Anarath looks about with mild distaste, then nods. “Indeed. Ready to climb again Corvin?”
"Alright then."
Corvin turns to the other three.
"If y'all don't have any questions, let's make like a tree and get the f!!& outta here."
The passage up the sinewy ladder through the tower is an uneventful if unpleasant one. Nothing save for your own passage disturbs the cool, damp air of the tower. The tower is lit only by the dimmest light, although the source of the slight illumination eludes you.
Soon you come to the top chamber, where everything is as you left it.
Noting disturbs you as you poke around or attempt to open the door.
Tzoltan, still a bit subdued after seeing Corvin's unusual physiology, walks slowly over to the door. He's fascinated by the room, and plans to thoroughly investigate at some point, but right now, the door's his job.
He pushes aside the growing suspicion that he's been led here on false pretenses by madmen intent on getting him killed, and moves to the door.
Perception (for traps)= 7+6=13
"Hmm. Looks safe enough. What's the worst that can happen?"
Disable Device (to pick the lock): 9+11=20
"Hmm. Looks safe enough. What's the worst that can happen?"
"Face blasted off by acid. Saw that happen once. Not pretty, that."
It takes a while of working at it, but Tzoltan at last manages to get it to click open.
The heavy iron door opens easily enough to reveal a steep stairway spiraling impossibly into an up that shouldn't exist within the apparent dimensions of the tower. At the top of the narrow stair way is another door, tightly shut.
The door is covered in a thick layer of some sort of green moss, with only a small square of bloodstained iron poking through. What looks like a lock is encrusted with a heavy sheet of the green moss.
It takes a while of working at it, but Tzoltan at last manages to get it to click open.
The heavy iron door opens easily enough to reveal a steep stairway spiraling impossibly into an up that shouldn't exist within the apparent dimensions of the tower. At the top of the narrow stair way is another door, tightly shut.
The door is covered in a thick layer of some sort of green moss, with only a small square of bloodstained iron poking through. What looks like a lock is encrusted with a heavy sheet of the green moss.
Corvin nods at the young rogue.
"Nice. Now stay back and let the professionals take over."
He starts cautiously up the stairway.
“Interesting,” murmurs Anarath, peering up the staircase. “Non-terrestrial geometry.” His gaze focuses on the door. “That moss looks ominous,” he comments, “and Corvin, it appears that we may need our locksmith again, and shortly.”
The elf focuses his arcane attention on the door, using his detect magic cantrip.
“Interesting,” murmurs Anarath, peering up the staircase. “Non-terrestrial geometry.” His gaze focuses on the door. “That moss looks ominous,” he comments, “and Corvin, it appears that we may need our locksmith again, and shortly.”
"Locksmith? We don't need no f$!~in' locksmith. I got yer lockpicks right here."
Corvin pounds his fists together.
Confronted simultaneously by physical impossibility and potentially poisonous (and gross) moss, the ever-practical Tzoltan chooses to push the concern of which dimension he's actually entering, and continues to follow Corvin.
If he can do so without touching the moss, Tzoltan will check the staircase for traps. He will also attempt to check the new door fro traps once he gets up the stairs, if Corvin doesn't jump the gun and crash into it first.
If he can't work around the moss, Tzoltan will suggest they burn it. He takes out one of his pints of latern oil and raises his eyebrow suggestively.
"Hmm? What do you think? Should we burn this stuff?"
P.S.
Perception rolls to look for traps:
stairwell 12+6=18
door at top of stairs 18+6=24
Anarath's arcane sight reveals no magic about the door.
Tzoltan's search is a little more fruitful; upon closer inspection he spies a small, blood-stained blade affixed to the raised part of the door. Oddly enough, it appears as though no effort whatsoever was made to conceal the razor-sharp blade.
If he can do so without touching the moss, Tzoltan will check the staircase for traps. He will also attempt to check the new door fro traps once he gets up the stairs, if Corvin doesn't jump the gun and crash into it first.
