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Raj feels the old lady is being honest… which means she’s been hoodwinked or is self-hoodwinking somehow. Wishful thinking, false face, illusion, some sort of memory spell… or was the Beast ordered to make itself a patsy and it doesn’t remember? Without an opportunity to investigate, he’d never find an answer. With no choice but to play it through, he slides a note across the defense table (more to his allies than Kapel) and he resumes his questioning.

The note reads: Detect magic on her when she’s out of court?

Already made the Diplo Roll (10 total) for Beldame so I assume another one isn’t needed.

Rajuna heads over to the Beast and says, ”The court needs to see what sort of wounds, if any, you have on your left shoulder.” He carefully pulls the Beast’s shirt off his shoulder, exposing the monster’s muscled flesh and steps away to allow the Judges, Lazne, and anyone in the closer part of the gallery a chance to see his shoulder. ”I see some stitches from his creator but I don’t see anything that resembles a caiman’s bite. Not even scars from a healed bite.”

Once the court has had a chance to see the area, Raj concludes. ”The defense has no more questions for Master Lazne. We excuse this witness with our thanks.”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20

Raj straightens his clothes. ”If it please the court, we will now present the results of our investigation and call three expert witnesses. Defense counsel calls Dr. Montagnie Crowl.”

Diplomacy (if this counts as evidence): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

”According to Dr. Crowl’s testimony, a flesh golem, like the defendant, only heals when hit with electricity. If the caiman at Morast had bitten him, the wound would still be present. It could only be healed – and might still reasonably leave a scar – IF he was struck by lightning or someone (like his creator) had cast an electrical spell on him. Recall that Dr. Crowl also testified that a flesh golem wizard is almost unheard of, so he couldn’t heal himself. As you saw, your Honors, the defendant showed no evidence of having ever been bit by the caiman that multiple witnesses saw attack the killer in Morast.”

”As our next witnesses testify, please bear these additional facts in mind: Golem don’t eat or drink. They aren’t particularly dexterous or likely able to follow intellectual pursuits. These facts will become relevant shortly.”

Raj pulls out four neatly-penned and identical documents. He leaves one on the defense table, presents one to the Judges, places one on the prosecution table, and keeps the final in hand. ”If it please the court, we will be referring to the defense exhibits found in this document and the associated items that will be presented to this court.”

Defense Exhibits

All evidence collected on the graveyard island near Morast on <date>.

DE #1 : Sworn statements from the defense investigation team certifying what they found and where along with a map of the Boneyard Island.
DE #2 : Statement about the six empty graves.
DE #3 : Statement about the camp (southern end of isle) with: firepit, waterskin (still half full of wine), some trail rations, and a glass vial with residue (DE#4).
DE #4 : Vial with remnants of extract of Darkvision.
DE #5 : Statement about the hidden coracle (southwest shore of isle) with: blood spatters across the bottom, an oar, a moldy leather travel bag containing an artisan’s outfit (a shirt, breeches, shoes) along with a cloth apron (DE #6) all in normal human size, and a mask made of a detached human face (DE#7).
DE #6 : Cloth apron (normal sized)
DE #7 : ‘Face’ Mask
DE #8 : Statement that, through questioning, the ‘Face’ Mask was positively identified as belonging to Nan Keblem.
DE #9 : Leather-bound surgical kit (southwest side of isle), of high quality [silver and amethyst] and valued at 300 GP.
DE #10 : Statement about the hidden stash tied to the coracle, which contains: a blood-soaked human-sized cloth sack containing rope, a gag, a rusted lantern, a trio of heavy knives, and a rusty shovel.
DE #11 : Affidavit from Dr. Crowl, stating facts on golems
DE #12 : Affidavit from Miss Baelwick, stating her opinion about DE #4 (vial)
DE #13 : Affidavit from Dr. Richleau, stating his opinion about DE #7 (face mask)

”Defense counsel calls Alchemist Gretna Baelwick.”

Diplomacy (on this evidence): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16

”Your Honors, much of the prosecution’s case linking the defendant to the crimes in Morast hinges on a single thread that the killer there was – as one of the first witnesses said – “the same size and shape” as the defendant. The defendant is man-shaped. By that standard, many of the strong sheriffs in Lepidstadt and even a number of men in this court could be suspects. And as for his size being so unique that no one else could possibly be the murderer… that has just been disproved as well. Any alchemist can grow to huge proportions. The defendant lacks a caiman’s bite, he doesn’t need an extract to see in the dark, and as Dr. Crowl pointed out, golems lack the capacity to be alchemists. We believe that is evidence enough to cast serious doubt on whether the defendant committed the crimes in Morast. However, we will provide even more evidence for this court to consider. The defense calls Dr. Leis Richleau.”

Diplomacy (on this evidence): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Rajuna is tired but he keeps going. Now was the time to weave all the evidence into a story that made far more sense than what the prosecution was selling. He straightens his jacket and collects the defense’s copy of the evidence list. He offers the two copies in his hands to the judges so they each have one now.

Diplomacy (on this evidence): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

Closing Statement

”Your Honors, witnesses, and esteemed visitors to this court… The victims of Morast deserve justice. The killer of Morast needs to be punished, and those who brought him to justice need to be thanked. As the evidence strongly shows, the defendant did NOT commit the crimes in Morast, and the prosecution and sheriff’s office deserve no credit. The citizens of Morast, however, deserve our thanks. They hunted down the killer and set him on a course to receive his well-earned desserts… ‘justice’ passing through the guts of a blood caiman. Your Honors, we ask that you affirm this opinion and dismiss the charges related to Morast from the defendant’s record. Thank you.”

"Brimble, do you think the shaft we found would be worth a try, now that we've been...altered?" There is something in Em's voice when she says the word altered. Pride? "We were wary of the dwarven defenses that might lie above it. But Verrick's clan pendant and Xira's quick wits have shown that those could be helpful. Moreso than goblins."

Apologies! I totally forgot about this discussion point.

Brimble borrows a piece of chalk and sketches out what they now know about the shaft and occupants on the various floors:

Shaft Levels
ZZZ Strata (UNKNOWN)
Platform blocking shaft (between levels maybe?)
YYY Strata (door open why? – unknown, could be Gobbos)
XXX Strata (door closed – Gobbos)
Steel Strata (door closed – Forgewise)
Iron Strata (door open – kitchen n’ rats)

”If we plan to go between Steel and Iron a fair bit, popping the door on Steel makes some sense. But doing it from the shaft would be real hard. I have to free climb to the door and try to force it open. Not sure I have the strength for it. It makes more sense for you big folks to crack that door from the hallway on Steel.”

