Glock reminds the shapeshifter that HE KNOWS HE'S A SHAPESHIFTER, and there is no pretend morphing poonany is in his future.

"Couldn't you have transmorphed into Amaemar the Hot or something and before talking like that?"

Hearing the dwarf stir, Glock brushes past his increasingly disturbing party member and quickly considers throwing him into the fireplace.

Considering the more pressing matters to attend to, though, he reminds himself that that'll always be an option in the future, should it come to it.

Grabbing the dwarf by the collar, he drags it all the way back to the bridge, and pushes it up to the edge.

The vitriol in his voice was impossible to miss.

"You. You killed my friend. Your pet may have done the act, but he was only following orders. Your orders."

"So now we're going to play a game. You tell me what I want to know, and I don't kill you. You lie to me, and I start removing fingers. If you piss me off, you'll wish fingers were the only thing I'd have cut off."

http://www.tvparty.com/bgifs20/lietome.jpg

"What is the remaining defensive contingent within the fortress? I want troop numbers, placements, types."

The duergar is silent for a long moment, and his shoulders begin to shake with quiet laughter.

"So be it. With my beard shorn and the rest of my squad annihilated I can never return home anyway. Whatever you might do to me would pale to the punishments I would endure — but I digress. I will tell you what I know. Be kind enough, in turn, to kill me quickly.

Past the empty hall to the east is the old chapel. Consecrated to Baphomet, it is, the horned god of the old minotaurs. We don't go in there. I recommend you follow suit. Baphomet's temples are few in this age, and he watches them all most jealously. You ask for numbers, but none of us have ventured in to count the screaming things beyond that door. We locked and barred both doors into that place when we arrived, and barred those doors have stayed.

North to the troll pen, then east... there's a corridor. Doors to the east and to the north.

To the north lie the slave pits. We have... fourteen or fifteen in the pens right now. Humans mostly, a handful of half-elven bastards. Head theurge Framarth is in charge there, with a handful of recruits — five or six. Green, all of them, but you don't need much of a hammer arm to scare farmers. Framarth has devils at his beck and call — I hesitate to call these "troops" but he'll have at least three of the ugly things tormenting the slaves. Don't ask me what kind of devil. I am no expert diabolist. Green, covered in spikes. Prone to giggling.

To the east of that split corridor are Murkelmor's private chambers. Paladin, he. Sworn to Asmodeus. Highest-caste among us here in Thunderspire, if it's glory you're after. Devils at his command as well. Man-shaped, carrying scourges. I do not tarry long in Murkelmor's chamber to observe them beyond that. At least two shock troopers guard him day and night, as well: you know their kind. You slew their captain yesterday, they should be no special threat to you."

The scout squares his shoulders and stares blankly down into the ravine.

"Do what you will. I have served the Hells to the best of my ability. I do not fear them."

"I don't do kind."

Dragging the dwarf back to Rundarr's chambers, out of sight and out of mind of the cleric, Glock gets to work.

Glock cuts a 6 foot section of rope from his pack and then divides that further into 4 1.5 foot sections.

Drawing his sword, he quickly chops off the arms and legs of the dwarf, turning him into a talking torso, but quickly applies the rope segments as tourniquets so the thing wouldn't bleed to death that quickly.

Grabbing a gross sock off of one of the legs, he stuffs it into the dwarf's mouth.

Glock props the disemboweled creature up, uncomfortably close to the fire pit.

"Enjoy your slow roast, motherfucker."

Wiping the mess off his hands, he proceeds to throw the arms and legs out a far window, away from the rest of the party, before rejoining them.

"Ok, so. Green spiky laughing devils. Anyone got any ideas?"

Knowledgin'

Rebuffed by the robot, Helga sets about clearing away the evidence of the team's presence. This involved jettisoning the corpses of Ortak, Helga, Derik, and the non-Doorman orcs into the ravine, as well as emptying the bridge of corpses, cheese, feet, and another debris.