“Do you think you can remove, or bypass that?” Anarath asks Tzoltan, once the blade is pointed out. “As far as I can tell, both the door and the moss is mundane. Nonmagical. That may not mean non dangerous.”
“Do you think you can remove, or bypass that?” Anarath asks Tzoltan, once the blade is pointed out.
"Smash it. Doesn't look dangerous."
Tsiilmas looks closely at the moss and decides that it isn't dangerous, but as he spies the axe he leaps back with a speak.
Tzoltan holds his hands up in front of Corvin. "No, no, no. Just hold up a tick. Crikey! You might be made of steel, but if you set off a trap then we could all get shredded, and I want a long and lucrative career, thank you very much."
The "locksmith" turns to the door, cracking his knuckles. "Ahem, let's see here. Very crude, but perhaps its a ruse, hiding a cleverer device. I'll not be caught out that easily."
Tzolan re-inspects the door, trying to decide the best way to deal with the situation. He'd prefer to disable the blade trap, but circumventing it is fine as well. Trying to spring it safely is the last option.
Disable Device: 6+11 = 17
If he disables the trap, pick the lock: 19+11=30
If all else fails (and Tzoltan hasn't decapitated himself), he'll step aside and let Corvin smash his way through.
Tzoltan holds his hands up in front of Corvin. "No, no, no. Just hold up a tick. Crikey! You might be made of steel, but if you set off a trap then we could all get shredded, and I want a long and lucrative career, thank you very much."
"Whatever, kid. Your future career just might be lucrative, but it sure as hell won't be long. I'm twenty-f*%#in'-seven years old, and I'm bloody amazed I've lasted as long as I 'ave."
Oddly enough, there doesn't seem to be any mechanism attached to the blade. It appears to be a simple blade crudely attached to the moss-encrusted door.
Oddly enough, there doesn't seem to be any mechanism attached to the blade. It appears to be a simple blade crudely attached to the moss-encrusted door.
"Lessee..."
Corvin cracks his knuckles loudly, takes a step forward, and delivers a punishing roundhouse kick to the fixed blade.
Oddly enough, there doesn't seem to be any mechanism attached to the blade. It appears to be a simple blade crudely attached to the moss-encrusted door."Lessee..."
Corvin cracks his knuckles loudly, takes a step forward, and delivers a punishing roundhouse kick to the fixed blade.
"Well, I'm amazed, frankly that you've lasted as long as you have as well, considering your rash...crikey!" Tzoltan covers his head with his hands, scurrying away from the door as Corvin attacks it. "Are you out of your mind!?" Tzoltan ducks behind the nearest sturdy thing he finds. "See? That's exactly the sort of foolhardy thing I'm talking about!" He adds, assuming he is still alive.
Anarath waits patiently at the bottom of the stair, for the proverbial to happen.
Corvin's blow to the door produces a loud clang that is oddly muffled by the walls, but no other real effect. The blade remains affixed to the mold encrusted door, and no damage is inflicted upon Corvin or his armor.
DC 18 Perception
DC 20 Knowledge (Arcana or Dungeoneering)
"Ah."
Corvin thinks for a minute, then extends his hand. Placing his palm on the blade, he presses down, drawing blood.
Watching Corvin cut himself on the blade turns Tzoltan's stomach. "That's it. What in the Nine Hells is wrong with you?"
Dohrlok raises his crossbow and points it at the door, expecting something weird to happen, and planning to shoot it.
Anarath watches Corvin with furrowed brow, then his eyebrows slowly rise. “Ah …” he breathes. “Our large friend may be on to something …”
Watching Corvin cut himself on the blade turns Tzoltan's stomach. "That's it. What in the Nine Hells is wrong with you?"
"You don't wanna ask that. This bloody manor has f@&%ed me up worse than you can imagine."
The blade bites into Corvin's flesh, drawing a steady stream of dark blood. Where the blood meets the moss, the moss seems to almost wither; dropping away from the iron door in large chunks. Within a moments, the door is clear of the mossy stuff, a small lock now visible near the base of the door.