“Above that, we got the gobbos. Popping that door would be hard and dangerous, given how close it is to the stairway that the gobbos are watching. It would also give them another way to come at us. And fighting gobbos with our backs to the shaft ain’t ideal.”

”We could bypass the gobbo level by heading to the open door above them… but we got no idea if the gobbos are there too or if something even worse is waiting. Something opened that door. Maybe it was fleeing dwarves, but who knows? My gut says if the gobbos were on that level, they would have explored the open shaft and we’d see some sign of them. Since we haven’t… I think something else is happening there. It worries me but it might be worth scouting.”

Just a post to keep this near the top of the recruitment queue.

Catherine Callahan | Forensic Surgeon | NotEspi
C. Oliver Vandermeer | Architect | Wrong John Silver
Fergus Garrity | Clergyman | scranford
Malcolm Strom | Soldier | stormraven
??? | socialite? | Kazmanaught

Raj hadn’t planned out a statement. This was a moment to see the other fella’s cards and how he laid them down while keeping your own cards close to your chest. He takes a moment to digest the prosecutor’s words before rising. He draws upon his best grammar (in his up-mountain twang) and what he’s heard the few times he’d been in a court. ”If it pleases the court, your Honors, I’m Rajuna Yadrov - lead investigator for the defense. And we agree with the learned prosecutor.”

Ostensibly, he pauses to allow the court reporter catch up in the transcription. In reality, he hopes the dramatic pause lets the furor of his last statement die down and get people really listening to what he says next. “Well, we agree in part. The prosecutor said Justice demands action. Justice demands truth.” Raj shakes his head at that, ”I’d change that around to say ‘Justice demands truth before action, otherwise injustices will surely be done.”

Raj steps around from behind the desk and moves toward the Beast while continuing to address the court. ”Yur Honors, as I see it, our goal aligns with this court’s duty – to determine the actual truth so that appropriate justice may be delivered upon the guilty ones. When all the facts are dragged into the light, and your Honors apply logic and reason, we believe this court will conclude that some of the many crimes attributed to this defendant,” Raj places his hand on the Beast’s arm (silently praying that the Beast doesn’t react and hoping he’d telegraphed the move enough to ensure that result), “could NOT have been committed by him.”

”Thank you, your Honors.” Raj steps back behind the table and sits.

Brimble enters the bathing room, senses alert for additional trouble – rats being rats, goblins playing possum, goblins being sly as foxes – really the whole index of animal metaphors. Having been bitten once, he was now twice shy.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

If things seem normal in the bath-room, Brimble will head to the maintenance corridor and then cautiously on to check if the pitoned back-door to the toilets has been monkeyed with. (Yes, I’m having yet more fun with animal metaphors – the Tasmanian Devil made me do it.)

Hordes of undead shadows are… disquieting for the gnoll. The idea that there may be undead dragons as well, fills the ranger with dread.

FUN FACT: In another life, Shaggar was a higher level ranger and was nearly killed by a critical bite attack from an undead dragon in the surprise round. Let’s hope history doesn’t repeat itself. :P

Shaggar lowers his axe – for the time being. He waits his turn to ask questions of the archive. ”Do you have a map that will show us the route to the Black Lake? What can you tell us of the…” he’s not sure what word is appropriate to describe what happened here, ”… tragedy that struck Brazenthrone?”

Returning the frog’s kindness, Hûnidark attempts to deliver a mailed fist into the back of the beast’s cavernous maw.

Attack RED

Cestus HIT: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13 | DAM: 1d4 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Sorry to see you go, Longears, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Good luck with the sale!

Brimble will head straight back.

If there were any witnesses to watch the way Brimble stares at and gently runs a claw over the bespoke armor, they would likely say he is overwhelmed at the gift he has received. He’s also a little heart-broken he can’t thank the divine smith in person… not that he’d have words eloquent enough to express his feelings. He rubs at his eye and thanks Forgewise silently. He swears to put the armor to good use defending stoneborn things and people (if he gets that chance) in small repayment of the celedon’s largesse. He rubs at his other leaky eye – must be dust motes in here or somethin’ – and is glad he’s alone in the darkened temple.

When his ‘dust allergy’ subsides, he gathers up the armor, the note, the tome, and the ewer, then makes his way back to the dormitory.

He puts the religious text, ewer, and note down on the nearest table. ”Forgewise has gone home. He left that note and these goods.” The kobold shifts awkwardly, not trusting himself to say more at the moment. He moves off to a private corner and busies himself with getting rid of his threadbare heavy tunic, cleaning himself up a bit, and donning his brand new armor. The effort to stifle his emotions is assisted by his enjoyment of the wondrous armor. It fits better than he imagines. He walks a bit taller, feeling like a proper warrior in it… well, a sneaky, slinky, devious warrior.

OK, so does the boggy terrain count as ‘Swamp’? In addition to the 1/2 move, do we also get these penalties: STR and DEX checks versus a +2 CL and WIS checks versus a +1 CL?

As he’s been through much of this journey, the large half-orc is toward the front of the group. He advances slowly into the brush in pursuit of the strange sounds. He spies the frogs. A bit of gallows humour flashes through his mind. Never seen a blue-arm-tongued frog before. There’s a rare breed.

Not looking forward to wading into a bog for a fight, Hûnidark hides behind the bushes, leaving the path clear for the archers to fire on the frogs. If the amphibians die – so much the better. Otherwise, he expects the frogs may retreat into the river or potentially advance into cestus-range.

Huni is on the map.

I’m for:
1. Visiting Ranger Kuiper, then
2. Visiting Tausthäuser for aid and dump off his supplies.
After that, we can decide on the next best course of action.

Sweet roll, thanks! IIRC, Argatha is on the third shift and we are somewhere in shift 1 right now.

She nods agreement. "So who should check the corridor, and who should carry you back to the dormitory?" Looking up at Altynbekh, she adds, "Perhaps we can persuade our metal friend to stand guard at the door."

"I'll take Brimble back," Raka offers. "I can't do nothin' ta make ya feel better, but you're the only one who can't run away if somethin' comes back this way. So someone would need ta get between you an' it."

