Tomb of Horrors (GFF D&D Adventure X)
 

It was many days before the three of them returned to Freeport, with the halfling hitching a ride for reasons of his own. Perhaps it was simple wanderlust, or perhaps he was getting a little too well-known in certain parts of Veltalar. Shadowspade kept his own counsel.

While they were away, the Freeport Captain's Council had finally reached the end of weeks of deliberation. The issue: who to blame for the Foulspawn Incident. News traveled slowly out of Lamid, but eventually the larger picture became clear. Adventurers were at fault. Lazy, sloppy adventurers. An initial, half-hearted attempt was made to find the precise adventurers responsible, but the testimony of the Lamidans was considered unreliable in identifying them. One of the culprits was said to be a doppelganger who rode a white stallion and always stank of rotting meat, while other stories insisted that the blame lay on a talking golem and a tiny bear that it had tamed. Worse, the golem was said to have escaped justice by flying away in a magical bag. It was all very preposterous.

In the end, there was only one real solution: all adventurers would be blamed equally. To prevent this sort of catastrophe happening again, the course was clear. Soon the news went out: any and all mercenaries and sellswords working within the walls of Freeport must register with the city. Henceforth, individuals with tasks in need of resolution would bring them to the proper authorities, and the Council's wise sages would assign worthy adventurers to each task as they deemed appropriate. The resolution met with relatively little resistance from Freeport's dozens of mercenaries, mostly because they were extremely hung over from a festival the previous night. The convenient timing of the resolution's passage has not gone unremarked-upon.

And thus in a very short time indeed Glenn and Puyet were both assigned to a longstanding case involving a man who had misplaced some kind of tent. The exact details of this undertaking have been lost to history; the official records were incinerated under Freeport's rarely-enforced laws regarding printed obscenity. While it is regretful that this intriguing adventure must remain a mystery, most undertakings around this period are delightfully well-documented. Consider, for example, the grim and dangerous quest in which Gra-fa-zut and Samwise promptly found themselves entangled — a venture deep into a deadly place known even today as...

The Tomb of Horrors.

"Mr. Shadowspade! Lovely to see you again. How'd things go with the rats in Mr. Farvington's cellar? Wonderful, just wonderful. I'll go ahead and put that one in the outbox. Let's see if we've got anything else for you... ah! Here we are. Actually, we just need one more for this and you can probably get started on it today. Bit of a specialist position, though...

Excuse me! Are any of you in the lobby swordmages, by any chance? Swordmages, hands in the air. Ah, yes! Already dealt with that escaped lion, I take it? Great. So it's settled! Here are your briefing envelopes; the rest of your group should meet you on site. They're a motley bunch, but I'm sure the sages know what they're doing. Best of luck!"

And so Samwise and Gra-fa-zut were thus en route to the municipal cemetery in the heart of the old city, Samwise reading over the briefing as he walked.

Summary of Problem
Ancient lich looms ever-closer to godhood, as each death within his sphere of influence makes him ever stronger!

Location (Be Specific!)
Old city boneyard (von Brandt mausoleum)

Reward (if any)
Salvage on-site (estimated large)

These things were always so melodramatic. Nobody ever had goblins in their turnip patch, they had a plague of miscreants plotting a massive famine!

The pair arrive at the cemetery to find the rest of their group already there. A kobold, a minotaur, and a shifter — hardly an ideal company for close-quarters work underground. You take what the sages give you, though. The old von Brandt mausoleum is a massive affair, but it's a sham; the heavy doors hang wide open, and the mausoleum is revealed as nothing but an empty shell. No bones lay at rest here; the real tomb lies far below. The mausoleum of Aloysius von Brandt conceals only one relic of the dead: a perfectly maintained staircase, leading down into inky darkness.

Well, well, well. New people. Monsters... OK, I can deal with monsters. A shifter, though... god, so close to the loathed changelings, but at least still human. I introduce myself quickly, before peering down the staircase, and checking the rest of the room out. I wonder if there's anything arcane about this place.

Arcana check on mausoleum/stairwell

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose as we approached the temple. Yes, yes. Surely the sages knew exactly what they were doing. The last time they sent us after an archlich it turned out to be some snot nosed half-orc and his three goth friends trying a summoning ritual they read in orque beat magazine. I let my mind wander to thoughts of breaking each of the sage's law signing fingers. One by one. I smiled a little.

The familiar squish of wet cemetery mud under my boots brought my attention back to the task at hand, though. It took the whole of my considerable self-control not to balk when I saw the motley group we were approaching. Sages, it is good to remember, are assholes. And they seemed to enjoy proving it time and time again. As I walked past Gra, I muttered under my breath...

"If it is a lich, and it probably isn't, but if it is, whichever of us gets his head drinks free."

I approached the group while Gra started poring over the opening. I pointed at myself. "Sam." And jerked a finger at my partner. "Grape-fra-oot." I didn't wait for too many introductions. In this line of business, when you learned names the person was generally dead too quick for it to ever be of any actual use. I'd remember names if they did something useful. Or at least suitably flashy. At least this group seemed more able than the usual group of glorified farmers with rakes.

As I approached the entrance, I let my senses take over, feeling more than looking for anything out of the ordainary. The place had the slight smell of decay and death. Maybe this would be fun after all. I dropped Gladys into the left hand covered by my light shield, my rapier sliding into my right. For queen and country and all that.

Perception check. 4 + 8 = 12. Allow us to stick with passive perception and call it 18.

On one hand, Garold was pleased that his request for work involving the destruction of the unnatural had not gone ignored by the council this time. On the other hand he was now faced with descending into dark catacombs most likely filled with hungry undead. He supposed there was a chance that this would end up like his previous job where the "monstrosity" he was called upon to save a town from turned out to be an eccentric artist's particularly hideous modern art sculpture, but as he gazed into the black void beyond the stairs that possibility seemed to be waning.

A halfling and a genasi arrived together and introduced themselves. Brevity seemed to be the order, so the shifter simply nodded and said "Garold" before returning his attention to the creepy hole in the floor.

Upon seeing the halfling ready himself for combat, Garold decided to do the same.

Equip light shield.
Light sunrod and place in shield hand.
Equip distance tratnyr.

Garold then held the sunrod out to illuminate the stairs, and joined the halfling in looking and listening for zombies or other undead abominations.

Perception check. 16 + 12 = 28

Another day another set of critters to blatter upside the head with a hammer. No Gnomes this time, Life is good.

I'm "Slim" and I don't know about the large bovine fellow he's just been staring at the grass producing methane since we arrived.


Pull hammer and everburning torch Descend as soon as the group is ready.

I wasn't entirely sure quite how I'd ended up becoming a registered mercenary. After all, it wasn't like I spent all my time running violent odd-jobs for cash, quite the opposite in fact. My years long quest to track down the evil cultists who murdered my parents had, granted, dragged me all over the continent and certainly a lot of people had offered me money to go off and kill monsters and things, probably mistaking my simple woodsmans axe for a weapon of war. Of course, being a pacifist and abhorrent of all kinds of martial displays I had turned them down but it was uncanny how often I had woken from one of my crippling migraines to find that some other fellow had come along while I was in a daze, murdered an entire mountain full of demons and then left without a word, leaving the locals convinced that it had been me who'd done it and showering me with gold. It was rather embarrasing to be honest and so I had come to Freeport in the hope that in a town already chock full of swords for sale, I might escape notice and be able to knuckle down and find the patricidal bastards and bring them to justice. Sadly, Freeport seemed almost completely devoid of Goblins and those I had attempted to capture and interrogate had proved slippery and, sadly, a bit fragile.

It was primarily for this reason that I had signed up to the guild, hoping that a few of the members might be a bit more academically bent than myself and could help shed some light on my thus far fruitless quest.

The Sages had for some bizarre reason decided that I was suitable for a job involving tracking down a liche in a tomb. I told them that there would be little call for a simple woodcutter like myself in a tomb underground but I can only guess they knew about my hobby of solving mazes and figured the underground tomb might be a bit twisty-turny. I fervently hoped that the rumours were exaggerated though, my new companions certainly looked a rough bunch and I had no desire to be caught up in any rough-housing, I'd probably just get in the way.

I stood, staring at my feet nervously as the group assembled. Meeting new people had never been my forte and all these weapons made me particularly wary. The others introduced themselves in curt, milataristic fashions and they all looked very professional as they examined the entrance to the tomb. Not wanting to show myself up as the obvious amateur in the group, I quietly introduced myself in what I hoped was my best, gruff mercenary voice.

"Ah, hello chaps. My name is Beefi, Beefi Kertanz, pleasure to meet you all. Shall we er, get this show on the road then? Don't want to keep the blighters waiting, what?"

I chuckled nervously as they all gave me slightly funny looks. It was going to be a long day I could tell. Rather than extend the awkward silence, I strode forward into the gloom.

Let's do this shit, onwards down the stairs

The group stares hesitantly down into the dark tomb below. The sunrod and torch provide more than enough light to see to the bottom of the stairs and a little beyond. The stairs were perhaps 25 feet, terminating in broad corridor roughly 20 feet wide. The floor below is a bright melange of colorful mosaic tiles. Among the random scatter of colors, a broad red streak of tiles wends roughly down the center of the corridor below; the red streak curves east and west irregularly on its way down the corridor to the south. There's no sound of anything moving down there, and while there's a distinct smell of rot it's no stronger than you'd normally expect from a poorly-tended graveyard.

The place is practically humming with magic, though; Gra-fa-zut picks up on it practically as soon as he arrives. The mausoleum stands in stark contrast to the dilapidated mess that constitutes the rest of the cemetery; The stonework looks practically new, and the grass around the mausoleum in a large radius looks significantly lusher and healthier than the sickly brown & yellow grasses in the rest of the graveyard. Maintenance enchantments weren't inherently suspicious, but old Aloysius had been among Freeport's founding fathers, and as far as anyone knew his descendants had scattered to the four winds ages ago. Task mages don't work for free.

Breaking the awkward mood, Beefi suddenly leaps up, introduces himself, and hurtles down the stairs. As he has no light, he can't really see much more than he could have from up above. The corridor continues south for quite a long way; he can't see the end of it from here. On the walls are beautiful frescoes; cows grazing in open fields, gnolls standing guard in a wizard's study, wolves on the prowl. On the west wall is a gruesome portrayal of slaves cowering in a doorway, suffering under the cruel lash of a demon.

The frescoes are amazingly lifelike and detailed; it's as though you could step into the scenes, or the inhabitants of the scenes are threatening to step into reality. Beefi realizes with a start that this perception isn't entirely false; one of the painted gnolls carries a brass-bound strongbox, but the box isn't part of the painting; it's just affixed to the wall somehow.

I follow down the stairs and look around keeping well clear from either the red tile or the strongbox. Let the Halfing handle it. He looks to be a shifty little bastard so this sort of thing should be right up his alley.


percept bitch 4+2=6



Sigh I'm going to assume my +2 to find traps will not help here.

I had on my travels found myself in quite a few odd catacombs and from experience, I knew that the people who built these things seemed obsessed with setting up traps to keep unwelcome visitors out. Always seemed a bit silly to me as surely it made getting in and out yourself rather annoying and in fact dangerous if you happened to be drunk or something. Gods knows I had managed to injure myself pretty badly once or twice just tripping over my own feet, without leaving rigged crossbows around the place.

Not wishing to further prove my amateurism by setting off a trap, I looked warily around the room, avoiding touching the obvious possible dangers of the red tiles and box. A sudden thought occured to me, if I was building a deathtrap, I'd want a secret entrance that bypassed all the traps so I could get in easily. Figuring the more experienced members of my new team wouod deal with any traps, I poked and prodded the painted walls, looking for a secret door.

Search for secret doors

Satisfied that the minotaur and kobold would provide enough flesh to distract any undead long enough to make a run for it should need be, Garold descended as well and took a look around. Being largely unfamiliar with mechanical devices, he decided to leave trap checking to the others and focus on what was down the hall.

Perception check. 8 + 12 = 20

I go back upstairs and gather about a dozen large rocks. Then Head back and chunk them at the strongbox, various points along the red tiles, and the area off to the side as well. I may not be much for lock picking but throwing shit that I can handle.


Like so

Uxig spots no obvious traps, but with torch in hand he spots something the minotaur could not have seen in the darkness; a faint message is engraved in the red tiles.

I CONGRATULATE YOU ON YOUR POWERS OF OBSERVATION! SO MAKE OF THIS—

There was more to the message, but it was beyond the range of his torch.

Beefi carefully prods at the painted frescoes, looking for a hidden route to avoid walking the suspicious red pathway. Nothing obvious presents itself, but the plaster of the demon torturer fresco gives a different sound when poked at, as though there were a hollow on the opposite side.

Though he's not especially interested in the chest, Garold can't help but spot a hidden lever jutting slightly from the bottom of the wall-fixed strongbox. In addition, with the improved illumination of the sunrod he can make out much more of the hidden message in the tiles. The corridor leads south for at least another 100 feet before the range of his sunrod is exhausted.

SO MAKE OF THIS WHATEVER YOU WISH, FOR YOU WILL BE MINE IN THE END NO MATTER WHAT!

Go back to the tormentor or through the arch, and the second great hall you'll discover. Shun green if you can, but night's good color is for those of great valor. If—

While there's clearly more to the message and Garold can see the signs of etching in the rest of the tiles, he simply can't read more of the tiny engraved letters without getting closer.

Uxig returns to the surface, glaring quizzically at the genasi and the halfling, and gather up some scattered rocks (and a broken chunk of tombstone or two). Back in the tomb, he flings them about here and there to no immediate result; the rock thrown at Beefi's feet as the minotaur prods at the torturing demon fresco produces a hollow ring unlike the flat crunching of stone on stone that the rest of his tosses produced. Was something below the minotaur's feet?

Oh good, a patronizing tomb builder. Now they get to look forward to being chewed on by zombies and being mocked. After seeing Slim chuck rocks at the red tiles with no ill effects, Garold's curiosity overpowered his caution, and he decided to see what the rest of the message read.

Before embarking down the hallway, he pointed his spear at the strongbox and said "There's a hidden lever on the bottom of that thing, make sure the halfling sees it if he ever gets down here."

Garold then walked slowly down the center of the hallway, keeping an eye out for anything hostile at the edge of the Sunrod's glow. Whenever he approached another line of red tiles, he stopped and tapped them with the tip of his spear to ensure they sounded solid before crossing. As he walked he began to wonder what was keeping the genasi and the halfling. They had arrived later than the rest of the party as well. Maybe they were union, he mused, and were on a mandatory break. If he survived this he'd have to look into it.

Garold proceeds cautiously down the corridor, tapping the tiles ahead with his spear. He finds several hollow-sounding spots — 5, including the place Beefi was standing on. If it was holding the minotaur's weight it couldn't be all that dangerous, but there was no harm in caution. As he locates the suspicious areas of tile he leaves scratches on them with the tip of his spear, that the others may avoid them more easily. As he works, he gradually reads the rest of von Brandt's taunting message.

If shades of red stand for blood the wise will not need sacrifice aught but a loop of magical metal — you're well along your march. Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall. These keys and those are most important of all, and beware of trembling hands and what will maul. If you find the false, you find the true and into the columned hall you'll come, and there the throne that's key and keyed. The iron men of visage grim do more than meets the viewer's eye. You've left and left and found my tomb and now your soul will die.

Garold was not a man of great sophistication, but even by his limited standards von Brandt's idea of poetry was badly lacking. At length he finally comes to the end of the message, and the end of the corridor along with it. The snaking path abruptly splits at the end.

One path leads east into a stone archway; the archway is utterly clogged with mists, and Garold cannot see anything of what might lie beyond it. The arch is set with three large gems: a yellow topaz on the left, an orange tourmaline on the right, and a bright blue sapphire at the top of the arch.

The second path leads to a massive stone carving of a bearded green devil's head, with the path leading directly into the devil's open mouth. Curiously, the light of Garold's sunrod does not illuminate the interior of the devil's mouth, and the path thus leads into an impenetrable darkness.

Back at the north end of the corridor, Samwise descends the stairs at last and heedlessly pulls the hidden lever on the chest. Without warning, the floor opens up beneath him! He reflexively attempts to grab the chest to avoid falling, but he's not quick enough; the halfling plummets 30 feet onto a bed of rusty spikes. On the upside, it's obvious that he's not the first to fall for this trap. 6 small gems are scattered around the floor of the pit, amongst dozens of brittle bones.

30 damage to Samwise

http://www.seoboy.com/wp-content/upl...d-facepalm.jpg

I throw my magically returning maul at the chest in an attempt to knock it down in the pit where Samwise can get at it. Then I take my rope and tie one end to the bottom of the stairs and throw the other down into the pit.

If this works would you mind tying your end of the rope to the chest? I mean if you don't have more pressing business staring off into space or killing yourself of course.

Then I go over to the hollow fresco the walking prime rib is prodding and smash the crap out of it with my hammer using my stonebreaker power if need be and making certain to stand off to the side in between the pit and the scratched tiles.

Athletics? Strength?

I jumped as the floor opened up next to me and the halfling fell into the pit. My mother had always told me not to go around touching things that didn't belong to you and not for the first time, her advice seemed to ring true.

The little lizard guy seemed to be the inquisitive type and I'll admit I too was curious as to what was behind the hollow sounding wall. I wasn't sure that my curiousity was grounds enough to go smashing up somebody else's wall though. In an attempt to distance myself from the wanton vandalism, I helped Samwise clamber out of the pit, steadfastly keeping my back turned to the dismantling of the wall. I sighed deeply as I noticed the attempts to get at the contents of the strongbox were continuing, despite it clearly a) belonging to someone else and b) just being a trap.

The writing on the floor appeared to be a riddle of some kind, offering advice to would be tomb raiders in an unhelpful fashion. As with the traps, I had never seen the point in these cryptic clues dungeon builders seemed so fond of. Either you want people to stay out or you want them to get in, make your mind up.

Figuring there was unlikely to be more than one pitfall trap in this corridor, despite the assurances of the poem to the contrary, I worked my way down the side of the corridor, tapping the wall with the butt of my axe as I went, looking for more hollow sounding spots. It looked as though Slim was determined to dismantle the whole tomb looking for loot and though I disapproved of thievery, I figured the quicker he found everything of value in the area, the quicker we could move on.

Help Samwise out of the pit, with or without the chest. Look for more hollow sounding spots

Garold was mulling over the meaning of the poem when he heard a loud clank followed shortly by a crunchy thump from the far end of the hallway. He turned and shielded his eyes from the sunrod to see the kobold peering inquisitively into a pit that hadn't been there before. The minotaur was just looking startled and confused. Both of them looked alright though, so he trusted them to handle whatever it was that had happened down there and went back to analyzing the poem.

"Shun green if you can..." He looked at the big green bearded devil carving. He wasn't exactly eager to dive into impenetrable darkness through the mouth of a demonic doorway, so this advice seemed sound.

He couldn't make much sense of the rest of the colors, but the line "Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall." caught his attention. The minotaur had been standing on a hollow set of tiles after discovering the hollow fresco on the wall. Perhaps there was one more. After studying the location of the hollow tiles along the red streak, he had a good idea where to start looking. The question remained though, would the fall into one of these pits be fortuitous for them, or the tomb architect that clearly wanted their souls.

Move 2 spaces north and 1 space east.
Examine the wall in the two spaces to the north, and tap spear on closest one.

[color="Red"]Hearing amusing noises coming from down in the crypt, I quickly joined my fellows. Casting a glance around, I notice the red floor, and start zigzagging my way across the room, stopping on my way to help the minotaur with the halfling. Chests are sometimes good things, so I figure more people hauling up the little man, the better. Following that, I make my way across the rest of the room, checking out both the obvious exit and the creepy green doorway.[color]

Assist in helping Samwise up, preferably with chest. WHAT'S THROUGH THE DOOR (also arcana check on green thing)

As I was pulled from the pit, the gems in my pocket and the chest in my hand, I let a string of curses fly. Nothing like getting a bloody nose thirty seconds into the damn dungeon crawl. Clearly not my greatest moment. As I splayed out on the ground, bleeding quietly, I caught my breath, checking the chest for traps and then tossing it open as I sucked it up on a magnificent scale.

"I am getting too old for this shit."

On the plus side, maybe this meant there was something here. Not a lot of deadly spiked pit traps in empty crypts. Well there were, but clearly, if I fell for it, then there was magic at work. Ahem. After catching my air, I sat, watching the steps of those going before me closely. If they found anything worth checking out, I was happy to help. But I didn't have the reach. So instead I focused on not dying and keeping an eye out for traps.

Boost back up to full health.
Pocket gems. Check the box for traps. (23) If none, open chest.
Check room for visible traps.(20)

After working together to haul Sam out of the pit, Beefi and Garold resume prodding at the walls. They find no more hollow spaces, however.

Having gone to great pains to recover the chest, Samwise gives it the once-over for any more tricks. Finding it clean, he greedily flips it open.

It's empty.

Gra-fa-zut arrives fashionably late, and is immediately curious about the giant green devil head. One thing's for damned sure; that thing is magical. In what way, he's not certain. But it definitely is magical.

Tired of all this pussyfooting around. Uxig decides to start breaking things. Though it takes a few good whacks from the little kobold, the fresco of the slaves cowering in a doorway collapses to reveal a narrower hallway — roughly 10" wide, leading west. Alas, his torch is again inadequate to see to the corridor's end.

Disappointed that his theory about the wall was wrong, Garold decided to follow Slim's example and start destroying things. He wanted to find out what was under the hollow tiles, as they had proven harmless thus far, and the idea of a "fortuitous fall" still teased at his brain.

He steadied himself so as to not fall in should he succeed, and then attempted to drive his spear through the center of the closest tile.

Attempt to break floor tile at S3.
If successful, take a look and find out what's down there.

A secret passageway! This adventure was getting more exciting by the minute, although that is was bricked up rather than covered by a door suggested that there was nothing particularly of use down there and the passage looked no less creepy and dangerous than the other options. Not having my own source of illumination, I waited for someone else to check out the new passage and while I waited, picked up a chunk of masonry from what used to be the wall and tossed it through the big, green devil head, not convinced personally that walking through it would be a good idea.

Ah I love the smell of crushed precious art in the morning. Excited that my go to strategy of when in doubt smash has payed off I run around the room shouting and dispensing high (middle) fives and ending with a leaping chest (crotch) bump on Beefi.

WOOOOOOOOHHHHH YEAH DESTRUCTO FIVE

Now that I've got that out of my system I retrieve my rope then head back upstairs. Find the longest poking stick I can practically carry with me. Head back down gather gather up my trusty testing rocks.

I could see that the Furry (not that there's anything wrong with that) was amenable to my way of doing things so I lend my hammer to the cause.

Surface smash 2 the breakoning!

Slim heads back to the surface to purchase a 10-foot pole, and returns. He enthusiastically aids Garold in smashing apart more floor tiles, but all they uncover is another dangerous pit, without even the consolation of more gems at the bottom.

Suddenly, Uxig remembers that (as a kobold) he can easily see in the dark. He peers down the dark western corridor again, espying a massive, moldering wooden door at the end.

Beefi picks up a few odd chunks of masonry and plaster, hurling them forcefully into the mouth of the green devil's head. They vanish soundlessly into the black void; no sign of their fate is apparent.

Garold had scoured the pit with his keen eyes, but it was just a pit. Sigh. At least he had struck a blow against bad poetry by sending some of the red tiles to a spike-filled final resting place below. And even if he wasn't making any progress on discovering the secrets of this tomb, breaking some asshole necromancer's stuff was still satisfying in its own right.

He considered smashing open some more pits, but realized he had no idea which ones might be "fortuitous," and smashing them all would create a considerable navigational hazard. If he was going to survive this he certainly didn't need any more allies hurling themselves headfirst into deathtraps. Instead he decided to put his canine senses to use by scouting what was beyond the gem-laden archway.

Move to V3.
Take a look through archway.

Sam peers down passage, looking for traps as he edges towards the door, listening for any sort of indicative sound.

The halfling seemed the most experienced of our motley crew and I figured that if I followed his lead, the others might not realise how out of my depth I was here. I followed him down the corridor as stealthily as I could.

This room is played out man like for real. Time to shake things up. Provided Garold hasn't just brought down hell on his own head I take a quick look around to see if there's anything amiss and boldly stride forward and burst through the door like the Instant Grog Mix Troll.

OH YEAH!! COME GET SOME YOU DEAD POET CUNT

Percept 18+2 plus an additional 2 if it's a trap

Try as he might, Garold could not see anything through the archway. The white mists were just too thick.

