A leaning monument to the district's pain, this four-story courthouse is a crumbling marvel of cracked plaster and chipped marble. Once a testament to justice wrought in shining white stone, the courthouse is now a crushed dream, its wretched exterior corrupted by a bloated evil festering within.
Rainwater from a recent downpour mixed with mulch oozes from ruptures in the rock like pus bubbling from a wound. The structure of the eastern wing of the upper floor buckled long ago, and now the bell tower tilts perilously, appearing as though it might careen to the ground below at any moment.
Two massive pillars frame the heavy oak doors of the court. The pillars' surfaces run with cracks and fissures like so many burst veins. The doors sag in their archway like the drooping eyes of a madman. The surrounding structures long ago fell in upon themselves in supplication to the creaking courthouse.
A salt wind blows up the precipice and rakes across the tangled weeds of Beldrin's Bluff. The whole building groans as the wind blows, its tortured lamentation fading to a rasping hiss as the wind ebbs. This croaking murmur never completely fades away. The sun sets in the west, the last slivers of twilight painting the courthouse blood red as darkness creeps closer.
Slowly, the vision fades away as you return to consciousness, but the sight that greets you is almost as disturbing. The dying gray light of sunset peeks though slits in the boarded windows, barely illuminating a yawning bench covered in cobwebs. A shadowed mural on the domed ceiling above depicts Iomedae in her shining plate mail of gilded sunlight, locked in mortal combat with Norgorber, Calistia, and Asmodeus, holding the trifecta of evil at bay with her shining sword. You find yourself in a jurors’ box, and you are not alone. In the other chairs, figures sit in the darkness each emerging from troubling dreams into a new nightmare.
You also see six other people in the room.
- A blond human female in her 40s,
- an angry looking male hobgoblin that is missing pieces of his ears,
- a male gnome that is missing teeth and is a sorry looking excuse of a jester,
- a scarred and dirty half-orc male,
- a human male in his middle age that has the build of someone seasoned in battle. He wears the holy symbol of Iomedae and is wearing chainmail,
- and an elegantly-dressed elderly human male in a white suit.
Zinli slowly emerges from her sleep, furrowing her brows as the dim light of the sun shines on her face. Her whole body is tense, and aching all over. It takes a few seconds for her brain to register what her senses have already detected on a subconscious level. She is no longer in her bed.
The gnome startles wide awake and jolts upright in a clinking of metal, her right hand automatically reaching for her gun. She is already on her feet before she realizes that her holster is no longer at her hip - of course it isn't, you moron. You always leave Baby on the bedside table before you go to sleep.
Except, she realises, that her belt had clinked. She looks down - and there they were. The hooks from which usually hanged her tools. Very practical, for sure, but a hassle to wear in bed. In fact, so were her worn-out leather boots, and her trousers and jacket. That's why she usually removed them before going to sleep, as well as the heavy googles whose weight she could feel on her forehead.
What the hell.
Zinli turns around - and there, underneath the chair she just jumped off from, is Baby, sitting on top of her backpack. Both were empty, perhaps, but definitely there. Even her metal pint, adorned with a mastiff's head, had been carefully placed next to her pistol.
She grabs the pint in disbelief, and stares at its dry bottom. How much did she had?
The gunslinger looks up, and meets the gaze of the similarly incredulous figures who have just woken up on their own chairs. Her gaze slowly glides around the room, taking in the narrow, boarded windows, the abandoned jurors' boxes, the faded mural, the dust and the cobwebs.
"Alright, guys," she finally says, turning around to face the only other humanoids in the room. "Who did the decorating?"
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A young Tian girl, just barely past the age of adulthood sits in one of the chairs, dressed in a sky blue tunic and knee-length skirt. Her long, straight hair is dyed a rose pink, yet kept unkempt as though she rarely brushes it.
Twitching and awakening into a groggy stupor in reaction to her weird dream, she lifts her head, rubbing her tired eyes and seemingly not reacting to her new surroundings. She cracks her knuckles, scratches her head, and finally stretches her arms with a yawn, accidentally brushing a hand up against one of the many, many cobwebs plastered throughout the room.