Since she isn't wearing her weapons belt, Raka shoves the handle of the hatchet down her waistband, the metal cool against her skin. Then she scoops up the still-recovering kobold. "Come on, let's get ya somewhere more comfortable. You've done good work tonight."

Brimble holds himself up (with a steadying claw on the wall). ”Woah, woah, woah! I don’t need ta be carried. I can walk…” he quietly tacks on a caveat. ”…slowly.”

"They know we're here," he says to Xira. "So unless someone is able to approach them without being caught in order to determine their numbers and position, which I think is highly risky in the circumstances, we should probably go in numbers."

Trying to steer the conversation away from the whole gimpy lizard topic, the kobold nods at Phantrel’s suggestion. ”That’s smart. Go in pairs, everywhere. I think if there was a whole gaggle of gobbos on our level, they woulda come running when the fight started. Swarming talls with numbers is the best way to go. But ya still might find a straggler or two. That’s worth a quick check. See if you can get Clanker to run his regular patrol. We beat’em coming down their normal route. They might lick their wounds for the night or try again. If they do, could be they take these stairs or try the hole in the bathroom ceiling, or some other gap we don’t know about. If Clanker is roaming around, we’ve got eyes whatever they try.”

”If these gobbos are like my folk in any way, we don’t want to test those stairs until we’re all ready to fight. I’d trap the hell out of them.”

By the light of your spells you can see the goblins more clearly. They are.... strange. For one thing, their skin is very pale compared to goblins you have seen before, who almost all tend to be some shade of green. These goblins are almost white, a sickly white like a fish belly, with only a lingering tinge of green persisting.

Before heading back to the dormitory, Brimble looks over the corpses and frowns. ”This is prob’ly bad news… I ain’t seen pale goblins like this ever. If I had to guess, they ain’t from the surface. They’re from down here somewhere… which means we can’t use their exits to get out, so we gotta keep going up.” Having exhausted his supply of words and energy, Brimble uses the pick as a cane and walks slowly back to the dormitory to get some rest… apparently with a small retinue. :)

She follows Raka back to the dormitory. ”There yet remain many unexplored areas on his floor, and I do not like to venture when our scout and guide is lain so with injury.”

Em follows Raka back to the dormitory and opens Brimble’s bed for him, waving a hand casually and without looking to warm his sheets.

Brimble gratefully climbs into the warmed bed. It is almost as good as lying on a hot stone. ”’Preciate the help, ladies.” He curls up and pulls the blanket over his head, hoping for a long dreamless sleep.

Moon makes a mental note to learn orcish, if only to understand what Grob mutters to himself.

"Moon, I care about you too much, and you’re too damned dangerous for me to ever cheat on ya, you know that."

The ranger looks skeptical, not at the druid’s sentiment, but rather that he took her words seriously in the first place. ”I was playing, Grob. I know you wouldn’t do that…” She adds with an idle smile, ”…but I like hearing I’m damn dangerous. Makes me feel all...” Moon briefly fans herself.

Then he looks at Nalka "First. I don't 'own' anybody. Second, your life was spared by us all, not just me. At least so far."

The half-elf drives her derailed thoughts back on track, ”That’s what Nalka needed to hear.” She also focuses her attention on the goblin, ”We don’t have slaves and we don’t enslave prisoners. You belong to you, even now. And unless you do something incredibly stupid tonight, tomorrow you will be free to go and do whatever you want. But here is a warning – if you stand against us on another field of battle… we’ll kill you first. We slay those who attack our town, threaten our families, or who betray us when we’ve shown them mercy.”

I've updated the Adventure Thread and put a link to it in my header above. The window is tighter than that based on what Alcie told you. To sum up, Verno paid for his ticket on Day 3. His boat was leaving early the next morning (Day 4). He had an early breakfast at the Witch's End (6AM), packed up, checked out, and left. Presumably, he headed straight for the docks... but never made it to the boat.

Round 5

With a hiss, the kobold yanks the arrow from his tunic (and flesh). The last thing he needs is to trip and drive the arrowhead in deeper.

With two of their number down, the others goblins might flee… It would discourage any other slagborn from attacking if none of their scouts lived to report back. With that in mind, Brimble races across the corridor, hoping that neither goblin could attack him without dropping their bows. He skids to a stop near the hidden archer, effectively blocking the side corridor as an easy retreat path. Houndsfang whispers words of vengeance in his head and nudges his aim. The pick strikes meat again.

Hoping neither of these goblins has IUS or I could be sucking a couple AoOs.

MOVE: On Map
STAND: Attack Blue

STAND: Houndsfang (crit: 20/4x | P)
Mods: Cold Iron, Piranha Strike
HIT (Vengeance!): 16 + 5 - 1 = 20 | DAM: 1d3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 1 + 2 = 5 stealing Red's last attack roll

Unless we’ve been searching for more than 15 mins, my statuses are all correct.

Senna nods at the mysterious twinkling lights. "That has potential to be interesting."

Round 4

Brimble’s eyes narrow as he observes the goblin’s behavior: the bow, the nocked arrow, the focus up the hall where the miners will emerge. It potentially recasts the noises Xira heard – not as a sloppy scout, but as a lure.

The drakeborn weighs the evidence and doesn’t like the heft of it. It says ‘ambusher’ more than ‘scout’. And nobody launches an ambush alone. He briefly imagines there’s a hidden gobbo in the mess hall already drawing a bead on him with another wicked arrow.

When the snuffler-goblin starts sniffing in his direction, Brimble plasters himself against the wall. If the creature manages to find him (which seems likely) he’ll have three simultaneous tasks: kill the goblin, warn the team, and stay alive. Tall order for a small kobold.

As he hears the snuffler closing in, Brimble holds onto the pick and does a quick mental run-through of the action. If he steps into the room – just give’im the pick. If he stops in the doorway, gotta step out to hit him. Can’t risk that corner of the wall blocking my shot. You got this… You got this…

"Krgizl!!" the goblin hisses.

Brimble's reply is to roll away from the wall and swing his weapon around using his motion to give it extra power. He buries the pick deeply in the goblin’s chest, hoping it tickles his heart.

(I’m assuming that roll hits. If it didn’t I am IN TROUBLE. :))

He follows the attack with a yelled warning in dwarven, ”Ambush!!!”

FREE: 5’ Step
STAND: Pick!

STAND: Houndsfang (crit: 20/4x | P)
Mods: Cold Iron, Piranha Strike
HIT: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (17) + 5 - 1 = 21 | DAM: 1d3 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 2 = 6

Round 3

Brimble’s eyes light up. Gotcha, ya lil’ bugger.