Sam crept up on the doorway as stealthily as he could. He detected a strange sound on the other side — a scraping, as though of stone against stone.

Throwing caution to the wind, the kobold rushes past him, kicking in the door. There's a huge goddamn gargoyle inside, sitting on a dais. It seems kind of upset. There are broken chunks of stone scattered all around the dais; the little stone fragments are twitching. Seeing as Beefi and Sam are operating by the radius of his torchlight, Slim is the only one who actually sees the gargoyle.

Then it starts shrieking. That should clue them in. It leaps from its dais, flying through the doorway and easily passing over Uxig's head. It lashes out in all directions with its four clawed arms; Uxig and Sam manage to duck the assault, but the minotaur isn't so lucky. Two of the gargoyle's stone claws tear into Beefi's face and chest, sending great spurts of blood spraying onto the walls.

Gargoyle Defenses: AC 23, Fort 23, Ref 22, Will 20

Flying Strike!
Claw 1: Miss
Claw 2: Miss
Claw 3: Crit! 18 damage to Beefi, and 5 ongoing damage.
Claw 4: 13 damage to Beefi.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/TOH06.png

:savepoint: Uxig 24, Gra-fa-zut 21, Garold 18, Sam 12, Beefi 9, Gargoyle 32

It appears that instant grog does not delight gargoyles in the way that is does other sentient creatures of all ages. Oh well we have ways of dealing with the culturally ignorant. Aiming right for the tail stone I crack him with my hammer.

Word of Exchange miss

Hey hey hey there fella I don't think you want to do it this way. I mean we are literally as a group unqualified to do anything except murder things viciously and you're looking a lot like a hooker that no one will miss in a dark alley right now. A large beclawed hooker that could stand to moisturize a bit mind you but it takes all kinds. Just saying

intimidate not so much

I look and see that two of our group are nowhere around and aim to fix that problem.

OI!!! FLUFFY AND FLAMY STOP PLAYING GRAB ASS AND GET OVER HERE!

Well, judging by the screams and shouts coming from the freshly opened corridor, we weren't following the red tiles anymore. I broke into a run, trying to get there as quickly as possible.

Minor and Major to Move; end movement at F-1

The gargoyle rushed into the corridor, raking the minotaur with it's claws before the barbarian had a chance to react. As deep wounds were rent in his flesh, the minotaurs eyes rolled back into his head and he let out a hideous, bestial cry.

MMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The minotaur pirouetted on the spot, swinging his massive axe at the head of his adversary before flowing gracefully into a mighty overhead strike, the cow-man's muscles honed from years of cleaving through his enemies.

The first swing carved a huge chunk from the gargoyle and the second did barely less injury to the fell creature, buying his team some time to re-group to finish off the impudent creature that had dared to assault the rightly feared barbarian, slayer of armies and vanquisher of myriad foes far bigger and uglier than this whelp.

The minotaur snorted noisily, staring at the gargoyle with maddened eyes, daring the thing to try and hit him again

Immediate action - Curtain of Steel (11+ to hit)
On Beefi's turn - Avalanche strike (11+ to hit)

CoS - 37 damage
AS - 29 damage
Extra damage from Sam - 5 damage
Total = 71 damage

A cacophony erupted from the hidden passageway, ending with Uxig yelling for support. Garold turned from the doorway of impenetrable mist to see the genasi running full tilt down the hallway, and decided to follow suit.

Standard action - run
Move action - run
End turn at F2.

Oh my, that was a very pissed off looking Gargoyle. Probably best to focus its rage on something besides the party.

Spend Action Point
Standard Action - Biting Swarm

The magically charged spear finds its mark and explodes into a cloud of irritated bees. They waste no time swarming over the gargoyle, pissing it off even more, but also distracting it.

8 damage
Gargoyle has -2 to attack rolls until the start of Garold's next turn.

It was more guts than sense that saved me. When that damned fool splintered the door, I'd ducked my head, using the brim of my hat to shield my eyes from the splintering wood. Even before I heard the shriek, something deep inside told me hell was coming my way. Call it a lifetime of experience with things trying to rip your face apart, and only half of them being dames. Point was, I ducked. The stone claw caught my hat, tossing it down the hallway. Sure, I was happy my head wasn't attached, but mostly I was just mad about my hat.

I admit, normally I'm quicker on he uptake than this, but let's see you not get a little slackjawed when a giant cow screams in agony. I didn't know the fella, but he certainly didn't deserve that sort of pain. Well maybe he did, but at the moment he wasn't trying to kill me, and the big stone monster was.

Hot red blood splattered my face. Suddenly I wanted a nice beef stroganoff. More than that, though, I wanted this thing the hell away from me. We could stop by a steakhouse later. I glanced at the cow. Most of us could stop by a steakhouse later. Gritting my teeth, I caught eyes with Clementine the Cow just long enough to make sure he understood the idiotic plan I'd just concocted. I was going to play distraction to a giant stone monster.

This was not the dumbest thing I'd done today.

I felt this is something I should meditate on. And I would. If we survived this.

I darted forward, my blade lashing out angrily at the legs of the monster.

I felt the steel catch air, and sharply changed my trajectory, spinning away from another lashing claw and looking to drive my blade deep into the creature's gut.

Opening Move hits. Damage with Sneak Attack = 20.

I felt the blade catch flesh, and used it to spin myself away. It wasn't as good a strike as I'd hoped. A bee sting to a bear. The situation called for some profanity, so I used some. My momentum put me back or less where I'd started from, but in a more defensive posture. I just hoped I'd opened up the chance for the bovine to do some extra damage.

Sneak in the Attack to Shin. (SHIN. ROLL ANOTHER 2d6 FOR YOUR DAMAGE.) Encounter spent.
Low Slash. Miss. Encounter Spent.
Opening Move hits. 4 damage. 9 sneak attack. Encounter spent.

Final Adjustments:
Shin needs to roll 2d6 extra damage.
Gargoyle takes 20, the easy way.
Sam gets +5 to AC and Reflex until the end of his next turn.

Though the Freeport irregulars harried the gargoyle with many a cracked limb, it seemed that none of the wounds truly bothered it. How could you even tell whether you were wounding such a creature? Only the swarm of stinging bees unleashed from Garold's arrow seem to slow the monster down a bit. Though the gargoyle had been issuing a series of incomprehensible screeches since Slim broke down that door, the beast's shrill, echoing screams seem, for an odd moment, to form comprehensible words.

Get the Flash Player to play this audio file:

If it indeed had the gift of language, it seemed no more inclined than before to back down in the face of Uxig's threatening words. Enraged, the gargoyle's mighty leap carries it directly to Garold; it favors him with a single vicious swat from a stone claw, as though in warning.

Beginning of Beefi's turn: 5 damage to Beefi
Beefi makes his save vs ongoing
Mauling Claws:
Claw 1: 16 damage to Garold
Claws 2, 3, 4 miss.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/TOH07.png

:savepoint: Uxig 24, Gra-fa-zut 21, Garold 18, Sam 12, Beefi 9, Gargoyle 32

Hey this bastard can't just run away from me like that. I am a Kobold of high standing within this community and refuse to be ignored. As soon as I get out of here I will immediately put up posters telling of this to warn the masses.

My opponent Ward T. Gargoyle votes in favor of unlicensed cattle slaughter in unsanitary conditions and fears vertically challenged Saurian humanoids. Can you trust a creature like this to represent you in your local tombs and mausoleums?

More immediately I run at the beast sliding under the genasi's legs and ending up to the south of the gargoyle. I Swing with my pushiest blow but again whiff. Oh well fuck it I can still keep our walking emergency food supply alive so we don't have to field dress it and drag it through the whole dungeon.


Run to g0, Brutal slam on gargoyle miss for fucks sake Rune of Mending using rune of destruction to Beefi granting use of a healing surge +3hp and +2 damage to everyone til the end of my next turn.

Immediate Interrupt!

One thing that Garold had learned from previous battles was that no one liked having magical angry bees thrown at them, ever. As such, when he heard what sounded like speech from the angry stone monster, his thoughts went something like this:

Did that thing just talk? If it's smart enough to speak then it must be smart enough to know that I'm the one who...

And that's when its claws ripped a gash across his chest. Who knew a fixture weighing a few tons would be able to move so fast when given life? Fortunately, having so much practice dodging the attacks of furious bee-covered opponents let him duck the second set of claws, while simultaneously calling upon nature spirits to retaliate. They swirled about him, but then focused as he curled his fingers and joined his wrists. Finally, he yelled the primal words of power "Hahh doo khenn!" and directed the spirits into the gargoyle's abdomen. It was a fierce hit, and the impact caused the creature to slide back.

Spirit's Rebuke. Encounter power spent.
5 damage to Gargoyle.
Push Gargoyle 1 square north.

If there was one thing these creatures never quite understood it was that you should NEVER get near a swordmage... make him come to you. As the beast screamed ... something, I don't know, I slammed my aegis over him, following through with a slash of my blade. I muttered some words as I hit the thing, sending blackness into its body.

Aegis of Assault on gargoyle.
Enervating Slash on gargoyle. 15 +11 = 26 > 23 HIT / 11 + 6 = 17 Damage

This beast was going to need a bit of the hard touch. I'd fought stone before, but this rock seemed to be especially difficult to bring down. Snapping my rapier back into its scabbard, I flipped the crossbow to my shootin' hand and pulled Gladys with the other. It was nice to know there was at least one dame in this world you could rely on. She may not be a looker, but she was one hell of a dance partner.

I saw my new friend knock the gargoyle back towards the pit. I wasn't sure what exactly a short fall would do to a creature that could fly, but hell. He was new, and I didn't have any better ideas. So I decided to help by stealing the creature's attention. I decided the thing that could always pull my attention away from things, a good book, a nice drink, was being shot. Maybe he was the same. Let's find out.

Snap Shot Miss

The crossbow sailed wide. How do you miss something that big? I allowed myself a moment to shake my head in disdain at my own ineptitude. Why did I have to aim for the eye? Why not go for the huge body? Because it was badass, that's why. I flipped gladys and the crossbow. Maybe my fair lady could make more of an impression. Or at least a few depressions.

Shotgun hit. Damage with Sneak attack and the ward +2 = 21. Damage rolls hate me.

The shotgun struck home, sending dust and pebbles scattering everywhere. However, the monster didn't look that impressed. So I decided not to look very happy, just to spite him. I mumbled under my breath as I wandered down the hall, something about how whatever god it was that was mad at me for using their name wrong, or urinating on their temple, or any other number of things I probably did when I was drunk and/or really drunk, could back off. I got the message. I retrieved my hat, dusted it off, put it back on and looked back towards where the battle was raging on. I thought for a moment about how this was getting ridiculous. But then I thought again. No. Not ridiculous.

"This is getting stupid."


Snap Shot spent.
Dragon FP spent, must reload.
All weapon swaps done via armor power.
Total damage = 14 for power + 5 for sneak attack + 2 for that ward thing = 21
Move to E-5

Not for the first time, the minotaur's enemy was trying to escape his wrath. Not for the first time, the mighty warrior lowered his head and charged after his quarry.

Charge to E-1, Goring Charge on gargoyle (8+ to hit)
Damage 1D8+1D6+7+2=19 damage and gargoyle is knocked prone
Shift to F0 using boots power

The heavy impact knocked the monster to the floor, the momentum carrying the barbarian across the body of his foe. Once more the minotaur spun mid-stride before delivering a powerful uppercut to the prone form of the gargoyle with the flat of his axe.

Action point! Brutal Slam on gargoyle (11+ to hit plus whatever bonus you get for hitting prone people, +2 combat advantage?)
Damage 2D12+7+2+5=23 damage, gargoyle is pushed 2 squares north (into the pit) and is even more prone

The minotaur finished his strike with a smooth follow-through, ending in a picture-book pose with his axe flat across his back. He uttered a throaty war cry.

"FORE!"

Things were going fairly well for Garold now. He'd managed to get the big ugly out of his face, and his allies were coming to provide bodies to hide behind support. The spirit bees had dissipated though, leaving the gargoyle looking rather relieved. He'd have to do something about that.

Move action - shift to G1
Standard action - Biting Swarn

Miss

The gargoyle was on to him now. It deftly evaded the magical spear before turning to give Garold an extremely smug look. Too bad it didn't see that minotaur coming down the side passage.

As the huge gargoyle thumps down next to him, Garold's reaction is one of panic rather than of careful planning — but it works just as well. With a shout, primal spirits shove the beast away from him.

Uxig scrambles around being generally useless, but the minotaur at least seems to find him amusing.

Gra-fa-zut smirks confidently as the Gargoyle slams into the floor next to him. In a single graceful turn, his blade rips through the Gargoyle's body; the steel transmuting to a deadly energy that passes effortlessly through the stone. Almost at once, the gargoyle begins to rot from within; the stone carapace falls off in flakes as it moves.

Alas, the gargoyle is ready for the bees this time. Garold will have to think of something else. Maybe wasps. Maybe hornets. There were many possibilities.

Sam's crossbow bolt just snaps in two as it hits the gargoyle's stony hide. The situation called for heavier munitions. Gladys' report was deafening in the stone corridors, but the pistol had bored a smooth hole clean through the damned thing's torso; he could see the shifter through the exit wound, clutching at his sensitive lupine ears. Still the gargoyle barely seemed to notice that it had a hole in it.

No one knew why Beefi wore a horned helmet atop his already considerable horns, but no one could argue with the results; with a few quick motions, the gargoyle was sprawled on the floor and then, just as suddenly, sprawled at the bottom of a pit.

It leaps out almost immediately, its horrible shrieks only intensifying, but their attacks seemed to finally be having an effect. Whatever magic animated the gargoyle was breaking down; the thing was less a living statue and more of an unsteady collection of fragments at this point. Not that this made it less dangerous. It tears into Gra-fa-zut with a fury, and the swordmage is hard-pressed to deflect the ragged claws flying at him from all sides.


Chanic, how do you get 5 damage out of 1d8+6? Giving you 7 on that one.
Gargoyle OA on Uxig as he leaves F-1: 11 damage
Sam doesn't get the +2 damage from the rune for reasons I explained elsewhere.
And neither does Beefi, in either case. Gargoyle bloodied by Brutal Slam.
33 damage to Gargoyle from the fall onto spikes
Gargoyle's turn: Move action to un-prone, move action to jump out of the pit, Action Point! Mauling Claws vs Gra-fa-zut: 22 damage.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/TOH08.png

:savepoint: Uxig 24, Gra-fa-zut 21, Garold 18, Sam 12, Beefi 9, Gargoyle 32

Clearly my hammer is defective. I poke it suspiciously and make it clear that Mr. Smashy and I will have words when this is all done with. Time to try the less direct approach. Stone burns right?

shift to H0

Flames of purity on gargoyle close blast 3 catching everyone but sam and possibly gra fa zut depending on how that corner effects it. +3 damage to all allies in blast. flame of purity exhausted for encounter.

Ok apparently not so much but at least setting my allies on fire seems to have properly motivated them to end this quickly. Actually screw that I will not be made useless in this way. I let out my mightiest most terrifying scream and CHARRRGGGGGGEE!

YouTube Video

ACTION POINT Howling strike 19+11+1=31 HIT

about goddamn time 4+4+8 +2 for rune of mending +3 for being hit in previous turn as per my runic artistry +2 hammer daily power expended=23

That hurt. Yelling, I slashed back at the beastie, sending soundwaves at its stony skin.

Booming Blade 15 + 11 = 26 > 23 HIT / 7 + 6 = 13 DMG
Ready Firepulse for rest of encounter

Ooh, tingly. Garold looked around at his allies immersed in magical flames. He paused while looking at Beefi, and realized he was salivating. Man I could go for some barbecue. Maybe a good burger. Ooh, or a bison burger. Wait a minute, that gave him an idea.

Stampede Shot - encounter power spent.

11 + 13 vs. Fort. Hit!
1 + 1 + 9 = 11 damage.
Gargoyle is pushed 4 squares (or rather 2 until it falls into the pit due to lack of floor)

As Garold threw his spear (and thought about grilled meats) nature spirits once again swirled throughout the hallway before aligning to follow his throw then coalescing into three spectral bison. The shimmering translucent beasts charged straight through Slim and Beefi without causing any harm, then lowered their heavy heads and slammed into the gargoyle, sliding it back into the pit once again. The bison then followed it in, running straight over the edge like lemmings before vanishing as they fell.

Seeing the living statue so easily escape the pit, the minotaur resolved that he would stay down there this time. Setting off at a flat run, he followed his opponent, leaping high in the air when he reached the lip of the pit before twisting in midair and falling, elbow-first after the monster, driving his joint into the monster with his full weight behind it.

Er, charge attack I guess, not sure if there are any official rules for 30ft elbow drops.

In years to come, when artists painted great works to honour the epic battles of the minotaur Beefi Kertanz, for some unknown reason he would froever be depicted in this moment wearing tight, spandex shorts.

I was ready to reload and fire my two-handed crossbow, but as I raised the beast to my shoulder, thought something about wondering if he felt lucky, punk, I saw him disappear out of my sights thanks to Garold. The loud thump made me think he was back in the pit. I shrugged, sighed, set the crossbow on its hip clip, drew my pistol and set about trying to reload the sawed off beast. Which proved more difficult than you might think, what with the image of a cow running infront of the corridor screaming something about Beffamania.

I dropped the powder and picked it up, slowly wandering closer to the corner to get a better view of the carnage.


Reload Superior Crossbow
Stow and pull Dragon FP as per armour power
Fail to reload Dragon FP
Saunter to F-2

With great fury the irregulars drive the gargoyle back into the pit, only to watch in stunned horror as the minotaur leaps in after it. Truly, Beefimania was running wild on the gargoyle this day, and what recourse could it have?

With a thunderous crash, Beefi smashes into the battered stone beast with all his weight. With a last horrible screech, the monster crumbles into rubble. It is silent at last. Beefi notices a leather collar slip off the ruined heap that was the gargoyle's neck, studded with blue quartz. Perhaps more importantly, he's at the bottom of a pit.

Victory! 1,750 XP (350 each).

His opponent vanquished, the minotaur looked around for more fresh meat to slay but seeing he was alone in the pit, he uttered one further bestial cry before promptly fainting, slumping safely against the pit wall.

I shook my head, hoping to clear my vision as I groggily came round. I must have had another of my turns and by the looks of things, managed to fall into the pit in the process. Wincing in pain from the large gashes in my arm, I called out to my companions, hoping to hide the embarrassment in my voice.

"Er, hello up there, chaps? Anyone there? I, er, well, I, um, seem to have fallen into this beastly hole, heh heh. I don't suppose one of you gentlemen would mind awfully securing the other end of this to something while I climb out?"

I tossed one end of my chain and grapple up out of the pit and waited for the sound of someone fixing it to something solid. While I was waiting, I pondered at how quite so much masonry had ended up in the pit with me, I was pretty sure it wasn't here before. My eyes, caught a scrap of material with what looked like a gem attached to it so I picked it up. The blue quartz set off some nagging reminder in the back of my head but still a little unsteady from my fall I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

Slim runs at the pit screaming "THAT WAS THE LIGHTNING BROTHER!! HERE COMES THE THUNDER!" Skidding to a halt just short when he sees that the beast is already dead.

OH well there was always next time. Looking down I see that the minotaur is looking pretty dazed, must have landed on his head. I grab the other end of his chain and haul him up.

Try and be more careful next time would you meatloaf.

As soon as he's up I see if I can get a look at the shiny thing he grabbed and make heads or tails of it. Then I head over to the large chair the gargoyle was hanging out on and have me a little sit down burning one healing surge and taking a look down the hallway.

Once I had clambered out of the pit, aided by the ferocious looking Kobold, I had a better look at the trinket I had found. I thought at first it must have belonged to the Halfling who might have dropped it when he fell in himself but it didn't really look like his kind of thing, it was far too big for him for starters. Remembering the blue jem posted above the archway down the hall, I moved towards the arch, slowly, looking back and forth from the necklace to the gem set in the stone work to see if there was any reaction.

Spend a healing surge

Garold had not expected the minotaur to leap into the pit after the gargoyle and the spirit bison. Maybe it was the herd mentality that came naturally to bovines. He seemed no worse for wear, and even rather chipper, so all was well that ended well.

Beefi brought a collar with him when he climbed out of the pit, and a closer look revealed a small metal plate engraved with the word "Fluffy" riveted to the leather. Well, they'd certainly pissed this guy off now. No better way to anger a man than to kill his "dog."

Garold wandered over to the second hall and joined Slim in taking a break. He was probably going to need it.

Have a rest, spend a healing surge.

Before investigating the gargoyle's room, Slim takes a look at the collar that Beefi's found. He can't find anything particularly useful about it either, but between the two of them they notice a scrap of parchment folded into the collar's leather bands. Alas, the scrap only contains another cryptic attempt at bad poetry.

"Look high and low for gold, to hear a tale untold. The archway at the end, and on your way you'll wend."

Garold and Slim head off down the western passage again, getting a better look at the gargoyle's room. Other than the heaps of rubble (many of them looking a great deal like chunks of the very gargoyle they'd just destroyed), a heavy wooden door leads south, and another door provides a second route to the east. The stone debris has stopped twitching, for the moment at least.

Beefi wanders off into the dark southern portion of the entrance hall as the party's light-bearers split off to the west. Though he can barely see anything in the gloom, neither the gems on the collar nor the archway appear to react to each other.

Try poking both the doors open with my long stick. Surely there can't anymore creatures like that one too near or the sound of battle would have roused them. Also I drop my perma torch on the ground so whoever needs it can pick it up along the way.

Happy birthday!

Well this was a pleasant surprise. When the Kobold had risen from his break Garold had half expected him to go barreling off through another set of doors. Apparently the lack of impression it had made on the gargoyle had disheartened the barbarian a bit.

Oh well, break's over, time to go looking for more bad poetry.

perception on stone dais
After Slim gets the doors open move to H-13 and look through both of them.

I was never a fan of the dark so I hurried back to join the others. In the big room they were in, I examined the ceiling, hoping the clue was an easy one.

I followed my fellows down the hall, joining them in the new room. While they were looking around, I decided to sit down and rest a bit. When I got up, I sauntered over to the Minotaur. "So, anything up there interesting, burger?

Rest, burn 2 healing surges.
Change manifestation to Watersoul

I couldn't help but notice the continual references my erstwhile colleagues kept making to beef food products. I assumed it was all good natured camaraderie but made a mental note to not sleep too deeply in their company, lest one of them tried to eat me.

Slim pokes open the two doors at a distance. Luckily, they're both ajar; perhaps someone else passed through this part of the tomb recently? Both doors open onto roughly-identical rooms with floors of mossy cobblestone, each with an additional door leading south. The southwesterly room, however, contains more of the broken stone rubble that lies in heaps in the gargoyle's chamber.

Despite thorough examination, the gargoyle's room turns up nothing more of use. The dais offers up only a single unhelpful inscription, etched around the periphery:

To Fluffy, on his 300th birthday

Slim sheds a single tear for fluffy. They say you can never blame the animal but only the owner. I add this to my official list of reasons why this guy has got to go, right next bad poetry and extravagant wasting of money on a tomb that so far doesn't even appear to contain dead people.

Staring at the rocks laying around intently one question burns in his mind like very the fires of the gods themselves!


Is that gargoyle poop?


relevant poop identifying skill?

Having already taken one trip down to the bottom of a pit today, I was loathe to make a repeat performance. I stood in the doorway of the eastern room and looked for any obvious signs of traps. Assuming I didn't see any, I went over and listened at the door on the southern wall of the room.

Slim examines the rubble thoroughly (though taking care not to touch it). Contrary to his intuition, the rubble doesn't seem to be composed of any kind of droppings. Rather, it seems to be pieces of the gargoyle itself: a head here, a leg there, the occasional identifiable chunk of torso. Based on this room alone, Fluffy has been destroyed at least a dozen times before. Slim doesn't feel quite so bad about his role in smashing the thing.

————————————————————

Looking for any sign of a trap and finding nothing suspicious, Beefi strides into the eastern doorway. But even as he passes through the door, the tomb seems to fade away around him. For a moment, all is darkness — then Beefi finds himself in the middle of a small cemetery at dusk. The graveyard seems very badly maintained indeed; the grass is utterly untended and wild, and wildflowers and moss have begun the work of reclaiming the mausoleum standing in the center of the property. Six freshly-dug graves encircle the mausoleum. Beyond the fence encircling the graveyard is only an inky blackness.

