"Well, Emanuel, you're the head chef," Dean says, clapping him on the shoulder. "Give us orders. How do we apply the flour to our invisible beastie?"
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"Well, if they bring the wrong kind of flour, at least we'll be breaded before we're fried, hm?"
"You intrigue me, my friend. How many different kinds of flour are there, and which ones are incendiary?"
Sitting in the creepy dungeon, with who-knows-what behind the doors chilling his back, Dean turns to Emanuel and says, "Contagion! I should have told Wits to tell people my mutant goblin was contagious. Get people to keep their distance."
Dean gives up on the altar and draws his rapier, his eye on the double doors. "Take my mutated skeleton with you, will you?" he asks. "I'd hate for it to get damaged in the explosion. You can leave it in my rooms at the Academy; they're used to strange packages being delivered for me. I have just the right buyer in mind...."
"You're probably right, Luc," Dean admits. "But if we come back and don't find her, I'll never be able to sleep again, wondering if she might still be following me."
"I don't suppose you have any glue on you?" Dean asks, still struggling to move the block of marble. "Something sticky that might stand a chance of holding those doors closed until we come back?"
"Then let's get cooking," Dean replies, rubbing his hands together. He moves to the marble altar to see if it will budge. "Reynard? Emanuel? A little help?"
"You see?" Dean nudges Luc's shoulder. "That's why he's the chef and we're just kitchen boys."
"I don't plan to give her time to die of old age or starvation," Dean replies, "but I would like to have some idea where she is when we come back."
"Looks like the only place to go is out," Dean says. "Let's go back up to the headmaster of the Academy; maybe he'll be able to tell us how to deal with that little beastie and her nasty pot of summoning." He eyes the stone basin on the dais. "Any chance that can be moved? We could use it to block the door until we get back."
"Fellows, why are we wasting our time here?" Dean asks. "Can't we go back out and block the doors? Come back with a net or something that will do more good than just trying to impale this beastie?"
Abandoning his spell, Dean raises his crossbow and fires.
Dean curses as the tiny pest vanishes and once again begins casting to locate her.
Dean takes advantage of the imp's appearance to attempt to slow her down a little.
Dean lets loose a surprised curse as his erstwhile bodyguard suddenly flies past him and splashes him with cold water. Desperately, he keeps his concentration, though, knowing he's the only one who can see the magical aura. He hopes that the rest of the group can fish Emanuel out -- and that what he's watching isn't just a decoy as the invisible imp flits up behind him ready to strike.
"It's still there," Dean warns the others, pointing to the air above the large pool, "or something is. I don't suppose anyone has a net?"
DM: Is the aura still over the pool?
Dean feels the creeping sensation up the back of his neck which indicates the presence of arcane energy, but he ignores it and goes on intently concentrating.
Dean begins the incantation that will grant his eyes arcane sight, fixing his gaze in the direction Emanuel had lunged.
Dean was focussing too much on the visible threat to do more than flinch when the dagger appeared out of nowhere. "Well struck, Emanuel," he calls out. "I trust we won't be finding that meat on the menu in your restaurant however." Keeping his guard up, he holds his dueling cape at the ready to fend off attacks from the invisible fairy.
"Watch yourself, men," Dean calls out. "I'd lay a wager the bad fairy is still here, despite the fact that we can't see her. She didn't seem too happy with the results of her efforts, though, which may bode well for us." He takes a few quick strides forward and fires his hand crossbow at the spawn.
"Die? We all shall one day, my diminutive friend. There's no call for that today, though. We are mere seekers after knowledge. I, like my companion, am most interested in hearing about your 'Mother.'"
Leaving his dead goblin outside for safe keeping, Dean cautiously slips into the room, setting a bolt into his crossbow.
Up to date list of the encounters, the stuff you've found, and the XP you've gained. This is definitive XP wise, it may be wrong, but it's the way it is now ;)
"Well, Emanuel," Dean suggests as he steps back from the doors, "I didn't see anything suspicious. Do you want to do the honors?"
"Luc, this looks like a challenge up your alley," Dean invites, as he steps forward to examine the doors.
"Perhaps one is meant to approach with clean hands?" he surmises, looking from the basin to the doors.
Dean takes up his precious dead goblin once again. "You, my friends," he gives the imprisoned skeletons a remorseful glance, "I'll have to come back for. I'll be happy to provide light for whoever wants to take the lead, but with this burden, I'd prefer to bring up the rear."
"Because the thing is," Dean continues as he stands up, "these skeletons have been dry bones for quite some time. That goblin, on the other hand, was very much alive before we remedied that little problem. So, a long time ago, someone was in here with mutations; and now ... has someone discovered this place and picked up where the original occupant left off?"