Carrie jolts into greater awareness as she feels the dust-covered strands of silk coat her fingers. With a guttural vocalization of disgust, she vigorously shakes her hand in a futile attempt to remove the webs, before scraping them off onto the leg of her chair.
She takes a moment to clear her vision and scan the room, the eerie locale and this menagerie of folk seemingly in the same situation she's in. This most definitely was not her room. Nor could this have been another prank from her older sister; there's no way she would've went out of her way to change her out of her pajamas and into her normal attire, and absolutely no way she'd somehow manage to convince this many other people to be part of it.
Carrie shakes her head in both disbelief and to free herself from the last remnants of sleep. Unlike the odd dream she had earlier, it seemed like this was the real deal. A sense of panic began to build within her.
"The hell?" she mutters to herself in confusion, "Who're you all?"
"And what is this place?"
A young man dozes on his seat as others begin to stir. He is tall and thing, not looking like someone who would be at home in such a spooky building. Clad in a scholar's cap and long coat, thick glasses adorn his face and a full backpack sits next to his feet.
Suddenly he jerks awake and looks around him in alarm. Perhaps like the others he was fast asleep in his bed before awakening here and also looks amazed that he was fully dressed.
A halfing jerks awake gasping for air and looks downward. A nightmare! he thinks and then looks around and gasps but it is more of a croak. He looks around bewilderingly and rummages for a waterskin and takes a drink. He says "Ah! That's better." and shakes his head and regrets it. "How much did I drink last night? Wait! I didn't drink last night. Last thing I remember is closing down shop."
He looks around and takes in his surroundings. He studies the other people and says "Where are we and who are you?"
The halfling is dressed as an you would expect an artisan to look. Although there is a dagger on his belt along with a pouch and his backpack nearby.
He carefully studies each of the others in the room.
The shout comes from a portly gentleman suddenly startled awake, sweat pouring down his bald head. He looks around, eyes wide, and pats his fine clothing and rubs his neck. Seemingly reassured, he sighs and mumbles to himself "Just a nightmare . . . only a nightmare . . ."
The middle-aged man with the symbol of Iomedae around his neck lets out a sigh as he rubs his head; “This is the courtroom of Beldrin’s Bluff in Absalom…” his eyes dart to the hobgoblin and instinctively his hand goes to the sword hilt at his hip. The blonde woman places a hand on his forearm and his grip loosens.
Unlike most of you, it appears that some of these people have met before.
This hobgoblin is Malgrim Hurkes, an infamous bloodthirsty killer who runs a gang called the Grindle Street Shades. You recognize him by Grindle-Slash, his monogrammed Spiked Chain that is wrapped around his waist like a belt. He is a fearsome cutthroat that is known for garroting with his victim using Grindle-Slash
Reaching into his coat, the hobgoblin pulls out a cigar and lights it using a tinder twig, puffing on the cigar he puts his feet up on the chair in front of him and smiles. Shaking the match to snuff it out he carelessly tosses it to the floor.
Nervous laughter comes from the tooth gapped smile of the jester; “haha… what do you call a priest who becomes a lawyer? A father-in-law!” his failed attempt to cut through the tension causes his nervous laughter to sputter to an end.
"Huh? I thought they closed that place down or whatever," Carrie responds to the armored man, rising to her feet to stretch her stiff legs and back.
Rolling her shoulders, she takes the opportunity to get a better look at the dilapidated interior of the courtroom, the disgusting rain mixture pooling on the floor, the thick layer of dust and debris coating everything, rotting warped wood, mossy cracked stone, and of course the eerie howling of the wind.
"If they're tryin' to reopen it, they coulda done a better job fixin' the place up," she says as she runs a finger across the edge of the juror's box, wiping the dust off on her tunic before returning to her seat, "And a better job findin' people for jury duty. If kidnappin' people from their rooms in the middle of the night is how they used to do it, I'm not surprised they shut it down before."
Upon hearing the jester's terrible pun, Carrie doubles over and swiftly covers her mouth, stifling a snorting, wheezing chuckle.
I wonder if we we re drugged. I mean how else could they snatch all of us? Trevor almost stammers as he looks about.
"“This is the courtroom of Beldrin’s Bluff in Absalom…”
"Ah!" Zinli exclaims enthusiastically, as if just given the answer to a riddle. "That explains it."