Six people (three men and three women, all human) wander the cramped graveyard; they make no attempt to hide their business from Beefi (indeed, they seem not to notice his intrusion at all), and he easily overhears them squabbling about money.

A seventh figure emerges from within the darkness of the mausoleum; a gaunt, pale human man wearing priestly garb greets Beefi with a smile. The holy symbol of Pelor hangs from his neck.

"Greetings, friend. As you so readily intrude into a stranger's tomb, perhaps you can also help me to redistribute the wealth of the dead. A merchant in Veltalar has died and left 1000 pieces of gold to his three daughters and their husbands, but his will was indirect and unclear at best. He asked that his daughters receive 396 gold altogether; Elena receives 10 gold more than Nara and Greta receives 10 gold more than Elena. Jared receives twice as much gold as his wife, Callum got precisely as much gold as his wife, and Radu got one-and-a-half times as much gold as his wife. So far as I can tell, they've all complied with the wishes of the dead; but for the sake of maintaining church records I must know who is married to whom! I have tried to ask them myself, but they seem too busy squabbling over their inheritance to aid me."

The priest sneers scornfully for a moment.

"Perhaps you can help. I am sure I have all the information I need to put it together, but it's been such a long day..."

————————————————————

Back in von Brandt's tomb, the rest of the team looks on quizzically as Beefi seems to freeze mid-stride in the middle of the room he'd just entered.

Slim walks over and performs a jumping pimp slap on Beefi.

This is not nappy time you magnificent pile of mouthwatering pot roast!

Luckily, I had always been good at maths based puzzles, you could say in fact that I Excelled at them...

"Well I would say that Greta is married to Jared, Elena to Radu and Nara to Callum. Greta gets 142 gold and her husband 284. Elena gets 132 whilst her husband gets 198 leaving 122 for Nara and Callum each. I do hope that helps with your little quandry"

The priest is startled by Beefi's quick response, and he looks quite downtrodden and sad for a moment before regaining his composure.

"Ah, yes, that is... that would be appear to be... very good. Well, thank you for your help, noble sir! Please, take this with my thanks."

With a forced smile, the priest presents Beefi with an ornate abacus of silver with ebony beads — and the scene fades away as suddenly as it appeared, leaving Beefi standing in the small room with his abacus. Shrugging, he returns to his original task and listens at the southern door; it's faint, but he can hear the rustling of straw and the strident tones of an argument between two men. Just behind Beefi, Uxig hangs motionless in midair, his arm pulled back as though preparing to slap something.

————————————————————

Uxig finds himself on a bare dirt road passing through a thick forest. The road leads directly into the mouth of a low cave; the cave looks too small for anything like an orc or a human to explore, but someone Slim's size could live there comfortably.

A strange little sign is posted a few feet in front of the cave, providing an unusual query to travelers.

THIS CAVE CONTAINS TEN XIVORTS AND 25 IMPS. IF TWO OF THEM COME OUT OF THE CAVE TO MURDER YOU, WHAT IS THE CHANCE THAT THE FIRST WILL BE A XIVORT AND THE SECOND AN IMP?

Uxig spots dozens of beady eyes peering from within the darkness of the cave, awaiting his answer. Behind him, the dirt road looks to continue on into the forest for miles.

As I watched the cow escape her trance, and Uxig enter his, I sighed inwardly. Right. Vision room. Okay. Sure. Done these before. I ran across one of these in an arch-wizard's abode. I'd walked into his library, and suddenly I was standing at the base of a giant castle being yelled at by an angry frenchman. Something about a grail. I muttered under my breath as I stepped towards the far side of the room,

"I swear to Oghma, if someone asks me anything about a swallow, I'm going to punch someone."

Slim stands still for a moment and ponders this turn of events. He thinks back on anything previous to this that might be mathematically relevant. His mind flashes to every choice that has led him to this point in his life. The ancient chants of his people echo through his head.

'Lo, there do I see my father.
'Lo, there do I see My mother, and my sisters, and my brothers.
'Lo, there do I see The line of my people...
Back to the beginning.
'Lo, they do call to me.
They bid me take my place among them.
In the halls of Koboldia...
Where the brave...
May live...
forever.

A smile slowly creeps across his face his worries slip away and there is only one thing left to do.

GO EAT A GNOLL DICK YOU CUNTFACED SONS OF A GNOME WHORE!

He flips the traditional one finger salute of the underdark and runs into the cave using Great Shout as soon as he adjacent to the first of it's inhabitants.

Shouting a mighty battle cry, Slim charges forth in the cave. He utters a vicious oath as he encounters an imp near the mouth of the cave, splattering in against the cave floor with his hammer.

The xivorts and the imps charge forward, crying in dismay. Nobody had ever outright refused to answer the question before. It just wasn't done! This was all terribly disconcerting. Two of the xivorts swing at Slim with their crude swords, but he is shielded by his courage, his excellent defensive position in the cave mouth, and the fact that xivorts are pathetically weak.

"The destroyer has come!", one of them blubbers. "All is doom!

Defenses:
Xivorts AC 15, Fort 12, Ref 13, Will 13
Imps AC 15, Fort 13, Ref 14, Will 13

:savepoint: Uxig 6, Xivorts 24, Imps 16

Sam strides into the strange room next, finding himself strolling alongside a mighty river. A few yards ahead, a goliath woman heaves a small boat into the water, holding it in place with her heel while she considers the three shackled prisoners following behind her: an orc, an elf, and a drow.

"You there! Don't be afraid, these fools are no threat to anyone except each other. I must get them across this river, but the Freeport council, fools that they are, only provided me with this insultingly tiny boat. I cannot possibly fit more than two people on this! These criminals are geased to prevent an escape, but the only thing preventing them from murdering each other is my constant vigilance. Left to their own devices, this drow will surely kill his elven cousin, or the elf kill this hapless orc, or both. It'd be all the same to me, save that I get paid double for bringing them in alive. What do you advise?"

When he was but a hatchling Slim cried for days upon being told he'd never grow up to be a dragon. Years were spent thinking "dragony" thoughts and trying to will himself to fly ,grow to enormous size and spray fiery death at all who dared stand before him. While his wings never did come in and his size remained stunted the firebreath was coming along marvelously.


BURN! close blast 3 aimed straight ahead +11 vs AC all but burn 8 are toast. +8 temp hp for killing a dude

ignore burn 9 got carried away

Flames of purity spent for encounter

YOU! I have spared you so that you might murder your friends for my amusement. Do this and I shall kill you last!

Intimidate target of burn 8 4+8=probably not.

Shift back 1

I took off my hat, using it to fan myself as I sat down on the edge of the river. I rolled up my pant legs and let them dangle in the cool water for a long few minutes as I thought about the problem. My initial reaction was to do precisely what my first reaction always was when a drow was involved. Drown the drow. But, as I'd learned so very long ago, riddles like this were never that simple. Luckily, puzzles were something I was good at. My race had a natural inclination towards riddles and word problems. Add into that the fact I solved riddles for a living, and I thought I might have a pretty good shot at this.

So, after I'd had my fill of sun and water, and gotten over my driving desire for a nice, tall glass of milk, I laid back, my hands under my head and told the Goliath lady the answer to her problem.

"What you have here, see, is a matter of logistics. And logistics ain't no thing to be discussing on a beautiful day like this. I'd offer you a nice roll in the hay, but you're even more imaginary than most of the women I wind up with. Albeit I always wanted a really tall girl. Speaking of logistics.

But no, we've a job to do, I suppose, don't we, beautiful? All right. My climbing fetish will have to wait.

Okay then, your first trip, you take the elf, leaving the drow and the orc. You leave the elf over there, and come on back to my side.

Your second trip, you take the drow, leave him there, return with your elf, leaving him on my side. You still with me? Good. This is complicated, and I might confuse myself.

Third trip, you take the orc from my side, ferry him across to the drow, leave him there. So now your drow and your orc are waiting happily as you come back, pick up the elf, and you can all go on your happy little death march."

I was loathe to open my eyes, because I knew it wouldn't be a nice, calm brook, but rather an ugly dungeon without a tall woman, with legs up to the sky and body art. I did so love body art. No, I would have a cow, and a guy who is on fire. So much less fun. Balls.

On the plus side, maybe when we got back to town, after I killed a lich, I could find me a nice goliath woman of questionable moral fiber and a joy of mountaineering. Then I could have my fun AND have murdered a lich. Yeah. That' the ticket.

Strange things were going on in the room ahead. Beefi no longer seemed to be affected, but the others were all frozen in place as if time had stopped. Uxig was held in a particularly unusual position, floating in the air with his arm extended. Beefi seemed to be fine after encountering whatever it was, so with his fear of injury assuaged Garold was curious enough to wander in and see what the heck was going on. He still wasn't particularly optimistic about it though.

As he walked in he grumbled under his breath about why all wizards had to be such jerks about having grand magical powers and did they hand out licenses to be dicks along with diplomas at magical academies or what.

The xivort seems to mull Slim's offer for a moment, then shakes its head sadly.

"Sorry, mister. But all you've done is show me that one man — one tiny, insignificant man — can stand up against what seems against unstoppable odds. Stand up, and fight, and maybe even prevail. And knowing that, how can I possibly surrender to you? It's kind of ironical."

The xivort wipes away a single tear before bouncing his sword off Slim's shoulder armor.


————————————————†”———

The goliath woman chuckles.

"That makes sense, doesn't it? Thanks for your help, short stuff."

She crouches down, patting Sam on the head as one might pet an adorable puppy. A moment later, Sam feels the cold stone under his feet instead of the warm grass on his back. His hat feels strange on his head suddenly, and as he reaches up to readjust it he feels a slip of paper tucked into the band. It's a coupon - "75% off your next visit to Razor's Edge Tattoo and Piercing".

The kobold is still in stasis. What was taking him so long?


————————————————†”———


Gra-fa-zut strides into the paralyzing room, and finds himself in a broad clearing in the middle of a forest. The genasi shivers... Freeport was only halfway through a mild autumn, but this place seems to be fully in the grip of winter. The dead, yellow grass crunches underfoot, and the trees on the edge of the clearing are capped with snow.

A befuddled-looking ogre stands nearby with a huge shovel; 9 saplings in burlap sacks are scattered on the ground next to him. The ogre notices Gra-fa-zut with a start, and pulls a tattered parchment from his belt. He recites:

"Hello, traveler! My master, the wise and benevolent Aloysius von Brandt, requires that I plant these trees in a particular fashion so that they may be used in a certain ritual. Alas, he has not given me detailed instructions on this matter, nor am I able to resolve it myself; I am but an ogre, brutish and stupid. Could you devise for me, traveller, how we might plant these trees in such a way that they form ten rows, each row comprising three trees? I cannot possibly manage it alone, as I am stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid."

The ogre seems unhappy to insult himself in such a way, but judging by his expression he is resigned to it.


————————————————†”———


Garold steps into the odd room, and finds himself in a dusty storeroom. Several gnomish women are here, squabbling; the argument seems to involve a small pile of iron rods.

"You there!" shouts a gnome, startling Garold out of his observations. "We have decided, as a group, that triangles are the secret to power. Therefore, we must take these six iron wands, and use them to create as many triangles as possible. And by we, I mean you, you insolent trespasser. GET TO WORK. Or you will never leave this storeroom alive."

Indeed, crates seem to be stacked floor-to-ceiling in every direction.

shift back 1 using shifty and then move back two more using a normal move

Good man I'm glad I could teach you such an important life lesson. Under other circumstances I would look forward watching your continued development and perhaps we could even be friends. Truly fate is cruel!

ranged basic attack with hammer at imp AL6

Seeing the imp explode on contact with his hammer like a rotted pumpkin drives Slim into a frothing madness.

Ver vee gu ter shmurshm der givorties BORK BORK BORK!

Swift charge used for encounter attempt to hold out my arms next to me and do a running clothesline on the front two xivorts.

Du yuoo vunt tu be-a zee boorgers?

intimidate xivort ak7

Note that I reset to 8 temp hp every time I kill something.

I was intrigued by the sounds of argument from the next room. My mother had always taught me to be polite and I didn't see why that should stop just because I was in a crypt full of death traps.

I knocked on the door and awaited a response.

Well this was fascinating. While his body must be frozen in the tomb, he seemed to be here in a completely separate world. It appeared to be a very limited world, but it was still a remarkable copy of reality. It reminded him of his favorite serial in Alchemical Fiction Weekly, which was Astral Expedition: The Second Generation. Most episodes revolved around discoveries while exploring the sea of stars, but occasionally they featured the ship's entertainment room, which was capable of magically creating people, places, and things to form an artificial world.

He'd always wanted to discuss the possibility and limitations of such a room with other readers of the series, but they only ever seemed interested in arguing whether the captain was better or worse than the captain in the first Astral Expedition series. Either that or just stating how superior it was to the Astral Battles novels, usually with the intent of drawing opposing fans into an argument.

But, here he was inside such a room at this very moment! Too bad it only seemed to be populated by grumpy gnomettes and crates. Still though, he would have to try and discover as much about this artificial world as he could while he had the chance.

He sat down at the desk and started sketching triangles on the provided paper. Not with any real intent to solve the puzzle though, he just wanted to appear to be working so he could ask some questions. He figured most would probably be answered with "Shut up intruder! Get back to work!" or something similar, but he couldn't resist trying to find a weak spot in this fake world.

"Since we may be here a while, my name is Garold. What are yours?"

"How long have you been here?"

"Where is 'here' anyway?"

"How did you get in here with all the crates stacked to the ceiling like this?"

"What's in all these crates?"

"How do you get food and water?"

With a snarl, Slim smashes the two nearest xivorts' skulls together, dropping them like dirty rags.

"Indeed, what hell this world is that two men of such like mind must be opposed in this futility. Whichever of us shall persevere, let no one say that we — GMMPH!"

The xivort's last words were interrupted mid-sentence by Slim's hammer as the xivort attempted to circle around him. It was a tragedy; they could have been fast friends, had the xivort not been so blue and ugly and suspiciously gnomelike. The final xivort meets a similar fate in the same way; slow learners, these things. Maybe that's why he'd never seen any of them before. Perhaps this was some strange sanctuary, a private preserve where the dumbest of nature's creatures could survive in a tiny world free of orcs and dragons.

Perhaps he, Uxig Uxigson, was the very engine by which the xivort race had just been rendered extinct.

At any rate, the only remaining threat to him at the moment was a great swarm of imps; provided you use "threat" in the loosest possible sense of the word. The way a snowball is a threat, for example.

Slim takes 10 damage from gettin' stung
Did you know? 4 tiny creatures can fit in one space!


————————————————†”———


Beefi knocks on the south door, while Sam sidles up next to him curiously.

"OCCUPIED!", shrieks a reedy voice on the other side of the door. "Wait your turn!"

Perhaps 30 seconds later, the door opens from within. Two shirtless, oily elves saunter out, fastening their belts with an air of irritation. They stop in their tracks momentarily, looking on Sam and Beefi with amazement.

"My, my. Aren't you the brave little thing."

"Do be gentle with him, you brute."

The elves scamper away, giggling amongst themselves; if they even noticed the three adventurers trapped in stasis, they give no sign. The next room lies nearly as bare and empty as the current one, though the stone floor has been replaced by a ceramic tile. The chamber is decorated only with a small heap of straw and the occasional unidentifiable puddle. Yet another door bisects the south wall.


————————————————†”———


"Our names? Um. Er. I'm Triangle Puzzle Attendant 1, and these are my good personal friends Triangle Puzzle Attendants 2, 3, and 4.

"We have been here—"

The gnomes quietly confer over a small pamphlet.

"—since earlier this afternoon. And by 'here', I mean—"

The pamphlet is consulted again.

"—Wands & Things, a magical accessories wholesaler in Anytown, Thay. I have no idea how that happened to the crates; I'm sure the help just fell behind on sorting the inbound shipments again. It happens. The crates are, as you may have surmised, full of quality magical goods which we intend to sell at wholesale prices; we cut out the middleman and pass the savings on to you, Name Of Testee — er, Garold. Yes. None of us are really hungry at the moment, and I'm sure the issue with the crates will be sorted soon. If not, Attendant 3 is quite the ritual expert and she'll be glad to cast Traveler's Feast for us in the event of an emergency."

There is a long, awkward silence during which the four gnomes examine their pamphlet at great length.

"So, how's the triangle thing coming along? Any progress, there?"

Slim pulls two pints of oil from his pack and smashes them on the ground at his feet. Giving it just a few seconds to trickle down farther into the cave.

TEME TU MEKE THER FLEMBE!

He strikes ground with his hammer creating a spark. Turns his back to cave and saunters out without looking back as the fireball fills the entrance in slow motion.

He stands there for a moment breathing in the sweet smell of burning imp. And then shrugs and mutters to no one in particular.


21%

I was aware of my somewhat sheltered upbringing but on my travels I had visited many strange cultures and I was certainly aware of the cult known as the Humus-sexualists. From what I had heard, they shunned the normal mating practices of their respective races, prefering the company of their same gender and delighting in performing bizarre rituals featuring root vegetables.

Very conscious that again, I was at risk of appearing the rank amateur of the group, I strode boldly into the room.

"Hello there chaps. Now I don't want to be one to judge and of course what an elf gets up to in his own home is his own business so let's all just agree to get along, what?"

I continued in a conspiratorial whisper.

"Between you and me, these fellows are, well, rather of a violent bent and I'm not sure they're quite as au fait with alternative cultures and lifestyles as I am so it'd probably be best for everyone if you could just give us a quick heads up about this here crypt. You've obviously been here a while so you must have some idea of the lay of the land, no? We've been sent down here to get rid of some frightful undead sort who's building an army or some such nonsense. Anyway, chances are it'd be a jolly bad showing for everyone if we let him get away with it so if you could just tell us about any undead lords you've seen down here and maybe fill us in on how to get into the depths of this crypt without triggering too many more of these accursed traps then we can be on our way and you can get back to, well, whatever it was you were up to. OK? Yes? Deal?"

I had had a great deal of success with negotiations of this type in the past although strangely, these attempts at parlay were often the trigger for my funny turns and more often than not, by the time I woke up everyone seemed to have eviscerated themselves and usually, all over me and my axe. Quite an objectionable turn of events to be sure so I gritted my teeth and prayed that I would not be beset by ill health on this occasion.

diplomacy check to get info from the Elves

Garold sighed. It appeared that he was not in an artificial reality after all. The vision room of the tomb must have used some combination of time stop and astral projection spells, and this "world" was no more than a stage populated by actors, if you could call them that. How very disappointing.

Well, time to get this over with and get out of here. No sense sticking around any longer. Garold pushed away the paper and gathered the iron rods in front of him.

"Ok, you haven't been terribly specific, so I am going to make some assumptions here. Stop me if I'm wrong. First, judging by your lack of a forge and metalworking tools your design requires no cutting or bending of the rods, yes? Second, for maximum Garold made air quotes with the index and middle finger of each hand (and rolled his eyes) "triangle power" each triangle has to be wholly on its own plane, so no laying any rods across other rods. Alright?"

Garold waited for a sign of approval before continuing.

"If that's the case, each rod has to be a side of an equilateral triangle..."

He continued talking as he placed three of the rods into an equilateral triangle on the table, then picked up the other three.

"...which means the optimal shape is a triangular pyramid, having four faces, and each being an equilateral triangle."

He held the three other rods up with his fingers to make the pyramid he described.

"Happy? Can I go now?"

The cow wandered into the room to make pleas. I was unable to get past my initial shock of what I'd just heard. As such, I threw my hat on the ground and yelled after the two elves, who despite being shockingly gay, were still no more gay than most normal elves.

"SERIOUSLY? BETWEEN THE TWO OF US YOU THINK HE'S THE TOP? COME ON. HE PRACTICALLY WEARS A SIGN THAT SAYS I'M A POWER BOTTOM!"

This? This right here? This is why I hate elves. Not that I'm gay. I mean, at least not all the way. We've all gotten drunk and gone home with a half-orc. And god knows that gender choice is a coin flip, at best. Also, at that point, does it even matter? But elves just have no sense of sexual placement. I'm butch, goddamnit. And if I'm going to be gay, I'm going to be a goddamned top.

Slim turns and strides away from the cave as the flames erupt behind him. His work was done here. He suddenly finds himself back in the tomb, landing painfully on his tail as he falls out of his mid-air paralysis. Looking down, he sees something new wrapped around his waist — maybe his dragonly ambitions were easier than he thought. He certainly felt more draconic.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/cin...gon_spirit.png


————————————————†”———


Dismayed by the relatively mundane nature of the vision chamber, Garold provides the gnomes with a solution — pouring on heaps of contempt along with it. The gnomes look on his solution with interest, but are disappointed in the end.

"Four triangles? That's the best you could do? Look, if you make a triangle and then lay it down, and put another triangle on top of it... see? Six triangles! Plus a hexagon in the middle. Hexagons are dangerous, but we have safely trapped this one with Triangle Power.

Your solution isn't even as good as the one we thought of ourselves! Get out of here, you jackass. It's clear you don't understand Triangle Power."

Garold finds himself back in the vision room; all but Gra-fa-zut seemingly recovered. The halfling and the minotaur seemed to be engaged in dialogue with a pair of elves. Unlike the rest, Garold returned with no reward for his strange experience — at least, none that he immediately noticed.


————————————————†”———


The elves seem immediately taken with Beefi, fairly fawning over him and his burly physique.

"Aren't you just the nicest thing. You know, I'll get in trouble for this, but — well. Cyril and I never really wander too far from our appointed chamber here while we're on duty; it's frightfully dangerous round here as I'm sure you've noticed. But we do know a few things, pieced together mostly from folks like yourself who got turned around or were just out-and-out fleeing.

First thing: never go through the misty archway without pressing the keystones first. I don't know what happens but nobody ever comes out. When I think about it, maybe that's not necessarily bad news. Maybe there's a hidden paradise in there and nobody ever wants to come back. Awfully selfish of them in that case, though.

Second thing: I once saw something come OUT of the devil's head, so it's possible to pass through it. Maybe it's only one-way, though.

What else... oh! The first gargoyle is kind of a jerk, but the second one's very quiet and polite really so there's no point harassing him unless you need to. Some bastard broke one of his arms off a few weeks ago and he's been inconsolable ever since.

Best of luck with everything, you two. Most adventurers just run screaming when they encounter us, such an insecure bunch in general really. At least we're a step up from the 15 lightning traps that we were hired to replace. I think it's quite an improvement in matters really, don't you? At any rate it's teatime and it's frowned upon to socialize overmuch with intruders, so we'll just get out of your way."

Cyril knocks on the east wall and the stones rumble aside, revealing a cramped but tastefully appointed little apartment on the other side; the elves hurry into it and close up the secret door again, leaving Beefi and Sam alone in the room.

Stupid gnomes, he had clearly told them that his design wouldn't cross rods over each other as to create improper triangles. They obviously didn't know what they were talking about anyway, as their design really had 8 triangles in it according to their rules. Two large ones and six small ones.

At least that was over with. Of course now he was back in a tomb designed to kill him, probably after being subjected to a lot more bad poetry. Well whatever, time to get on with it. He followed Sam and Beefi into the southern room, and immediately crinkled his nose in disgust. His canine senses were detecting evidence of acts committed in this room that he would have really been much happier not knowing about.

Garold gingerly tiptoed through the room to the opposite door, being careful to avoid the unidentified fluids on the floor. He didn't want to remain in the steamy biological fumes any longer than he had to, but he supposed it was still preferential to rushing straight into waiting death.

Perception check to listen for what might be on the other side of door

What a thoroughly nice pair of chaps the elves had turned out to be. Taking their advice to heart, I wondered what the keystones might be. Surely it couldn't be anything as obvious as the gems mounted around the edge of the arch? Perhaps the riddle on the floor was in some way related to a sequence in which one had to press the buttons, I would have to ponder that later once we got back there, assuming we didn't find an alternative route through these endless doors and chambers. It crossed my mind that an architectural feat such as this crypt would surely have some fairly comprehensive blueprints lying around somewhere and perhaps it might be safer to spend some time in the local libraries looking for tham rather than wandering around aimlessly as we currently were. I suspected however that the rest of the team wouldn't be quite so interested in that line of investigation so kept my thoughts to myself for the time being.

The wolfman was checking out the next door and we were still waiting for the elemental to join us so I had a better look at the abacus I had been given, to see if was just an ornament or something more significant. After that, I mosied around the room a bit, looking out for any other secret doors or cubbyholes.

Beefi looks over the abacus, but it seems to have no special function or magical significance. It's just a really nice abacus. He also spots no hidden doors in the room (save that belonging the elves, and nice as they are they seem unlikely to invite him in)

Garold puts his sharp ears to the south door, curious about the next challenge. He hears the sound of gently churning water, as though a river was nearby.

