Alseta's Ring's page

"Good morning, Crink." Ragna greets the halfling. Like everyone else in town, many of Ragnhild's posessions came from Quarters and bits. "This is Crink. Crink, Warbal and Highness. Our new neighbors, from Hellknight Hill. You can get pretty much anything you can think of here, dears. Are there any supplies the Bumblebrashers need you bring back, Warbal? I think I'm going to upgrade my armor, and I have a bunch of things to sell if you're interested, Crink."

"Always interested," Crink replies. "I find Heroes tend to run across some interesting pieces in their ... Heroing tasks." He smiles at Highness. "Your friend has a fine eye. These, my good man," he goes on, addressing the goblin-king, "make you more likely to hit what you're trying to punch, as well, of course, as lending you a sartorial flair."

In the meantime, Darla makes a few visits to germane areas of Breachill. She consults Fadelby Vusker, the wainwright, and Kellen Carondil, the priest at the Great Dreamhouse, whose places of business are located at either end of the street where the Reliant Book Company is housed. Neither recalls seeing any unusual comings and goings from the store. It saw, in general, little local custom, though Voz, and later Calmont, often posted and received parcels.

From there, Darla heads to the northern part of town and Lamond's Lament, a charitable hostel where newcomers to Breachill commonly get their start. Renatta Gilroy, a sort of house mother, can tell much more about Calmont than about Voz. "A very troubled little soul," she says of the halfling, "distrustful and secretive. I have the feeling he had some awful experiences in the Goblinblood Wars. I had hoped that he and Ms. Lirayne might have drawn out each other and found a kindred spirit, both so quiet and stand-offish, but I'm afraid it didn't work out as we had hoped."

"No, she didn't spend much time here when she arrived, what, two, two and a half years ago now? She wasn't a refugee, after all, not like so many we used to get in here. She had seed money, I suppose, to start her business and a well-heeled clientele; the parcels started shipping in and out almost as soon as she paid the lease on her storefront. I've no idea what decided her to operate out of Breachill, when it seems she could have set up shop in a city somewhere and had more custom. Of course, she's dreadfully shy. Perhaps the poor thing just got overwhelmed in the city; I know I would, with all those crowds of strangers. And after all, if you can work anywhere, why not choose somewhere nice like Breachill? But you'd think she'd want to make some friends. We did try, you know, all of us ladies: inviting her to tea and trying to get her involved in civic affairs. But she never showed an interest in anything but books. You might try Mr. Blacktusk at the Archives; I believe she spent some time there when she first arrived, looking into the history of the town. Perhaps she opened up to him."

"Yes, she came in here," Jorell Blacktusk tells Darla a little later at the Archives, as he pulls out old town maps and records so she can look up the history of the building presently housing the Reliant Book Company. "A woman interested in books, of course she was interested in the history of Breachill. It's a fascinating subject; I was able to show her all the old town records and manuscripts from the first settlers. She was interested in local geography, as I recollect, caverns and rock formations, but after I told her about the town's founding, she did quite a bit of research into Lamond Breachton. I believe she read all the eye-witness accounts we have, the pioneers' diaries and memoirs, everything from those who actually met him and saw him."

From the documents Blacktusk shows her, Darla concludes that the Reliant Book Company was constructed by the Posandi Brothers masonry company in 4638, at the same time construction was underway on Citadel Altaerein outside of town.

Jonagher explains the purpose of his visit to Captain Wilford Lavendil, the half-elven head of the town guard. Like Jonagher's, Captain Lavendil's human parent was his mother, a direct descendant of one of Breachill's founding pioneers, but the soldier is decades older than Jonagher and his mother long dead.

"I haven't been able to get much out of him," the captain admits. "He's quite angry at being locked up without a clear charge against him. Can't say I'm happy about it myself, but between the arson and the disappearance of his employer, the council feels he might be a danger to the community if he were free. Anything you can do to get to the bottom of all this would let me rest easier at night."

As Captain Lavendil advised, Calmont is sitting sullenly in his cell, an expression of deep aggrievement on his face. "Oh, it's you again," he greets Jonagher rudely. "Come to gloat?"