“Well done Corvin,” says Anarath dryly, then turns to Tzoltan expectantly.
"Hmmph." Tzoltan frowns, watching the moss drop away. "I've studied dungeoneering - it's an interest of mine. I've never read about killing moss with blood." He shakes his head in disbelief and hunkers down to take a closer look at the new keyhole. He removes his favorite picks and gets to work.
search for traps: 14+6=20
pick lock: 8+11=19
I'm thinking that isn't high enough to pick the lock. If so, a frustrated Tzotan will take out his hammer and chisel and inspect the door hinges for weak spots.
"Hmmph." Tzoltan frowns, watching the moss drop away. "I've studied dungeoneering - it's an interest of mine. I've never read about killing moss with blood."
"You really are new, aren't ya?"
Tzoltan tries to ignore Corvin, and gets to work with his hammer and chisel, taking the door out in whatever way seems quickest and easiest.
"Let him do his job Corvin," Anarath murmurs, looking intently at the door.
Upon closer inspection, the lock itself proves to be the weak point, and after a few minutes work with his hammer and chisel, the lock is broken and the heavy door reluctantly swing inward on poorly oiled hinges. Beyond the door is a large, circular room. The walls are covered with carefully etched runes, although they don't draw attention from the room's macabre centerpiece.
Standing at the apex of the slightly slanted floor is a massive iron chair, respledant in chains and spikes. It is shaped so as to accomdate a roughly man-shaped person, and hold them fast as well.
Radiating outwards from the chair are a series of lines arrayed in a careful patern; all perhaps a quarter's inch deep and leading to a slightly deeper canal at the base of the wall that rings the room.
Upon closer inspection, the lock itself proves to be the weak point, and after a few minutes work with his hammer and chisel, the lock is broken and the heavy door reluctantly swing inward on poorly oiled hinges. Beyond the door is a large, circular room. The walls are covered with carefully etched runes, although they don't draw attention from the room's macabre centerpiece.
Standing at the apex of the slightly slanted floor is a massive iron chair, respledant in chains and spikes. It is shaped so as to accomdate a roughly man-shaped person, and hold them fast as well.Radiating outwards from the chair are a series of lines arrayed in a careful patern; all perhaps a quarter's inch deep and leading to a slightly deeper canal at the base of the wall that rings the room.
"Got a real bad feelin' about this."
"Crikey." Tzoltan mutters when he sees the sinister chair. "This looks like it might be a dead end - no pun intended." Reluctantly, Tzoltan creeps into the room, sticking to the wall, as far away from the chair as possible. He's looking for traps, and secret doors.
Perception: 13+6=19 for traps
Perception: 2+6=8 for secret doors
“Hmmm,” muses Anarath, having climbed the stair and looked into the revealed room. He stands, tapping a finger against his chin as he examines the room with scientific detachment. Midnight rustles his feathers from his perch on the elf’s shoulder.
“It would appear that the function of this chamber is to collect blood from someone strapped into that chair. Probably they are killed in a ritualistic or torturous manner. Although to what end the blood is collected…”
The wizard gathers together a minor amount of magical energy, and allows his eyes to see any magical auras that might permeate the room, as he thinks what the purpose of this chamber might be.
Tzoltan's search seems to be fruitless until he finds a set of small black iron spikes set into the wall across from the door at about waist height.
Under Anarath's arcane gaze, the entire room comes to life with arcane energy.
Although the glyphs on the wall glimmer with magic from every school, the most powerful aura, that of necromancy and transmutation, emanates from the chair. The energy coming from it is overwhelming; almost painful to percieve.
Anarath
The wizard staggers back, shielding his eyes as the strength of the auras in the room threaten to overwhelm him.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, then calls out. “Unless that patch of wall you are looking at is extremely interesting, I suggest you come out of there Tzoltan. The chamber fairly reeks of necromancy.”
When (if) Tzoltan comes back out, Anarath leans close and asks, “Did you sense anything? I saw … something, I’m not certain what, close behind you.”