Garold reported hearing nothing but running water from the next room which in itself seemed a bit odd for an underground crypt nowhere near any rivers. Still, I didn't fancy going back through the weird dream puzzle room again so onward seemed the only option. Tentatively, I pushed the door open with my axe, unless it was a pull door, in which case I pulled it open with my hands.

Sam keeps a close eye on the door as Beefi pulls it open, but nothing untoward seems to occur. The room beyond is a small one, roughly 10x10, with a floor of metal panels. Strange glass levers are set in the east and west walls, with two more levers on the south wall; all four are set in the upward position.

A placard set on the whole above the southern levers reads: "DESCENDER WILL NOT OPERATE BELOW FULL CAPACITY. WHEN READY TO DESCEND, PULL ALL LEVERS SIMULTANEOUSLY."

The room ahead of us seemed to be some kind of mechanical lift contraption if the sign was a truthful one. Sadly, there only appeared to be space for four of us. Luckily, one of us was still messing about in the vision room.

I suggested to the shifter, kobold and halfling that we should perhaps all climb in and pull the levers.

Alright lets try this again.

Slim walks cautiously over to the Genasi suspiciously eyeballing the air. He attempts to throw him over his shoulder and haul him onto the elevator the hard way.

This isn't my preferred end of the dire boar back ride but it'll have to do.

If that doesn't work I just grab my everburning torch off the floor and climb on the elevator and casting disparaging looks Gra-Fa-Zut's way.

The ogre seems shocked and saddened by Gra-fa-zut's sudden angry outburst, but nevertheless his solution seems to be correct; he finds himself back in the tomb, a small mahogany box in his hands. A single fresh oak leaf is nestled within.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/in_a_box.png

Shouting insensibly, he barges into the cramped lift (adventuring parties being 25% larger than they usually were in the days of the tomb's construction) and the levers are pulled. With a creak, the floor panel swings away beneath their feet and the five of them plummet into a portal looming beneath the floor of the lift.

A split second later, they materialize just below the ceiling of a flooded chamber. Tumbling down, they fall onto hexagonal platforms; each of them landing at least 10 feet away from the other. A sixth platform stands empty, a simple iron trap-door built into its surface. If there's anything else of interest in the room, it lies drowned beneath deep, brackish waters. Dozens of sleek silhouettes dart back and forth beneath the surface, curious about the new arrivals.

Being a sage of Melora's wrath, Garold has an expansive knowledge of horrid animals. He attempts to recall what danger the party currently faces, and what the best method to avoid a painful death might be.

Nature check on aquatic animals.
Perception check to get a good look at one first, if necessary.

I knew little of aquatic dangers. On the odd occasion when I had needed to traverse any bodies of water, I had called on the services of my trusty steed, a shark I had named Bubbles, whose ferocious visage whilst quite at odds with his placid nature, had served to frighten off anything that had been interested in eating me.

I was quite perplexed as to why someone would have bothered to make it so hard to get into this crypt. The pallbearers must have had a devil of a time getting the coffin down here when Von Brandt had died. Still, this latest obstacle was nothing a bit of lateral thought wouldn't solve.

I had a chain and a grapple that might serve as an improptu bridge although I wasn't convinced any of the others could hold my weight. Holding one end of the chain, I swung the grapple and tossed it towards the trapdoor, looking for a purchase.

I wasn't sure what, if any climbing equipment the others had brought but it seemed to me that if one or two had ropes or chains we could toss the ends to each other and form a sort of web of ropes that might prove easier to cross than a single line and I vocalised as such to the others.

MMMMMMMMmm so many fishes so delicious, I must know what kind of breading is appropriate for these creatures. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess cornmeal.

Slim stares off into the water watching the creatures move and slowly starts to drool.


Nature check on fish 5+2

These fish are best served rolled in mud and cooked in a sulfur spring.

Garold and Slim lean out cautiously from their respective platforms, peering into the murky water in an attempt to examine the local fauna. The water teems with swarms of excited piranha. When sufficiently hungry, piranha in such numbers can easily skeletonize a minotaur in less than a minute. When not starving and desperate, however, the fish are much less dangerous than their reputation would indicate — but if these piranha have a food source other than hapless adventurers, it's not immediately evident.

Garold raised his sun rod and looked around the walls and ceiling of the chamber to see if there were any features that would make good rope anchors, or otherwise prove useful, with a good long look at the rusty thing south of Beefi and west of the trap door.

After relaying any findings to the party, Garold decides to sharpen his spear fishing skills.

"Hey look! Fish!" I like fish... except when they have pointy teath that are for the eating of my flesh. After looking down and failing to have anything important to add, I decided to do my fall-back option of sensing if anything magickal was going on.

Arcana Check on water/fish/room

OOOOOOH if you're going to catch dinner I'll help!

Slim commences commences to use his epic hammer fishing skills while imitating Mordenkainen's Faithful Imp Zapper with his mouth and looking pointedly at Gra-Fa-Zut.

ZZZZZZZTTTTTTT POW! ZZT ZTT ZTTT

The boys catch some fish. Due to the conditions of their environment the piranha are undernourished and kind of slimy, but having fallen through that portal it's hard to say how long it'll take to find a way out of the tomb. There were still plenty of rations to go around, but no sense cracking those open when dinner comes right up to you.

Garold gives the room one more once-over, looking for any obvious ledges or outcroppings. Though the rough stone walls might be climbable by an expert, there's nothing that protrudes far enough to hang anything on.

That "rusty thing" was a glitch in the map export, sorry

Suspicious, Gra-fa-zut scans the room for any hint of arcane skulduggery. But there's nothing to be found; it's just your typical mundane giant fish barrel.

After successfully spearing a few of the more curious piranhas, Garold is satisfied he hasn't lost his touch. The genasi had assured the party that they were fish of the non-magical variety, but considering their native environment the catch of the day was still rather unappetizing. It had been worth it just to watch the kobold's fishing technique though. I guess when all you have is a throwing hammer, everything looks like a distant nail.

Seeing as he was an agent of the god of the sea, he decided he'd better find a use for the fish he'd caught if he didn't want to have to choke them down later to prevent a future involving holy smiting. Ensuring to keep his fingers away from the sawtooth fangs of one until he was quite sure it was dead, he proceeded to slice it up into bite-size pieces and flicked a few into the water. He was curious to see if they'd eat their own given the proper presentation.

I continued tossing the grapple end of my chain over to the free platform until I figured it was vaguely attached then tied the other end round my waist. Hoping that my years of playing hopscotch as a child would serve me well, I did a few warm-up lunges before leaping towards the platform.

I made it, barely, and scrabbled up onto the platform, investigating the hatch once I was sure of my footing.

Garold tosses the bite-size fish chunks into the water experimentally. Sure enough, the piranha were all too happy to chow down on their own dead.

Beefi boldly leaps the 15 feet to the empty platform. Peering down into the small window set into the hatch, he sees a mosaic tile floor about 30 feet down.

I attempt to lasso the platform Beefi just jumped over too. If that succeeds then I tie the rest of my rope around the platform I'm located on and throw the leftover slack to Samwise so he can do the same.

I attempted to open the hatch, teetering on the edge of the platform in the process. With it open, I listened out for any sounds below before hooking my grapple over the edge and dropping my chain into the hole below.

I was just waiting patiently to see if Beefi could find a way down. I tied the rope and tossed it to Garold.

Garold caught the rope and looked at the halfling quizzically. Then at the genasi, then back at the halfling, trying to detect any indication of bad blood between them. Neither seemed to be showing any, so Garold assumed it must be some kind of joke they shared from prior adventures together. At any rate, Garold didn't want to alienate anyone, so he smiled awkwardly and tossed the rope to Gra-fa-zut.

He then busied himself chopping up the remaining piranha he'd caught, while softly singing an strange little song he'd heard somewhere before.

Fish heads, fish heads.
Roly-poly fish heads.
Fish heads, fish heads.
Eat them up, yum!

Now he just had to wait for Beefi to clear the platform.

"Nope."

I had.

No sounds down the hatch. Seems pretty quiet. Yep.

:shrug:

I slid down the chain into the room below, hoping that my enthusiasm wouldn't be me undoing if there happened to be a bunch of nasty creatures looking for a fight down there.

Well, showtime. Garold tied the rope Gra-fa-zut had thrown him around his platform before scooping up the pile of chum he'd made and throwing handfuls of it to the far edges of the room. If the piranhas were going to go into a feeding frenzy he wanted them doing it away from him. He then grabbed the free end of the rope and made a quick judgment on whether it would reach the hatch platform before he decided to take it with him or not. Then, he pounced.

Atheletics check. Standing horizontal jump.
14 + 6 = 20. 10 feet jumped.

Shit. Splash.

Athletics check. Swim.
Athletics check. Climb.

I attempt to tightrope walk across the line I have strung to the hatch platform.

10+8 so probably not?


If that didn't work I swim for it while screaming like a little girl and climb onto the platform.

21 to swim and 20 to climb out.

Beefi slides down the chain, descending into another long corridor. Luckily, this one provides some illumination from a lantern on the north wall, and he can get the lay of the land without waiting for the others. The hallway is lined with massive paintings, 10 each on both the east and west walls; each of the paintings is perhaps 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall, reaching floor to ceiling. The only other notable feature in the corridor is another mist-filled archway at the south end.

Garold's quick thinking saves both Slim and himself from too much injury, as the mass of piranhas are largely busy feeding on the hastily-made chum. Not all of the fish were so easily distracted, however, and they both take a few bites while scrambling up onto the hatch platform. Garold makes it up first, only to have a frantic Uxig shove him down the hole in an effort to make room for himself. Garold grabs desperately at the chain on the way down, but can't get a solid grip. He slams painfully into the tile next to a startled Beefi.

17 damage to Garold, piranha bites
15 damage to Uxig, piranha bites
20 damage to Garold, 30-foot fall

Slim climbs down down the chain and helps Garold up.

Let us never speak of this again.

Rune of mending on Garold and then sit down and burn a surge myself.

one surge +6 for Garold

That unfortunate business out of the way Slim examines the paintings on the wall.

Tiring of relying on the others for illumination, I removed the lantern from the wall, resolving to return it to it's rightful place on our way back out. Never let it be said that Beefi Kertanz took something that wasn't his without permission. I waited for the other two to emerge, not wanting to inadvertantly blunder into any pit traps like the ones we found in the first corridor and with no obvious way back up out of the fish room, wanting to retrieve my chain before heading onwards.

Garold wasn't quite sure what happened. He recalled making it to the hatch without severe injury, but everything after that was a bit fuzzy. It might have something to do with the pain. Or perhaps a minor concussion. Yes, that might be it he thought before passing out. And so, Garold remained where he lay, a crumpled soggy heap at the bottom of the chain. At least the sunrod had survived the trip with him.

take a break, use a surge

(Delay action until the tile is clear to approach without knocking someone flying)

I never much liked water. It was a stark reminder of how much liquid there was in the world that hadn't been converted to whiskey yet. I shrugged and decided to tight rope across the line that had been strung. Not so much because I didn't think I could jump it, as it would just be flat out cooler.

15+4 = 19 prolly a fail, god fuck you so fucking hard fucking dice.

As I slipped, I tried to snatch the rope on the way by with my hands, hoping to hand over hand it to the damned tile instead.

15+6 = 21? Fail or pass, fuck dice.

Slim checks out the paintings. All of them share a similar motif; creatures both extraordinary and mundane, posing with multi-colored spheres.

On the west wall, north to south:

A naga balances a gold sphere atop its head.
A withered mummy holds an orange sphere at its waist.
A burly minotaur stands with one of his hooves atop a purple sphere.
A sneering lamia holds a bronze sphere at her hip.
An owlbear carries a grey sphere atop its broad back.
A sahuagin balances atop a bright blue sphere.
A red slaad grasps desperately at a white sphere that hovers overhead.
A satyr tucks a turquoise sphere between its head and its left shoulder.
An illiithid tucks a scarlet sphere into a belt pouch.
A medusa aims a crossbow suspiciously at the pale green sphere lying at her feet.

On the east wall, north to south:

A werewolf's right shoulder is adorned with a pale blue sphere.
A wingless gargoyle clutches at a silver sphere on the ground.
A fire giant's crown is topped with a green sphere.
A kenku reaches over its back, tucking a yellow sphere into its pack.
A yuan-ti stares reverently at a pink sphere hovering overhead.
A massive hydra chews on the fresh carcass of a horse, ignoring the black sphere that has fallen from the saddlebags onto the ground.
A heavily-scarred kuo-toa carries a pale violet sphere over its shoulder in a net.
An elderly human mage gazes fearfully at his feet; he has nearly trodden upon a yellow-brown sphere.
A four-armed skeleton wields 3 scimitars; the fourth hand dangles at the waist, grasping a red sphere.
A winged succubus holds an indigo sphere well over her head, as though tauntingly keeping it out of reach.

Samwise tries to keep his balance on the rope, but it's no good; he hadn't been that steady on his feet for a long, long time. As he awkwardly topples over to his left, he manages to grab the rope on the way down and makes his way over to the hatch the slow way. It could have been worse, but that's small consolation as the piranhas rip little chunks out of his calves.

6 damage to Sam: piranha bites (half damage for partial immersion)

Vaguely remembering something from the crappy poem on the floor by the entrance about avoiding green and black or red being good options (And wondering if we could have just walked through the first misty portal to get here rather than mucking about with trap rooms and homosexual elves), I took a closer look at the picture of the hydra.

There's not much more to discover about the hydra painting. It's very badly done; everything is composed of simple, bright colors and judging from a few spots where the painter failed to conceal the canvas at all, the whole thing is literally paint-by-numbers. The rest of the paintings are just as incompetent. The spheres are the only thing made with any talent, as though a second painter added them on top of the clumsy works on display.

Gra-fa-zut makes it across the platforms with significantly more effort than is really necessary, but is unharmed.

Slim starts poking the black sphere suspiciously. Should that illicit no response then precedent states that it's hammer time.

He immediately starts into an elaborate dance routine at the prospect of yet another puzzle that can be solved by HAMMER TO THE FACETM.

Slim's hand goes right through the sphere with no resistance; it's just an illusion. There's an empty space roughly as wide as the sphere beyond; a circular hole in the wall about 3' wide. Slim doesn't feel anything occupying the space, nor can he reach the back of it (assuming the space has a finite depth).

Seeing the Kobold waving his hand through the black sphere like it wasn't there, I gingerly prodded at the red one in front of me. Rather than stick my head through it, I carefully attempted to remove the picture from the wall to see what, if anything was behind it.

Garold awoke from his semi-voluntary slumber to see the two barbarians sticking their hands through seemingly solid spheres. He thought perhaps he was still asleep, but his sopping wet clothes and fresh piranha bites suggested otherwise.

He rose to a crouch before shaking the excess wet off, spattering anyone unwise enough to stand in the proximity with wet dog water. He then set off to find an orb to prod at, as it seemed to be the cool thing to do. Wasn't there something about searching for gold?

Investigate gold sphere of the naga. Use spear as a poking stick to see if I can feel something in it

Beefi's hand passes through the red sphere easily as well, finding another empty space beyond. Impatient, he simply pulls the massive skeleton painting from the wall and tosses it onto the floor. With the painting (and its attendant illusion) out of the way, a crawlspace is revealed at the height that the sphere had occupied — roughly shoulder-height for Beefi. The 3' square tunnel continues for about 40 feet to the east before apparently terminating in a dead end, but by the light of his new lantern Beefi can see that the stone block at the end is wedged in unevenly; it should be possible to push it out of the way (not easily, though, given the cramped nature of the crawlspace).

Garold's spear reveals the gold sphere to also be an illusion, detecting an indeterminate empty space beyond. Even if he were to tear the painting down, the space is several feet over his head; it'll be tricky investigating further.

Gra-fa-zut casually jams his hand through the orange sphere held by the mummy, discovering another empty space — well, not quite. Before he can react, Gra-fa-zut feels his hand ripping through a fragile thread, and a tortured creaking reverberates through the west wall. With a great rush of dusty air, a spear comes flying out of the illusory sphere! Gra-fa-zut turns aside before the antique weapon can skewer him, but he's still grazed. He manages to staunch the bleeding with little trouble.

5 damage to Gra-fa-zut: filthy ol' spear

Slim shoves his head through the canvas of the painting he's examining and takes a look.

Garold frowns up at the gold sphere. Its height was preventing any further investigation, and even if he was able to reach it he wasn't sure he wanted to go crawling into a narrow tunnel. He knew of far too many nasty creatures that lived in tunnels about that size.

Slim and Sam looked like they'd fit in there much better than he, and the former was already eagerly sticking his face through an orb.

"Anyone want a lift?" said Garold, before standing beneath the gold orb and clasping his hands to make a step.

Hmm, the space behind the painting was a bit too small for me to squeeze into but I was fairly certain there was something of interest down there.

I picked up the Halfling and helped him into the hole, offering him my lantern if he needed some illumination.

I grumbled but, as noted, I was the only one of the proper size to fit that hole.

"Tighter than your mother, Grapefruit."

I chuckled at my own joke as I took the lantern and peered down the passage.

Slim shoves his head through the illusory black sphere. Beyond is a long, cramped passage very much like the one Sam was presently entering. Rather than terminating in a false dead end, however, this crawlspace goes on unimpeded for about 60 feet before making a sharp turn to the east.

Sam climbs into the crawlspace that had been behind the skeleton painting and just... looks at it. It looks pretty much the same as it did when Beefi looked at it.

Somebody give me their rope I'm going in.

If nobody hands it over then I jack the rope from the closest persons pack and crawl down the rabbit hole.

Gra-fa-zut fetches Slim a rope, but it's thankfully unnecessary; the snug tunnel goes nowhere that would make a return crawl difficult. After a long crawl to the east and another to the south, Slim emerges from the tunnel into a vast chamber, such that his darkvision alone is insufficient to see the far walls. At first glance, the area seems reminiscent of a church; pews stand in tidy rows on a floor of clean white marble, and a broad band of some glossy red stone cuts through the center of the room.

Slim detects a strong odor of incense coming from the south. Lavender! Who doesn't like lavender.

With the ropes retrieved from upstairs and everyone down here, I jiggled the grapple free and retrieved my chain before going back to the halfling in the hole and giving him a gentle shove of encouragement.

Sam advances down the tunnel cautiously, encountering no immediate threats, and carefully pushes the blockade aside. The passage opens onto a squarish chamber, strewn with heaps of rubble. Three bulky chests surround the room's center; one plated in gold, another in silver, and a third of fine mahogany.

Slim quickly backtracks to report his find.

There's an enormous room that smells like old ladies and molestation. I'd wager that's a sign of being closer to a lich if ever there was one.

That out of the way he goes down the same tunnel as the halfling to see what's taking so long. Seeing the large chests he does the only logical thing and starts whacking the wooden one with his 10 feet pole from a safe distance.

Should that illicit no response then he throws his hammer at it.

From what Slim had said, it seemed as though his passage was the way forward. Still, it paid to be thorough so, mindfull of the trap that we'd already encountered, I began to carefully remove all the other pictures from the wall, standing to the side as I did and laying it on the floor below so we could still reference the colours if needs be.

I thought to myself as I went about the task how surprisingly pleasant the whole experience had been so far. After all, we'd been down here for hours now and the only creatures we had encountered had been the two elves who had tured out to be rather friendly. Given the martial bearing of most of our party I had expected this job to be a running battle against hordes of the undead, rather than this rather enjoyable series of puzzles.

Beefi pulls the rest of the paintings down. Only one (the lamia) is hiding anything more, and it's just another hidden spear.

Slim raps on the wooden chest with his 10-foot pole, and the lid springs open instantly. A massive, four-armed skeleton the size of an ogre awkwardly unfolds itself out of the box, menacing Slim with four gleaming scimitars.

"Hey, bro. Skeleton in a box, gonna kill you. Nothin' personal, you know how it is."

He seems fairly well-spoken for a guy with no vocal cords.

Skeleton: AC 22, Fort 21, Reflex 24, Will 21

:savepoint: Sam 24, Skeleton 21, Garold 19, Beefi 16, Slim 12, Gra-fa-zut 8

I heard some kind of crashing and commotion coming from the opening but sadly as Sam had my lantern, I couldn't see down there to make out what was going on. The hole was a little small for me to fit down but since it had been me that had stuffed him into the hole in the first place, I figured I should go down there and see if he needed a hand with anything. Having seen the rigged spears in a couple of the holes, I feared the worst and with the wantonly destructive Kobold having been the next down the tunnel, who knows what was going on down there?

Climb into hole, crawl as far as possible down the tunnel towards Sam and Slim

As I streaked past my rather stunned looking ally, I managed to yell out: "YOU NEVER POKE A CHEST UNTIL WE'VE GATHERED OUR PARTY TO VENTURE FORTH!" And I promptly dove at the skeleton, looking to make him dead-er.

Of course I missed entirely, swinging my sword between his ribs. Would have killed a real boy. Just saying.

"Shit" I thought.

"Shit" I muttered, staring up at the big skeleton. "Parlay?" I intoned, with a slight shrug.

Move to BO -3 to set up flank. Miss with a 21 vs ac. Give what's his face the use of my sneak in the attack as a minor. Can use my sneak attack dice.

So do you have to pay rent to for that chest or is free housing a package with what they pay you to guard this place? If you and the elves up top are any indication this seems like a pretty sweet gig.

I'd love it if you'd put in a good word for me with whoever runs this place after they put you back together.


I'm holding off on acting until I see what the skeleton does.

To no one's surprise, sounds of smashing echoed from the hole almost immediately after the kobold had climbed through.

"Can't you go five minutes without breaking something?" Garold shouted from his position in the hallway.

Oddly, there was no snarky comeback; only swearing from the halfling. Garold looked away from the tunnel he wished to investigate to see Beefi preparing to dive into the hole. Something interesting was going on, he just wasn't sure what.

Move and move down the hallway toward all the excitement.

Sam lunges at the massive skeleton, burying his rapier in the thing's rib cage. Sadly there's nothing really important in there, and the thrust brings Sam a little closer to the skeleton's whirling scimitars than he might have liked. The bone-bag thrashes away like a steel tornado, badly wounding both Sam and Slim and sending them flying with the sheer force of the blows.

Sam careens backwards, tumbling over the golden box. Alas, he's disturbed its inhabitants as well — a dozen hissing vipers pour of the chest, quite agitated.

Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?


16 damage to Sam: Preemptive Slash
16 damage to Sam: Rain of Steel
35 damage to Slim: Rain of Steel (crit)
Both bloodied and knocked back

Snake defenses: AC 25, Fort 21, Ref 24, Will 22. Aura 2: take a -2 penalty to attack rolls.

Slim 12, Gra-fa-zut 8, Horde Vipers 27, Sam 24, Skeleton 21, Garold 19, Beefi 16

If this fellow isn't willing to talk shop then we'll see how he likes snake barbecue.


move to BM-3

Flames of purity southward since I can't make out the minion tags I'm just starting at the top left and working clockwise. I miss fucking everything.

Shield of sacrifice using myself to draw the healing surge from. Sam gets a surges worth of healing +3 from flames of purity and we both get a +5 power bonus to AC

It appears he likes it just fine. Slim Looks Sam in the eyes and offers the only words of encouragement that come to mind.

RUN BITCH!

The vipers swarm over the two small intruders, favoring both of them with several venomous bites. The poison immediately begins to course through Sam's veins, but he stays on his feet somehow. He's had worse poisonings. Usually on purpose.

18 ongoing poison damage to Uxig.
16 ongoing poison damage to Sam.

Just noticed the snake's aura is fear-based, so Sam'll be immune to it I suppose.

Ignore the top NINE ROLLS, I fucked up pretty bad on the initial edit of this post.

:savepoint: Sam 24, Skeleton Guardian 21, Garold 19, Beefi 16, Slim 12, Gra-fa-zut 8, Horde Vipers 27

Normally Slim did not know fear but the poison was having odd effects and all these snakes reminded him of tiny limbless hims.

Shift to BL -4

rune of mending on Sam giving him a urge +1 hp and +1 to all defenses til the end of my next turn for both of us

Haul ass haul ass down the tunnel.

NOOOOOO YOU CAN'T HAVE ME TINY ME'S. I SEE RIGHT THROUGH YOU WITH YOUR PLANS TO LIVE IN MY HEAD MEAT AND HIGHJACK MY BODY!

Then he starts quivering and muttering under his breath about size envy and his magnificent thighs that all covet.