When asked about Voz's demeanor out of the public eye: "She was just as rude in private as in public. She liked people to think she was shy, but she just doesn't care about people. Don't ask me what she was really like. It's not like we were friendly. She just told me what to do and left me to it, went in the other room to do her own thing. Probably putting her feet up and having a bit of a nap while the halfling did all the real work. Honestly, she barely spoke if she could avoid it. Just 'do this, Calmont, do that.'"

When asked about necromancy: "Necromancy?! What's that? Wizard stuff? Not that I ever saw. I bet she'd like people to think she had some sort of powers, all that showing off, mucking around with books and such. Wouldn't put it past her to start a rumor like that herself, get people thinking she's special."

"Guardian's Way? I never saw her go outside the town walls myself. What would she be doing going all the way out there? If she had parcels to post, she always sent me to carry them for her. Honestly, she barely left the shop if she could avoid it."

When asked about Laslunn and the Scarlet Triad: "All I know is in the papers you took from me. I think Laslunn was part of the Scarlet Triad or worked for them or something. Kintargo -- that's where the letters mostly came and went from. I'm not sure where it is, but I guessed it must be far away; it always seemed to take a while for the letters to get back and forth. Wait! Do you think...? Could this Laslunn or someone from them have come to Guardian's Way to collect the ring? But they can't have; I kept the last letter telling them to come and didn't send it. Unless Voz is a wizard and sent a message by some sort of spell. But then she'd know ... know that I took the letter and didn't send it, and she's be after me." The halfling begins to shiver, clearly terrified at the thought of being the target of an angry wizard.

Were you going to tell Calmont directly about the tunnel, or just hint around to see if he is aware of any secret ways in and out of the building?

Warbal tries on several hats, somewhat to the consternation of the woman behind the counter, before agreeing with Ragna that the yellow hat is the most impressive. She bounces proudly out of the store, holding her hatted head higher than before and admiring the lacy pattern of light in shadow cast on the ground as the sun shines through the wide brim.

As they head toward Quarters and Bits, near the town's western wall, Ragna informs Highness that Guardian's Way is located in a forest clearing at the foot of a hill. It consists of three platforms built in the trees, so the foliage provides cover for archers firing from a higher vantage point, a log cabin, and a cave dug into the hillside. It is relatively low-tech but easy to defend when occupied.

A halfling with an eager glint in his eye, wearing a smart suit and a jaunty hat which Warbal instantly admires, greets the trio as they walk into a door under a sign reading "Bits." "Ah, visitors to our town, I see, no doubt drawn by rumors of the endless variety and incredible prices available in this humble storefront. Whatever you have heard, I assure you, reality surpasses the report. Crink Twiddleton, at your service."

Highness, an enormous grin on his face, turned away from Warbal and stared with rapturous attention at the sanded and polished, quilt covered, four poster bed in the display window of the store.

"Pib and Zarf have something like that," Warbal ventures, staring at the bed. "Not near as big and fancy, though."

"What about big hats instead, so everyone knows you're in charge? What do you think, Warbal?"

"Warbal needs a big hat though. People need to know that she is in charge when I am not around."

The little goblin looks intrigued by the idea of a big hat.

Meanwhile, Jonagher heads back toward the town hall where the guard, fortunately, is headquartered in an end that didn't receive any direct fire damage.

The two goblins shopping in company with the red-headed lumberjack draws a great deal of curiosity from onlookers. Since Warbal's arrival in town the previous day, word of the Bumblebrashers and their residence in the Citadel has spread, and everyone seems interested to catch a sight of their new neighbors. Simply by following the excited children, Jonagher is easily able to locate Ragna and the goblins and to deliver the medallion that will entitle her to a discount on her purchases.

Warbal looks intrigued at the mention of shopping. She readily takes Ragna's hand and follows the others out of the tavern.

Jonagher and Jorsk and anyone else who wants to go walk across the road to the town hall. Up and down the street townsfolk are now getting out and about as the morning dawns, opening shops, doing chores, walking children to school, and so forth. The dwarf leads the way into the council offices and opens a cabinet on the wall with a small key. "There's supposed to be a bit of speech," he confides a little sheepishly as he counts out five golden Hero coins. "You don't mind if we skip it, do you? I'm not much for public speaking, and as it's just us anyway...." He gestures around the empty office.