The question now is what to do about it? The gobbo is out of melee range and the drakeborn’s sling is far from an ideal weapon. He glances toward the east-west corridor. There is no sign of Argatha, so he doesn’t have backup. Further, Brimble chooses to assume there are more gobbo sneak-thieves around. If it were me, I’d send two or three… If I’m lucky, this poor bastard lost a bet and got sent alone. But, assuming there are other lurkers, this one-on-one could quickly turn to a three-on-one – not good.

To get into hand-to-hand range, and give Argatha another few seconds to appear, Brimble opts to creep closer… He slinks along the wall inside the mess hall. He stops short of the southern exit and waits a few moments before peeping an eye around the corner.

MOVE: 2x Move Stealthing 20’ total (on map)

Stealth: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14

Brimble tries to clarify, ”Uh, sorta. Forgewise is creating something for me. So, he needs the material but it is for my use eventually… I’m not sure how to requisition that. Is there a special way I should note that in the log book?”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Sense Motive DC15 #1: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 famine
Sense Motive DC15 #2: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21 feast!
Diplomacy (pretty please Forgewise): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

The drakeborn mulls Forgewise’s words. Given how contentious kobolds (and their gods) were, the Celedon's hesitance makes sense to him. Sounds like the gods had a family squabble and everyone took sides. Who’d want to air that stinking tunic?

"Perhaps I might! Though-- it should not be as quick as my repair of thy comrade's weapon.... and I had thought to return to the celestial forges sooner rather than later. Hrrmmm." He tugs again on his firebeard.

If Brimble had the full range of human facial expressions, he’d look glum. Regardless, he nods at Forgewise’s answer. ”I won’t ask you to stay a day longer than you are willing. I wasn’t hoping for platemail… just like a chain shirt, lamellar, or even a bit of leather armor would be better than what I’ve got. And that’s only if I can’t find anything in the battle forge that will do.” He grimaces, ”I hate asking for help but I don’t think sneakiness and skill are going to get me through what’s coming. But, you owe me nothing. You’ve been here long enough. If you are ready to go, I understand.”

"As for clan daggers: well! With Verrik gone, there are none to perform the Farewell. So methinks it matters less if they are gathered here to me, or not..." Forgewise trails off, sadly.

Brimble is relieved at the change of subject; asking for favors was personally painful. ”So, uh, could one of us do this send-off? We’re not stoneborn but I do sort of work for Dranngvit now…”

He lays a hand on Houndsfang to communicate with the pick, :: Can you help me with the ritual, if me doing it isn’t an offence? ::

Forgewise changes topic back to 'plans.' "The mining company that thou all labourest for... Dost thou imagine they shall gain access to this strata, to this temple? Thinkest thou that they wouldst try to claim the remainder of the Courageous?"

The drakeborn lands squarely in Argatha’s camp. ”Sooner or later, they will find a way in here. If they don’t, then the slagborn above will. And either group will take everything they can – to sell, use, or study. The Courageous cannot stay here.”

Behind the screen here a bit… Brimble needs to settle the armor issue before he can sleep. I have to pick one or another Houndsfang bennie before resting. The armor I wind up with (or don’t) is the deciding factor in my choice. I’m happy to split from the team to speed up the process so beds can be found and the casters can get their rest on. It would be great if Brimble had one ‘strongie’ to back him up while he checks out the battle forge. But I could do it alone with the helpful crowbar (and a Take 20 STR check), if necessary.
I hate to blow immersion but I figure some of you might be wondering why Brimble is so fixated on armor.

Recording this for posterity.

Are we assuming that we (or more specifically, Alocer) have now sniffed around and found all the markings in line with your map?

No and yes. Alocer could only follow the most-recent path - the rough diagonal between #6 and the northern-most dot at #2, then up to #10. You spotted the one at #7 because you revisited the wall at Gunty’s where Constantine had his first ‘incident’. Now that you know what to look for… you spot the rest of the witch marks as you (presumably) roam around the southern end of town continuing your investigation into the disappearance of Verno Aculla. The plan, IIRC, now that you know what morning Verno checked-out of the Witch’s End was to speak with the dock barkers to see if he left by boat or at the southern gates.

Could we please get a list of the buildings/occupants that have been marked. Those we know, anyway…

Yep. As surmised, many of the dots are ‘residential’... some owned by locals you know. None are local luminaries or villains. However, here are some of the more notable locations where witch-marks appear…

Of the numbered locations:
#2 - various spots around the Old Gallows square (some in alleys, others on buildings facing the square)
#4 - Mother Willita’s House of Rapture
#5 - Pricknettle’s Potions and Poultices – definitely be suspicious of the odd proprietor!
#6 - Temple of Eristil
#7 - Gunty’s Hearty Breads
#8 - Dependable Dummady’s
#10 - Witch’s End Tavern

Of the unnumbered locations:
Some are homes, others are local businesses selling foods, goods (generally touristy), or services (like ‘tours’ that feature the town’s more gruesome history).
Several of the witch marks are located in alleys, not on the faces of the buildings.

I’m hand-waiving INT (which someone will certainly pass) to say that you notice all of the witch marks are scribed by the same hand – which is Constantine’s. While Alocer spotted the freshest witch marks, it’s clear that some of these are somewhat older, showing rainmarks or faint discoloration in the grooves. You’d estimate that some of these witchmarks could be a few weeks old. Constantine has been a busy boy.

Brimble is delighted by his finds. He quickly transfers all his gear to the ‘classy’ pack – as he thinks of it. The fine lockpicks cause something of an internal debate. Without hesitation, he adds one set to his bandolier. But the second set… It’s not like I’m robbing the dead, and having spares is just smart. After a moment, he adds the second set to his pack.

He signs the log-book in draconic for his acquisitions: Brimble Palescale, Lord of the Drakeborn
It was nonsense, naturally, but it was fun nonsense.

He then adds a second entry for all the goods he’s retrieving for Forgewise, and signs it in unpracticed dwarven: Brimble Palescale (at request of Forgewise the Celedon)

Acquisitioning done, the kobold huffs and puffs as he lugs the pack stuffed with materials for the celedon back to the temple.

Good thing Brimble doesn’t have a crest… because it would be fallen. All this potentially skin-saving gear and none of it would fit him! He tugs at his lackluster reinforced tunic and mutters to himself, ”Guess the stoneborn didn’t arm their kids.”