Down in the tunnel he yells at the Genasi

They're freakin me out man!

I managed to deflect the incoming attack. For some reason I got the feeling the gods were annoyed. As if something had interrupted their plans. I allowed myself a tiny little smile, and then promptly looked up at the towering skeleton. I heard hissing from the boxes. You know what? Tactical retreat.

Shift to BN-3 and sprint back down that corridor like a MOTHERFUCKER OUT OF THE WAY BEEFI HOLY FUCK FIGHT THEM THERE SO I DON'T HAVE TO FIGHT THEM HERE JESUS SNAKES.

I saw Sam come scrabbling down the tunnel towards me with a wild look in his eyes. If whatever was down there had spooked him that much, there was likely to be little I could do to help. I backed up out of the tunnel as fast as I could.

Back up, double move back out of the tunnel, end in BL-23 if possible

Slim suddenly wakes up slumped against the north wall. Oh good it was all just dream! Then he looks up and sees the skeleton and more importantly the chest are still there.

AAAAAAAAHHHHH the nightmare has become reality!

burn my second wind getting back 15 hp then shift one west using shifty and run as far as I can down the tunnel.

Garold finally reaches the tunnel opening, but he can't see much of anything besides Beefi's backside. After some panicked yelling, half the party comes running straight at him so he decides to back off and give them some room.

Move 1 square southwest

"Aw, what? I can't fit in that tunnel, what do you expect me to do? Come back when you're ready to fight like a man."

Grumbling and fuming, the skeleton just clambers back into his chest and slams it shut from the inside. That didn't accomplish much.

I step to the inner edge of the tunnel then take five burning two surges to get back to full While I wait for the party to gather.

Lets try that again shall we?

Despite their hasty retreat, Slim seemed pretty keen to get back down the tunnel. I still hadn't really worked out what they'd seen down there and I wasn't convinced that I wanted to know.

"If you gents are set on going back in there then that's fine. I'd hate to block up the tunnel though, I'm not as spry as I once was wot? I'll bring up the rear as it were, in case any of the blighters try to circle round behind us".

I stood by and waited for the others to re-enter the tunnel so I could take my place as the rear-guard.

Now everybody seemed to be going back down the tunnel toward whatever they had been sprinting away from. I decided not to think about it too much and instead just follow along and prepare for the worst.

Move through tunnel to chest room, take up position at (-4, BK)

Somewhere deep in the bowels of the tomb, a terrifying howl rings out. The blood-chilling howl of a two-headed yeti with multiple wizard class levels. How cold it sounds.

The Elemental guy seemed lost in thought. Knowing how upset he'd be if he missed out on the action, I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him over to the tunnel before stuffing him into the entrance and pushing him down in front of me. I attempted to position him in such a way as to get a good look at what was going on but I slipped and accidentally pushed him into one of the chests.

Go through the tunnel dragging GFZ with me. Stand in BL0 and shove GFZ into the skeleton chest

Lost in thought, Gra-fa-zut allows himself to be dragged into the chest room and used as a trap-spring. Once again, the massive skeleton unfolds itself from its cramped little resting place. It seems significantly less enthused about its responsibilities this time.

"You again?"

:savepoint: Sam 23, Garold 23, Skeleton 19, Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Gra-fa-zut 5

I shuffled back into the room just in time to see the huge skeleton loom up in front of me. It brought back horrible memories of losing my virginity to an anorexic with anger issues. Then it uttered the exact same words she had uttered so very long ago.

"You again?"

Something inside me snapped. My eye twitched, and then so did my trigger finger. The only thing drowning out my scream was the belching of the weapon as it spread hot metal into the skull of ol' skull and bones. I decided that wasn't quite enough, promptly dropped my gun, snapped up my crossbow and resisted every urge to scream SAY HALLO TO MAH LEETLE FRIEND as I twanged a bolt into its thigh.

"GODDAMNIT. I LOVE DUNGEONS. I HAVE TO HIGH FIVE THIS WARLOCK WHEN WE MEET HIM."

My ears still ringing from the shotgun blast in this enclosed room, I may have been speaking a little louder than I'd intended. A grin split my face as I adjusted my hat with the end of the reloading crossbow.

"THAT FELT GREAT. REALLY CATHARTIC."

Fire dragon FP. Free action to drop it. Free action (armour) to draw crossbow. Snapshot. Move to BK2.

Damage: 31 + 9 = 40.

Garold watched in amazement as the Halfling unleashed a salvo of projectiles on the skeletal monstrosity. Apparently something quite horrible had happened in here the last time.

He had not known Sam for very long, but anything that could rattle the normally cool and collected halfling must be bad news indeed and deserved the worst in return. Garold had just the species for the occasion.

Biting Swarm critical hit! 14 damage
Skeleton takes -2 attack roll penalty until start of my next turn

Garold's hurled spear impacts right between the eye sockets and explodes into a swarm of angry Death's Vengeance wasps. He presumed their rather painful venom wouldn't have much effect on a creature without nerves, but their habit of boring into skeletal remains to make their nests would probably do some harm. At the very least he imagined it would be difficult for one to focus with a nest of wasps buzzing around inside one's skull.

"Why would you fill my skull with wasps? You have unleashed a greater threat than I could have posed alone: a skeleton with wasps in his mouth and when he talks he shoots wasps at you!"

And with that, he shoots wasps at them. Fuckin' wasps. No loyalty.

Rain of Steel hits everyone but Gra-fa-zut for 15 damage, slides them 2 squares eastward.

:savepoint: Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Gra-fa-zut 5, Sam 23, Garold 23, Skeleton 19

I threw my arms up to protect myself from the stream of angry wasps, issuing a slightly girly scream before slipping quickly into unconciousness as the first of the creatures started to sting me.

Beefi Kertanz shook the wasps out of his mane, ignoring the feeble creatures' stings as he would ignore the gentle caress of a light summer rain. He quickly identified the source of the insects, a large, reanimated skeleton loomed in the chamber, cackling threats in the unnatural way of the undead. Beefi had no time for the undead, to him they represented sloppy workmanship. When the minotaur killed something, it stayed dead.

This overgrown deadite would be no different from the others. The minotaur lowered his head and charged.

Move to BO-1, Goring charge on skeleton
+15 vs AC 22 = 7+ to hit

Slim temporarily moves away from the skeleton to regain his bearings and think of a plan. Then the advice of his mentor "Smidge O Bittercap flashed into his mind.

LET ME THROW A HAMMER AT IT!

move to BK1

Hammer throw at skeleton 10+11 vs AC= one shy

You pagan troglodyte!

That boney motherfucker. What the hell was he thinking shoving my partners around? "Nobody touches them, assholes." I stepped in, sending a wave of thunder at him as my mind locked into his.

move to BN-1
Aegis of Assault on Skeleton
Thunderclap Strike on Skeleton 11 + 9 = 20 < 21 YAY I MISSED

Sam is just chillin. Maxin'. Relaxin' all cool.

Openin' some chests outside the school.

When some Skeleton who was up to no good, started fuckin' up shit in his neighbourhood. He gets in one little fight and his mom got scared.

Said "You're moving to the yellow chest up over there"

Sam runs to BN-5, along top wall and left wall.

Push open yellow chest

A dozen dry corpses groaningly tumble from the box one after another, reeking of spice and trailing bandages behind them. How had all these mummies fit inside this one chest? It was quite the mystery. If it had been, say, a dozen snakes in there, that would have been easier to understand.

Mummies: AC 22, Fort 24, Ref 19, Will 23 (Yes, minions)

:savepoint: Garold 23, Skeleton 19, Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Gra-fa-zut 5, Sam 23

Sorry Chanic, completely slipped past me that you might want an update.

The big skeleton oddly seemed to be enjoying the wasps buzzing around in his noggin. But, their spectral lifespans were up. The seeker giveth and the seeker taketh away.

The halfling had finally found a proper undead horde, but they seemed out of place here. Perhaps the master of this tomb was in the business of importing undead horrors. He made a mental note to fine him for illegal trafficking before they killed him, or re-killed him. Semantics.

Garold raised his spear and prepared to carry on with business as usual, but paused when the big skeleton did an amazingly good impression of a smirk for someone without any lips. He heard a brief whispered exchange among the undead, and then the mummies' dry gnarled faces all gave him a condescending look.

How dare these dusty bone piles look down on him! He trembled with rage for a moment, then looked up at them and yelled

"Who the hell do you think I am? I'm the goddamn Batman!"

With a raise of his hands, a swarm of bats erupted from the air over the golden chest, and proceeded to envelop all those that thought little of him.

Standard Action - Swarming Bats
Area Burst 2 centered on (-3, BO)

Hit mummies at: -2BQ, -3BQ, -4BQ, -5BQ, -3BP, -5BP, -4BN, -4BM

Zone of bats is difficult terrain for enemies and while inside it enemies grant combat advantage.

The bats tear at the mummies' wrappings, and eight immediately collapse into piles of dust, bones, and cloth. The remaining enemies are quite distracted by the flurry of black wings surrounding them, and Garold uses the opportunity to get a little distance between him and the undead.

Move Action - move to (2, BK)

The party hurls their attacks at the skeleton one after another, each of them wildly off-target or deflected by the skeleton's whirling blades. Worse, Gra-fa-zut is thrown off-balance by the skeleton's quick parry, leaving him open for a vicious slash across his midsection.

30 damage to Gra-fa-zut; bloodied. (Preemptive Slash)

The situation is worsened when Sam, in an uncharacteristic act of inopportune curiosity, flips open the golden chest. Thinking quickly, Garold manifests a colony of angry bats from thin air.

The swarm of bats rip through the mummy horde, tearing apart the dusty, decrepit things with ease and making a general nuisance of themselves. As one of the mummies collapses into a moldering heap of wrappings on the floor, it lays a sinister curse upon the seeker who slew it.

"May your chewing gum lose its flavor! Your gum, and your children's gum! Yea, for 100 generations! May your pantaloons ride up uncomfortably! May your bread grow moldy at a slightly accelerated — "

Garold had no idea what chewing gum was, but a curse was a curse all the same. Despite himself, he was a little unnerved. And his pants were riding up uncomfortably. Urgh.

Final Curse: Garold's next surge use only grants 1/2 the HP.

The skeletal guardian is vexed. These bats could hardly be turned to his own advantage! I mean, you can only really fit one bat in your mouth at a time. Three, tops. Odds are you get a mouth full of guano for your trouble. No, best to just cut them up with his swords. It seems so pedestrian.

Worse, the bats were distracting him from the problem of the genasi, who seemed awfully important suddenly. He did have a nice sword; you can always use another sword. It's getting a fifth arm that would be the tricky bit.

"Cool sword, bro. Where'd you get it? I always wanted to a buy a sweet-ass sword like — never mind, I'll just take yours."

The skeleton brings his blades to bear on the genasi, attempting to hack his sword arm off at the shoulder. Only thanks to his durable armor are the scimitars kept from cleaving the limb off entirely.

27 damage to Gra-fa-zut

Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Mummies 11, Gra-fa-zut 5, Sam 23, Garold 23, Skeleton 19
Remember that you've got CA vs things in the bat zone (marked in maroon)

Beefi Kertanz was slightly confused. He had lowered his head and charged, as he had to countless foes in countless battles but unlike most of his opponents, this impudent deadite remained standing. This was a situation that needed remedying and quickly.

The minotaur moved with a grace that belied his massive frame, ducking beneath the whirling blades of the Skeleton and the Elemental before bunching his shoulders, performing a neat pirouette and aiming a mighty blow at the creature's midrift.

Graceful Manouver three squares north to BL-1, Brutal Slam against Skeleton (+12 vs Fort, 7+ to hit)

The blow connected, smashing into the walking pile of bones and sending it sprawling back across the room, over the chest and into the mummy behind. Beefi smiled as once again, all was made right with the world.

Skeleton takes 2D12+7 (13) damage, is pushed to BP-5:BO-4 and knocked prone. Mummy at BP-5 is probably hit by a massive, flying skeleton and hopefully dies as a result.

Slim rushed towards his foes only to find pot roast and unpleasantly squishy man blocking his path. The watery fellow wasn't looking so he good so he lent a helping hand in hopes of getting him to step the hell out of the way.


move to Bo0


Use Rune of Mending and Inspiring Word on Gra-fa-zut He spends two surges +8 and everyone within 5 squares gains +1 to all defenses. (I think that's everyone but maybe Garold)

The skeleton goes flying, pulverizing the dusty carcass unlucky enough to be standing behind it. As the mummy collapses, it too levels upon its killer a most sinister curse indeed. It's hard to make out what he's saying... is it just a grocery list?

"...lettuce, cheese.... pickles, onions... sesame seed... bun..."

Beefi also receives Final Curse (1/2 off next surge)

The few remaining mummies converge on Slim, as he is small and easy to manhandle. The motives of mummies are simple and kind of disgusting to think about. A rotting arm locks around Slim's neck, choking him and filling his nostrils with the stench of decay.

11 damage, and Uxig is grabbed (escape DC 18). It's the mummy at BO-1 that has you grabbed if it matters.)

Gra-fa-zut 5, Sam 23, Garold 23, Skeleton 19, Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Mummies 11

I dropped the crossbow, waiting for the skeleton to slide up closer to me. Playing dumb had drawn him in. I'd set a few mummies free to get my hands on that monstrosity all day every day. As soon as he was close enough, my blade flicked out with all the force and lethality of a viper. The initial attack flying under what was left of his jaw, I followed it up with a spinning strike to what was left of his knees. I'd hoped to unbalance him over the chest, sending him splaying out on the ground for my allies. I'd settle for a good thrashing a few times in this fight. I felt solid bone under my blade, a little smirk coming to my lips as I added in a small slap to his face as he went past. Sure, I could have stabbed him for more damage, but that lacked a certain... style. I adjusted my hat as the creature stumbled towards the chest.

"When this is done, boy, I'm keeping your skull and turning it into an ash tray."


Draw sword free action.
Sneak in the attack connects. 8 + 5 = 13 damage.
Low Slash connects. 7 + 5 = 12 damage.
Slide one square towards B0-3. Hopefully knock prone over the chest.
Shift BM-5
Sneak attack damage = 6
TOTAL DAMAGE = 31.

NEXT ALLY CAN ADD SNEAK ATTACK DAMAGE TO SKELETON.

Garold smiled a sinister smile as the large skeleton was repeatedly knocked to the ground and bounced around like a child's kickball. The bats seemed to distressing the big bag of bones as well. But Garold was not done ruining skeletor's day just yet. If there is one thing worse than a swarming colony of angry bats, it was a swarming colony of angry bats propelled at you with hurricane gale force.

Minor Action - sustain swarming bats.
Standard Action - Windstorm Strike. Area Burst 1 centered on BO-2

All hit! Mummies at BO-1 and BO-2 both die.

8 + 4 sneak attack damage from Sam = 12 damage to Skeleton, and it is pushed 4 squares to SW corner of room.

At this point Garold begins laughing maniacally as he takes in the chaos he has unleashed and the misery he has inflicted on the skeleton. He was supposed to be serious about his duties as a sage of Melora's wrath, but damn this was hilarious to watch.

Gra-fa-zut effortlessly destroys the two mummies adjacent, freeing his kobold ally from their grip. With a wheeze, the mummies deliver another of their enigmatic curses.

"A handsome prince from exotic Nyambe will contact you in the hopes that you will aid him in recovering his fortune! He promises to split his inheritance with you, if you will only lend him 500 platinum pieces! After months of waiting, you will eventually learn that he was merely a mid-level functionary, and Nyambean inflation has reduced your award to a pittance! Oh ho ho ho ho ahahahahah heh, heh... SO IT SHALL BE."

Gra-fa-zut also Final Cursed (1/2 value from next surge)

Even sprawled over the chest, the skeleton remains a formidable threat. Even as Sam hacks into its bony legs, the whirling scimitars graze him with dozens of painful — no, Sam was completely unharmed. The wall took quite a beating, though.

Preemptive Slash: 28 damage to Sam (bloodied)
SECOND CHANCE! Reroll misses.
Sneak In The Attack has attack roll or damage, where are you getting that 1d8+5?

Determined to give his allies some breathing room, Garold summons up a mighty wind and hurls the skeletal guardian into the corner; its bones crunch noisily as it collides with the far wall. Despite all the abuse, it doesn't seem to be slowing down. With an irritated grunt, the skeleton lunges up out of the corner and flings itself at Uxig: the kobold fends off the guardian's retaliatory assault, for now.

Those mummies were already killed by wvlf, Chanic. Read your allies' posts guys geez :mad:
Skeleton stands up
Action Point! Move to BN-3, BO-2
Slash up Slim (Failure)

:savepoint: Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Mummy 11, Gra-fa-zut 5, Sam 23, Garold 23, Skeleton 19

The skeleton was certainly a tenacious opponent; the minotaur would enjoy destroying this one. Despite his less than successful initial charge, Beefi was loathe to give up on the idea. Plotting a route that would take him via murdering the remaining mummy, the mighty half-cow lowered his head and set off at a run across the room

Charge attack on remaining mummy via squares that don't provoke OAs, end in square BO1

That his final intended target was not the first thing he was aiming at caused sufficient distraction that Beefi once again completely failed to impale anything on his mighty horns and he stopped short next to the mummy with a slightly bemused look on his face. He stepped backwards, glaring at the impudent creature that steadfastly refused to explode into interesting shaped chunks.

Boots power, shift to BN2

With everyone finally out of his way and no more undead hugs seeming to be forthcoming it was time for Slime to kick it into high gear. If the furry fellows hurricane bats were proving so effective then why not further make them flaming phoenix hurricane bats?

As the strike connects it covers both the skeleton and slim in in shining silver fire.

OOOOOOHHH TINGLY!

Feeling suitably manly after effectively doing damage for the first time in this fight Slim finishes off by pointing at his eyes then at the remaining mummies eyes and then giving it a severe thumbs down.

Shift to BN0

Use Silver Phoenix Rage 17+8=25 damage plus 5 ongoing save ends Also I regen 3 for the rest of the fight. I put the wrong number of dice in first damage roll. Also regen applies at the end of each turn correct?

Try to intimidate Mummy into gouging it's own eyes out 18+14=32 to intimidate. My sheet's missing a couple of modifiers on that should I go ahead and fix it?

The skeletal guardian staggers backward under the force of Slim's luminous fury, wreathed in silvery flames. Their attacks were taking a toll at last — one of the skeleton's four arms hangs limply at its side, and more than a few of its smaller bones were badly cracked.

"Blunt trauma", the skeleton mutters. "My one weakness. Also, apparently fire. I assumed I was more or less fireproof, but live and learn. Or... not... live? You people are confusing."

Skeleton bloodied

Having scored such a telling blow, Slim does his best to make it clear to the lone remaining mummy that further resistance would be futile. Alas, the leathery revenant isn't quite persuaded. With a low murmur of contempt, the mummy takes a step forward and opens the silver chest. A grimy mechanism rises from the strongbox, stinking of oil and soot. It resembles nothing more than a small, particularly ornate cannon, though the muzzle seems far too narrow to pass a projectile of any threatening size.

The mechanism begins to issue a low hiss. Two mechanical limbs rise on either side of the muzzle; one holding a small steel dagger, the other a well-worn chunk of flint.

:savepoint: Gra-fa-zut 5, Sam 23, Garold 23, Skeleton 19, Silver Chest Trap 16, Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Mummy 11

Larger animals seemed to be getting better results, and breaking the skeleton's bones seemed to be the most effective way to bring him down. Before that though, Garold didn't want to be anywhere near the mechanism that had popped out of the silver chest. He had seen demonstrations of these new technological marvels the gnomes were so proud of, and nomatter their intended function they most often seemed to light on fire or explode. Sometimes both in that order.

Move to BM-4
Minor sustain Bat Zone
Standard - Stampede shot

Garold hurls his spear at the Skeleton once again, and spectral Bison appear and follow it to the target. Time to see how much destruction a few tons of bovine can manage.

Skeleton takes 14 damage and is pushed into mummy and trap. If mummy is still alive it gets pushed another 2 squares, also into the trap I guess

Hah. Apparently bones can burn. Who knew? I stepped back in, adding what I could to the skeleton. My sword slipped through the things ribs, causing no damage... This fucking thing just wouldn't die. Fuck everything in this room. I screamed, and fire burst out of the air around me.

Move to BM-1
Booming Blade on Skeleton MISS YAY!
Blades of Firey Wrath on Skeleton 14 + 9 = 23 I JUST CAN'T FUCKING HIT ANYTHING DAMMIT.

Murray the sarcastic talking skull seemed momentarily distracted by the fray around him. I took the opportunity to slide around behind him, launching myself upwards and drawing my blade severely down across the back of his spine. As I saw him arch painfully, I added a quick, but solid, slam of an elbow into the back of his knee. I slid back, coiling myself, ready for the return salvo that was sure to be coming. I used the handguard of my rapier to nudge the brim of my hat upwards, smirking quietly.

Easy there, Jack. You're looking a little wobbly on your toothpicks.

People always told me there was something wrong with a man who only really enjoyed himself when his life was being spilled, but I always thought there was something wrong with a man who could get excited about anything less. Maybe it was the halfling thing. We were known for being a little... different. Or maybe I was just a twisted son of a bitch. Either way, my brain was already floating towards the joy of disarming that trap. The next thrill. The next high.


Move to skeleton. Keeping it between Sam and trap.
Opening Move hits. 25 damage total including sneak attack.
My AC and Ref defenses are +5 until end of next turn.

The skeleton looked down in dismay as the genasi's blade ignited the few non-flaming ribs it had remaining.

"Oh, come on. That's just gratuitous."

Blades of Fiery Wrath does hit; you have advantage thanks to the bats, remember? 8 damage.

The bats, useful as they are, no longer serve to intimidate the skeleton. It's time to pull out the really big guns. To its credit, the skeletal guardian takes a buffalo to the chest with considerable aplomb — or as much aplomb as one could have after their ribcage had been reduced to a 2-dimensional plane.

Under the circumstances, "any" is still a considerable amount. The skeleton sprawls backwards, smashing into the apparatus — despite already being thoroughly engulfed in flames, it seems rather alarmed by this development.

The remaining mummy is flattened between the bony giant and the machine. No one will miss him. Sam darts in from the sidelines, harrying the bony thing from several angles. If nothing else, the skeleton would provide an unwilling shield against whatever the device was preparing to do — though a hollow bag of bones was clumsy armor at best. The retort he expects comes immediately, but he's ready for it.

The skeleton casts about for a target. The hated genasi and his lovely, lovely sword are out of reach. He could strike at the halfling again, but the rotten little bastard was moving around too quickly to follow. The kobold's wounds were knitting as he watched; no sense in swimming upstream. Only one thing for it. The minotaur scarcely seemed to notice the wound. The telltale click of the machine signaled that it was high time to move. The rotten bastards all took a swing at him (the damned cow finally hacked off one of his arms), but no matter. He was more concerned with extinguishing the wildfire that was rapidly approaching his cranium.

Beginning of Skeleton's turn: 5 ongoing damage
Scimitars vs Beefi: 16 damage (ugh)
Scarper off out of the way. 10 damage from Beefi's AOO.

The flint and steel finally spark, and the jet of invisible gas pouring out of the machine ignites as the muzzle rotates to the northwest. Only Sam is spry enough to crouch under the superheated blast, and even then he can feel the blisters forming on the arm he's used to shield his face. The kobold and the genasi are less lucky, catching the blast head-on and bursting into flames.

With the fuel consumed, the muzzle begins to rotate around the center of the machine again; preparing for the next blast.

26 fire damage to Uxig; 5 ongoing fire damage (save ends)
26 fire damage to Gra-fa-zut; 5 ongoing fire damage (save ends)
13 fire damage to Sam.
All three bloodied.

Uxig 14, Beefi 14, Gra-fa-zut 5, :savepoint: Sam 23, Garold 23, Skeleton 19, Flame Jet Trap 16

Much to the minotaur's surprise, the swirling melee deposited the big skeleton at his feet, precisely where he wanted it to be. Without a second's hesitation, he swung his axe at the monster's face, the edge of the weapon carving through the air with a loud booming sound.

Curtain of Steel in response to Skeleton's attack (10+ to hit)

The living corpse ducked at the last moment and the axe buried itself an inch in the side of the trap machine. As he struggled to wrench his weapon free, the skeleton slashed at the Barbarian, causing a fine red line to appear on his mighty bicep. The wound served only to enrage the Minotaur, not from the pain for one such as he pays no heed to anything less than a permanently crippling injury, but from the impudence of his enemy and from his own frustration that he had still not managed to remove the skeleton's head.