The jester's pun, lame as it is, is unexpected enough to get a guffaw out of her. It echoes in the empty room, clear and sharp. "Not bad! I don't know you. You from Absalom? I'm Zinli."
She frowns at the Tian woman , before pointing at her. "I do know you. I've seen you before. You work in a tavern, right? The one that serves whatsthename." She snaps her fingers. "Soju, right! Ooooh boy. What I'd give for another glass of the stuff."
Her index playfully moves from one person to another - before stopping on the hobgoblin. Zinli's smile fades from her face. "I've also seen you before,"[/b ] she says somberly, and lowers her arm. [b]"Though I don't reckon it's mutual."
"Hey, I hope your boss doesn't still hold the lamp incident against me," she adds in a pleasant, conversational tone, turning back to the Tian woman. "He could get it replaced in the end, right? Honestly, I think banishing me was a bit harsh. I've learned my lesson, okay - no more demonstrating that I can shoot, even if a jerkass of a drunken elf dares me to, and - especially - with all that soju around." She giggles. "That stuff is really strong. Still; I aimed right."
The portly man seems to quickly regain his composure. "Most unusual . . . most unusual indeed! Bringing us all here, unawares and seemingly unharmed . . . would not be an easy task!" He taps his chin. "I abhor coincidences and randomness. Let us operate on the assumption there is a purpose to all of this. What do we have in common that would lead us, out of the thousands of residents in the so-called City at the Center of the World, to be brought here this night? I shall begin. I am a collector of fine curios and artifacts from around the world."
Seeing the response he received from the Tian woman, the gnome jester makes his way besides her; “Hi, the name is Ebin!” the smile on his over eager face causes the poor-quality caked on white makeup to crack around his cheeks and eyes.
Pushing past the blonde woman’s hand, the follower of Iomedae makes his way to the witness stand and places a hand on the railing. The half-orc quickly moves away from the hobgoblin and sits on an audience bench.
“Drugged? Oh that doesn’t seem quite right.” said the old man in white as he approaches Zinli; “I wish it was under better circumstances, but the pleasure is all mine.” He attempts to take the gnome’s hand and kiss the back of it. "Killian Paltreth." he says with a smile. Turning back to the rest of the group; “Does anyone appear to be hurt? Besides a splitting headache I do believe all of my blood is on the inside still.”
Casting her eyes to the armored man as he pushes past her. The blonde woman examines the group she finds herself with.
The Iomedae follower response to Neronius’ statement of randomness. “This is not random. The six of us,” he points to the NPCs “Were all part of a trial that took place here 10 years ago. The trial of Jarbin Mord.” You all know that 10 years ago Mord was found guilty of murdering both his young wife and six-year-old son. They were both killed by being hewn to pieces in the attic apartment above this very courtroom.
Zinli gives the man in white a once-over, makes a little face that says meh, and turns to the Iomedaean. "Ah. The one whose evil spirit is still haunting the place?" she asks brightly. "That explains it a bit."
"Funny thing! I think I dreamt of the murder last night. Dunno why. Must have been years since I last heard of that story." She pauses, then groans. "Oh, magic must be at play somehow. But f*~& me if I know why."
"Lamp... Lamp..." Carrie mutters to herself in contemplation, tapping the side of her head with a finger, "Oh, right! They made my sister clean up all that glass, so that was funny. You said your name's Zinli, right...? I dunno if you're still on the ban list or not, but I wouldn't risk comin' in. My mother can be scary when you disobey her rules," she gives a nervous, too-knowing smile.
"Name's Carrie, by the way," she introduces herself bluntly. Shrugging, she continues, "Wish I could say it was nice to meet you all, but a dank and rottin' abandoned courthouse ain't exactly a great meetin' place."
Carrie rolls her eyes at the old man's antics toward the gnome before addressing his question, "Wouldn't say I'm hurt-hurt, but sleepin' on these hard chairs for who knows how long's got me a bit achin'," Carrie stands back up from her seat and stretches her legs, "And a visit to the privy would be nice..."
