Corvin's broken ribs make a few rather disgusting popping noises as he rises to his feet, but the fighter doesn't seem to notice.
Staring around at the carnage, he turns back to Anarath.
"How long was I out?"
Anarath shakes his head, keeping a wary eye on their kobold 'allies,' on the lookout for any treachery. "Not long," he mutters in reply to Corvin's question.
The kobolds scurry off to join the battle that you can hear raging from somewhere in the Manor without a backward's glance.
You are left alone in the courtyard, standing in the oily rain (which is falling more heavily now) and the chilling wind with nothing for company but the corpses of your foes.
"Weren't there some sorta treasure we were lookin' for?"
"Weren't there some sorta treasure we were lookin' for?"
Anarath looks thoughtfully at the wall of bones. "Yes, that was the plan," he murmurs, as he tries to determine what magic is at work.
Anarath
A Spot check might yield more information as would a Search check
"Weren't there some sorta treasure we were lookin' for?"Anarath looks thoughtfully at the wall of bones. "Yes, that was the plan," he murmurs, as he tries to determine what magic is at work.
"Well, we sure did find some FINE shiny, didn't we." The fighter cracks his neck, producing an obscene popping noise. "Lots of gold, silver, dead kobolds... mostly dead kobolds... Once we get to the motherf&##in' bottom of this, there'd better be a big f#%&in' re-ward,, or I'm gonna kill somebody. The boss is dead, so I ain't gettin' paid. 'Course, I could just take his share of the loot..."
No dice.
Anarath squints thoughtfully at Corvin. “How much was Gries going to be paying you Corvin?” he asks.
He then turns his attention to the wall of bones.
"I uh... Um.. Don't remenber..."
"I uh... Um.. Don't remenber..."
"Well then," replies the elf. "I think it only fair that you get a full share of whatever we are able to find within. Plus anything you want to salvage from Gries' corpse back there. Sound fair?"
Anarath squints thoughtfully at Corvin. “How much was Gries going to be paying you Corvin?” he asks.
He then turns his attention to the wall of bones.
20+5 = 25
Anarath
Did anyone pick up the twisted leather tokens or the scythe?
"I uh... Um.. Don't remenber...""Well then," replies the elf. "I think it only fair that you get a full share of whatever we are able to find within. Plus anything you want to salvage from Gries' corpse back there. Sound fair?"
"Treasure is good. But, naw, wouldn't seem right, takin' from guy what's payin' me, whether he be dead, 'r not. Like robbin' Pete to pay Paul."
Anarath shrugs, and returns to his perusal of the wall.
Anarath
You think the scythe might be worth quite a bit. It's dinged and hasn't been well kept but with a little work it could be a very functional weapon again.
On closer inspection you notice that rune covered strips of skin that make up the macabre baubles that the kobolds wore are tied around a little golden ring that might have some value to it. No one in their right mind would buy these things though. The runes on the flayed strips of skin are very similiar to the ones on the bones.
“This may be some sort of teleportation gate,” announces Anarath after several moments, gesturing to the wall of bones. “Unfortunately I cannot tell from here where it might lead – either into the tower or elsewhere.”
Just then Midnight squawks loudly, and begins nattering at the wizard in Draconic.
“Ah,” announces the elf. “Well then, perhaps those strips are some sort of key to the teleport gate? I suggest we all take one if we wish to go through. I’ll get that scythe too,” he adds. “I’ve always wanted a scythe.”
Corvin seems to be in unusually good spirits.
"Heh, yeh. Make sense, neckermancer like you with one o' them reaper things. Pretty f*@!in' scary fer any more o' those brainy m&#&*+*%@!!&s... So, ya say tha' those bones means some sorta gate? Looks like bones to me. Maybe it's a door. ... Maybe the treasure is behind the door!"
“A little small though,” mutters Anarath sadly, holding the under-sized scythe.
“Yes,” he says, turning back to Corvin. “It is my hypothesis that the bones are a door of sorts, and that there may indeed be treasure beyond the door – if those escaping lizard-rats haven’t made off with it yet. Holding one of these,” he bends to pick up one of the twisted scraps of leather, “may enable us to go through the door. Care to give it a try?”
“Yes,” he says, turning back to Corvin. “It is my hypothesis that the bones are a door of sorts, and that there may indeed be treasure beyond the door – if those escaping lizard-rats haven’t made off with it yet. Holding one of these,” he bends to pick up one of the twisted scraps of leather, “may enable us to go through the door. Care to give it a try?”