Upon which she sets on to examining the looted weapons for signs of enchantment. The disappointment at getting rebuffed by the ungrateful Clock nags at her very soul.

The locked chest is very curious. Must try to lock pick with shapeshifting fingers and steal what's inside, yes? Might even make Helga feel better.

Thievery Check: 7+6=13.

Cal fumbles with the locked chest, but doesn't make any headway. Helga's stubby little dwarf hands are not particularly well suited to feats of dexterity, it seems. Maybe someone else would have better luck, or at least some advice.

Glock ponders on his relatively slim knowledge of demons. He can't remember much, but the description sounds like something he'd heard referred to as a "Spinagon" or "Spined Devil". They're one of the most commonly summoned types of devil, because they're so easily to motivate: spinagons have a keen interest in both plunder and mayhem.

Helga gets impatient and tries to rip the chest open with her bare stubby little hands.

Take that, chest!

Cal punches the box!

The box takes 4 damage. What do you have to say to that, box.

Additional Spam:
The box is grimly silent.

What an impudent box.

Glock notices Cal is playing with his box.

For Christ's sake, do that behind closed doors.

Glock gets up, closes the door on Cal while he's molesting the chest, and pushes a bed up to prevent Cal from escaping.

That didn't seem to work.

http://hools.files.wordpress.com/2007/06/pooh_think.gif

...


...


...


Screw it. Impudent boxes must be punished severely.

Box, you are my quarry.

Helga carefully shoots the box.

Box takes 19 damage.

Glock ponders the situation a moment.

"Screaming things". Banshees, maybe? Banshees are women, technically. Awwww yeah. Gonna go meet some undead bitches.

Trying to validate his decision with some sort of rational explanation, Glock proposed "Ok, so. Uhhh. Minotaurs. Right. Yeah. Temple. That's why we're here or something? I think? Wanna go scope that out? I dunno. Seems like a good idea to me."

"The dwarf said they don't really go over there. I'm sick of killing dwarfs. I'm as pro-genocide as the next robot but it just gets old after a while, y'know? How about we go check that shit out?"

Leaving Cal to his fate inside the boarded up room, Glock leads scowling cleric and the rest of the apparently paralyzed party east. Grabbing a torch on the wall and a bedsheet on the way.

"Might need these. If greasy short people don't go into places, it might not have any lights. Especially if it's filled with screaming scary things."

Grab a torch off the wall somewhere.
And a sheet.
GO EAST YOUNG MAN

Cal shoots the chest. The chest does not respond. The chest is stoic.

Cal hears some kind of scraping sound just outside the door of the bedroom. It's probably not important. Cal is determined to outwit this box. To dominate it.

Glock and Garrmondo cautiously approach the doors to the east. Contrary to the reports of the unfortunate scout, no screaming is audible from within the room. However, a constant metallic clattering can be heard, like someone pouring coins onto a table or dragging a length of chain.

A gray mist pours out from under the door, but it dissipates almost immediately after escaping the room beyond.

Helga is infuriated with the abnormally-strong chest. She picks it up and throws it against the door, smashing the door (and hopefully the lock) to pieces.

Cal hurls the box at the closed door. Mysteriously, it smashes through the sturdy door as though Cal had thrown a boulder rather than a small footlocker.

The box lands in the fireplace, but seems unharmed.

Cal thinks for a moment that he heard the box chuckle, but it is probably only his imagination.

The abnormally-durable box has utterly defeated Helga. She sobs in abject humiliation as the chest laughs at her.

Leaping through the hole created by the box, Helga bounces up against the bed. She takes a pillowcase along (which naughty miscreant put that bed here?), and fishes the naughty box out of the fireplace with her sword. After it cools, she takes it and seeks out the halfling. He is their master of unlocking and could probably help. Maybe the cleric can assist as well. The human and the handsome robot are nowhere to be seen.

"'Ey. You with th' thieve's tools. Y'look like you kin open dis here box by yer leisure. But do rest up, ya look a little under the weather!" Which was quite true, for the halfling was still dripping with blood from wounds inflicted by Derik.