Beefi would not be denied his trophy. He set off after his quarry, ducking past the spluttering end of the weird contraption in the chest, focussed entirely on the lumbering pile of bones in front of him. Using his momentum, the minotaur swung as he moved, a wide, sweeping strike, such as a lesser mortal might use to swat away a fly.

Pressing Strike on skeleton, starting with shift to BP1 (10+ to hit)

Again a swing and a miss. Beefi's eyes rolled back into his head and he vented his rage in a fearsome roar.

"MMMMOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"

Following through from his missed attack, Beefi ducked to where he hoped he'd be out of the firing line of the flame cannon. He did not fear the machine's wrath but there was no point in getting your clothes burnt if you could avoid it.

Shift to BQ1

Slim is suddenly startled to find that not only is he wreathed in no less than two types of fire but good fire + bad fire does not cancel itself out. His world now nothing but burning and disappointment he flails girlishly at the hateful box letting out a earsplitting scream.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKKKK

Activate Stonebreaker for double damage vs objects

Move to BO1 Use Great shout on trap 12+8X2 for stonebreaker 40 Damage +6 or not depending on if a trap counts as an enemy to trap and -2 to hit for the skeleton

burn for -5 regen 3 hp net loss -2 hp saved successfully against further burning

OW DAMMIT. Still burning, I ran over to the skeleton & machine to thwack them with my blade.

Move to BQ1
Sword Burst on Skeleton & Trap DAMMIT FUCK DAMMIT

I casually patted out the last few remnants of flame from my shoulder as I glanced over at my screaming allies.

"Stop being such a pussy. It's just a little fire."

I sighed and then looked up, rolling my eyes as I noticed no one had thought of the obvious given the current situation. So I sauntered over to the trap, adjusted my cap, licked my lips, and flicked the switch on the side to the "off" position.

"Seriously. No one but me thought of that?"

I might be a tough as nails fantasy detective, but man. Sometimes you just had to laugh. In a hard boiled fashion. Probably choking back a bit of anger over some dame who broke your ticker. Women.

second wind. Move adjacent to trap. ACTION POOOOOOOINT. attempt to disarm trap.

DISARRRRRRRRMED.

Garold was glad his first impression of the trap chest had been correct. The creator of this particular mechanical menace must have observed the same tendencies as Garold and had the worst best idea ever of creating a machine designed to light on fire. Garold felt sorry for his engulfed friends, but at the same time was very glad he managed to escape the gadget's fiery wrath. No one likes the smell of burning dog hair, especially the dog.

The skeleton also seemed rather relieved to have escaped the fire blast. The bats, meanwhile, appeared to be somewhat irritated at their lack of enemies to harass. That was easily solved.

Garold shouted to the skeleton: "You can't stop here, this is bat country!" With a wave of a hand the colony swooped to the other end of the room and continued their campaign of annoyance against the skeleton. Garold wished he could slam the skeleton into another wall, as it was starting to sound more like a xylophone as its joints loosened, but instead had to settle for crushing force.

Minor sustain bat zone
Move bat zone 4 squares east and 1 square south
Standard action - Serpent Arrow
Hit! 8 damage to skeleton.

Garold's spear transforms into a giant spectral snake, which sets about constricting the skeleton. Sadly, the skeleton's lack of internal organs to crush seems to limit the damage done. Either that or the snake just isn't that interested in eating the fleshless pile of bones.

With the flamethrower disarmed all too easily, the skeletal guardian has nowhere left to hide. Backed into a corner and assailed by bats, Garold's mighty anaconda is too much to endure. The massive snake easily snaps the brittle bones, and the skeleton's torso collapses into broken fragments. With nothing to hold them together, the four scimitar-swinging arms tumble to the floor — swiftly followed by everything else. The guardian was vanquished.

"You assholes", the now-immobile skull bitterly mutters. "The repair spell reagents come out of my paycheck, you know." Though clearly unhappy, the skull makes no further move to interfere with the adventurers — well, not that it could.

Victory! 3200 XP (640 each)

Slim promptly flops face first onto the ground and takes a five minute nap.

short rest Burn 3 surges

Properly recovered he then proceeds to wipe the drool from his face and check the area for loot and attempt to detach the flamethrower to make it portable. If that's not possible I at least try to take it's fuel tanks.

I had one thing I wanted from this battle. One very important thing. I picked up the skull and asked it:

"S'allright?"

I flapped its dead jaws.

"S'allright."

I attached the new trophy to my belt via a leather strap from my pack. Murray and I were going to be the best of friends.

The minotaur raised his axe once more, ready to deliver a final, killing blow to the animated skeleton. His swing was interupted however by the spectral snake launched by his companion which smashed the monster to pieces.

Beefi had been denied his kill and he was furious. He rounded on the Shifter, with murder in his eyes. Something was going to die this day and the barbarian cared not what it was. He took a slow, meaningful step towards his erstwhile companion, hefting his axe menacingly. His second step was less impressive however as he stepped into the gunk left behind by the flame trap, slipped and fell heavily, knocking himself out in the process.

I awoke to myself lying on the floor. I was still in the room with the chests only there were now bones scattered about the floor and my new friends all had a slightly scorched look about them. I hoped I hadn't missed anything important while I was passed out and made a pretence of examining the floor for pressure pads in the hopes that nobody would notice I'd been unconcious.

Hopping to my feet, I noticed that the chests had all been opened and ever being a keen student of chest design, I peered into each in turn to see if there were any interesting nuances of their construction.

It had been bugging me since we entered this tomb that although we were growing closer as a team, there was still no central unifying factor binding us together and I decided that we needed a name for our merry band. My companions were all certainly the violent type but having encountered no enemies since entering the place, they were all starting to look a little frustrated, even angry in the case of Slim the lizardman.

Inspiration hit me, given our number and demeanour, it seemed only fitting that henceforth our group shall be known as The Furious Five.

Spend a surge, examine chests for goodies, check the room for secret panels and shit, propose that we should officially be named the Furious Five.

The cowman was starting to freak Garold out a bit. For a minute there before he conked himself on the head, he seemed like he was ready to bring some severe hurt Garold's way. Garold decided it might be best to give him some space while he and his mystical zoo rested up.

Move to north wall and take a break. Spend a healing surge.

Slim seizes hold of the flamethrower before the automated platform on which it sat could sink back into the floor. 'twas an abominably heavy thing, but Slim's disproportionately mighty strength is more than adequate to haul it out of the chest. The operation of the thing seemed simple enough — as Samwise had discovered, it was enabled by use of a simple switch — but aiming the damned thing, when its muzzle tended to rotate uncontrollably 'round... this would be more problematic. If nothing else, the fuel tanks would make a serviceable explosive if the device did prove too onerous to control.

Whole thing weighs about 80 lb, the two fuel tanks weigh 25 each. You'll need both hands to carry it, and you'll need to put it down before turning it on. Your call whether to bother dragging it around or not.

The giant skull dangles heavily from Sam's belt, muttering darkly as his companions poke at the chests and the fire apparatus.

"You won't get away with this, you scum. I'll find a new body, so I will. A bigger one! With even more arms! Like, 16 arms. Can you deal with that many arms! Can you possibly defend against that much sword?! I think not, sir. I think not. Whatcha gonna do, brother, when Swordamania runs wild on you? Grrrrrr."

The rewards of the battle are fine indeed. Each of the four scimitars the skeleton had been wielding is imbued with a unique enchantment (though in some cases it's hard to say that the enchantments were really appropriate to the skeleton's responsibilities. Regardless, there's a small fortune in magic steel strewn about the floor.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/gracefulscimitar.png

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/luckbladescimitar.png

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/ravenclawscimitar.png

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/waterbanescimitar.png

The gold chest is utterly empty, as is the silver chest once Uxig has removed the machine contained within. Inside the oak chest, however, a gleaming obsidian ring glitters in the corner, under a drift of ancient dust.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/ringofgiants.png

Slim seemed fascinated by the strange machine that appeared to have emerged from the chest while I was unconcious. I had a horrible feeling he was thinking of bringing it along with us.

In the bottom of the chest was a strange looking ring. At least I think it was a ring, on a smaller creature, it might have passed for a bangle. I wondered who it might belong to, it looked rather nice and I would dearly have liked to buy it should I know who to pay for it. I slipped it on to my finger for the time being. This certainly didn't look like a shop and having not met anyone big enough to wear the thing thus far, I was fairly certain that we'd bump into whoever did own it if we carried on deeper into the tomb.

Feeling a twinge of guilt at just taking the thing without asking, I dropped a few coins into the chest as a deposit for my purchase.

With nothing else of particular interest in the room, I asked Sam for my lantern back and headed back out into the corridor and waited for the others before squeezing myself into and down the other tunnel.

Take and equip Ring of Giants, leave 10gp as a downpayment in the chest. Get lantern back from Sam, go back to and down the other tunnel.

Upon further examination the machine was too uncontrollable to be worth the effort. Never one to leave behind something flammable Slim pockets the two fuel tanks and pries the cannon like nozzle bit off for later tinkering. Thinking to himself that Aquatic creatures are troublingly nonflammable he also grabs the waterbane scimitar.

Suddenly an idea for how he could make produce even more burnination strikes him! Slim wraps the head of his hammer in several layers of mummy cloth and then pours one his bottles of oil over it being careful to keep the handle dry. Then he affixes the chunk of flint from the trap to the striking side of his hammer. He also stuffs a long bit of bandage in each fuel tank with a bit hanging out.

Thoroughly loaded down with loot for this first time since this whole maneuver started and buoyed by the thought that there might be more things to smash in the next room he hops and skips after the minotaur whistling a jaunty tune.

Now that El Beefo seemed to be in a better mood, Garold decided to wander over and investigate the remains of the obnoxious skeleton, who was still mouthing off at Sam. Garold wasn't much of a swordsman, but for some reason he got a good vibe from one of the swords, so he picked it up and affixed it to his pack. While he was at it he snagged a nice cigar-sized fragment of rib to gnaw on. He always thought better when he had a bone to chew on. Plus it earned him furious glares from Murray, which was entertaining.

Grab luckblade scimitar.

He then ventured back out into the hall with Slim and Beefy and tried to remember what he was doing before all the commotion started. Oh right, the tunnel behind the gold sphere.

"Hey slim! Might be some more stuff to smash or light on fire in here." he said before standing under the tunnel ready to give the barbarian a boost should he want one.

I picked up the graceful Scimitar with my boot, flipping it up into my hands and testing out the heft. It felt good. It felt... really good. I spun it around once to hear the hum before I picked up my dropped weapons and followed the cow.

"Hey. Bovine Jackson. Wait up."

Pick up Graceful... Scimitar, I guess?

Well, the weapons were tempting, but Slim had already grabbed the only one I could find any use out of (considering my "I can breathe underwater" stuff) and I was happy with my blade that let me zip around the room, but I picked up the Warblade anyway. It would probably fetch a pretty penny back in town, assuming I survived. I followed my fellows back down the tunnel and sat down in the corner of the painting room, warily avoiding any colored spheres. Fucking spears, thinking they're so smart.

Seeing the skull on the halfling's belt, I had a single question:

"Can I call you BOB?"

Grab Warblade, move back to room, healing surge to full.

Leading the rest of the Furious Five down the cramped tunnel, I emerged into a massive chamber. I wasn't sure how deep we'd got since entering the tomb but the ceiling seemed improbably high in here.

Detecting the faint whiff of lavender that we had been told about before, I set off towards the south. The whole room had the air of a temple about it and I had never met an unfriendly priest before so I was moderately confident that there was no danger here.

Move to the south, staying within lantern light range of the others

Beefi creeps down the red pathway in the center of the temple chamber, with the kobold and the halfling close behind him (the others having stopped for a breather in the hall of paintings). Passing row upon row of simple wooden pews, they happen at length upon the altar. Carved of blue stone, the altar sits upon a raised dais and emits a gentle blue glow (far too feeble to provide any illumination to the massive room). Also atop the dais is a wooden chair, a small black iron table (upon which stand two empty brass candelabras) and two bulky ceramic urns, each roughly as large as the kobold. The scent of lavender is even stronger here, but there's no clear sign of where it's coming from.

Underneath the nauseatingly strong perfume, Sam detects the all-too-familiar stink of charred meat — somewhere to the southwest, not far.

"This place seems perfectly safe", Murray sneers. "Go put something on the altar, why don't you? Maybe you'll get a blessing."

I smirked and patted murray on the head. I knew I was going to like this guy.

"Easy, boys. Something's been on the barbeque in here, and they don't look like a flank steak crowd."

I caught myself and nodded apologetically at beefi.

"No offense."

Now aware that there was a barbecue happening quite near Slim wanders towards the smell hoping to throw some piranha's on the grill and make it surf and turf night.

MMMM smells like steaks on the menu!

He was starting to not like the skulls attitude much though and attempts to remove it's lower jaw to wear like a toothy tiara.

Keep up that backtalk and you won't get a fish.

From what I could remember from the riddle in the entrance hall, we must be up to the bit where we had to sacrifice a magic ring or something.

"Wait up gents" I called to the others who seemed keen to investigate the burning smell "If I remember rightly, we're supposed to pop a magic ring on this or something and it just so happens that I found a magic ring in the box back there. Surely it can't be a coincidence, what?"

At the very least, that would ease my anguish at having taken the thing without properly paying for it.

I eased the ring off my finger and laid it on the altar, not entirely certain what to expect next.

Slim wanders off toward the source of the savory meat smell, only to find it quite inedible. A scorched and blasted corpse is sprawled on the otherwise spotless marble floor a few feet from the south wall. Some source of immense heat had cooked this poor unfortunate in their armor. The body is roughly humanoid, though the heap of blackened meat is much too well-done to make any kind of easy judgment regarding a specific species. None of the flame-broiled equipment looks as though it would have been worth much even if it had not been subject to an attempted cremation.

The body is sprawled out facing the west wall, the right forearm extended in that direction. In the southwest corner stands yet another mist-shrouded archway, this one issuing plumes of bright orange fog rather than the white vapors of the other arches.

Beefi drops the ring on the altar, but nothing seems to happen as a result. A few feet behind him, Sam's new pet skull is just barely suppressing a fit of the giggles.

"Well, that didn't work. Try using some other things in your inventory. Like the halfling, for example."

HMMMM clearly someone left this one on the grill far too long. But that's okay cooking with magical archways can be tricky. Time to give it a try of my own.

MEDIUM RARE!!!!

With his order placed Slim chunks a fish into the orange foggy archway.

After everyone else wanders on without any interest in the other crawl tunnel, Garold decides he should probably do the same. Curiosity killed the cat and all. Wait, he's part canine. Whatever. The cowman looked like he could use some help investigating the altar.

perception check on altar

If the skull had a hand, I would have high fived it. I liked this guy. He was funny.

"If we need to test fire, I personally am very comfortable with using the skull."

I considered for a moment and then added,

"Or that bloke what can light himself on fire. I'll bet he'd be useful now. At the bare minimum he could light these candelabras... o hey, a chair. Result."

And with that I set the skull down on the altar and moved to sit down in the chair.

"I'm gonna keep on using you to poke at things until you give us some kind of clue as to what to do here, Boney M. I imagine you have some sort of an idea, even if it is a bad one. Or we could just sit here and talk. Or I could let you talk with the cow when I get bored. Or the kobold. You know, whichever."

I'll admit I was slightly disappointed that plonking the ring down on the altar didn't do anything. Leaving it where it lay, I mooched over to the south wall, checking it for any more secret doors, seeing as how this place seemed to be riddled with them.

Check south wall for secret doors, especially the bit with no shadow in front of it due south of Slim although I suspect that's a map glitch rather than a doorway.

Following the rest of the Five down the tunnel, I came into a room where someone had been performing some sort of ritual. A tasty one by the smell. Seeing the minotaur pick his new ring off the altar gave me an idea.

Place box on altar.
Arcana check

Slim tosses one of the dead piranha into the orange fog, only for the fish to be flung right back out immediately. It's not been cooked, but it has undergone a transformation stranger still. While remaining quite dead, the fish has returned through the mists adorned with a tiny battle-axe and a miniature horned helm on its head. In addition, an eensy little loincloth is tied around its midsection.

Garold pops in and gives the altar a close looking-over. Despite the inherent suspicious of the thing, he doesn't spot anything particularly remarkable that the others had missed.

Sam puts the skull on the altar. Still, nothing happens. Nothing unusual results from sitting in the chair, either.

"That won't do anything either", the skull chuckles. "I've been dead for quite some time, so it won't respond to... ah, I've said too much. If you want some bad ideas, though, I'll gladly help with that."

Beefi checks the south wall, carrying his lantern with him. In a the southeast corner, he spots a tiny slot carved into the wall at roughly waist height. It's large enough to insert a large coin, perhaps.

Yeah that other spot's just a glitch

Gra-fa-zut drops his Treeform Box on the altar next to the skull and the ring. Nothing happens.

"What if you put me in the box?", Murray suggests. "That's probably the solution. It definitely won't result in you being murdered by a skull-faced tree demon."

Thoroughly suspicious, Gra-fa-zut examines the altar for any sign of arcane dickery. Indeed, the thing is riddled with the characteristic runes of a lightning trap. And then, on top of those, the runes for a fireball trap. Someone was very enthusiastic.

Slim feels a sudden kinship with the tiny fishbarian. No longer having the heart to eat the only thing to do is lay it to rest proper. Scooping up the fish Slim goes to the altar and uses his long stick to gently scoot both the valuable items and the skull off of it and moves them a safe distance away.

You all may want to move away from the table now.

After giving everyone a minute to clear away if they so choose he lays the battle axe across the fishes belly and gently folds both fins over it in a restful pose. Having made sure that it may rest in as dignified a way as possible he throws it onto the altar from a good 15 feet away.

May aquatic Valhalla treat you well tiny delicious warrior.

The genasi had apparently found something more suspicious about the altar than Garold had, and Slim seemed to be preparing his own examination. Considering the kobold's approach to problem solving usually involved shrapnel, Garold decided it might be a good time to duck and cover behind the nearest pew.

The Five dive for cover as Slim flings the Tiny Fishbarian toward the altar. It lands on the enchanted relic with a meaty splat, and there is a long breathless silence as the Five await the tremendous blast that must surely be nigh.

But nothing happens.

"The fish is dead already. Dead things don't work. We went over this." Murray sounds particularly exasperated, but this may only be because he's upside-down on the floor after Slim hit him with a stick.

Bearing in mind the riddle written on the floor in the first room and given that the altar appeared to be a moderately unsubtle trap, I retrieved the magic ring and posted it into the slot I had found in the wall.

Beefi slides the extremely valuable ring into the slot. It rolls down the slot into darkness, falling quite far before landing on the other side of the wall with a faint clatter. Somewhere in the distance, a chime rings out.

Just then, a massive slab of grey stone smashes through the ceiling, pulverizing that section of the wall completely. For a scant moment, Beefi sees an impossibly deep pit before him — but the slab of rock slams down into it, a gigantic peg designed to fit a preposterously huge hole. There is a terrible roar as the slab hurtles into its appointed place, slamming into position with an earthshaking thud that shakes at least, the room — and most likely the entire tomb. It's a good thing they'd already taken the paintings down.

A few minutes later, after the massive clouds of dust and debris have settled, the way forward lies open. With the pit filled, the ring passage looks to open onto a narrow corridor leading west — and the ring itself, alas, is almost certainly smashed beneath several hundred tons of solid rock.

Gra-fa-zut pokes his head into the orange mists, but nothing remarkable results; he feels a mild desire to strangle his companions, but this is not in itself unusual. He does get a look at the room on the other side of the arch; it's just a 10 by 10 by 10 foot empty cube, devoid of any furnishings or decoration of any kind. Absolutely bare. How odd.

"Throw me in there, man!" shouts Murray. "What's the worst that could happen?"

These hidden passageways were getting more and more dramatic. Perhaps this place was designed by a couple of architects determined to one up each other.

Garold decided to scout ahead in the new passage, as he didn't particularly want to hang out near the altar any longer. He had a feeling that Slim wouldn't leave it alone until he got the desired explosive effect out of it.

I jabbed my fingers into Murray's eye sockets and my thumb in his nose hole and lined up, all twinkle toes and shuffled feet.

"Fuck it, Dude. Let's go bowling."

At the last second I pulled up and firmly attached him back on my belt, patting him on the head before springing up and over into the new room with a smile on my face and a tune in my heart. I put my hat on Murray and offered some sage advice.

"I'm only pulling your leg, kid. We're the best of friends, how could I ever part with you?"

I coughed as I glanced somewhat cautiously into the new room.

"Besides, I need a new place to grow a plant when I get home, and you're it."

I jumped back as the activated secret door nearly ripped my arm off. It was a shame about the ring but I was secretly quite pleased that the temptation to take things that weren't mine had been somewhat forcibly removed.

While I waited for the dust to settle, I pondered as to how anyone living in the depths of this tomb could really poise much of a danger to the city above. With such a convoluted path to get into the place, the chances of raising any sort of undead army and then getting it all to the surface in one piece seemed slim at best. It was with some dismay that I came to the conclusion that there was probably a really simple route down to the bottom, most likely hidden round the back of the mausoleum above ground. Still, it was a bit of a mission to get back up there and if the riddle in the entrance hall was anything to go by, we were about halfway now so going forward might prove easier than going back.

The elemental with the unpronouncable name was investigating the odd cloudy archway. We had avoided all of them so far and I saw no good reason to change that tactic now. Of all my new companions, the wolfman, though quiet seemed to be the most rational and certainly the least self-destructive. Sam's casual acceptance of the massive, talking skull he was merrily desecrating was unnerving to say the least and the little Kobold was quite clearly an entire basket full of food short of a picnic.

Garold rushed past me into the new corridor and I followed close behind him. Maybe he could smell something? I hoped it wasn't a monster, having got this far without encountering anything hostile, I was not relishing our first aggressive encounter and the others finding out just how little use I'd be in a fight.

If I was understanding the riddle right, we were supposed to look out for some pits and check the walls or something so I did just that.

Check the walls for interesting things, tread carefully in case of pitfall traps.

Garold, Beefi and Sam investigate the newly-opened corridor, with the seeker and his lit sunrod leading the way forward. It's only a few feet down the hall when Beefi discovers the pits he's looking out for: two gaping holes sit open in the corridor floor, with no attempt having been made to disguise their presence. How sloppy. The pits are 10 foot square; the nearest pit, at least, is roughly 30 feet deep. The pit lacks the rusty spikes of the pits in the tomb's entrance hall; their absence has been compensated by a vicious-looking swarm of mangy rats milling around in the bottom of the pit. The contents of the next pit (if any) are impossible to determine at this distance.

The corridor continues on for at least another 60 feet to the west; the sunrod provides no illumination past such a distance. There's nothing remarkable about the corridor walls, despite Beefi's suspicions; just the same featureless gray stone that makes up the floors.

The addition of a hat to his rather limited physical form seems to improve Murray's mood considerably, and he freely offers some observations. "Rabid, the lot of them. Rumor is there's a few wererats down there too, but I think they'd be smart enough to climb out somehow. They're roughly people-sized, aren't they? I've never met one personally. I suppose if a wererat bit, say, a pixie, you'd get a pixie-sized wererat. You wouldn't be able to tell, right? Damn, lycanthropy is complicated."

That the pit was full of rats suggested to me that there was a way out down there, maybe the riddle meant to check the walls of the pit? Not wishing to climb down and take a look myself, I tied my lantern to my length of chain and lowered it into the pit, swishing it back and forth, hoping to scare the rats into whatever hole they had entered the pit through.

Must. Not. Kill.


Must. Not. Kill.


Must. Kill.

Must.

I leapt back from the orange archway, shaking my head. The urge to kill lowered back to the general dislike of anyone who wasn't me, which was fine. Even if they were my friends, it didn't stop them from being ugly. I noticed that someone had managed to open a passageway in the other corner of the room, and headed along that way, taking care to skirt the trapped table. Joining three of my companions at a pit, I looked down. "Rats, eh? Well, let's see if I can do something about that." I toss my sword down into the pit, seeing I can get a reaction or spear anything, then summon it back up into my hand.

Basic ranged attack down into pit.
Swordbond summon back.

I pulled a comb from my pocket and used it to smooth back my hair, trailing the implement with a hand before sliding it away.

"We have a guy who is fire. There are rats in the pit. The Skull and I vote for burning, I don't know about the rest of you, mooks."

I stayed back a ways and kicked a pebble down after the sword. I wanted to feel like I was participating.