Dean moves in to examine the skeletons in the prison cells more closely. "Look here, Wits, would you say these mutations were natural, or the result of chemical agents -- or perhaps more crude surgical techniques? That is, did whoever imprisoned these creatures search them out for their mutations, like some kind of collector, or did he do this to them?"
"Wits, my friend, we've hit the motherlode," Dean cries in delight as he sees the skeletons. "And what's this?" He pulls a scroll carefully from beneath the remains of a crumbled chair and unrolls it gingerly. "These runes are ancient. Anyone care to take a look?"
Dean gingerly hands the text back to Wits, a look of distaste on his face. "I'd take care how much you choose to learn from that book, my friend. It's a religious text of the evil goddess of monsters." His expression changes. "Not that it wouldn't be worth a pretty penny from the right buyer." He turns to Reynard. "Agreed. All this," he motions about him at the catacombs, "has been down here for centuries without troubling Sandpoint. It can't be mere coincidence that no one has run across it until the unpleasantness at the parade." He sighs. "If only I'd known all this was down here, in my own backyard, so to speak, I shouldn't have had to go so far afield in search of valuable relics. Oh well." He heaves up his mutated goblin corpse once more. "Shall we go back and try that other door? I'm very curious to know if there's another entrance to this place other than the one in the Glassworks."
"Let me take a look at that book, my good Wits," Dean says, leaning over and removing it from the gnome's hands.
"Let's see what we have here," Dean murmurs, unrolling the scroll. "Hope it's not explosive runes."
Dean examines the items Reynard retrieved, searching for arcane auras.
*tips hat to original Dean* I really like the backstory and concept for the character, but the mechanics just aren't working for me. Plus, I have to admit, I'm a skill-monkey at heart; I don't think I've ever run a character without a positive Int modifier. :)
"I say, Reynard," Dean exclaims, with a wistful, almost hungry look in his eyes as he gazes into the sphere, "that looked like fun!"
"While the raven's dead, the maggots are alive," Dean notes. "Apparently the sphere isn't inimicable to all life, perhaps only more advanced life. In either case," he goes on, turning to Emmanuel with a wide smile, "you should be fine."
"It looks like it's some kind of permanent levitation device," Dean goes on. "Nethys only knows how it was achieved. I wonder if the levitation is an intrinsic property of the metal, or if disassembling it would destroy the effect...."
"I take it back," Dean says, watching the spinning copper piece through narrowed eyes. "I'd pay good coin to see Emmanuel go waltzing in there."
Dean sets down the dead goblin-mutant and looks at the room in amazement. "How long do you suppose it would take to dig this whole thing up?" He takes a copper piece out of his pouch and carefully tosses it into the sphere to see what will happen.
"Indeed, Luc," Dean addresses the half-elf, "anything that could spare us the sight of Emmanuel dancing would be most welcome."
Dean glances up from the position he's taken up in the back, carefully carrying the mutated goblin corpse along with them. "I suppose it's too much to hope that we'll find ourselves right back in town when we open this door?" he quips, setting down the dead goblin and readying his canesword.
Dean raises an eyebrow. "Goblins are hardly the brightest cog in the great wheel of life under normal circumstances, and that one seemed more dim-witted than most. I'm fairly certain its corpse is the only thing of value we can get from it. Now whatever mad genius was behind its mutation....," he smiles. "That's the man I'd like to talk to." Turning to Emmanuel, he goes on briskly, "Come, man, you can't cook a zombie, and they're doing no one any harm down there in their pits. Assuming we make it back to the surface, we can send a team down here more specialized in their neutralization. I, for one, have no interest in risking life and limb when it's not strictly necessary. And in that vein," he continues, "I'll thank someone else to take the leading position when we go through that next corridor." The burn marks on his face and left arm show up a vivid red in the magical illumination. "I hate to rob anyone else of the joys of discovery I've enjoyed," he ends wryly.
"That thing's alive but only just," Dean offers, as he turns to look down the pit. "Don't do anything to it that will violate the integrity of the skeleton Down here...," he draws back as the rotting slats fall into the pit, "looks to be zombies. Poor fellows, but no value to them, and I don't see any point in jumping down all these pits and climbing back up just to put them out of their misery." He looks across the room to the exit corridor. "If we step lively, we should be able to avoid the 'traps.'"
"Hello! there's something in these pits. Wits, my friend, if this is some sort of incubator, you may yet be in luck." Dean lights up the tip of a crossbow bolt and carefully slides it between the slats and the stone to illuminate what's below.
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