The other councilors also echo Greta's toast, though Quentino's and Melma Ann's expressions display a singular lack of enthusiasm.

"I suggest leaving as soon as you can equip yourselves and be ready for the road," Greta replies to the goblin-king. "The silence of the other group of Heroes is even more concerning given what you have discovered at the citadel. The sooner you can locate them, the sooner we can deal with the problems at Altaerein. Be sure you pick up your Hero medallions at the town hall; they'll entitle you to a discount with any merchant in town. Oh, and you'll need your reward, as well."

"I'll take care of it," Jorsk volunteers, wiping his mouth with a napkin before pushing his chair back from the table. "I'll head over to the town hall now. You can come with me or meet me there when you're ready."

"Warbal, I send you back to the Citadel as I go forth as representative of our people...to succeed where the longshanks have failed. Shaserai and Ren are great warriors and will help keep the tribe safe. I charge you with first, protecting the tribe; second, using goblin cunning to help the longshanks contain any dangers that lie in the depths of the Citadel; and last, growing and protecting the tribe in my abscence." he ordered, with all the authority he could muster.

Warbal's eyes grow larger with every responsibility Highness places on her shoulders. Words fail her, but she nods her head so emphatically that her ears flap.

Highness then turned to the assembled town leadership. "If We do this for you, then the Brumblebrashers should be recognized as a part of the story of this town. No longer apart, hidden, but woven into the main story. If things don't go well while We are off dealing with the issues of the lost adventurers, then the Brumblbrashers will be safe retreating with Shaserai and Ren back to the town...right?" he asked pointedly.

"Well, of course they can," Trini replies stickily from behind her plate of griddle cakes. "There's plenty of room."

Quentino Posandi frowns almost imperceptibly, and Melma Ann Sendari inflates with disapproval, but Greta readily backs up the gnome's response. "Absolutely. Breachill was founded on the principle of kindness to strangers. We've been strangers to the Bumblebrashers too long and intend to start being neighbors." She looks around at the rest of the council pointedly, raising her mug of coffee. "Lamond Breachton, and the kindness of strangers," she stresses the words of the traditional local toast.

Despite her general aura of unflappability, Greta is beginning to look a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume of complications which has resulted from a single Task. "After so many years, it seems that Citadel Altaerein has suddenly become the epicenter of a number of dangerous threats. Perhaps Councilor Posandi and Mr. Stagram are right: we should have paid more attention to the place in the past, and now the bill for our neglect is coming due."

"There appear to be two immediate problems to be dealt with: One is the danger inside the citadel, and the other is the possible connection to Guardian's Way. I'm afraid that there has still been no communication from the other group of Heroes and we must conclude that their Task is unfulfilled." She looks around the breakfast table. "May I suggest that you divide into two groups, one to contain the dangers at the citadel and protect the Bumblebrashers and the other to investigate Guardian's Way? Leaving either location unguarded at the moment would seem to be unwise."

Shaserai nods. "I will return to the citadel with Warbal," he volunteers. "We know that there are undead there, and my connection to Torag may prove useful."

"I will go, as well," Ren adds. "I am far from an expert on aiudara, but I have at least studied the topic."

"The lad has a point," Quentino Posandi puts in before Jorsk can respond. "My family's business built that citadel, but since the Hellknights decamped, Breachill hasn't paid it the attention it deserves. Never quite sure what to do with it, by my understanding, but kicking the can down the road has only exacerbated the problem. No, there's no point placing blame now, but it's clear we can't ignore the issue any longer."

"Why not give it to the Bumblebrashers?" Trini Sprizzlegig asks guilelessly, drawing a smiling face with a bit toothy maw on her top griddlecake with syrup. "They're living there anyway. Let them fix it up and take care of it, and we can all be neighbors."

"That's a valuable piece of property," Quentino objects. "I hardly think a tribe of goblins... I mean, yes, very welcome and all," he smiles at Warbal a little stiffly, "but we can't just give it away for nothing."

