Harven gratefully grabs the rope and scrambles of of the rather deep water. "Thanks mate, I sure am glad to be out of that muck"
Once The Beast reaches the platform he swipes at the corpse with a claw, to assure it is really dead, before rolling it over. If needed I can roll damage...
If needed I can roll damage...
Terin awakes to the odd little man (“Vanthus”) slapping his face, as the rest of the party returns groggily to full consciousness.
The last thing any of you remember before Terin struck the corpse was an intense burst of light and sound.
“Wow! Are you ok?” "Vanthus" brushes maggots and entrails off Terin as he sits him upright.
A severed head decorated in pantomime paint stares back at you from the floor with an uncompromising doll’s gaze.
“What kind of freak traps a perfectly good corpse, anyway? Luckily, it didn’t seem to do anything but knock us all out; I don’t know for how long though. After I came to, I dragged everyone up here for safety, even if it is a little cramped. There’s no way I’d let anything bad happen to you guys! Especially now. We’re all going to the city!”
“Oh hey, I saw something floating up ahead earlier. I think it got flung when the corpse blew, but I didn’t have time to check it out.”
"What kind of freak indeed."
Tyndal checks out the rest of the dry area and then gets ready to continue on.
While your search reveals little of interest about the raised area, you do note the recently separated head is wearing a single diamond stud earring. It is feasible it was part of a set, but this is impossible to determine, as the other ear is no longer present.
gggRRRRWWWLLLL! *The Beast shakes off odd bits of corpse*
"This might be worth a few beers" Tyndal shows the earring to the party.
"Ready to move on?"
gggRRRRWWWLLLL! *The Beast shakes off odd bits of corpse*
gggRRRRWWWLLLL! *The Beast shakes off odd bits of corpse*
"That was bizarre. What kind of sick freak would have the psychosis required to put a flash bomb in a corpse? When this is over, I'm never leaving the tavern. Officially."
"What kind of freak indeed."
What kind of sick freak would have the psychosis required to put a flash bomb in a corpse?
You can make out the rough edges of it from here. It appears to be hung up on the wall of the cavern, bobbing gently in the water.
If you could make a DC16 strength check against the current that’d be great.
In case of failure:
When you get closer, you find it is a small leather backpack.
Contents:
A folded, waterlogged, and ink-smeared note.
A small pin in the shape of a comedy / tragedy mask.
36 Silver pieces.
A half dozen tallow candles.
Two glass vials of grease paint. One white, one black.
shouldn't I be making a swim check against the current? If so, I make it. If not then I fail. Let me know.
Eldin comes around, hacking up gouts of foul tasting water, crammed in amongst the others on the crowded bank. “Thankyou,” he manages to the strange little man … and wonders why the blast that apparently knocked them all did not seem to affect him.
“Someone rigged this corpse to explode?” he asks incredulously, once he is brought up to speed on events. “Vanthus? That sick fu… Fharlanghn grant me strength.”
He then looks around, as Terin dives back into the water. “Well, is anyone hurt? No? Tap my shoulder if you need me, or if it’s time to move on again.” The cleric huddles back down, head bowed, apparently praying. The words “Fharlanghn”, “test” and “why?” can occasionally be heard.
shouldn't I be making a swim check against the current? If so, I make it.
and wonders why the blast that apparently knocked them all did not seem to affect him.
Looking up, Eldin seeks the queer little man. Eliciting groans and complaints from his companions, he picks his way across the small cramped island and crouches down next to the fellow. “Tell me – er, Vanthus; How is it that you were able to resist the blast – or at least recover more quickly than even our heartiest warriors – and prevent us all from being swept away by the current and drowning? Forgive me, but you do not appear to be physically very strong – certainly I would have trouble dragging someone like Tyndal or Seann up onto this bank, and you are smaller than I.”
"I eat hardy to keep my strength up!"
“Plus, I stay in the back.”
Whew, quite a current running through there. Let's see what we have here.......seems like a weird assortment of items.
*A folded, waterlogged, and ink-smeared note.
A small pin in the shape of a comedy / tragedy mask.
36 Silver pieces.
A half dozen tallow candles.
Two glass vials of grease paint. One white, one black.*
Hmmmm, lemme see if I can read any of this note. The ink seems to have smeared a bit....
Seann looks suspiciously at the queer little man, then at Eldin.
"I believe our friend here is much more than he seems. I've been watching him, and I ... well, I don't know. He's much more than he claims to be. I'm sure of it."
Hmmmm, lemme see if I can read any of this note. The ink seems to have smeared a bit....