Of the vast array of weaponry, the kobold plucks and pockets a few sling bullets from a box.

(5) Sharpstones
(5) Softstones

"Brimble," she murmurs, "d'you think Forgewise might be able to cut some of this armor down to something you could wear? There seems to be little or nothing he can't do with metal."

He looks with longing at the array of armors before answering. ”You’re a clever one. I dunno… can’t hurt to ask. An’ even if he can’t, maybe there’s something that’ll fit me in the battle forge or elsewhere. Hope ain’t gone just yet.”

Brimble searches through the shelves looking for a few items that could make this adventure a bit easier.

Things Brimble would search for:
MW backpack (if I can’t find one, I’ll see if Forgewise could make one or if I can find one in one of the other smithies.)
MW thieves’ tools
MW (or normal) artisan tools for crafting

After completing his search, Brimble stuffs a bunch of fine materials into his pack and sets out to deliver them to Forgewise.

"Do you have some military training, Master Brimble?" he asks. "If you have ideas on how we might work better then please share them. I can speak only for myself but I've never found myself fighting a walking corpse before."

The kobold doesn’t slow down as he heads into the hall. He’s got a task to accomplish, made more urgent by the events in the priest’s quarters. ”You want an answer? Keep up.”

The odds don’t appear terrible… If I roll about average, I don’t get zapped. I can live with the risk. Brimble will roll the bones.

At the Vault door, Brimble almost smells the electricity in the doorframe. He says to anyone in the vicinity, ”I think it’s got a zap-trap. Unless we can figure out what ‘authorization’ is needed real quick, I’m gonna try to break it.” He presses the silver key against the glass panel, hoping (despite strong doubts) that it is the authorization needed.

Assuming that fails…

Brimble keeps trying to disarm the trap, hoping to get lucky before he gets very unlucky. If Phantrel follows him, the kobold answers the question as he tries every trick he knows to circumvent the door’s defense. ”No, I don’t have military training. I have common-sense-sneaky-bastard training. First rule is… never chase a badger into its den unless you know you got the bigger set of teeth. I don’t think any of us has fought an upright corpse before - that’s a badger with teeth you can’t know.”

The kobold scratches his eye-ridge, as his attempt to harmlessly trigger the trap fails. He wipes the picks on his pants and tries again. ”Second, like Miss Em picked up, you let a monster come to you and you attack it with every advantage you can get – dirty or not. We were ready to flank it, in the light, at the door. In that room, in the dark, it had corners to hide in that made maneuvering around it hard. It would have had a chance to strike some of us. And most of you can’t see in the dark. That’s a badger with some nasty teeth.”

He hisses his frustration as he fails to disarm the trap yet again. He tries another trick. ”Finally, think with your head - not your fists - and work together. I told folks to back up and draw weapons. He charged in like a hot-head and drew others in after him. If Verrik had been a quarter as strong as that melly upstairs, I bet there’d be a few corpses in that room, maybe more.”

Disable Device: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17 (using GMC standard picks)
Disable Device: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16 (using GMC standard picks)
Disable Device: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22 (using GMC standard picks)
Disable Device: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25 (using GMC standard picks)

interactions with Glory

Majara jogs to Glory and inspects the plant, and the pot, for damage with a grimace.

"I apologize for that," she says in a quiet voice to the plant. "Not my right mind when it happened. I'll take steps to secure you better, so that such a mishap can't happen again. We were lucky, your pot's intact, just chipped...."

The plant’s enthusiasm doesn’t seem to have flagged any. With leaves and stamen, it gives the gnome a: ദ്ദി (thumbs up)

Then she looks at Majara, and at Glory. "Thank you again," Emma says, inclining her head slightly. "To the both of you, but in particular, to you, Glory. I likely wouldn't be standing here otherwise. I'm in your debt."

The leaves and stamen curl and reconfigure. <3

I haven’t checked your other numbers (which are easier) but your skill point change is spot on. Welcome to your first gestalt game!

Brimble notes a commonality with the pick… neither one of them is interested in sharing their own story. But he doesn’t want to be rude, and the question is fair. He sits down on a bench in the temple and holds the pick up like he’s talking to a person eye to eye.

Brimble covertly watches his compatriots handle and silently commune with the objects in the room. Nobody’s head explodes… so that’s good. And while there are looks of periodic discomfort, everybody seems reasonably pleased as far as he can tell.

Maybe… he could risk finding out what that elegant little pick thought of him.

He pulls Phantrel aside for a private consult on dwarf speech, knowing that first impressions are important. When he has a couple opening phrases locked in his memory, he approaches the pick and gives it a polite bow before laying a couple clawed fingers on the haft and thinking in dwarven at it…

”Thunder-follows-Lightning says that not all the 'Courageous' are open to being carried by us. I assume because we are not stoneborn.”

Brimble almost laughs. Great. Another chance to get snubbed. Despite his misgivings, he does admire the group of picks and hammers. Wonder if their looks say anything about their characters?

There are some flashy, ornate, and showy weapons (by his pedestrian standards) that scream ‘deadly!’ and ‘stoneborn!’ If their appearances say anything about their attitudes… they probably won’t like him. Besides, he’s a kobold in a world of talls and he’s got white scales as well. ‘Standing out’ has always been to his detriment. Brimble knows his tastes are simpler, less fancy. He’s a workman with a workman’s perspective. I just need a humble, well-made, tool I can trust to get the job done – whatever it is.

His eyes land on the smallest pick/hammer in the lot. The size, of course, is a consideration. But the understated elegance of the weapon is what calls to him. It was built by someone who appreciated function as well as form… with tasteful flourishes that make him smile. The rest of the collection recedes into the background. He spends a long minute looking over every aspect of the build, considering all the design choices the smith made: the thickness of the pick/tongue making it quick to swing but resilient to damage, the back of the hound’s head with the ears slightly curled so they wouldn’t get damaged when it was used as a hammer, the construction of the handle to ensure the wielder's grip remained firm, so may little touches... It was brilliant artistry.

Brimble doesn’t move to touch the pick. But he does lightly blow out some dust that has gathered in a groove of the etched eye on the side of the head. It is an extraordinary piece of work which he is content to admire from afar for awhile.

Brimble stands, watches, and listens as the others react to Forgewise’s request. He strokes the crowbar with a thumb for reassurance.