"Actually," Greta Gardania replies, "I believe we can't do anything with it at all, legally. From what I've read in the Archives, the town doesn't officially own the citadel property. I suppose it still belongs to the Order of the Nail, but that's the main reason nothing's been done about it for so long."

"Excuse me, sir," Ren addresses Posandi, "but you say your family firm built the citadel? Would they also have built the tunnel leading to the basement between Voz Lirayne's bookstore?"

"Erm, I ... I couldn't say," Quentino responds with a frown. "I'd have to have a look at the original schematics, if I can find them."

Jorsk scoffs at the reassurance. "You seem to know a lot about this, Mr. Stagram. Why is this the first I'm hearing about this method of security? What were those Hellknights thinking, going off and leaving a passel of undead just outside of town without a by-your-leave? Was Breachill made aware of this at the time?"

Shaserai, who entered with Ren and Warbal, slips into the last seat as Alak clears his throat. "I suppose the first order of business is to report that your Heroes have accomplished the mission I tasked them with. Here," he sets the signet ring on the table in front of his plate, "is my Great-Uncle Alceister's ring. It was in the vaults of the citadel but apparently overlooked when the Hellknights decamped for Varisia. So whatever needs to be done to certify these people as having completed their task should be done -- and my thanks to them and to Breachill."

Melma Ann Sendari fixes the recovered ring with an unimpressed glare, clearly feeling that the completion of a standard Task does not constitute an emergency requiring her to be awakened before sunrise. Fortunately, Jonagher embarks on his explanation before she can protest.

Jorsk Hinterclaw frowns with concern at the mention of undead in the citadel. "Undead are trouble we want no part of in Breachill. They're a danger to anyone they might wander up to."

Darla lets the group into the still-darkened public room of the Wizard's Grace. After a quick conversation with her mother, sounds of clattering pots and pans in the kitchen announce that a hot breakfast is underway. Darla lights the oil lamps around the room, and the party pushes several tables together and arranges chairs around them.

By the time the aroma of coffee and sounds of sizzling sausages begin to permeate the room, the rest of the attendees begin to arrive. The first councilor to walk in is Quentino Posandi. Despite the early hour, he is as well-kempt as usual. With a pleasant nod and some murmured greetings, he takes a seat and asks for a mug of coffee.

Shortly thereafter, Trini Sprizzlegig bursts in, barefoot and still wearing a nightshirt with a housecoat thrown haphazardly over it. "This is fun!" she announces eagerly to anyone listening. "We should have random emergency council meetings more often. We could put a map of Breachill on the wall and blindfold someone and see where they stick the pin, and that's where we'll meet!" She orders griddlecakes. "At least this many," she estimates, standing in a chair and holding her hand several inches above the table.

Ren arrives next, with a nervous Warbal in tow; he looks less excited than Trini to have been awakened so early. "Glad to see you made it back," he yawns. "Eliminates the question of assembling a rescue party." Warbal brightens at the sight of Ragna and hurries over to take a place near the warrior woman.

Jorsk Hinterclaw shows up next, closely followed by Melma Ann Sendari. The dwarf appears unfazed by the hour, but Melma Ann looks drawn and tired; her smile at the group is clearly forced for the sake of politeness. "Tea," she murmurs, as she sinks into a chair, "with plenty of milk. And perhaps a corner of toast, very dry."

The council president is the last to arrive. Greta Gardania appears calm and self-possessed, elegantly attired in her usual Qadiran garb, and makes her way to the head of the table. "Miss Uskwold," she addresses Darla, "we thank your family for the hospitality. As the matter we've been called together to discuss is clearly urgent, let us eschew as many formalities as feasible and get underway." She taps the empty mug at her place setting against the table in lieu of a gavel to call the meeting to order.

Leaving the night watchman with instructions to direct the members of the council to the Wizard's Grace, the party repairs there themselves, leaving Darla to arrange breakfast for thirteen.

"I'll fetch Ren and Warbal," Shaserai volunteers. "They should be here, too."

The party returns to the Town Hall in the pre-dawn twilight and request the night watchman, standing guard over the fire-damaged sections of the building, to send messages to the council members and ask them to meet as soon as possible.