Illegibly smudged beyond hope of redemption, the ink-blotted note contains no words that you can fathom, and instead now resembles either a dragon, or a lady’s unmentionables. The parchment however, is unmistakably human skin.
Wonderful guys, the note is unreadable but written on the skin of a humanoid. Anyone want to carry it? If not I shall leave it here.
Nothing within the pack projects a discernable aura; though as you look up and prepare to depart, both Harven and Tyndal betray a hint of a glow on their persons.
I will focus on their auras and see if I can identify where exactly on them the aura is coming from and what school of magic. If needed, Spellcraft check=21.
A divination aura is coming from the ring on Harven’s finger, and a second, faint impression of no school you can identify is coming from the earring in Tyndal’s hand; almost as if the earring corresponds to some other type of magic.
Tyndal, in your hand. The earring is producing magical emanations but I am unable to fathom the type of magics with which it is empowered. Make sure to keep it safe and perhaps we can find the match to it or get it identified by someone more qualified.
*I will scan the area with my magical site until the spell runs out, looking for any other things that may be in the area and magical, especially a mate for the earring.*
I will scan the area with my magical site until the spell runs out.
“Keep the skin … ah, parchment,” says Eldin, looking up. “It may be important. Perhaps a mending spell or something similar could make it legible, although I have prepared no such magic in order to try. As for the pin … well, the worshippers of Olidammara use a similar symbol to represent their faith. The paint could be used to paint one’s face in a similar arrangement. The faith of Olidammara is at times aligned with my own – pass me the pin Terin, and I will see if I can recognise it as a holy symbol.”
Tyndal puts the earring away safely in his pouch.
"I'm ready to continue if you are"
He readies the glaive and begins probing the water's depth to the left turn.
Eldin prepares to descend back into the water. "Fharlangh guide our path and strengthen our weary legs," he says. "Aye, let's be on."
As the left-handed turn continues around to the original fork, I’ll include it in the updated map.
MAP!
I will see if I can recognise it as a holy symbol.”
It isn’t a sanctioned design, but the church of the Laughing Rogue is notoriously informal, and the pin might very well serve as a holy symbol.
"Only way forward is in deep water. I can swim, although this armor makes it tough. How about you guys?"
Tyndal begins adjusting his gear for a swim.
"Only way forward is in deep water. I can swim, although this armor makes it tough. How about you guys?"
Tyndal begins adjusting his gear for a swim.
I swim better as my alter-ego. *shifts into The Beast*
“Keep the skin … ah, parchment,” says Eldin, looking up. “It may be important. Perhaps a mending spell or something similar could make it legible, although I have prepared no such magic in order to try.
"I can take care of that. If I ever have the chance to sleep again, I'll make sure to prepare a spell of mending."
"That's a good point. Do you casters need to rest? This dry area looks comfy aside from the little corpse-bits."
"That's a good point. Do you casters need to rest? This dry area looks comfy aside from the little corpse-bits."
The Beast shakes his head in a negative fashion.
"That's a good point. Do you casters need to rest? This dry area looks comfy aside from the little corpse-bits."
"Doubtful."
“Rest will be much more rewarding when it is undertaken outside of the confines of these damp tunnels,” says Eldin. “I vote we continue onwards. As for swimming … well, I much prefer to walk – I am not a strong swimmer, and in this chainshirt I will not be much good at all … if the current is not strong and the swim not long I might be alright.”
"Fair enough"
Tyndal will sling his shield, strap the glaive to his back and get swimming into the big room. (That's assuming that he doesn't see something that stops him first)
The Beast follows. Taking 10 for 19
Eldin strips out of his chain shirt, rolling it up and putting it into his pack, then prepares to follow the swimmers.
The deep pool of warm, salinated water exerts a strong pull, but working together, you manage to swim through it without misfortune. On the opposite side of the pool, you find a short, rough hallway of natural sandstone. Worn into a circular shape, the tunnel extends for roughly fifteen feet before ending in a poorly fitted stone door. Multicolored, constantly shifting light pours out from the gaps in the frame.
From the other side of the door, a deep bass voice rumbles, “Back again? I look forward to entertaining another, guest, Vanthus.”
“The same arrangement as before then? You leave one behind for me, and I’ll let you pass unharmed.”
Figuring that we're leaving noone behind, Tyndal unslings his shield and gets ready.
As you swim past, you take a quick look below the surface, and note the presence of an underwater tunnel, roughly five feet wide, at the north end of the pool. As the black sewer sludge swirls into the hole, you assume the tunnel to be the source of the undertow.