Nine ways…

There are NINE ways Brimble is leery of this deal. When someone gets a great present, they never shut up about it… But Phantrel has barely said anything about the sword. Now, is that because he just hoards information or is it because the sword isn’t a gift so much as a mixed bag? Considering a few of the half-elf’s comments, it seemed the sword gets ‘snippy’. So, likely a ‘mixed bag’. There was just too much unsaid for any right-thinking kobold to be comfortable with this situation.

Brimble also isn’t sure he wants to cope with some hunk of steel with a mind of its own. The last thing he needs is a ‘guest’ with an @sshole personality. AND accepting the charge would put him on a collision course with the GMC. They weren’t evil per se but they also weren’t benevolent or saintly. And if he was the weapon’s caretaker, he certainly wasn’t going to hand it over to some random, profit-seeking, non-dwarf. And the GMC would expect nothing less.

On the other hand…

If their exit out of the mines took them anywhere close to the Melly… it was a footrace, at best, to see who would live. At worst, it was a slaughter. They needed advantages or outrageous luck. Luck was fickle; A magic weapon wasn't. Also, Forgewise wasn’t asking anything the valiant little kobold wouldn't do and Brimble genuinely liked the addled Firebeard. But still… And THEN there were the simple realities of being a small kobold in a world of talls (including the dwarves). What a pain in the ass!

Brimble chews on all these issues a dozen times over before he speaks. ”OK, I’ll do it. But I might just carry one of the Courageous, not like use it. I can barely wield a human-sized weapon and, no offense meant, even your stoneborn weapons don’t fit my grip. Also, I’ve got doubts about having a ‘peer’ roaming around my kitchen.” He taps his plated skull to make his meaning clear. ”But, that said, I’ll give my all to protect the Courageous, keep it from evil, misuse, or sale. And I’ll return it to the stoneborn when it asks that of me. I'm Brimble Palescale, drakeborn, my word is my oath.” He smacks the end of the crowbar against the floor to emphasize his point.

Despite injuries, Burlap doesn’t believe in giving up the battlefield with an enemy still living. He notes the building the team is rushing toward. ”I’ll be there in a sec.” He sights down the barrel at the fleeing insect and fires. One bullet spangs off the creature’s carapace, the other finds the meat below.

FULL: Fire on fleeing bug

FULL: Aeon Guard Assault Rifle (vs KAC) ( Rng Inc: 80’ | Automatic | Bipod)
Mods: Weapon Specialization, Full Attack Penalty, Stabilized w/ Bipod, Sniper’s Aim,
HIT #1: 1d20 + 8 - 4 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 8 - 4 + 2 = 14 | DAM: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (4, 1) + 4 = 9 P
HIT #2: 1d20 + 8 - 4 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 8 - 4 + 2 = 18 | DAM: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (4, 1) + 4 = 9 P

”--oh! Hath so many perished? And their blades not yet been returned to the Father? Disgraceful! And their condition... Verrik really ought to be seeing to the funerary ceremony for these blades… He cannot be so busy as to be neglecting this. Where didst thou find them all? And why, I prithee, is this one-- not with its owner, who clearly yet lives?"

Brimble was tempted to carry on with his exploration. Honesty had a single vote – his – and it had been dismissed; Expediency was ascendant. He found he had no stomach for it and was more than a little tempted to let the crew twist in the wind as more facts shone light on the shadings of truth being discussed. But Forgewise had earnest questions that deserved answers. So he stayed, and spoke.

”Master Forgewise, I said before there are hard truths to share… I know very little for certain. But, as someone said, we came up through the Iron level. But we saw no stoneborn there. We found many of these knives. We aren’t thieves. We took them for self-defense. Our ‘weapons’ are like Raka’s axe before you repaired it. And on the highest level of Thur-znchakh,” he fumbles on the name, ”… there is a smart and evil shadow that killed several warriors. We are just miners and laborers. My fear is that IF the only exit we find is close to that monster we will die without a fight because our weapons are barely weapons.” He shows his modified pick with the sharpened point to emphasize this truth. ”We did not mean to dishonor the stoneborn by taking these blades. I am sorry for that. I can bring you the other blades, if you wish to see how many lives have been lost.”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

”Resplendent preserve us. Brimble was right.”

Brimble shoots a glare and adjusts the crowbar on his shoulder. ”Every time one of you says “Brimble was right” you sound so surprised.”

Brimble stops. "Uh, what is 'goodly material'? Happy to fetch some, but I gotta know what it is."

"So trying to convince him that the dwarves are no more would strike a blow at his very reason for existence.”

The kobold’s gaze falls on the woman. ”The dwarves are no more? Who says? We haven’t seen stacks of bodies. By the scribbles downstairs it looks like this place emptied out at some point. There was a skeleton crew. Some of them went looking for their comrades and never came back. We found one body, and we know what kilt him. We don’t know what really happened to the dwarves, probably nobody does. Having completed the Quest for Sky, maybe they went back down below. Maybe they marshaled for a war they lost. Point is… all I can say for truth is we’ve seen no dwarves here, yet. Here’s what I think – all the eggheads in Absalom don’t have a clue what happened. And all their talk got no more fact behind it than legends like ‘dwarves were cursed with greed’. It’s all people making up stories. And anyone who might have a fact or three ain’t talking about it. That news probably won’t shatter anybody’s existence.”

”My questions would be what do we stand to gain – or lose – from either course?”

Brimble gets up. His tone is cool, ”I’m gonna take a look at that slagborn and walk around a bit.” Not willing to go through an interpreter, the kobold approaches Forgewise, points to himself, then pantomimes walking around then points to show his trail will circle the temple. Task complete he heads out to investigate the goblin for equipment and clues.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Brimble nods his thanks and returns to Dranngvit’s shrine. He looks at the statue while trying to figure out what to say to a god. Even her weapon matches mine. That gives him an idea. He angles his arm to fit in the alcove, pulls his pick, and draws the sharpened tip across the back of his forearm. He quickly twists his arm so the blood only drips in the alcove and returns the pick to his belt, the tip still red like on the statue.

As the blood drips, he thinks a… well, not exactly a prayer…

Hi, Lady Dranngvit. I hope you don’t mind me speaking to you. This is Brimble. I don’t know if you know me or ever helped me – but I like to think that you did. So, if you did, I appreciate it. And if you could see your way to helping me get these folks out of here as well, I’d appreciate that, too. Hopefully, some day, I can do you a favor. I believe in paying my debts. I hear we got that in common. And if you don’t know me, well, have a great day and know that I’m wishing you the best. Thanks.