Whelp, Helga might as well examine some mundane weapons while her companions are standing around like they're dazed or undead...

Take 1x pillowcase, 1x crossbow, 10x bolts, 1x warhammer, and 1x hide armor.

While waiting for her companions to snap out of it, Helga wracks her mind on what sort of creatures this Murkymire's "man-shaped carrying scourge devil" thingies might be.

In an attempt to scare Gordok out of his stupor, Helga changes form again.

Shapeshift into a human male Zombie

http://upload.jetsam.org/images//zombiemj.jpg

.

BOO

Ehh, I totally don't have Acer's permission, but he's free to delete it if he likes to do something else! :)

Changething had a little box
Its lock was tough as nails
And everywhere the little box goes,
Changething followed without fail.

Until today!

http://upload.jetsam.org/images//Gordysmile.jpg

Changething will part with box no matter what!

Thievery, Take 10 on Box: so check of 20. If box opens, see what's inside. If box fails to open, throw it off a cliff.
Spend 2 Healing Surges. Gordok gains 32 HP, for a total of 46/49 HP and 1 temp HP.
Drag Cal and Gheth east, joining Glock and Garrmondo.

Glock takes the box.

Glock opens the door.

Glock throws the box into the new room.

Glock throws Cal into the new room WITH the box.

Glock closes the door.

Zombie Cal interrupts Glock's movement, executes a remarkable feat of acrobatics, flips over Glock's head, and kicks him into the room.

Gordok opens up the little box. Inside are three rubies, worth probably around 100GP each, along with 40 GP in cash.

Suddenly, Glock swipes the box out of the halfling's hands and runs back to the chapel door. He yanks on it mightily, but — it is locked.

Cal comes running up to the door, does a sweet midair flip over Glock's head, and slams painfully into the locked door.

Idiots!

Ooh, that thieving warforged thought to swipe Cal's box, but Cal was too smart, ho ho! Why does his head hurts though?

Dazed Cal is not impressed with those totally fake rubies, and leaves them in the opened box. Let the little halfling take it - he hasn't taken any treasure in the Horned Hold yet, so it's his turn. Plus he totally deserves it for being the one to deal the epic armadillo damage, and dispatch Gorg to boot. So let him have his trinket.

Cal pockets the 40GP. Thinking for a bit, he takes out 6GP, puts it into the human's wallet, and takes 60 of his arrows while he's not looking. Carrmondo will never miss it!

Make a swap - take 60 of Garr's arrows, pay him 6 GP.
Request update of inventory. Am I slowed by now?
Also requesting the outcome of a knowledge check on "man-shaped carrying scourge devil" that's with Murkelmor.

"It's time to pick open the door, or bash it down at least. Strong guys first?" Cal says this while backpedaling till his back touches against a wall.

Move as far away from the door as possible, but still, keep a straight line of sight to it.

"The scout says they locked and barred both doors into the chapel. We may yet need your scroll to escape out the other side." Cal answers. "Bash it in."

Carrmondo's gentle slap has readied him for combat, so the ranger draws two arrows taut to his longbow, ready to let loose at a moment's notice.

Ready an action. Once the door opens, Twin Strike any non-ally I see.

There seems to be something strange about these rubies. Perhaps with the right words Gordok and his companions could...


Nah! Gordy deposits the rubies into a deposit box on Glock labeled "Blendtec Total Blender".

Backpedaling away from the door, Cal racks his brain for Helpful Devil Facts.

Pain Devil
Medium immortal humanoid (Devil)
Pain devils are relatively weak devils, but they are cruel and bloodthirsty foes. A pain devil’s scourge causes agony that briefly cripples its target.

Regardless, he resigns to kill the next thing he sees. He notices a sharp pain in his lower back. Maybe he's carrying around too much junk.

Something on the other side of the door begins pounding on it, clearly aware of G-Unit on the other side.