"Yeh. I want my treasure. Let's go."
Corvin picks up one of the scraps, waiting for some sort of signal from the elven necromancer. The fighter's out of his league on this one.
Anarath holds his token, and passes one to Tsiilmas and Dohrlok (assuming there are enough).
“Alright, are we all ready? Corvin, stand beside me, we shall walk towards – and hopefully through – the wall. Go slowly … in case it doesn’t work.”
Taking a deep breath, he walked into the wall of bones.
Corvin walks cautiously toward the barrier. Halfway there, he stops.
"F!*~ it."
His eyes narrow as he dips his shoulder and charges the wall of bones.
There's a sickenign feeling as you slam into the wall and nasuea almost overwhelms you. At first the wall resists but then it yields a little and with a little effort you burst through to the otehr side. You're only a few feet away from where you were, but now you're on the other side of the wall, within arm's reach of the glistening tower wall.
"Ewww, it's all glisteny..."
Tsiilmas pushes through the wall, feeling the same nausea overcome him until he was through. He bends over, holding his stomach until the feeling passes.
"Well ... that was unpleasant," comments Anarath, looking up at the tower. "Are we all here?"
The oily black edifice juts from the ground, towering to a height of at least 70 feet. There's only a a gap of a few feet between the wall of bones that you just passed through and the tower's wall and the ground you stand on is a muddy black sludge that reeks slightly of death and decay and seems to cling to your boots, trying to hold you in place. There's no apparent door anywhere on the tower, which has a diameter of about 20 feet.
The wall is smooth and unblemished by windows or other distinguishing features with a faint coating of some kind of oily slime covering the walls.
Anarath begins searching the wall for hidden openings.
Your search reveals no hidden openings on the slick wall of the tower.
Anarath begins searching the wall for hidden openings.
"Would you fellows like to give me a hand here?" Anarath snarkily asks his companions.
You find nothing either.
"This place sucks."
“Perhaps we are approaching this in the wrong manner,” says Anarath thoughtfully. “Let me try something.”
He rolls up his sleeves and begins making arcane gestures, whilst muttering under his breath.
Anarath
“Hmmm…” Anarath strokes his chin. “Let’s see if we can walk through this wall with those amulets too.” He says, indicating the leather strips. He walks forward into the wall.
Corvin touches the shiny black surface of the wall apprehensively.
The wall gives a little as you push against its slick surface. As you strain against the wall you feel it move a little, pulsing rhythmically. After a moment your hand is swallowed up by the tower wall. It draws in your arm and then your whole body. You pass through a cloudy membrane and emerge into pitched darkness. It seems that whatever inhabits this tower has no need for light. The still air in the tower is cold and damp, carrying a faint smell of mildew with it.
"F+!*in' bizarre, that."
Anarath whispers a few words, casting a light spell centred on the end of his quarterstaff. Midnight rustles his feathers uncomfortably. As soon as one of his other companions comes through the wall, the elf recommends that they ready a torch or lantern – “this spell will not last forever.”
Torch readied
Torch readied
Anarath's spell fills the small, circular chamber with flickering light that glints weirdly off the slick black ebony walls. The walls are covered in pale white lines that strange patterns of alien pictures and strange runes that shift slightly as you watch.
The chamber, which is about 20 feet in diameter, is featureless except for a flimsy rope ladder leading through the 10 foot wide hole in the ceiling in the chamber. The ladder seems to lead to another room above you, with another hole in it's ceiling. Looking up, you can see several more floors, all with holes in them. The holes form a shaft leading straight up, presumably to the top of the tower.
"Aw, this place is makin' me wish I was still covered in blood. Oh, yeah. I'm still covered in blood. Damn."
Spot 22
"Well, who feels like climbing? IT has never been one of my strong suits..."
"Dam'. Forgot my grapple. Left it on the wall, what with all the 'citement and those little f+%@ers runnin' around."
Corvin looks at the wall. He looks at Anarath. He looks back at the wall.
"Aw, f+#* it."
He leaps at the wall, his armor making a terrible racket as his mailed fingers dig into the odd substance.
“Um. Actually, I was talking about climbing that rope ladder,” says Anarath, pointing to the hanging ladder. “But … at least no-one can cut the walls while you’re climbing them…”