"That riddle talked about checking a wall. And I'm willing to bet in a place like this, they didn't mean to look for an EXIT sign."

Just to be safe, I glanced at the walls to check for an exit sign. Or a hidden switch.

Having given his fishbrother a suitable moment of silence Slim hoists one of the fuel tanks over his head and runs screaming after his companions. Upon coming to the pit he ratchets the screaming up a pitch, lights the fuse and chunks it into the center of the rats. After a moment of panting and catching his breath he speaks.


So uh what's going on here?

Beefi's attempt to scare the rats away with his lantern is unsuccessful, and the group resorts to Plan B Plan A: kill everything with swords and explosions. A column of fire, blood, tiny bones and fur erupts from the pit.

After the gory cloud settles, there's not a single living rat in sight. The mayhem doesn't seen to have provoked anything, and as far as can be seen there aren't any passages in the bottom of the pit (unless they're buried under rat gore, anyway). Converting the filthy rats into an airborne disease vector, however, may have its own unfortunate consequences...

Sam, Uxig and Gra-fa-zut all contract Stage 1 Wererat Filth Fever (-2 to Will).

Sam isn't any more successful at finding something interesting about the wall than Beefi had been.

I recoiled back as Slim tossed the burning fuel tank into the pit, luckily managing to avoid getting any of the exploding viscera in my mouth. The others were less fortunate however and everyone except Garold and me were starting to look a little queasy.

The wanton destruction had quite taken my breath away and as such, rather than volunteer to clamber into the pit to look for more secret doors, I instead opted for being in charge of holding the other end of the rope.

"So, er, well, um, I suppose one of us gents should probably go and have a look around down there, check the walls as it were. I'd offer to do it myself but I don't suppose you fellows would relish the thought of lowering me in there any more than you'd enjoy pulling me back out so if someone wants to volunteer I'd be more than happy to take the strain".

Hold one end of a rope for someone (Preferably someone who already has filth fever) to climb into the pit and look for lewt/doors/more traps.

Between whoever trapped the rats in the pit and Slim, the desire to build a better mousetrap need no longer be a relevant issue. Garold wasn't too sure about the economic feasibility of such a device, but he had a feeling that anyone with Slim's mindset would be a sure sale.

No one seemed particularly interested in descending into the pit of rat filth, and Garold especially didn't want to risk it after seeing the effects of exposure on his comrades. He didn't want to just stand around though either. After giving the rat cloud a little time to dissipate, he backed up, yelled "Make a path!" and took a running leap at the rat pit.

Garold easily clears the pit, and remains calm enough to remember not to inhale while sailing through the air over it. After a solid landing on the other side he examines the second pit with the help of his sunrod.

perception check

Suddenly struck by how delicious aerosol wererat salad is Slim clambers down the rope to get a second helping.

Anyone want me to bring them up a bowl?

Search the bottom while doing a lazy backstroke through the puddle of gore.

Having made the leap without trouble, Garold peers down into the second pit. The bottom of this pit cannot be seen — it is filled nearly to the top with a opaque green sludge. Large bubbles lazily break the surface of the slime as Garold watches, swelling to nearly the size of his head before silently deflating. Another 75 feet beyond this pit, the light of the sunrod reveals a third one; no more attempt has been made to disguise this one than the others.

Descending down the rope into the smoking heap of rat offal, Slim searches the remains for anything of interest. He finds a small statue of a seahorse, carved of precious jade, as well as a fine tapestry depicting a unicorn at play. No, wait. He doesn't find anything but rat hair and blood. Rolled on the wrong table, sorry.

Slim called up with his findings, clearly the way forward was not in the pit and neither in the next, unless some crazed tomb builder had decided that swimming in green sludge was a sensible way to get in and out of a tomb.

Rather than pull Slim straight back up, I figured I'd save him the leap across and pull him up from the other side. I took a few steps back before running up and leaping over the pit.

As mesmerizing as the bubbling goo was, it was clearly not an exit. Garold backed up to the edge of the rat pit to get a running start for another leap over the slime.

Athletics check - running long jump

After safely leaping the sludge, Garold proceeded down the hall to see what the third pit held. The sudden large distance of seemingly normal hallway made him nervous though, so he reverted to his previous method of moving slowly and tapping his spear on the floor and walls. Just in case.

Perception check - trap checking hallway

If nothing suspicious discovered en route: Perception check - third pit

Effortlessly leaping the second pit, Garold cautiously makes his way to the third — spotting nothing untoward along the way. The third pit is filled near to the brim with what looks to be ordinary (if stagnant) water. Having sat so long undisturbed, the top of the pool sports several colonies of algae; at least 5 different species had made their home here, by Garold's eye, though none of them are immediately familiar to him.

Through the gaps in the algae, the water is translucent; the bottom of the pool cannot be seen, but the light penetrates to a depth of at least 10 feet.

Only a few feet past the pool, the passage turns the corner and leads abruptly to the north. Very faintly, Garold can overhear the merry sounds of music, song and laughter from that direction. Behind him, the minotaur leaps over the first pit and pulls the kobold up without incident.

Slim bored of all this standing around looking into holes and not causing any form of destruction proceeds to take running leaps over both pits in his way and peeks around the corner.

I jumped over the remaing pits, primarily because the Kobold was still attached to the rope I was holding.

I untied the rope and peered into the water, wondering if GFZ might volunteer to see what was at the bottom.

With the kobold rushing ahead, Samwise and Gra-fa-zut hustle to keep up. They both clear the now-empty rat's nest without trouble, but Sam splashes into the algae pool and Gra-fa-zut plunges into the slime pit far behind him.

A moment later, the genasi's irritated face breaks the surface of the sludge, not much the worse for wear. The slime is acidic, but a fairly mild concoction as these things go. Muttering darkly, the swordmage wipes the slime from his armor and proceeds toward the algae pool.

13 acid damage to Gra-fa-zut

A meaty hand seizes Sam by the wrist, and Beefi hauls the halfling out of the algae pool. Though wet and bedraggled, the halfling seems unharmed. As Sam spits out a mouthful of colorful algae, however, he becomes aware of a vague sense of nausea and vertigo. Ugh. Just a little water in the lungs. It'd pass.

Sam contracts Tumbledown; -2 to Acrobatics and Athletics until cured. See post #239 for Sam's jump rolls and the disease attack.

Uxig peers up the northern corridor, which terminates in a pair of doors roughly 55 feet ahead. Built of sturdy wood, the doors are bound together with heavy chains. A warning is etched into the door in glowing blue letters:

PRIVATE PARTY
NO ADMITTANCE

Warm, inviting firelight pours under the door, illuminating a few feet of the corridor. The happy sounds of merrymaking beyond the door are unmistakable. There's a band of troubadours playing Uxig's favorite song.

A party? Down here? How delightful!

I looked around at the rest of the Furious Five. They were dressed almost uniformly in tatty scraps of armour, now for the most part drenched in slimy water or covered in chunks of rat meat, hardly the suitable attire for a party.

I brushed myself down as best I could, straightened my collar and sheathed my axe. It had been a while since I had been to a social function and the gods be dammned if I was going to attend this one poorly presented.

I strode up to the door and was about to knock when a thought hit me, what if this was a private party? I'd hate to intrude and cause a scene. I shouted back down to the rest of the team.

"Er, gents, do you think we ought to risk arriving without an invitation? Teribbly bad form really, I don't suppose anyone thought to bring a bottle, wot?"

Move up to the door, try to look presentable.

had a horrible idea thanks to this one party those doomed sailors threw when I was traveling with them. I stepped to the door, and, putting on my best impersonation of a female orc voice, I said, "I'm your private dancer, a dancer for money, do what you want me to do."

bluff check

After dawdling at the rat pit for so long, the rest of the party suddenly rushes by Garold. Some with more success than others. After staying out of everyone's way, he too takes a running jump over the algae pit before rounding the corner to see what all the fuss is about.

The glowing letters of the sign indicated that there was probably a magic user on the other side. Well, in addition to indicating Garold wasn't invited, but that was nothing new.

In an attempt to help with the deception Slim seductively wraps himself around the swordmages leg.


attempt to aid bluff check.

I spit out some algae water on the ground, the glance down left me happy as I saw, soggy as it was, my hat was still resting comfortably on the skull's, well, skull. I wiped some water out from my eyes and looked up at my old buddy, grape-fra-oot.

"You know, I signed up for wizard murder and tomb robbing. I don't recall anyone talking about algae pits. Always a catch."

I allowed myself a grin, and a bit of a smirk. I glanced around the room, checking for any sort of a trap, or alternative entrance into the place, if none was found, balls to it, I was picking any lock or catch and kicking the door into any oncoming enemy's stupid dry face. It seemed my little swim had woken me up. Up until now, this stupid place was just a place. Now it was a stupid place that ruined my new shoes. Fuck this stupid place. Someone was going to die. A lot.

That's a big 37 with my thieves tool in the mix for the thievery check.

Samwise busts out his lockpicks, but there's no locks to be found; no clasps, no keyholes, no nothing. On closer inspection all the heavy chains are just built into the door.

Happily, Gra-fa-zut's disturbing ruse is more effective (though he's offering to "do the shimmy again" by the time someone actually responds).

"GUYS! Guys, cut the music, there's somebody at the door."

The lovely music ends abruptly, though there is some quiet conversation. There is a brief clatter from the other side of the doors as the locks are unlocked, and the doors part ever-so-slightly. A visibly inebriated orc pokes his head through the gap, smiling at the Five with some bemusement. He's wearing a human skull as a hat; rather than holding it in place with a strap, the skull seems to be affixed to his head with a liberal dollop of reddish paste. The orc has, evidently, foregone proper party attire; he is clad in what appears to be a particularly voluminous grey linen chemise, though one of the shoulder straps has gone missing.

"Damn, five of you? We only ordered two dancers, man. We're not paying extra. We can sort that shit out later, though. You guys look rough. Did you have some trouble finding the place? Come in and get yourself cleaned up, the guest of honor's gonna be here any minute."

From what little can be seen around the orc's boozy grin, the room on the other side of the door is utterly dark. Neither Garold's sunrod nor Uxig's natural night vision can pierce the unnatural blackness.

"Watch your step, guys!", shouts the orc as he stumbles back into the party (leaving the doors wide open). "We could only afford the one scroll of Utter Darkness, and we're not going to dispel it until Dave gets here. It's like a surprise, you know?"

"This party seems, er, really boring", Murray stammers, his normally sarcastic voice taking on an odd nervousness. "We should probably find something more interesting to do."

The band starts up again, and the Five are left staring into the inky darkness beyond the doorway. Somewhere in the dark, a small clamor breaks out when a man demands to know who a hand belongs to (only to be informed that the offending object was not, in fact, a hand). There is much laughter.

Well, it seemed that the lack of an invitation was no problem and with it being so dark in there, hopefully our ruse would stick.

I stepped into the room and began working my way around the wall to the left, feeling ahead of me as I went looking for a bar, or in fact anything of interest.

I patted Murray reassuringly and took a step back as soon as we slid into the door, taking a place next to it against the wall, as quietly and as stealthily as I could. I whispered down to my cranial companion

"I don't suppose you can see in the dark?"

I hid myself in the black, waiting for any important looking person to walk through that door so I could slit a throat or two.

Stealth check 13+3+2(footpads) = 18.

Uhhhhhhhhh. Garold stared blankly. Drunk crossdressing orcs were so far beyond his area of expertise his mind shut down when tasked with calculating a plan of action. Then suddenly, salvation! What he needed to handle this situation must surely be readily available.

"Where's the keg?!" he asked before wandering into the darkness.

Beefi meanders along the wall to the west, not encountering much of anything (or anyone). Judging by the noise the room was quite well stocked with both beverages and company, but finding either in the dark was troublesome.

Sam lurks by the door, lying in wait to ambush the guest of honor. Murray ignores his question, instead muttering a panoply of curses under his breath. It seems unusually warm here, but then after tromping around in a dungeon dripping wet most anything would.

Garold wanders in, faintly gobsmacked by the absurdity of it all. Quite abruptly, the utterly dark chamber is flooded with light. Perhaps too much light, really. There is no party, and no orcs. If they were ever there in the first place, they'd been magicked away. The northern wall of the chamber is comprised entirely of a massive archway, much like the smaller archways encountered earlier in the tomb. Other than the size, this portal offers another significant departure from its smaller cousins: the destination is quite clearly on display. On the other side of the archway, a blasted landscape of fire and lava roils menacingly. The portal is clearly a two-way affair; half the floor of the room has been engulfed in hot magma flowing from the portal, and the remaining stone floor in the southern half of the room is rapidly heating underfoot.

Though this is unpleasant, it's not much of an immediate threat in itself (and brings on the happy upshot that Sam's clothes are dried within a matter of moments). Things take a turn for the worse, however, when the floor begins to rumble underfoot. Struggling to keep their footing, the Five immediately reach a startling realization — both the portal chamber and the corridor beyond (in which Gra-fa-zut and Uxig remain) are tilting northward, threatening to dump them all unceremoniously into the magma. The corridor was rapidly becoming a steep cliff to be scaled, and hungry tongues of fire lash out from the portal as though impatient for their meal.

"Another fine mess you've gotten us into", Murray snarls.

SKILL CHALLENGE: TRY TO NOT DIE
No quota of successes to meet: skill challenge ends when all of the Five are safe from the elemental portal (or killed by it).
Proceed in order of initiative. This is a primarily Physical challenge; each character may use one Social or Mental skill during the challenge.
Failed checks cause the character to slide 2 squares toward the portal; successful checks move the character away from the portal at half speed.
Once you reach DP-3 or DP-2 your character is safe. Characters in row DC or higher will begin taking fire damage.

DC 17

:savepoint: Beefi 19, Sam 12, Garold 10, Uxig 9, Gra-fa-zut 8

5 + 15 - 2 = 18. SUCCESS.

I managed to scramble as far away from the slope as it began to roll and pitch towards the firey gates. I made sure Murray was kept close to my hip as I clambered upwards.

"All right, Murray. Next time, we try it your way!"

Well this was a sudden and upsetting turn of events. Luckily my formative years spent trekking in the mountains near our humble abode had given me pretty formidable running up slopes skills. Thinking the corridor was the safest option, I made a run for the doorway.

Athletics check to move at full speed back out the room and up the corridor

Garold blinked at the sudden harsh light, then focused on what was before him. This wasn't beer, this wasn't beer at all! Then the brain fog from the encounter with the orc cleared.

"Ruh roh."

He then flailed all four limbs at the tilting floor, desperately scrabbling for purchase.

Athletics check.

As his world starts to tilt Slim see's that the room is in fact full of lava not orcs. This makes him very angry indeed.

YOU! You're supposed to be orcs not lava! Change back this instant so that I can smash you with my hammer!

He then begins attempting to climb to safety while muttering under his breath about how hammering lava never works.


attempt to intimidate the lava as I crawl for safety. Son of a bitch

I was glad I had hesitated before entering the dark room; glowing elemental things can kinda ruin darkness. When the light suddenly came on and the tilting began, I turned from the door and tried to run. It was slow going, but I slowly managed to pull forward.

Athletics check
Move to DI-2

Nimbly pulling himself upward through the doorway, Sam grimaces as Uxig tumbles past him. The minotaur and the shifter had slid closer to the magma as well. Only Sam and Gra-fa-zut were making progress, the swordmage grimly hauling himself up the slope with his brute strength. At least the kobold hadn't burst into flames yet; the furry contingent downhill were both visibly smoldering. This wasn't the worst of their problems; four blazing figures had entered through the portal, slowly wading through the magma toward the Five. The four of them seemed composed entirely of fire and molten rock, maintaining only the rudest semblance of a humanoid shape.

13 fire damage to Beefi and Garold

Elementals: AC 14 Fort 15 Ref 14 Will 12

:savepoint: Beefi 19, Sam 12, Garold 10, Uxig 9, Gra-fa-zut 8, Lesser Magma Elenentals 5

I managed to once again clamber upwards, away from the threat of the fire. I glanced back to see my new friends not faring quite as well as myself.

"Balls!"

The situation called for it. I don't apologise. I took the rope from my pack, tied it around anything nearby and slightly stable, poured water from my skin over it to keep it from burning and tossed the other end back down the tilting room. I may be a cold, dead-inside private dick with more whiskey in him than care for his fellow man, but goddamnit, I will throw a rope to a burning man. At least today. At least this part of today.

10 + 15 -2 = 23. SUCCESS!

I felt the heat singeing the hair on teh back of my neck but steadfastly ignored it as I tried to make it back up the hill towards the relative safety of the corridor.

Endurance check

Damn that's some brave lava!

Time to haul ass! um specifically my own.

athletics to climb away

As the searing heat brought his hair ever nearer to flash point and fire elementals closed in on him, Garold felt somewhat validated in his duty to warn humanoids of the dangers of nature. He looked over to see Beefi suffering the same plight.

"I WARNED YOU ABOUT NATURE BRO!!!! I TOLD YOU DOG!"

He decided he'd rather not be a martyr for his cause though, and made another attempt to flee the encroaching lava, this time with the aid of the halfling's rope.

Athletics check to move toward hallway

GFZ could swear he'd heard about some town falling into a volcano once and how the townspeople had all had some great idea about how to escape. He racked his brain trying to think how he might help his stricken companions.

History check to shout advice to everyone else so they can escape better

Beefi continues to struggle, his hooves finding little purchase on the superheated stones. He slides even further away from the Five, only a few scant feet from plunging irrevocably into the roiling magma. Though it slows down his own progress (and spends his canteen), Sam takes a moment to wedge the end of his rope between a pair of loose stones in the wall. He flung the rest of the cord behind him, hoping his allies could make use of it. Dampened or not, the rope wouldn't last long in the searing heat.

DC becomes 15 for the remainder of this round and the next (since it's damp); then rope is hella burnt up.

Just as he's about to tumble toward the magma as well, the rope hurtles down toward Garold. Reflexively, the shifter seizes the rope in his teeth at the very moment his feet slip away from the floor below. Though he's momentarily embarrassed by his primal instincts, there's no time to dwell on it; he hauls himself up the rope, with Uxig beside him scaling the stones with his claws dug into the deliquescent rock.

Hauling himself up the slope, Gra-fa-zut glances over his shoulder to see the others far behind. What was keeping them? Perhaps they didn't know just how dangerous the magma was.

"You know, a similar portal to the Elemental Chaos opened over the Freeport region millennia ago. Of course, at that time it was just more open sea. It's only thanks to the millions of tons of molten rock that Freeport is such a prosperous port today. Can you even imagine? Surviving records say the resulting cloud of smoke and steam blotted out the sun for nearly a year!"

The swordmage smiled in satisfaction as his companions redoubled their efforts. It was complete bullshit, of course: Pirate Isle had been formed when a particularly bold band of seagoing knaves stole all the earth and stone from an ancient minor kingdom known for its cruelty, and spitefully dumped it into the sea. The resulting crevasse rapidly filled with seawater, creating an inlet to the river Lis and opening a trade route to the Moonsea, which —

Gra-fa-zut frowns as the stink of burning cowhide reaches his nostrils. Not the best time to reminisce on his studies.

For the rest of the encounter, successful checks move you upward at half speed +1

The magma elementals continue to slog slowly through the molten rock, getting alarmingly close to Beefi. At least they didn't seem to pose any threat at range, but they were clearly gaining on the Five.

:savepoint: Beefi 19, Sam 12, Garold 10, Uxig 9, Gra-fa-zut 8, Lesser Magma Elenentals 5

This was getting ridiculous, I was mere feet from the broiling lava now with seemingly little hope of reaching the relative safety of the corridor. Although such a move was completely alien to me, I lowered my head and flat out charged up the slope in a way I'd once seen a combat minotaur do, hoping that some primal instinct would give me the energy I needed to escape my imminent fiery doom.

Athletics check to charge up the slope, using boots of adept charging for extra chargyness

I saw my friend, the cow, plunging towards the magma men. He dug his hooves in and charged forward and I decided to buy him a couple seconds. I pulled my crossbow and unloaded a bolt into the one nearest him. If only to buy him a couple extra moments.

Hit. Assuming minions so no damage roll.

Garold was surprised to find that the rope clenched between his teeth was in fact real. When memories of playing "teething tug-of-war" as a young pup came flooding back to him he had simply assumed he was seeing his life flash before his eyes.

The steam rising off the rope was lessening now, and it was beginning to singe. He had to make advantage of it before it disintegrated completely.

Athletics Check to pull self along rope

While in no position to help prevent his companion from becoming succulently flame broiled Slim does attempt to make the climb easier for him when he reaches the hallway.

Activate stonebreaker ability and attempt to smash handholds into the floor as I climb. Also if I can use my shifty ability to increase my effective move speed for halving purposes I will be doing that from here on out.

Athletics roll I guess?

Gra-Fa-Zut watches as his allies come dangerously close to getting roasted alive. Fortunately, the proximity to the lava makes them redouble their efforts, and the minotaur and the shifter manage to get out of immediate danger. Gra-Fa-Zut decides it's time to get everyone as far uphill as he can. The fighting can wait until the Five reach level ground, assuming that the lava monsters decide to follow them that far.

Use Rubicant Blade Broadsword. Move GFZ south 6 and whichever two allies are the furthest back forward 5. Assuming that Boots of Equilibrium will prevent backsliding.

Rallying his companions on, Gra-fa-zut spared a moment to glance at the goal. The corridor was practically vertical now; within moments they'd be facing a rock wall instead of a difficult climb. Flinging his sword toward the precipice above, Gra-fa-zut put his faith in an oft under-appreciated aspect of the swordbond. True, you could always will the blade to return to you. But were the way obscured — say, if there were a wall between — you'd just have to make the trip yourself. Laying a hand each on the shoulders of Uxig and Garold as they approached from behind, Gra-fa-zut grit his teeth and waited. He'd never tried teleporting through a wall before, but in theory it should work.

A brief, terrifying moment later, the three of them were sprawled in a heap in the southern corner where the tilting hallway met the hall of the three pits. Seconds after, the kobold and the halfling scrambled through a tiny gap barely large enough for their small forms, tumbling down what was now a jagged wall of rock blocking all access to the passage. They'd not be getting back in there without some pickaxes or a hearty supply of blasting powder — not that they'd want to, really.

You were all outrunning the mag-men handily; might as well skip a bunch of rolling with no real drama or risk. 570 XP (114 each). Oh wait that is precisely the amount you need to level up how convenient.

I lay on my back, panting for breath. The exertions of the lava room had almost been too much for me and the cold stone of the corridor floor was soothing after the intense heat of the lava. Despite my fatigue, I actually felt strangely stronger as a result of the trial by fire, it was a slightly odd sensation.

Surge up to near full (As in don't part-use a surge)

Clearly we had missed the actual way forward. I had checked the walls thoroughly or so I thought so the only obvious answer was some sort of passage under all that water or slime. Not fancying a dip in the slime, I wondered, out loud, if there was anyone around who could breathe underwater. The riddle did say we'd find a fortuious fall after 2 pits after all and I'd hardly call death by immolation a fortuitious fall by any stretch of the imagination.

While I waited for a response, I checked the walls, floor and ceiling where we were for any further hints.

Look for secret doors and treasure

After brushing himself off and and finding to his great disappointment that there are in fact no additional scorch marks on his person Slim decides to thank the swordmage with a nice refreshing dip.

Going over to where his ally is still sprawled on the floor he pulls out the ten foot pole he somehow keeps in his pack and lashes him to it with his head pointed toward the far end.

If there are any delicious look fish I want to go next!

Dip him as far as I can into the water pit and then bring him back up to ask what he saw after about 5 minutes or so.

I heard a kerfuffle behind me and turned to see what was going on. It looked as though Slim had something heavy tied to the end of the huge pole he had inexplicably stowed in his pack and was using it to probe the depths of the rancid pool. I wandered to the edge to see what it was he was using as a probe but couldn't make it out in the gloom.

I went back to checking the walls and so forth, happy that my erstwhile and frankly terrifying new friend was handling the business of finding us a route with a professionalism he had thus far seemed to be actively avoiding.

Once again lost in a fugue of some sort, Gra-fa-zut passively allows himself to be lashed to the 10' pole. As a watersoul, he's at no risk of drowning, and he has the good sense to keep his mouth shut as his head is dunked under the algae coating the surface of the pool. Almost immediately after his feet have been submerged with the rest of him, Gra-fa-zut's face gently collides with some kind of grimy obstruction. Curiously wiping the slime away from the apparently shallow bottom of the pool, he discovers his own face peering back at him. It seems the algae pool sits atop nothing more durable than a mirror. Nothing else interesting makes itself apparent, though Gra-fa-zut notices with mixed feelings that the dead rat he captured earlier was, in fact, just napping until being submerged (at which point it promptly drowned).