Brimble finishes his heart-felt, stream-of-consciousness ramble with a moment of self-reflection. That was the stupidest, f^&*ing prayer ever! He quickly slaps one of the dwarven handkerchiefs on his wound so he doesn’t bleed on anything and decides he has earned the stinging pain. ”Hi, Dranngvit?” Who says that to a god?!

Brimble fancies being called ‘drakeborn’, but the stern tone is… unsettling. He knows this is probably the right moment to lie. But being forthright is a character flaw his tribe failed to beat out of him.

The kobold considers the question and rubs his eye-ridge. ”Truth is, Master Forgewise, I don’t know.” He takes hold of the symbol. ”I found a melchinakh like this in a mine. Things went wrong as wrong can get. I lived when others didn’t. I feel like that melchinakh kept me safe. So, I made this one as maybe a good luck charm. Until a few days ago, I didn’t even know it’s called a melchinakh and that it’s likely the symbol of Dranngvit, a god of debts. Is any of that true? Is that your Huntress of Vengeance?”

He adds quickly, ”I don’t mean no disrespect carrying her symbol. An’ if her melchinakh did keep me alive then I definitely owe her something.”

Brimble peeks around the corner for as long as he dares. He wants to press on but he needs to warn the other miners. This news was too important. Using utmost caution, he sneaks back up the corridor, past the corpse, until he is at the plaque again. He does his best to memorize the runes. He scratches them repeatedly into the hide on his arm. When he feels confident that he has them committed to memory (or at least scratched well into his own flesh as a cheat sheet) he moves back to dining area where the team waits and points to the bath. He whispers ”Go back now. Quiet as you can.”

Once they are shut safely in their base (which is now no longer safe), he borrows Xira’s chalk again. Using his arm as a reference, Brimble transcribes the dwarven runes on the floor. ”This is from the door across the way. But we’ve got a problem in the southern room. Clanker has a friend. He looks like what legends say dwarves look like, but the hair on his head and beard are real fire and his skin kinda looks like bronze or something. That room is like a forge or maybe it’s an altar – or both. Lots of dwarf-gold on the wall, big statue, the works. There are a couple doorways out of it I couldn’t see into. But maybe it’s like a temple to their gods. And the… fire-dwarf was fixing or changing Clanker. Now, maybe Clanker would ignore closed doors but I’m betting the fire-dwarf is like regular creatures and wouldn’t. So, if we go making too much noise and they come looking… I don’t think this bath is very safe for us.”

”The fire-dwarf is talking to himself. I don’t know if that’s bad or good. I wish he’d like some visitors but since that corpse looked like Clanker beat him into the ground… I got doubts.”

Brimble turns his attention to Phantrel. ”We could use some advice from Thunder right now.”

Stealth: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26 Praise the Dice Gods in their mercy!

I think Brimble is still alive but nobody trip on our way back to base!

Since I’m moving into what seems a dangerous spot, I’m assuming I can’t Take 10 for very long in the second N-S corridor. Dice Gods be kind!

Brimble sneaks across the corridor and pauses briefly near the unread plaque by the large double-doors. He’s a tad irritated he doesn’t know enough of dwarven runes to read it. Hearing no ominous clanking, he slides south along the wall until adjacent to the dead guy. Without drawing any closer, he looks for indicators of what killed the fellow. He suspects it was Clanker but it could very well be a trap in the ceiling or floor.

Having finished a look at the corpse (and floor/ceiling), the kobold moves with extreme caution even further south. He carefully plants each foot and scans the darkness to his limits, looking for even the slightest hint of Clanker’s silhouette in either the southern or large side corridors. He hopes to see the glowing eyes when they are barely a glimmer.

Perception (trap check): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Stealth: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

I left my icon near Ded Smol but Brimble keeps pushing south square by square until he spots something possibly nasty or he gets directly across from the East-West corridor. I may change sides of the corridor before I get to the flickering light corridor.

Brimble eyes the machine-creature with a mix of wonder and dread. He decides pooping himself would be an undignified and unhelpful reaction. He watches for the glow cast by the creature’s eyes as it nears the far end of the corridor. Please turn the corner… please turn the corner…

Brimble is going to wait to see the pattern of the monster’s movements before quietly closing the door and updating the team.

Flashback to, uh, ‘flashing’

The kobold strips down as well, leaving every stitch of clothing on the floor without a hint of embarrassment. Having worked and lived among the warm-bloods for nearly five years, he had learned a lot about their manners, customs, unstated rules, and labyrinthine etiquette. This situation had hazard signs all over it. But he learned a few tactics that (he hopes) will keep him in good stead.

First Rule: Keep it light to prevent embarrassment.

With his clothes in a somewhat water-logged pile, he stomps and jumps on them like a youngling, trying to squeeze the water out. ”I just *stomp* got these damn *STOMP* things dry! Now, *stomp* I gotta dry’em *stomp* again and probably *STOMP* get the damn *STOMP* leech guts *STOMPY STOMP!* OUT!” He kicks the pile away from the pool of water he just pounded out of them.

Second Rule: Watch where you’re watchin’.

He’d lived in dormitories for years with men and women. First month, everyone is dancing in circles trying to be ‘appropriately’ covered while trying to sneak peeks whenever they can. Six months of mining later and no one has the energy for modesty. Washing that rancid plaster of coal dust mixed with sweat off your skin is way more important than worrying about someone with the wherewithal to watch you do it. But this crew wasn’t there yet. So, Brimble plays the game. His eyes are either locked on Raka’s face or averted when he doesn’t need to see her bits. And, realistically, she can check her front just fine so he doesn’t need to. When she is inspecting her front, he’s inspecting his. Standing around watching would seem ‘crippy’. At least, he thinks that’s the word he’s heard about certain men. Periodically, he does glance over to make sure she isn’t missing a clever leech. Embarrassment makes people hasty and that leads to mistakes.

Third Rule: Keep it clinical.

When it comes to Raka’s back, the kobold is very thorough – looking at the obvious expanse of skin but also the little hidey places like the armpits, backs of the knees, beneath her hair on the back of her neck, even behind her ears. He describes every step before he lays a claw on her, trying to be as ‘professional’ as possible. ”I’m gonna move your hair now and check your neck…” He even runs his claws through her hair and feels her scalp for any of the devilish little parasites.

