggled over first. Quintus lifted the heavy lid.
Huh. Well, that answered one question on the group's mind. The secret door, the acid trough, the pass phrase, the clockwork sentinel... The Canteclures had meant to guard something down here, that much was clear. The ex-caravanners could now guess at what that something was. Because judging by the chest's contents, they were standing in the Canteclure treasury.
That... was a whole lot of dosh. The coffer's interior was lined with little shelves, all designed with little hollows to hold their cargo in organized, easily sorted stacks. Coins were arranged in these in ordered rolls - coppers that added up to 1 gold piece, silvers that added up to 10, and gold that added up to 100. All there for simple sorting. The Opparan looked up to the other chests. Did he dare hope? If they were all like this one, why, then the group had come upon a fortune of several thousand gold pieces.
"This is quite the interesting development. My question is, who does this belong to? I would guess, back in the olden days, the citizens of Belhaim literally worked and slaved to produce this wealth. My next guess is that their ancestors are going to want this money back. Danton, I think we should've had you write a contract giving us rights to whatever is recovered or at least a finder's fee."
Thinking on the effort to open just one chest he adds, "Perhaps we should wait on the rest of them? We have this tunnel and its traps to consider."
While the others struggle with the chests, Kalig tells Khavel to sit down and she checks on their infected wounds.
Kalig is obviously more attentive to the dwarf than herself, taking extra time to clean the wound and makes sure he takes the proper dose of the willow bark tincture. Not that she has a self destructive tendency, but she seems to lack anxiety over her own conditioning. Nature will be kind... Or it won't. Such is the way of things.
When the treasure cache is revealed, Kalig looks oddly disappointed. Perhaps she was hoping for something they could immediately put to use.
"If it is all just money, then the amount and weight we cannot easily carry with us. I'd suggest we therefore leave them locked for now. Obviously the work it took you to take care of one suggests no one who comes along is going to run off with it all. So if we wanted to continue on, we can safely leave it here."
Klaig stops to consider. "Unless this of course is what the Devy woman was hoping to find. In which case it would make more sense to take it back to her now. But I have a feeling you all would rather seek further adventure." She gives a half smile.
Niccan keeps glancing at the cave. The trap should alert them too if something was coming.... Then one chest is open. "That.... Yes. That is a lot of money. We should at least get a percentage." His tail twitches with concern over the other's words.
"It may be other than just money in the other chests. But you are right. We can't even carry it all, and it probably does belong properly to the town. Maybe just leave it there for now? See if we can raise the bars again. Then we can check out that tunnel before we head back up and report. We don't have to report that we have the dagger that is a key. We were told that things like that could be kept."
"I'm sure that when we report that there are several chests, locked inside a cage they'll want us to risk the traps and work to reclaim the treasure for them. We can negotiate a percentage. And wording for non-monetary treasures too.... With a hammer and chisel opening the others would be simpler."
"We'll have to be careful who we tell. If word gets out there's treasure in here the whole town will stumble down here and who knows what will happen? As for continuing or not I leave that up to those whose wounds might be diseased."
"Good point, but I thought we were reporting to Lady Devy. She's paying us.... to "ascertain what caused" the tower to collapse. This treasure would be outside of that contract. Perhaps Brother Danton could give his opinion, but I believe that's correct. We don't need to tell anyone else. Heck, we don't "need" to tell anyone, except that maybe we feel that the treasure probably came from the townsfolk years ago. Technically it belongs to the Canteclures. Any of them in the town?"
"So we'll do the 'Good' thing, and share some of 'our treasure' with the townsfolk. We'll be heroes, for explaining why the tower collapsed, ending the kobold menace, and returning piles of silver and copper coins to the people. Just keep the more valuable coins for us!"
"So Kalig? How well are you and Khavel feeling? Ready to figure out what that tunnel leads to?"
Kalig sighs audibly at the bickering over the coin but says nothing. She thought that likely trying to lug six heavy iron chests out of the place would no doubt garner attention and they would be unlikely to just waddle off without no questions asked, but she decided that was not her problem for now.
Instead she just answers Niccan's question, "I've done all I can. At this point it's wait and see if we erupt into a delirium of fever or not, which could happen a few hours from now or a few days. May as well keep moving until then. Let me see what I can see. Point out that tripwire to be sure I don't step on it."