"I expect everyone will be as much in need of some refreshment as I am if they're awoken earlier than they expected to be. Do you think your mother would mind letting us hold a breakfast meeting at the Wizard's Grace?" Shaserai asks Darla. "We were all a bit crowded in the council's offices yesterday."

Jonagher takes another look at the books on Voz Lirayne's shelves, but if she ever had any writings about Alseta or other elven deities, she must have taken them with her.

It was over a year ago IRL, and I couldn't remember exactly what the PCs knew; but it was only a few days ago that the party had a conversation about Alseta in this post and following.

The party uses the ladder to climb, one by one, back up into Voz's cramped bedroom. Ren is nowhere to be seen, having presumably gone to update the council, as previously agreed. It is still dark outside, dawn still being a few hours away.

The party finally arrives back in the basement of the Reliant Book Company, where the makeshift barricade against the door now makes some sense to them. "I imagine it would be hard to sleep upstairs," Shaserai comments, "wondering if the unquiet dead were beneath the floorboards. Perhaps the trap was meant for anything trying to climb up and into the room rather than anyone opening the trap door from above. Still, if her discovery were accidental and innocent, one presumes she would have alerted the town authorities rather than try to cover up her explorations."

Did we get a good look at Alak's ring? If not, Darla will suggest that he present it to the council at the meeting to determine that the new Heroes indeed completed their task.

He offered it for view, but the party was understandably distracted by Highness's discovery of undead in the next room. If anyone cared to look, it was a gold ring set with a carved red sardonyx depicting a shield marked with a saltire, with an arm holding a dagger extending from the top of it. He will be happy to display it to the council on the party's behalf.

Shaserai nods in agreement with the conversation about the goblins. "The Bumblebrashers must certainly be warned not to enter the vaults. I suppose Warbal must still be in Breachill; she ought to go back with the messenger to ensure that her people understand their danger. Perhaps she herself could petition the Council to appoint Heroes?"

As the group quietly retreats toward the tunnel, Shaserai notices the paperweight under which Jonagher discovered the scrolls. "That's a holy symbol of Alseta, an elven goddess," he remarks with surprise. "What was it doing in a Hellknight citadel?"

Highness peers out the crack in the door into a long stone vault, fifteen feet wide, which extends eastward as far as he can see through the darkness. Some of the stones of the floor are displaced, and six skeletal figures stand silently. As the goblin looks into the room, six skulls turn empty eye sockets toward him.

Alak and Jonagher begin searching the room. It quickly becomes apparent that the various boxes and cabinets were emptied when the Hellknights vacated the citadel; nothing is locked, and the interiors mostly reveal nothing more than dust and cobwebs. One shelf, however, sports a sheaf of yellowing papers held down with a tarnished silver paperweight. Jonagher picks it up and leafs through the papers. Most are brittle and crumble at his touch, but at the bottom are four papers lettered with runes. Jonagher recognizes three of them as scrolls of darkness, darkvision, and magic missile.

In the meantime, Shaserai gets distracted by the candle and ashes on the table. "You said we're near the burial vaults?" he asks Alak. "This looks like the remains of a necromantic ritual -- someone attempting to commune with the spirits of the dead."

Highness finds no sign of traps on the door, and if there's a slavering mad dragon on the other side, he hears no sound of it; the space on the other side of the door seems totally silent and still.

Bending his head over the scuffling marks in the dust on the floor, Highness is able to piece together the movements of whoever left the tracks: they entered the same way the party just came, from the small storage room at the end of the long tunnel from Breachill, and moved to the table in the center of the room. As the goblin follows in the mysterious stranger's footprints, he sees that the dust is disturbed around a pile of ashes and a few melted candles on the tabletop. From that point, the visitor headed for the door in the western wall and seems, from the patterns in the dust, to have opened the door and peered in. At that point, the tracks retreat to the storage area and the tunnel; from the distance between the prints, the goblin can tell that whoever left the tracks was running during this final leg of the triangle.

By the time Highness turns his attention to the tracks, they have been much disturbed by the rest of the party crowding into the room. He finds no more danger in opening the door than Jonagher did.