It is a bit of a high wire act but Brimble thinks he is doing well, until the wire starts to unravel. There’s a wrinkle in the plan. The kobold is glad he is behind the woman when he has to bring this topic up. He says quietly, ”So… uh, Raka. Leeches are good at getting under clothing… like any clothing. Your back looks fine but, uh, do you mind if I, mm, move your undergarment a bit to see if one went… found a crevice?”

Mael feels in his pockets… nothing. What did I expect to find? Moving on to Plan B, he scans the rubble, looking for anything that could pass for a weapon: a spar that could be a club, a length of iron, or even a solid brick. His search is interrupted by talking. Maybe it’s a person, maybe a hallucination. Either way…

"What unit are you both with? Wait, are you with a unit?"

”Pal, I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.” His own rumbling bass voice comes as a surprise to him. Guess, I’m a man… or a big, strappin’, farmgirl. After a quick hunt for a weapon, it’s time to decide.

Maybe those fog figures will overlook this gap just like I almost did. He doesn’t like the tight walls but the alternative might be worse. He shoves himself into the small side passage, hoping it widens soon and provides an escape route.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 - 2 ⇒ (10) + 5 - 2 = 13 Spooked

I'm looking for any sort of weapon if it can be found quickly (a couple rounds max) and then pushing into that side passage.

Confused by the different two-legs, Histya slinks back over to her favorite one.

2x MOVE

Moon pulls another arrow from her flesh. The wounds are starting to add up… but the goblin ranger won’t live to see it. She stalks carefully across the greasy ground and tries to carve the bow-wielding bastard in half. She accentuates the blow with another verse.

”Rooshi’s bad magic didn’t help their side
Big Mama cursed the Bugwump Tribe!
Zelka is dead, we took her head,
Soon Lugruk has only his mutt to bed!”

”‘Lugruk, dog-mounted’ will be his name!”

MOVE: On map
STAND: Attack Ranger 1
FREE: Chanting!

Acrobatics DC10 (walk across grease): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

STAND: +1 Shocking Elven Curve Blade (crit: 18-20/2x | S)
Mods: 2H, 2H-PA, Shocking, Inspired
HIT: 1d20 + 9 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 9 - 2 + 1 = 21 | DAM: 1d10 + 7 + 6 + 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 7 + 6 + (1) + 1 = 22

Round 5 | Battle Map

The fletching tears off Hannelia’s first arrow causing it spin off harmlessly like a drunk songbird. Hannelia’s second arrow is better. She compensates for the distance, wind, and even the swirl of combat. But armored Emma is a barrier to hitting her target. Her shot grazes the mastiff’s shoulder.

Unless I have the rules wrong (certainly possible) Emma is providing soft cover for the dog from Hannelia’s current position. Precise Shot allows you to avoid the -4 for firing into combat but doesn’t defeat the +4 AC bonus for soft cover, turning your hit into a miss. Correct me if I'm wrong.

With the shadow woman heading roughly his way, the local cheese merchant abandons his cart and bolts north as fast as his legs will move. Now, not only is Gunty’s closed but you have no cheese to go with your non-existent baguettes! Evil takes many forms as they say.

In the eastern part of the square, Bitiborium arrives nearly breathless to help the man who either fainted or died. The woman next to him, seeing her chance begins to flee the square. A few words from the gnome causes her to falter in her tracks and then turn around to help him. It looks like they plan to drag the downed man from the square.

Bit Diplo: 1d20 ⇒ 17

More to come…

Accompanied by her scream, Moon yanks the arrow from her side and tosses it away. Then she plows through the remaining plants to the one spot where vines aren’t writhing like snakes. She takes a moment to catch her breath before she tries to skewer the prone goblin ranger while belting out the second verse…

”Lugruk tried a surprise attack.
His fighters died while he turned his back
And ran screaming into the night.
Bugwumps – they’re no good in a fight!”

”Cuz we’re the warriors of Kassen!” She waves her sword in the direction of the goblin swarm. ”Just wait! I got a verse for you f*ckers, too!”

MOVE: On map (10’)
STAND: Attack Ranger 2
FREE: Chanting!

With the -4 AC penalty for being prone, I might have a shot at hitting this guy.

STAND: +1 Shocking Elven Curve Blade (crit: 18-20/2x | S)
Mods: 2H, 2H-PA, Shocking, Inspired
HIT: 1d20 + 9 - 2 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 9 - 2 + 1 = 15 | DAM: 1d10 + 7 + 6 + 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 7 + 6 + (6) + 1 = 22

”It suggests that other routes up exist, such as maintenance tunnels, that might be safer. Based on everything that has happened so far, I would recommend caution. Would you agree?” he asks.

Brimble is remarkably still, absorbing the half-elf’s words. ”I like cautious. ‘S better than screamin’ and dyin’. So, the shaft is a last resort. This stairway,” he pats the wall, ”has gotta be a main route, too. It’s another last resort. Which means we gotta scour this level for the maintenance ways up. They could be on the other side or maybe, more likely, in one of the work spaces like the Furnace room or the Bellows.”

”I don't think it affects us right now, but you may also be interested to know that Lord Highcliff was looking for them.”

The kobold scratches his ocular ridge with a claw. ”First, I’m glad Thunder-follows-Lightning is helping out. It gets my thanks. Second, I’m not surprised by Highcliff’s doings. I got some thoughts about what he was up to, but it can wait ‘til we set down for some rest.”

After hearing the grumblings about sleep (which mirror his own feelings), he slaps his little clawed hands together trying to bolster his own enthusiasm. ”Right! I say we crack open the door to the toilets, make sure they are safe, then bed down for a bit.” He looks to Argatha, ”You’re good with that crowbar. How about you give me a hand with that bathroom, eh?”

Feeling the end of a tiring day just around the corner, Brimble heads through the dormitory to the bathroom for one last search… This time, he actually listens at the door first. Last thing they needed was opening the door to a flooded bathroom and being drowned in 300 year old dwarven sewage.

Perception (listen for trouble): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Inspect & Trap Check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Disable Device: 1d20 + 6 - 1 ⇒ (4) + 6 - 1 = 9 Wow, feast or famine rolls!

Interesting though, he'd never had much companionship. Other then the goats, chickens, and possibly other livestock of a poor farmer of course. But two way conversations were difficult.

But those sheep are gaddamn liars! XD