"The trial of Jarbin Mord... That's a hell of a coincidence, 'cause that's what I was dreamin' about before I woke up here," Carrie muses, "Dunno why, that trial happened when I was like, six summers old. Only reason I even know about it's 'cause people wouldn't shut up about it, and I think my father was on the jury for that."
"But, uh, he isn't with us anymore, sadly..." she sighs, closing her eyes for a moment.
Tolbold gasps upon hearing where they are and who he is with. He stammers out "Tolbold Cotton is my name. Jeweler is what I do. My uncle served on that jury but has since died. I dreamt that I was being hung. Sounds like a few of us have had dreams related to this place. But why are we all here now?"
Trial? Trial.. I know of such a trial long ago but I was just a wee boy then. I did have this dream about a lovely lady knitting and who was frightened when a shadow fell over her. Hmm.. Umm... I am Trevor by the way, aspiring detective.
He nervously looks around. I know this place is probably haunted by a vengeful spirt. Oh dear...
“I’m Patrissa” says the blonde woman in her 40’s. She is a very beautiful woman dispite her overindulgences in life and she wears her weight well. She is wearing a figure-hugging gown of red silk that accentuates her considerable curves. She is also wearing bright red lipstick, but it looks worn as if she hasn’t had a chance to reapply. “We can’t stay in here… I’m getting out of here.” she begins to make her way around the courtroom heading toward the door.
The hobgoblin takes a puff on his cigar; “Parissa settle down or I’ll settle you down. The last thing we need is you to get worked up and become a blubbering mess.”
Ignoring what the hobgoblin said, Killian speaks up; “Carrie & Trevor, you have relatives that were part of this trial and neither are still living? I am a gambling man and I would bet that the rest of you have some family ties to this trial.” His poker face isn’t good as he is taking the six of you in piecing in who you might be related too.
“Shut up Malgrim!” Patrissa snaps back; “You know what happened when people tried to come back in here. That won’t be me and you can’t to any worse!”
As she goes for the door handle to pull them open you hear a ball bouncing down the hallway and a child’s voice accompanies it Wealday, Wealday, Hangman comes for you, Ole Broke-Neck Mord, gonna hang you too. Patrissia stops short clutching her chest. The rhyme you hear is familiar, it is one all of the kids of Beldrin’s Bluff say to scare one another.
"I'm with Miss Fancy-Pants. If there's nothin' keepin' us in here, there's no reason why we should stay," Carrie gives another shrug alongside a rather smug grin. As the older woman makes her way to the doors, Carrie vaults over the partitions and walks across the gallery's benches, leaping from the final bench and leaning against the wall, waiting for Patrissa to open the door.
Carrie silently shakes her head as the woman shouts at the hobgoblin, staring in anticipation at Patrissa's hand as she goes to turn the handle. When the ghostly nursery rhyme fills the room, she stands up straight, and tenses slightly. Her smarmy and uncaring expression quickly replaced with one of worry.
"What was that...?" she asks with a slight tinge of fear in her voice.
Well my parents are still alive, yes. I never asked them if they were part of the trial.
When Patrissa tries to leaves and the child's voice rings out, Trevor jolts upright. Ghost? Yoinks! This place is haunted, we should all stick together.
"Oh, right! They made my sister clean up all that glass, so that was funny. You said your name's Zinli, right...? I dunno if you're still on the ban list or not, but I wouldn't risk comin' in. My mother can be scary when you disobey her rules."[/b]
"Blast," Zinli swears. "Alright, I'll send flowers first then. Or better yet, I'll get her lovely daughter out of this mess!"
She observes Patrissa's doings from afar, only warning her with a sing-songy "I wouldn't do that if I were you!" when she gets close to the door. She doesn't seem all that bothered by the nursery rhymes, though it may be a bit of a facade. Her fingers twitch an inch away from her gun.
"What was that...?"
"Magic, sweetie! Duh!" She crosses her arms. "Whatever brought us here just reeks of it. Ugh. Are we meant to recreate the trial?" she loudly calls out to ... well, whatever is in there. "Is that why you've brought us here? Come on, don't be shy, we're just waiting to know what you want. Not all of us were in the courthouse - or had folks in the courthouse - when that happened. "
Tolbold shakes his head and heads over to the door. He says "Well if something is afoot, especially magic, the best thing to do is confront it." He then opens the door and looks out.