Tzoltan peers closely at the spikes, trying to divine their purpose, until he hears Anarath's warning. He stands up with a jerk, swinging his head around to look at the doorway. "Oh." He peeps, looking around worriedly. Torn between poking at the spikes and getting to safety, Tzoltan decides on flight. He moves quickly along the wall, back the way he came, until he gets out of the room.
Assuming he gets out without being exsanguinated, he says, "That was probably foolhardy of me. It doesn't look like there's any way further through here, unless we want to monkey with those spikes. Of course that's as likely to trigger a messy trap as it is to open a secret door."
The wizard staggers back, shielding his eyes as the strength of the auras in the room threaten to overwhelm him.
He takes a moment to catch his breath, then calls out. “Unless that patch of wall you are looking at is extremely interesting, I suggest you come out of there Tzoltan. The chamber fairly reeks of necromancy.”
"Hey, boss, what did you see in there?"
“The entire chamber is intensely magical,” Anarath answers, “with the focus being that chair. It is probably the most powerful artifact I have encountered. I believe perhaps my former master would have an idea of what it might be for, exactly … but he is not here, and alas, my knowledge is not as great,” the elf shakes his head.
“Beyond that, I saw something … else. Something I have never encountered before, I do not know what to make of it. It appeared to be a figure, humanoid, but not quite. It too radiated intense magic, very strong, enough to be visible above the high background power of the chamber. I can only guess what it was … some sort of energy signature caused by Tzoltan entering the chamber? An invisible entity wreathed in extremely powerful enchantments – visible under my arcane sight, while the creature itself was not? Or more disturbing … an entity composed of pure magic?”
The wizard shakes his head again. “Whatever, this chamber could be extremely dangerous … but also valuable beyond belief, if we can determine what it is for. The secrets of this Manor culminate here I believe. We have come this far … can we turn back without trying to discover more, even if there is danger, and we may be entering a trap?”
“The entire chamber is intensely magical,” Anarath answers, “with the focus being that chair. It is probably the most powerful artifact I have encountered. I believe perhaps my former master would have an idea of what it might be for, exactly … but he is not here, and alas, my knowledge is not as great,” the elf shakes his head.
“Beyond that, I saw something … else. Something I have never encountered before, I do not know what to make of it. It appeared to be a figure, humanoid, but not quite. It too radiated intense magic, very strong, enough to be visible above the high background power of the chamber. I can only guess what it was … some sort of energy signature caused by Tzoltan entering the chamber? An invisible entity wreathed in extremely powerful enchantments – visible under my arcane sight, while the creature itself was not? Or more disturbing … an entity composed of pure magic?”
The wizard shakes his head again. “Whatever, this chamber could be extremely dangerous … but also valuable beyond belief, if we can determine what it is for. The secrets of this Manor culminate here I believe. We have come this far … can we turn back without trying to discover more, even if there is danger, and we may be entering a trap?”
"If it's livin', I can kill it. If it's a trap, I can break it. All I know is that I ain't turning back."
"And how exactly is the magic torture chair potentially valuable?"
Anarath shakes his head. “No. Given the power that chair emanates, it was not made for torture … or at least that is not its primary function. It does something. We need to find out what, either to make use of it, or prevent others from doing so as the case may be.”
The elf turns to Corvin. “If you are feeling confident, you might want to go in there and look at the spikes that Tzoltan found. See if they can be manipulated in some way.”
Anarath shakes his head. “No. Given the power that chair emanates, it was not made for torture … or at least that is not its primary function. It does something. We need to find out what, either to make use of it, or prevent others from doing so as the case may be.”
The elf turns to Corvin. “If you are feeling confident, you might want to go in there and look at the spikes that Tzoltan found. See if they can be manipulated in some way.”
"Right, then."
Corvin cracks his knuckles and steps into the room, moving towards the spikes.
Corvin approaches the spikes unhindered. They seem to be a simple set of iron spikes set into the wall.
Corvin approaches the spikes unhindered. They seem to be a simple set of iron spikes set into the wall.