The door opens onto a much larger space, its walls lined with metal-and-stone lockboxes, shelves, and cabinets. A set of obvious tracks on the dusty floor trace a rough triangle between the door Jonagher just opened, a table in the middle of the room, and the nearer of two doors in the western wall at AI28.

Map

The door easily swings open onto an irregularly-shaped storage room, ten feet square near the door before narrowing into a five-foot wide extension at the far end. It is cluttered with storage racks and cabinets, all of which are heavily furred with dust and garlanded with tattered cobwebs. In the thick dust on the stone floor are clear footprints, leading between the tunnel and the only other door in the room, in the left-hand wall.

The marks of the mostly-healed wounds on Jonagher's hands serve as a physical reminder that opening doors can be dangerous; the rest of the party waits while he checks the opening for hazards. Satisfied that he can find no traps on this door, he looks for any signs of the last being(s) to pass through the portal, but he discovers no clues.

When Jonagher has finished, Highness creeps up and places his long ears and red eyes to the bottom edge of the door, but he can discern neither sound nor movement. In addition, the only light appears to be the one accompanying them on the tunnel side of the door; the other side lies in darkness.

The tunnel keeps going, and before long it becomes obvious that they must have passed beyond the boundaries of Breachill, continuing in a generally northerly direction. It is hard for most to imagine that it could lead anywhere but to Citadel Altaerein, though Darla can't help but wonder about the circle on the map in the vicinity of Guardian's Way. After a while, however, the tunnel begins to curve gently towards the east rather than the west, as well as to ascend slightly. At last, the party's arcane light reveals a wooden door ahead, at which the tunnel dead-ends.

Loath to let the adorable goblin-king run headlong into danger, Ragna leads the way with him as Highness keeps an eye out for an ambush. Jonagher moves with them, watching the floors and walls for hazards or concealed entrances.

Darla, Alak, and Shaserai try to keep out of the way of the others, Darla concentrating on awareness of magical auras, while Alak and Shaserai look around with more superficial eyes.

"This tunnel doesn't appear to have been engineered," Shaserai remarks after a while. "I've spent a great deal of time in dwarven corridors and subterranean structures hewed with the greatest skill, but I believe this tunnel was crafted by magic."

Ren sighs. "I suppose if you're not back by morning, sending a rescue mission could be a task for the next Call for Heroes," he quips. "Is everyone else going?"

"If there's trouble, they'll need healing," Shaserai replies. "I'm in." He climbs down into the cellar to join the other three. "Ragna? Alak?"

It's definitely heading north from this point, but you can't tell from here how long it is and whether it continues far enough to get outside the town wall or ends up somewhere in Breachill itself. The Citadel is close to a mile from town toward the northeast.

"It's possible," Ren muses from above, taking a turn peering down into the cellar. "It would appear that the Hellknights stumbled upon an ancient structure when building Citadel Altaerein, from what we've learned. On the other hand, Breachill isn't that old a town but is obsessed with recording and memorializing every moment of its history, judging by the amateur theatricals at the Call for Heroes; there ought to be records of the construction of all or most of its extant buildings in the Archives. Voz hasn't been here long, but if we could find out who originally built this structure and for what purpose, it could prove enlightening."

Highness's red eyes have no problem seeing through the veil of darkness to perceive a long corridor or tunnel, just wide and tall enough for an adult human to walk without squeezing or ducking. Its surfaces are unfinished, but it is clearly engineered, with periodic arches of stonework reinforcing the walls and ceiling. There are no creatures visible, save the sort of diminutive vermin that routinely call the underside of the soil their home, and no sounds. The stale, earthy, musty odor smells like years of neglect and disuse.

A modicum of elbow grease suffices to remove the props holding the door closed. As the lumber is moved away, more plaster cracks and sloughs off the surface; once both pieces are removed, the door sags slightly ajar on its own. Through the narrow gap, nothing can be seen but darkness.

The set-up is something like this on a smaller and more makeshift scale. Pieces of lumber that look like they may have been shelving have one end buried in the dirt floor and the other propped against the closed door. Once the pieces of lumber have been removed, the door will be unblocked and should open into the root cellar.