Following any directions provided her, Kalig stands at the edge of the tunnel away from triggering the wire to see what she can see with her darkvision.
"Let's keep five to ten feet distance, just in case someone sets off the trap. Don't want to catch us all. I'll mark it."
Once the party is ready Niccan casts light on a small rock and moves into the tunnel. When he reaches the wire he sits the rock by it, pointing it out to the next. He pauses to study the barrier before trying to bypass the wire to climb up and look over it.
"Ach, I'm telling you, I'm fine," the dwarf protested at Kalig's ministrations, those she could convince him to sit still for in between bouts against the iron chest. "We're hardy folk, us dwarves. Tend to yourself." If it was plain machismo or concern for herself that made him a fussy patient, the half-orc wasn't sure. What she did know was that his need for frequent pauses from cracks at the lock wasn't due to mere exertion.
Then again, perhaps it was in the blood, both of theirs. A half-orc tending to a dwarf... Kalig's was a goodly soul, yet ancient enmities were slow to fade, nowhere more so than with the mountain-born. Perhaps he just found it plain awkward. He grimaced in swallowing the bitter tincture.
"Hmgh... It's a tough lot, toiling for a prize you won't share in..." Khavel mumbled in thought, summarizing the group's sentiments. Dutiful as so many dwarves are, he too was bothered at the idea of taking what might very well belong to someone else. At the some time, plain old work ethic - of which dwarves were also famed - demanded that people were duly compensated for their labor. This treasure horde might not be theirs by law, but surely it was at least partly so by right?
Perhaps a debate best left for later. For as their ever practical druid noted, this was all moot without a means of actually transporting the stuff. 'What good is a gold vein at the Rough Best's gullet?' went the old dwarven saying. Actually... How had the Canteclures themselves made withdrawals at their treasury? Acrid as they had apparently been, surely they were as susceptible to their own acid pit as any thief?
Khavel pondered this while Kalig peered into the tunnel, her orcish eyes penetrating the pitch-black darkness that dominated there. Sadly, she saw no more than the ratfolk before her. The passage wasn't particularly deep, mayhap some thirty feet, where it then opened into a larger cavern. With the wooden barricades obscuring her vision, this was all she could see, however.
"Before we go trundling off... what if we do trigger the trip wire, and it traps us inside? Should one or two of us stay on the other side just in case?"
She also retrieves the cold iron dagger before leaving. If it relocks the chests in, all the better to keep it safe till they can retrieve it.
"I believe Khavel had the right of it. We should set the trap off on our side that way if we're blocked from moving forward we aren't prevented from going back. Plus it has the benefit of blocking off the tunnel from whomever or whatever made it. From what Niccan described it would seem once the spikes fall from the ceiling we'll just have to carefully clear it out. Just what everyone wanted to hear: More heavy lifting."
After pondering whether he should or not Quintus decides to introduce some levity as he looks at Niccan, "With all of your talk of keeping the coins, contracts, not telling anyone - are you sure our Underwriter hasn't converted you to worship of Abadar?"
He grins to hopefully make sure Niccan understands he's kidding with him.
Danton chuckles.
"I don't believe so. Though the Master of the First Vault can never have enough clerics. As civilization grows, as does our number. It is the nature of the beast."
He shakes his head at the thought of more lifting.
"I'm not keen on the work but it must be done. I will say though, I am keeping a line by line invoice of added expenses. Whether or not we get it though... I will do my best."
Niccan carefully climbs to the top of the barricade to take a peak past it. Once he scans the area for anything interesting he climbs back down and returns to the group to report what he saw.
After pondering whether he should or not Quintus decides to introduce some levity as he looks at Niccan, "With all of your talk of keeping the coins, contracts, not telling anyone - are you sure our Underwriter hasn't converted you to worship of Abadar?"
"Abadar? While I understand the draw, and the need for his clergy, I'm not a good fit there. A desk my size would be too short to be noticed by anyone...." He winks at Danton to be sure the man knows that he's kidding. "My mother is Mahr Fral, Heaven's Shaman of Ng. She taught me a little of the Eldest. I think she wanted me to follow her worship of Ng. But I was intrigued more by Magdh. Trying to understand fate, and complex riddles just seemed to fit my mind better."