Patrissa takes a few steps back as Tolbold moves and opens the doors
Eight enormous marble pillars fill this great hall, holding aloft grand balconies. Years of dust cover the floor, and muslin coverings are draped over the railings of baroque staircase curling like lazy serpents up to the raised landings above. A rusted chandelier above sheds the dim light of a few guttering candles. An impressive grandfather clock more than ten feet tall rests against the center of the western wall, its face decorated with guilty souls suffering Asmodeus’ torments: evisceration, force-feasting of coals, scalding blades tearing them apart, and other less savory punishments. The clock stands between a set of impressive oak doors and a lone oak door of equitable splendor, identical to another set across the hall. The largest set of doors is at the south end of this long hall. They are barred against the night.
Carrie anxiously grips the hem of her skirt and holds her breath as the halfling opens the door, sharply exhaling and crossing her arms when nothing of consequence occurs.
"Figures nothin' happened..." she grumbles indignantly as she pushes her way past Patrissa and Tobold to enter the hall, "This's all an elaborate prank, isn't it?!" She throws her hands up in frustration, "Childish magic tricks to try to scare people! Don't you have anythin' better to do?!"
Carrie curses under her breath as she stomps her way over to the barred doors, focused entirely on leaving the musty old building. She grabs one of the bars of the door and attempts to slide it.
Trevor grabs his things as Carolynn heads out the door. Don't leave me behind! he says as he scurries out after her. Seeing the barred door, he twitches. I have a sinking feeling that whatever force has brough us here has sealed those doors.
Zinli’s call echoes off the walls of this courtroom, the only response comes from the follower of Iomedae; “This is not the time to end up like Grisom, we must help keep each other of sound mind. We cannot be shouting at nothing…” Carolynn rushes through the doors; “… and stay together damn it.”
A few of the other’s move towards the door to see if Carrie can leave. As she makes her way past two of the large columns the grandfather clock starts tolling and clanging dissonantly. The sound starts to pierce within your skull and your mind.
The tolling sound begins to assault your sanity. Images of strangulations, death, murder by axe, and worse begin flooding your mind. You take X Wisdom damage
You hear screams of terror belting from the Jester, the Half-Orc, and the Hobgoblin.
"I have a sinking feeling that whatever force has brough us here has sealed those doors."
"Yeah, probs," Zinli strides after Trevor. She whistles at the sight of the clock. "Hey, that's some impressive piece of machinery-"
But whatever praise follows is completely drowned by the deafening toll of the clock.
Zinli lets out an equally deafening scream, and is left shaking to her boots when the sound finally dies out. "That was some powerful stuff," she finally says when she's able to breathe again.
"If you wanna stick together, then keep up, old man!" she shouts to the Iomedaean man, not bothering to even look back.
When the cacophony begins ringing from the clock, Carrie jumps, startled by the sudden sound. Mere moments later, she falls to her knees with a loud scream, clutching her head with one hand and raking her nails against the grimy floor tiles with the other.
As the haunting visions and clangorous discordance die down, Carrie is left on all fours, trembling, tears welled up in her eyes, and having voided her bladder in sheer terror. As she struggles to stand, she stumbles back toward the courtroom and braces herself against the pillar.
Between her gasping for breath and fearful whimpers, you can just barely hear her cry out, "I'm sorry..."
Tolbold claps his hands over his hears and yells. When the clock stops he says "Yep magic! That was awful!"
As the dread clock rings, Trevor claps his hands over his ears and screams Oohhh! Noooooo! Mommmy! He falls to the floor and spasms.
"A most dreadful sound!" says Neronius. "Obviously, whoever--or whatever--brought us here has no intentions on letting us easily leave . . ."
As the violent tolling ends the grandfather clock returns to its normal counting. Gong ~ Gong ~ Gong ~ Gong ~ Gong ~ Gong then it goes silent. It is 6 o’clock, and by the look of the fading light it is night time.
Helping Carrie up, the Iomedaean man looks her over checking her eyes; “You’re still there…” he looks around at the rest of you. “I am Rekkart Cole, the hobgoblin is Malgrim, the you’ve already met Killian, this is Patrissa.” the woman in the tight fitting gown strolls up next to Rekkart and slides her arm through his. Rekkart continues on as he steps away from the woman; “The jester is Ebin, and the silent half-orc is Halgrak.”
