Megan Robertson
|
Romo, your knowledge of nature informs you that the distribution of the mould is extremely curious and far less random than what might appear unadulterated in the wild - no wonder it caught Gander's attention. It's almost as if an intelligence directed its growth.
Hale, you just have this feeling that it's harmless... but best not messed with.
Going on down?
Megan Robertson
|
You all make your way downstairs, finding that the stairway opens out into an enormous laboratory. Against the north and south walls are two identical daises raised about five feet from the laboratory floor, each accessed by a wide set of curved stairs. Atop each dais is a wide workbench covered in a bewildering series of glass beakers, tubes, alembics, athanors, and other alchemical tools. Some of these containers are filled with a murky green substance.
A massive mould-encrusted basalt table dominates the entrance of the room, flanked by two small tables to the east and west containing surgical tools and sheaves of old parchment. The walls of the subterranean lab were clearly fashioned from the living rock under the monastery, but carefully cut mould-encrusted tiles line the floor, interrupted occasionally by metal drains the size of dinner plates.
A narrow, rough-hewn passageway leads off to what is probably an undercrypt, but it's closed off by a solid-looking door.
Remind me, has anyone sustained an injury that left an open wound? Said individuals might want to be careful down here...
Megan Robertson
|
That's odd! Romo, as you commence your thorough search, you notice that the liquid within the glass apparatus quivers ever so slightly as you approach. It's fairly vile-looking: seems to be sloppy, near-liquified plant matter festooned with tiny mushrooms and patches of sickly green and mustard-hued mould.
There's a sheaf of notes on the eastern table flanking the basalt block.
| Gander Longstalks |
Distrustful of the equipment in the lab, Gander allows the others to lead the way, keeping a watchful eye with his slingstaff at the ready.
Perception Check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
I think Hale's right and that Khismia healed us all of our wounds. And Gander has been staying out of melee combat anyway.
Megan Robertson
|
OK, Hale...
As you move to take a closer look, it suddenly lashes out with a pseudopod extruded from the surface!
Attack roll: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Wetly, the pseudopod attempts to wrap itself around your arm... 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27
May I have a Fortitude save, please, Hale
You may now all roll your initiatives and post actions/relevant die rolls...
Gloop's initiative: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (4) - 1 = 3
| Gander Longstalks |
"What did I tell you?" Gander shouts. "You don't mess with the vile pulsing slime!"
Initative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
Gander moves back and tries to figure out whether or not he can shoot the thing wrapped around Hale's arm without hitting her.
No other action aside from getting the heck out of the way.
| Gander Longstalks |
I am very sorry to announce, but I will not be able to play pbp anymore. Stopping my other games as well :(
Enjoy the rest of the adventure
Sorry to hear it! Good luck to you and your future endeavors!
Gander shakes his head. "Damned if I know what it is. But I don't think my sling bullets are going to do any good against it."
He returns his slingstaff to his back and looks around for something that might make a decent club. The idea of getting all that goo on his greataxe does not appeal to the halfling at all.
Megan Robertson
|
Thanks, but unfortunately a certain university did not recognise the quality of what was on offer to them... oh, well, more time for gaming!
Slithering around the floor, even dodging down drains and back up again, this insiduous gloop is making a determined attempt on all of you.
(Another) Attack on Hale: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Attack on Gander: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Attack on Romo: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
All these attempts have failed, but that doesn't seem to be deterring the gloop.
Meanwhile, Khismia takes fright and runs screaming from the room and back up the stairs...
What will you do now?
Megan Robertson
|
Tables, laboratory glassware, a pile of notes...? Nothing very club-like here, alas.
Attack on Hale: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Attack on Romo: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Attack on Gander: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
May I have Fortitude saves from Hale and Romo, please?
Megan Robertson
|
The mould slithers back into the drains.
Megan Robertson
|
Hale suddenly bolts out of the room and up the stairs...
What are the rest of you doing?
Megan Robertson
|
Common will suffice, Gander, although they're a bit esoteric. The sheaf of paperwork on the eastern table flanking the basalt block contains several alchemical formulae of great value to an alchemist. These include instructions covering the construction of restorative ointment and marvellous pigments - who knows, might be worth up to 300 gp to the right buyer!
| Romo Vendelev |
Romo sees Hale run out of the room, then looks at Gander walking over to the notes.
"Maybe, we should see what has her so worked up."
He quickly follows Hale back up, then watches the peculiar display of her digging for, and then finding the dagger.
"How in the name of all that is divine, did you know to dig there?"
| Hale Caress |
Hale grins at him, a slight high swinging in her voice. "A vision guided me to find it, right here in Sarenrae's temple. This Fang of the Light will guide us and be a source of power and reckoning!"
With fresh vigor she looks about. "There must be a few more things around here we haven't looked at?" Megan: if you could highlite what's still unexplored. Is it just the top-right corner? Is there a downstairs that is more expansive than what we've looked at up to now?
Megan Robertson
|
Downstairs:
Here's the laboratory - there's a passageway leading to the west with a solid door closing it off. A crypt, perhaps? Or merely storage for the lab?
Above ground:
You have explored just about everywhere now. The only inhabitants you've found are pugwampis, baboons, stirges and the gloop - all of whom have either been driven off or killed.
You are all standing in A8 at present, Hale clutching her new dagger.