While Highness digs at the base of the collapsed wall, Jonagher examines the wall itself. I'm going to assume that Darla or someone has dropped a light down; Ren and Shaserai both have light available for the upstairs crew. Large fragments of plaster still adhere to the vertical surface, but where they are missing, what's underneath looks ... rusty. It looks as if a metal door was concealed behind the plaster of the wall. Perhaps the wall didn't collapse; perhaps a hidden door was opened ... and then someone used the lumber to keep it from opening again.

Darla moves out of the way so Shaserai can make his way into the cramped bedroom. "Why does a mild-mannered bookseller need such a dangerous trap?" he wonders as he unpacks his healing kit and begins to tend to Jonagher's wounded hands.

Treat Wounds 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20 healing 2d8 ⇒ (3, 8) = 11

"A fine question," Ren agrees from the door. "Er, your goblinship!" he calls down to the unseen Highness. "You say there is no one down there; is there anything down there? Something of value?"

Jonagher works his fingertips into the crack between the trap door and the surrounding floorboards, edging it up enough to slide his hand under and flip it up. As he does so, he feels a sudden sharp pain as spikes shoot out from the frame around the door and leave his hands bloodied and torn.

Waiting only for the door to open, Highness leaps down into the darkness before he has registered Jonagher's injury or, indeed, that there is a wooden ladder he could have climbed down instead. He lands, with a grunt and a bounce, on a dirt floor some six feet down, leaps up and looks around. He is in a roughly-dug root cellar with white-washed walls, and apart from some spiders and centipedes which scurry into cracks at the sudden arrival of the goblin-king, he appears to be alone. There seem to have been some recent damage to the northern wall, as if it has partially collapsed and been rebuilt; a few strong pieces of fresh lumber are dug into the dirt floor and braced against it to support it.

Spiked doorframe attacks Jonagher 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (10) + 17 = 27: hit damage 4d6 + 3 ⇒ (3, 2, 5, 5) + 3 = 18

Highness takes 2 points falling damage

As well as Jonagher can tell, the door does not appear to be trapped.

Opening it?

Ren looks at the map with a frown. "I suppose there's no chance the town council will agree to let us look into Guardian's Way until we've located the missing ring. They do seem to be a bit ... rigid." He taps the counter thoughtfully. "Correct my memory if it is faulty, but the explosion at the town hall: that was just as Mr. Deckard's group was accepting their task, was it not?"

Before the others can get distracted again, Highness flips up the corners of the rug that covers the trap door. It is perhaps three feet square, large enough for several goblins to tumble down simultaneously but perhaps only accommodating one larger kind of person at a time. He notices nothing overtly dangerous.

Do we know who sponsored that Call for Heroes?

Ezekiel Everhilm, a farmer in the area, came into town for the Call because he had chickens and equipment stolen and suspected that bandits had moved into the nearby abandoned Goblinblood War outpost at Guardian's Way again, a fairly common occurrence. The empty structure makes for a tempting home base for people seeking to raid farms or steal from travelers on the road.

The map looks like many Darla has seen, but there are a few hand-drawn additions to the countryside surrounding the town: small circles that have then been come back to and crossed out. Citadel Altaerein has a large, emphatic circle and an equally emphatic X through it.

Northwest of Breachill is another circle, this one not crossed out. It seems to be in the area of Guardian's Way, where Neven Deckard's group of Heroes was recently sent to deal with supposed bandits.

Darla, in P2e, detect magic only gives you presence or absence of magic in a 30-foot emanation. It allows you to ignore magic you're aware of (like your and your allies' equipment and active effects) to see if there's anything new and unexpected, but it's not a cone that you can direct like it was in P1e.

Darla senses the familiar magic of her own magic, Ren's own light cantrip, and the annoying presence of the goblin's mummified hand, but there is nothing new that she can detect in the staff room.

There are five scrolls Jonagher carefully scoops off the hidden windowsill, one larger than the other four. He takes them back out to the main room to examine on the counter. The large scroll appears to be a map of Breachill and its environs; the small ones have spells inscribed upon them: acid arrow, false life, obscuring mist, and touch of idiocy.