They start to make their way into this chamber crowding around the courtroom door.
Killian speaks up; “You are right for introductions Rekkart. My humblest apologies for my rudeness. I don’t know if anyone has one, but it appears that nighttime is settling in, and my aging eyes are failing me. Does anyone have a candle or a lantern?” looking around it is getting hard to see in this dark courthouse unless you have darkvision or lowlight vision.
The southern doors which appear to be the main doors leading out are barred from the inside to keep anyone from getting inside.
Zinli shakes her head, trying to force her racing heart to slow down. "Not really - heh, especially given how much gunpowder I'm carrying," she laughs, but it sounds a lot more strangled. There's no mirth in it.
"I could make lights, but it'd only last a minute."
Tolbold looks around at the mention of light and says "Oh yeah, I can help there." He whistles like he's calling some animal and globes of light appear and fly around. He then talks to them, "Hey guys good to see you again. Thanks for lighting up the place."
"Thank... you..." Carrie wheezes between breaths toward Rekkart. Her trembling slows as her breathing returns to normal with a long sigh.
She wipes the tears from her eyes on the sleeve of her tunic and begins dusting herself off, pausing briefly as her hand brushes against the damp stain on the front of her skirt and letting out a frustrated groan, "Damn it...". When Tobold's magical lights brighten the area, she flinches and instinctively tries to cover her skirt before relaxing her stance, crossing her arms, and turning her flushed and grimacing face away from the group to avert her gaze.
"Wh-what do we do now?" Carrie stammers, flustered and embarrassed.
W...well...If this place is haunted, maybe we can appease the ghosts somehow.
As Tolbold cast his spell of Dancing Lights you see the human’s eyes squint at first as their eyes were already attempting to adjust to the dark. But as his dancing animals appear you see comfort come across Patrissa and Ebin’s faces.
Ebin smiles; “Maybe this will help;” he steps out between two of the pillars. “What do you call a ghost in the fireplace?” he pauses; “A toasty ghosty!”
Malgrim moves forward; “Shut up you little runt! I’m not staying any longer with your jokes. I’ve already had enough of them.” He moves to the exterior double doors and removes the bar and opens them. Looking out you see that is it extremely foggy. Even though Beldrin’s Bluff is right off the sea, it is foggier than normal and its not even the morning. Malgrim turns to see the rest of you and with a smerk; “Bye! Go find your ghost on your own.” He steps out into the fog.
You instantly hear screaming, not from the fog but from above. Seemingly out of nowhere you see Malgrim fall from the ceiling. He hits the ground with a thud and is laying there in pain.
You hear a creaking that draws your attention back to the exit. The doors aren’t shutting but they are rebuilding themselves plank by plank the doors reappear and the bar slams shut.
“Iomedae be with us.” Killian mutters under his breath.
Carrie can't help but give a weak laugh at the hobgoblin's expense, making an incredulous gesture toward him as if to say "really?" "Nice of you to 'drop' in. Didja not see and hear what happened when I tried that...?"
The sight seems to have helped her fully regain her composure as she snarks at Malgrim, "Sorry, but you're stuck with mine and Ebin's puns 'til we figure out what this ghost, or whatever it is, wants."
"Oh! I've got a lantern!" Carrie exclaims as she slings her backpack onto the floor and starts digging through it, "but it's the kind that points forward, not the regular kind." She pulls a bullseye lantern from her bag and holds it above her head to show it off.
"Anyway, I need some time to shake off whatever it is the ghost did to my head..." She hands the lantern off to someone as she begins making her way back into the courtroom. As she does, she quietly asks, "This is kinda embarrassing, but do any of you magic types have that spell that cleans stuff?"
This time, Zinli doesn't laugh at Ebin's joke. She snaps her fingers distractedly, and there's a wooosh sound suddenly coming from Carolynn's nether regions. The stain visibly dries and vanishes in seconds, and even the smell goes away. "Might change the colour," she comments off-handedly. "Dunno why it does that as well."