"As for my thoughts on the treasure? I know that we'll need coin as we continue with this kind of work. A wand for healing is practically a necessity, but they aren't free!. We'll probably need to speak with Brother Danton's colleague for something like that. Some of the treasure might should go to the people of the town. But we'll need our fair share as well."
"Before we go trundling off... what if we do trigger the trip wire, and it traps us inside? Should one or two of us stay on the other side just in case?"
"Hrmh... Well now..." the dwarf hemmed and hawed at this proposal. Dutiful as he was, Khavel appeared decidedly uncomfortable at being left behind, well out of reach for his hammer to help should the rest of the group be ambushed by kobolds. Then again, he was hardly the dexterous sort, especially in his armor. It was hard to imagine him clambering over the barricades without trundling onto the tripwire. And then there was that feverish glow of his, steadily progressing despite the druid's best efforts.
"It's fine," Star piped in, settling the decision the dwarf was too proud to make. "We'll stay behind. I'll look out for him."
"Oi! I don't need any lookin' after..." Khavel protested, more so out of principle than anything else. He recognized that he might be a liability going forward. It was decided. The group would continue sans Khavel and Star.
Pulling the cold iron 'key' from its cradle, Kalig found that this did indeed cause the bars to reemerge from the floor. All the better to protect the treasury horde from potentially thieving scalies. While she did this, her ratfolk companion nimbly climbed his way through the tunnel, trusting in his light feet and scouting ahead for the others. He avoided the tripwire with ease, earning nothing more than a slight scrape from the sharpened poles for his trouble. That, and an unobstructed view of the cavern ahead.
It was large, this cave, apparently scratched out from the hard-packed earth of the hill and fairly recently so; it still smelled of fresh soil. Niccan's larger companions weren't likely to enjoy traversing it; its ceiling was only five feet high. But then there was a far larger obstacle to traversing it. Large as the space was, much of it was utterly choked with rubble. Several tons of debris filled the western portion of the cave in particular, filling roughly half of it from floor to ceiling. And he thought he could see where it had all come from. Said low ceiling - it was all cracked and collapsed. Niccan saw dirt and brick lodged up there and... something like the remains of massive cement slabs? Hold on, was that the foundation of the Witch Tower? Was this chamber directly below the ruin?
A conspicuous find to be sure. And yet what ultimately drew his attention was something more tangible. A still hand protruded from the rubble - a human hand. Someone had been buried beneath this landslide.
The ratfolk hurried back to report his findings to the rest of the group. Whoops, he thought in hopping down from the barricade. In his excitement he'd very nearly stepped on the tripwire.
"If we're agreed I'll go back and grab some longer piece of debris I can then toss on top of the tripwire while we're safely out of range. And then set about clearing the newly-dug tunnel clear enough to traverse."
"We are on dangerous ground here figuratively and literally. I do not want to end up buried alive." Despite Abadar's domain being one of Earth, Danton didn't truly feel comfortable down here. He wasn't sure if it was the spirits, or something else.
"Have we considered that the tripwire may be attached to something to cause a cave-in?" He looks up and down the wall, "If that is the case, we have no clue how expansive the damage due to age could be."
Niccan nods agreement with Danton. "I agree. But none of us have training with disarming traps. And we absolutely don't want to risk all of us moving past it. I think setting it off by trying to climb over the barrier would certainly kill. There is debris over there. I think it is where the damage was done that collapsed the tower. But it stopped without collapsing the rest. If we all stay back, and Quintus steps back after throwing I think we'll be safe."
"The only other option I could think of would be to cut the wire. But I don't think any of us have a cutter that would do the job. ??"
Niccan nods agreement with Danton. "I agree. But none of us have training with disarming traps. And we absolutely don't want to risk all of us moving past it. I think setting it off by trying to climb over the barrier would certainly kill. There is debris over there. I think it is where the damage was done that collapsed the tower. But it stopped without collapsing the rest. If we all stay back, and Quintus steps back after throwing I think we'll be safe."
"The only other option I could think of would be to cut the wire. But I don't think any of us have a cutter that would do the job. ??"
"I'm sure my falcata would cut the wire but then I'd be standing right next to it when the trap is sprung. No thank you."
"It's not kind, but... I could summon a creature to run over it... I'd have to lose my preparation for the pit digging spell, but I think we're past a need to dig things at this point. Silly me, thinking I'd need to dig while investigating a collapse."