Darla crosses to the other side of the shop to peer in the door marked "Staff Only." As Alak intimated, it looks like a residential room for a shopkeeper, with large windows and a fireplace but is bare of furniture save for the worktable and stool in the middle of the room. Crates filled with straw are scattered around the floor, and extra rolls of brown paper lean in a corner. Unsurprisingly since it is summer, there is no sign of firewood on the hearth, but there is an ashy smudge in the middle of the fireplace, where it appears that paper has been recently burned.

Highness is disappointed in his attempt to make his mummified elf-hand seize Darla before she walks away, as she is not an unattended object of light Bulk or less.

Jonagher lifts the looking glass carefully off the wall and discovers that it is, indeed, concealing a small window near the ceiling. As the bard's arcane light spills into the small glass-paned cavity, it reveals several scrolls of paper lined up on the sill.

Darla casts her cantrip as Jonagher removes the looking glass, and she is newly aware of the presence of magic. She is willing to bet that at least one of the scrolls on the windowsill is magic.

Pause a moment to examine the contents of the hidden niche before moving on to the trapdoor?

Jonagher side-steps down the edge of the bed to the standable square of floor in the room in front of the looking-glass. He has to put his heels against the wall to cautiously toe up the edge of the rag rug; the edge flips up, but then he meets resistance. Bending down to look closer, it appears that the rug is attached with tacks to the floorboards beneath. Checking around the loose edges of the rug, Jonagher does find a hinge. It appears that the rug has been attached directly to the trap door so that it remains concealed after someone has climbed through and closed it behind them.

Highness flings himself down on his belly and shimmies under the bed. It is quite clean underneath; no dust-bunnies have gathered. Voz Lirayne may just be a neatnik ... but the goblin-king also sees scuff-marks extending from the legs of the bed, as if it has been regularly moved from one end of the room to the other.

It occurs to Darla that there should be a window in this room; when she made a circuit of the outside of the shop, she saw a small window high in the wall on this side of the building. The only thing hanging on the exterior wall is the looking-glass, but why would anyone cover the only window in the room? She steps to the door to alert Jonagher to check behind the mirror and feels something tugging at her feet; looking down, she sees goblin fingers emerging from beneath the bed and pulling the ends of her bootlaces.

The door swings open only a few inches before hitting something inside the room. Ragna steps back quickly, her hand going to her weapon, but all is quiet; after a moment, she carefully peers in and sees that the door hit a narrow bed shoved against the opposite wall of the narrow room, barely more than a closet, really. It appears as if the walls were once lined with shelves from floor to ceiling, but the lowest shelves were removed to make the bed fit and now stand leaning in a far corner. The higher shelves now hold folded clothing and personal belongings, as well as some books and papers.

The narrow and windowless room is dim and cramped. There is barely room for a single person to squeeze through the door in the narrow opening constrained by the placement of the bed and to edge down the near wall alongside it; to reach the items on the shelves, one would have to stand on the straw mattress itself. Oddly enough, the only sizeable floor space is at the far end of the room, toward the front of the shop. There a rag rug covers the bare floor at the foot of the bed, and a looking glass hangs on the wall; pushing the bed to that end of the room and putting the looking glass at this end would allow the door to swing open freely.

The door marked "Staff Only" also does not appear to be trapped.

Darla steps behind the counter to give the area a closer examination while Jonagher lays out his lockpicks and begins to work on the unmarked door. She finds several broken quills, some half-empty jars of ink, and, on a bottom shelf, a rather squishy and malodorous package wrapped in greasy brown paper, which looks to be a several-days-old bacon sandwich, but no secret compartments or further clues.

With a satisfying click, the lock on the door yields to Jonagher's intrusion.

Darla's admonition seems to have come a little late; as Jonagher picks up the metal till box, he finds it unexpectedly light, with no sound of a rattle or shift of weight from the interior. There are certainly no coins inside, although it's possible there could be paper or something similarly insubstantial.

Highness hears nothing on the other side of the unmarked door, and Jonagher detects no sign that it may be trapped. It is, however, locked.