"Well, thanks to that little experiment," she doesn't extend a hand to help Malgrim up. "It appears that every door is trapped."
She peers through the darkness to spot another exit.
Carrie takes a deep breath as Zinli literally works her magic, "Thank you," she says with a sigh of relief, "owe you one."
"So the doors to the outside won't work, but what about the others?" she scratches her head in thought before addressing the Iomedaean, "Mister Cole, you seem to have the best memory about what's going on here. Do you happen to know what other rooms this place has?"
Asking this, Carrie sits against the wall just outside the courtroom.
Well let us not split up any more. Let us head through the western double doors to see if we can exit any other way.
After aiding Carrie with a cleaning, Zinli stands with the others as she peers through the darkness. Carrie’s lantern and Tolbold’s dancing lights cast awkward shadows I this great hall. The light reveals a single door just north of where the group is currently standing. Across the hall you see identical doors that are on this side. You see a few more doors north of where you are, none have the look of an exterior door. At the far end you see two sets of spiral stairs.
“Carrie, I’m not sure about that.” Rekkart responds; “Just from dealings here I know across the hall is another courtroom like the one we woke up in. A judge’s chamber is connected to each of them. Down the hall are a few bathrooms, and around the hall are the gallows.” He lets out a short sigh with that. “And it’s just Rekkart.”
Malgrim glairs at Zinli’s extended hand and gets up on his own. The hobgoblin towers over the gnome and he walks passed her.
The investigator suggest the double doors opposite where you are standing. Looking over the doors, they are not locked and they creek open without any effort. Much of the furniture in this old courtroom has been splintered into kindling. It looks like someone has ruthlessly smashed almost everything in the room. Beyond the carnage, the bench ha been overturned and the jurors’ box is in shambles. The windows here are crisscrossed with heavy boards. Where the nail breach the plaster and around the windwos, rust stains seep like bloody wounds in the courthouse walls. You see a door along the north side of this chamber.
"Duly noted, Mister Rekkart," she nods, giving the man a smile.
Taking back her lantern, Carrie peers into the ravaged courtroom, "Man, someone didn't like a judgement they made here," briefly pausing before making a dismissive gesture with her free hand and adding, "Understandable, really."
She peeks her head into the room, shining the light around to see if there might be anyone or anything else residing within.
"Hellooo... Anyone in here?" she calls out into the room.
Malgrim glairs at Zinli’s extended hand and gets up on his own. The hobgoblin towers over the gnome and he walks passed her.
"Well, thanks to that little experiment," she doesn't extend a hand to help Malgrim up. "It appears that every door is trapped."
Her gun at the ready, Zinli surveys the room. "There's another door over there..."
I wonder if this room is haunted? Trevor whispers. I guess we'll have to head in. I will try to tip tie in Trevor does an exaggerated tip toe inside
Stout stays some distance behind the group, partially because their pace causes the heavyset man to wheeze with effort and partially because harrying off this way and that seems rather unproductive.
Better to understand the why, how, and who. Ah, if only Goodwyn were still alive to do this abominable legwork and bring me the clues!
Shining her lantern into the room Carrie doesn’t see anyone or anything within the room. Almost in unison, Trevor steps in and causes the rubble under his feet to shift and Carrie’s Helloo there is a whooshing of wings as a mass takes flight from the judges seat.
Initiative: Round 1
Trevor
Zinli
Carrie
Tolbold
Creatures
NPCs
Neronius
Initiative
.
.
"What the...?! What're a buncha birds doin' in here?"
Carrie steps into the room, waiting to see if the rotting birds attack and taking a moment to focus on dodging just in case they do.
4 Wisdom damage: -2 penalty on Wisdom-based checks.
Dodge: +1 dodge bonus to AC for 1 minute (AC 16, Touch 14).
This collection of Tiny sized undead birds are vulnerable to channeling. Unlike other swarms of smaller sizes, Tiny sized swarms are not immune to weapon damage.
Seeing Carolyn stay in the room, Tobold steps behind her and pulls out a little bulb and sprays acid at the swarm. "Getting out might be a good idea." he says.
Trevor gets his rapier out and grips it in both hands. Oh no! How will we deal with this? He sticks close to Carrie. Maybe we should back out the doors so they have to squeeze through.