Not for the first time today, Beefi scours the walls and floors around him in search of some hidden secret. But in this search he is rewarded. With great excitement he spies a scrap of parchment peeking between two of the floor stones. In need of reading material to pass the time while Gra-fa-zut plumbs the depths, Beefi cautiously pries up the loose stones and retrieves the scroll. Carefully-inked letters on the scroll's containing ribbon identify it immediately: Beefi's found a ritual scroll of Easy Climb.

Murray's mocking laughter travels quite a distance. Somewhere above, an elf in a tastefully-decorated subterranean apartment drops another copper coin into a jar labeled "lava first". There's another jar next to it, labeled "scroll first" — but this jar is nearly empty.

Upon striking an obstruction with the pole (and face of his ally) Slim knows exactly what to do.

Looks like there's a hairball blockage!

He immediately begins smashing the end of the pole up and down into the clog in hopes of busting through. The thumps it makes are somewhat meatier than expected and he feels like he's forgetting about something.

Slim heedlessly bashes away at the mysterious blockage. Happily, Gra-fa-zut is significantly more durable than the mirror; it smashes apart after only 3 such collisions, dumping the stagnant water into a corridor below. Of course, with the precipitous loss of pressure, Gra-fa-zut is sucked down as well — and Uxig, holding the pole, along with him. They fall 20 feet into a dark hallway; the floor underfoot is raw iron, long ago given over to a thorough coating of flaking rust. The corridor continues south past the range of Slim's darkvision; other than the algal puddle they're sprawled in, no other interesting features present themselves.

Uxig gets to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of bushy grey plants; Gra-fa-zut remains prone, tied to the 10' pole and looking mildly cross.

7 fall damage to Gra-fa-zut
1 fall damage to Uxig, and he contracts Tumbledown

Garold patted out any remaining fires on his person, and took a break after he was sure he was no longer smoldering. Fortunately, entertainment was provided as the elemental once again got the short end of the stick (literally this time) due to one of his catatonic trances.

Spend healing surge.

After he felt a bit more lively, he decided to see what trouble Slim's destructive tendencies had gotten him and grape ape into this time.

Move to edge of pit and provide illumination with sunrod.

It looked as though someone had dropped a scroll on the floor, probably in a rush to avoid the lava. I picked up the scroll and put it in my pack, thinking to return it to it's rightful owner should we come across them.

In the mean time it looked as though Slim had indeed found a way forward. I hooked my grapple and chain onto the edge of the pit and slithered down the chain to the corridor below, leaving the chain for the others to climb down before waggling it free and stowing it back in my pack.

Wary of how many traps we'd encountered thus far, I tried to avoid moving around too much until someone with a better eye for these things than me had a chance to look about.

Feeling a touch on the woozy side Slim climb to his feet and and points straight up at the hole.

Well that's your problem right there.

His authority on the issue firmly established he walks over and unties the swordmage seeing as his super not drowning skills are no longer required.

Garold climbs down the chain offered by the minotaur and begins his usual cautious snooping routine. Whenever he finds himself in new surroundings priorities are given to determining a.) what might kill him and b.) which way to run in case of discovering something that might kill him.

perception check

The rest of the Five make their way down the chain, and Beefi shakes it free. It's not as though they can get back out of the tomb by retracing their steps at this point; best to hold on to all the supplies they can.

Even before his feet hit the floor, Garold's sharp eyes spot irregularities in the corridor's east wall. Looks to be some kind of door, carefully painted to blend in with the stone wall. It was a pretty good cover, really — the duller senses of his companions would likely never have noticed it. Of course, this door lacked any handle or any other obvious means of opening it, but if needs must they could always tell the kobold it had insulted him.

With Garold's sunrod at hand, the Five can see clear to the southern end of the corridor. Nothing stood between and a turn to the west except more rust.

"Almost there!", Murray offers, his voice oddly cheerful. "Nobody ever gets this far. Wow. You guys are really, really good. I wouldn't be surprised if you took down that lich with no trouble at all!"

The floor didn't look safe at all. Holding one end of my chain, I tossed the heavier end with the grapple attached towards the door, hoping that the weight of it and subsequent dragging to get it back would set off any horrible traps between us and the door.

Getting the chain back without incident, I cautiously headed over to the door Garold had spotted and listened at it, my eternal curiosity overcoming my fear at what nefarious device might try to kill us next.

Chuck chain towards door then drag it back. If nothing untoward happens, go listen at the door.

Nothing untoward happens! Satisfied that it's reasonably safe to approach, Beefi puts his ear to the door. It's mostly quiet, but after a few moments he hears a soft bubbling sound like a thick stew on the boil.

Gra-fa-zut seems the most affected of all by the panicked escape from the magma, his blue complexion going oddly pale. It's no surprise at all when he finds the secret door covered practically floor-to-ceiling with wards, curses and conjurations. With the right rituals and the necessary supplies, he could untie these arcane knots — but even then, it could take hours.

I had a feeling that Slim was about to do something destructive so I took a goos few steps back away from the door.

An injured goose flutters down from the hole in the ceiling where the algae pool had been, landing directly in Beefi's outstretched hands. A small ribbon on the goose's neck reads "Howard". Desiring to protect Goose Howard from injury, Beefi gently carries him away from the dangerous door. How odd, that a goose should suddenly appear in this place.

I slowly stepped back, keeping pace with the cow. I also took the time to hide murray behind my back for extra protection. I whispered, so only he could hear me.

"All right, Murray. I know you may be the big evil necromancer, or at least not entirely on our side and all, but you got any insight into that goose or this door? Cause right now all I got is throw the goose at the door."

Howard the goose didn't look too healthy but not wishing to see another creature come to any harm in this fell place, I did would I could to patch the little fellow up while continuing to distance myself from the door.

Attempt to heal injured Goose

The swordmage was looking very worried after inspecting the hidden door, and the kobold had that smashy look in his eye again. Garold decided to follow the rest of the group's lead and get some distance from the potential magic disaster waiting to happen.

He figured he might as well do double duty and scout ahead. Maybe he could find something better to point Slim at.

Move down hallway in cautious mode. If nothing deadly found see what's around corner.
Perception Check

"The colonel sat back when he had finished and was extremely pleased with himself for the prompt action he had just taken to meet this sinister crisis. Yossarian--the very sight of the name made him shudder," I said, readying myself for an attempt at opening the scary door. Touching it, I muttered some nonsense.

arcana check holy shit might be an awful idea but what the fuck.

Murray ponders the question for a moment.

"Well, you figure — I'm not an expert in magic or nothin'. I like swords, mostly. Swords and other pointy things. But the thing about any trap, right, is you set it off and then it's done! So you could throw the goose at it, sure. You'd lose the goose, and it might not accomplish anything, but it's worth a shot. Of course, that thing's got like 8 different traps on it and you only got the one goose."

Beefi does his best to splint the goose's injured wing, but his meaty fingers and generally low knowledge of avian anatomy guarantee that he bungles the job. Howard won't be flying anytime soon — not that there's anywhere to fly to around here.

Garold cautiously creeps round the corner and takes a look. The rusty passageway carries on at least another 100 feet to the west before exceeding the reach of his sunrod. There also appears to be a doorway leading south from the corridor, though Garold cannot see it very clearly. Directly in front of the doorway, a mace lies abandoned on the floor of the hall. It glows with a gentle pink aura, and twinkling sparks of many-colored light seem to orbit the weapon like bees 'round their hive.

Grimacing, Gra-fa-zut presses his hand to the door. This was a dangerous business, but in theory it's just a matter of breaking this line, smudging that rune, and — shit!

Gra-fa-zut immediately realizes his mistake, diving for cover. Perhaps an eighth of the door's many, many arcane inscriptions fade away, and a quantity of sizzling acid manifests abruptly just in front of the door. The acid reacts strangely with the rusty floor, leaving behind a large patch of foul-smelling black goo.

"That's the way! You just gotta be light on your feet, am I right?"

Howard waddles up Beefi's arm and hides atop his backpack, hopefully well out of the reach of anyone experimental-minded.

His brain aching and potentially swollen with disease Slim stumbles towards the door and does the one thing that truly makes sense.

Quick everybody stand back this is gonna be awesome.


Attempt to run at the door and flip kick off of it hopefully setting off the traps and springing out of the way.

"Hey Slim, there's a shiny magic mace over here! Don't you wanna have a look at..."

Garold looked back up the hallway to see the Kobold running headlong at the door, and failed to complete the sentence. Instead, he opted to step around the corner to provide cover in case any hot magic death (or pieces of Slim) came flying in his direction.

Despite an impressive leap at the trapped door, Slim's "springing flip kick" results in more of a "fumbling sprained ankle". The kobold does not so much spring away from the door as collapse against it with a dull thud. The rippling bolts of electricity that lash out at him are really just punctuation.

24 damage to Slim, bloodied

I sighed deeply, poked Slim with my toe to be sure he was still alive and then slowly meandered my way up towards Garold.

"I think he might be ready to try that mace now."

While I was down there, I stuck my nose around the corner, taking a quick look for any traps and/or nasty surprises on route to said mace, or on said mace as I approached it.

"Hey Murray. Do you think it's sad the most helpful guy to me is the skull of a vanquished foe with a vested interest in seeing me dead? I think it's sad."

Thievery check 18 + 17 + 2 (inq. kit) = 37.

I kept my eyes peeled, not trusting this dungeon in the slightest at this point. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the flask, taking a quick pull out of the view of others, and pouring a little bit over Murray's grimey jaw and teeth. Truth be told, my kind never really felt fear, but we did feel frustration. And this was frustrating. I was in a group with people who liked to lead with their heads, which is normally good, but this time it is literally leading with their skulls into things. So, a good idea/bad idea situation, really. At any rate, I had to hand it to the necromancer. He had designed an ingenious trap. Anyone who was merely inquisitive would either die or go home by now, out of sheer exhaustion. Unfortunately for him, I was a halfling and a greedy bastard with a paycheque on the line. And frankly, a little frustration is fine if it ends with a pack of hookers and a new pair of shoes. Not necessarily, but usually, in that order.

Looking down at his treacherous legs Slim swears that they will rue this day!

RUE IT DAMN YOU!

Burn any surges I may have left and stumble drunkenly over to see what Sam is up to. I have 11 now after my Constitution bump from leveling right? I no longer trust the character builder.

To be honest, I was now at a total loss as to what to do next. The door was riddled with traps so it must be hiding something really exciting, plus the riddle did kind of hint at that being the way forward but my life as a woodsman had given me exactly no skills in disarming magic traps. Round the corner, the lure of sparkly loot seemed to have over-ridden the little common sense the rest of the Five had, despite it being a) Not theirs and b) as obviously a trap as the chest in the entrance corridor had been.

I stood at the corner of the corridor watching on to see what calamity would befall us next. I was feeling a bit peckish so absent-mindedly took a trail ration from my pack and nibbled away at it, feeding some to Howard who didn't look all that healthier for my attempts at fixing his wing. I used the string that had tied up my ration to fashion a lead for the Goose, I didn't want him running off and injuring himself any further. I tied one end gently round Howard's neck and the other to my wrist. I might not be able to stop Slim from killing himself but I certainly could protect Howard.

As I worked, I cast my mind back to other caves and ruins I had explored on my quest, trying to remember if I had ever seen anything like this before that might help our predicament.

Dungeoneering check, we never use dungeoneering

With Gra-Fa-Zut now no longer "assisted" by Slim, and Sam investigating the mace, Garold decided to forge on ahead down the hallway. Garold figured knowing what horrible things were lurking in the creepy dark hallway was probably less terrifying than what his mind would generate for him if he kept staring at the shadows for much longer.

Advance West down hallway, giving the mace and the door a wide berth.
Perception check

"If it's any consolation I'm only helping you because you might stumble into some bones I can use. If you just up and died I'd be left lying on the floor for weeks, maybe months until all your gross meaty parts rotted away. I won't touch that stuff. Turns my stomach.

You know what I mean. Hey, what are you — perfectly good booze all over the floor, genius."

I don't understand what you're trying to use Thievery on here, and the Inq. Kit works on Perception so uh Perception check = 27? Not that there's really anything to find!

Garold and Slim trail behind the shamus, the kobold looking much the worse for wear than he had on entering the tomb. There was hardly a spot on him that wasn't bruised, scabby or blistered. He wasn't going to be able to stand up to much more punishment.

As it happens, the corridor abruptly ends only a few feet past the doorway. Bit of a tease, that. The doorway opens onto a brief stairway, which leads down into a square chamber absolutely strewn with bones. A rough pathway, candle-lit, leads through the mounds of skeletal remains toward the golden couch at the south end of the room. A somewhat more intact corpse lies at rest upon the golden couch, clad in rusting scale mail and clutching a broadsword between its leathery hands. A circle of golden runes surrounds the couch, etched into the unfinished stone floor of the chamber (though many of the runes are hidden or obscured by the aforementioned skeleton piles).

"Ho there!"

A confident, manly voice pipes up from the approximate location of the glowing, sparkly mace.

"Hello, gents. Look at your weapons. Now back to me. Now back at your weapons. Now back to me. Sadly, they aren't me. But if you stopped using cheap garbage you found in a gnomish flea market, your weapons could be me. Look down. Back up. Where are you? You're in a tomb, with the mace your weapons could never compare to. What's in your hand? Back at me. I have it. It's an enchanted mace. Look again. The mace is now an intelligent artifact that deals massive damage to the undead. Anything is possible when your mace provides resistance to necrotic damage. I'm on the floor."

The manly mace then whistles a jaunty tune, waiting to be picked up.

Get the Flash Player to play this audio file:

Beefi stays well back, securing Howard on a tether and ruminating on his past experiences. What could his previous excursions into caves and dungeons tell him about this situation? Well, the most important thing where entering any cave was to keep track of your route and know the way back out. He could scratch that one. Failing that, make use of the natural cave ecology and scavenge for food until an escape route or rescue can be found. A sound principle, but they all had plenty of food and water at the moment. Huh. No interesting subterranean life or unusual geological features to speak of, either. Eventually, they'd stumble into an odd fungus or a cave-in or something, though. And then they'll all be quite glad of his extensive spelunking knowledge, yes indeed!

Gra-fa-zut stands alone in the dark, damp and vaguely forlorn.

The situation was becoming increasingly perplexing. We were faced with a massively trapped secret door we had pretty much no chance of disarming, a highly suspicious magic weapon and a room full of corpses just begging to be reanimated, again covered in arcane runes. Quite why the sages had thought it wise to send us down here with no proper wizards I would never understand.

I thought back to the riddle.

Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall. These keys and those are most important of all, and beware of trembling hands and what will maul.

Well we'd been past two pits and found the fortuitious fall and checking the wall had revealed a lethal door. Beware of trembling hands could refer to a room full of skeletons coming back to life and what will maul could easily be a reference to the mace on the floor. Maybe I was just over-analysing the whole thing, Slim seemed to have the right idea, think first then act later. Of course he wasn't looking too healthy at present as a result but he had found the way forward on more than one occasion. I was moderately convinced that the highly trapped secret door was the ultimate way forward but whether the other two options would provide a means of opening the door I could not say for certain.

I looked down at Howard. The food seemed to have perked him up a little although his wing still looked rather sore. I had no particular desire to enter the room full of bodies and Howard looked like he agreed. Instead, we wandered over towards the mace looking around for the source of the strange voice. I asked Slim if I could borrow his handy pole and used it to nudge the mace, looking to see if it moved at all without either bringing the corridor down around it or transmogrifying into a demon or something.

Go investigate the source of the voice, borrow pole, poke mace.

Well, a wall was certainly less scary than what Garold had been imagining. He wasn't particularly eager to enter the room full of dead things though. With the hidden door still guarded by six trap runes (if Murray could be trusted) Garold decided the least dangerous thing to do was to investigate the mace. He wasn't brave enough to pick it up, but at least since it could talk it could be interrogated.

Hello talking magic mace thing. How did you end up on the floor way down here?

Questioning the mace's lack of mobility made him realize a similarity.

Hey Murray, it's another talking inanimate object! You two can be best of pals! Well, unless that whole "bane of the undead" thing it mentioned is a problem for you.

Insight check on magic mace to see if it seems truthful.
Insight check on Murray to see if he hates the mace.

I smirked at Murray's comment. Well, that settles the age old debate about whether or not the undead retain a sense of taste. I turned my attention to the mace.

"So, what? I just pick you up and then everything's jake? Well, in response to that...'

http://i52.tinypic.com/2vil6bn.jpg

After I finished laughing, I approached a safe distance from the magic door, and searched the walls for any sort of trip trap or secret. If none were found, I backed up a bit and unloaded my Dragon FP into the bloody thing's hinges. I'd sooner blow up a door than go near that coffin. Also, I had all this gunpowder just sitting here doing nothing.

http://i55.tinypic.com/2d1ajag.gif

"Why poke me?", chuckles the mace casually. "I'm just a charming, attractive mace. Come, lift me up. Swan dive into the best fights of your lives."

"How did I arrive here? I don't know! Perhaps some brave, handsome rogue dropped me here. Perhaps I just love the smell of adventure."

Despite the evident lack of any nostrils, the mace audibly takes a deep whiff of the tomb's unique bouquet.

"Ah, yes. Bracing."

"HOOOOOONK."

The mace seems more-or-less honest, though of course it lacks all the body language and facial expressiveness that usually indicate such things.

Murray, however, responds to the presence of the mace with little other than a continual low hiss until Sam carries him away to take potshots at the trapped door.

"It is a problem, yes, in the sense that if that thing even touches me I may very well explode. Explode! Into a million little pieces! Bone fragments everywhere. In your eyes! In your teeth! Between your toes! Imagine the horror of it!"

Garold's insightful question subtly reveals the truth: Murray does hate the mace. He hates it so much.

Sam unloads a few rounds into the trapped door, but nothing much seems to happen. The damned thing hasn't got any hinges to speak of, and the slugs don't seem to make much of an impression of the door's surface. Likely it's just a stone slab like all the other hidden doors in the tomb.

Slim eyeballs the mace suspiciously and thinks back on his religious training. Surely a sentient weapon designed to slay the undead must have caused something of a stir amongst the paladin and cleric community.

Not having eyes and all I don't suppose you've seen anything relevant to getting us through this door have you?

Religion check on mace.

I was surprised at how cautious the others were being about the magic mace. Obviously I had little experience of such things so my reticence was obvious but the others were all hardened warriors, I would have thought any one of them would jump at the chance to wield a mighty magic weapon like the mace claimed to be.

I knew I shouldn't touch it.

It had to be a trap, everything in this tomb was a trap. On top of that, it didn't belong to me and touching other people's things isn't a nice thing to do. Despite that though, my natural curiousity, given to me by milennia of evolution of my species, would not let me leave it alone. I had no desire to own it as a weapon or to own it at all in fact, I just wanted, no needed to know what would happen if I picked it up.

Offering up a pre-emptive prayer for forgiveness, I picked up the mace.

Pick up mace

Slim was not a man with a great depth of ecclesiastical knowledge. But he did have a keen interest in hitting things and making them explode, and this particular mace was the center of many an intriguing rumor amongst similarly violent types. Granted, the things it caused to explode were generally already dead, but the visual effect was largely the same. Slim had never really expected to lay eyes on it, though: it was considered a red herring by most, consecrated as it supposedly was to a god that most people agreed had never actually existed. Saint Cuthbert, it was said; a god of justice, who punished the unjust by beating them about the head and neck. But if such a deity had ever existed, it was long before the lives of anyone present today.

Before Slim could relay this information to the rest of the Five, Beefi had already lifted the fabled weapon from its resting place.

http://www.saxypunch.com/missile/cuthbert.png

"Ha-HA!" whooped the mace, ancient dust falling from it in sheets as it glowed ever brighter. "Aren't you the noble one, hesitant even to steal from the venerable dead. I think we do well to work together. I recall little of the last to wield me, but if I lay abandoned there then surely his faith was... insufficient.

I know no more of the traps here than you do, kobold, and likely less. I do see, but as you can imagine I've had nothing interesting to look at for quite some time. But enough talk. Let us crush evil."

I opened my eyes, more than a little surprised to see my hand was still attached to my arm. The mace felt odd in my grip, probably because I was unused to wielding weapons at all, let alone powerful magic ones. I was a little concerned by the mace's words though.

"Stealing? Why no, I was not stealing you from anyone. I have no intention of keeping you in fact dear boy, what use would a magic mace be to a simple woodsman such as myself? To be perfectly honest with you, we're in a bit of a pickle. You see we're supposed to be down here to stop some liche or vampire or something from raising an army of the undead only we've got terribly turned around in all these corridors and the place is practically bursting at the seams with traps. There's a big old door back there that I think is probably the way to go but it's got more bally curses on it than a gypsy swearing contest and a room full of corpses down there that we've yet to investigate yet but again, is probably just a big trap. As I'm sure you can appreciate, a magic, talking mace lying around on the floor was more than a little suspicious so nothing personal dear boy but I assumed you were part of a fiendish deathtrap yourself.

Anyhow, doesn't look liek you are and if you've been here a long time as you say, I don't suppose your owner will be coming back any time soon. How's this for an idea? I'll take you with us for now then as soon as we're through with this little jaunt I'll hand you over to the first Church of St Cuthbert we come across.

My name's Beefi by the way. The little angry looking chap over there is Slim, the hobbit in the hat is Sam and his talking skull is called Murray. The wolfish looking gentleman is Garold and the quiet elemental is called Grapefruit I think, he doesn't say much. Oh yes, this is Howard, he's a goose".

Introductions over and confident that I was commiting a righteous act by retrieving the mace, I took the only obvious option available to us and headed down into the room full of bodies for a closer look at the throne.

I thought I had it. Maybe. It had worked before, at least. I had been pondering and pondering on the door quandary that I had simply completely missed my companions leaving the area. As a last-ditch effort, I said "In order to buy it I had to go into this bizarre little store. I mean, I don't think they'd swept the floor in a decade, and I bet the staff had to have taken unhelpfulness lessons. And there was a big greasy guy behind the counter who seemed really amused that I was like, female, and asking for this comic. He said it wasn't very collectable. Then he said they didn't normally see breasts as small as mine in his store, and all these guys laughed. I wanted you to be there so badly. You would have said something to him that would have blistered his ears and curled his toes and made him feel like he was six inches high. I just blushed and left, mad on the inside. Here you go.

Oh yeah. And here... I thought you'd like it. It's Tacky Flamingo, or whatever it's called. Your favorite color." I hoped that I had conveyed that I possibly knew how to open the door to the door, and waited just long enough to see if anything happened before turning down the corridor to join my fellows in the room at the other end.

Bluff check

The door listens to Gra-fa-zut's soliloquy with the quiet patience that you can only really get from a door. This wasn't the first time his companions had left him behind, and the door was really a lovely contrast to their boorish ways. At length he reached the end of his explanation, and the door seemed to rattle around in the wall for a bit before issuing a quite-undoorlike moan. Confused and scared, the secret door waddled backward away from Gra-fa-zut and cowered in a corner of the room it was meant to be guarding.

Of course, Gra-fa-zut himself saw none of this, standing alone in the darkness as he was. But he did detect a strange thumping sound, and the rush of stale air escaping from the room beyond. What lay within remained a mystery (dark as it was), but the genasi quickly identified the distinct odors of rotting flesh and hot cheese. Or perhaps hot flesh and rotting cheese. The bubbling sound Beefi had reported was more audible now, too. Perhaps someone was preparing a lovely fondue.


—————


"Murray, is it? That's a good name for... him." The mace's cheerful voice dips into a low snarl of contempt when discussing the talking skull, but its hearty mood quickly recovers. "Kind of you to offer, but I don't think Cuthbert has any churches anymore. That's the problem with being dead, everyone just stops paying attention to you. Now let's get down there and — oh. Don't have to tell you twice."

As soon as Beefi steps foot in the recessed sepulchre, the leathery corpse at rest upon the golden couch abruptly sits upright, swinging its legs to the side and springing to its feet. Skeletal warriors leap out of the bonepiles just as suddenly. Cradling a musty tome in its left arm and a snake-headed scepter in its right hand, the dead thing carelessly allows its rusty sword to fall useless to the floor.

"YOU BEAT EVERYONE!", shouts the long-dead magus, his booming voice much louder than is really necessary in the cramped confines of the tomb. "BEAT ME, AND YOU CAN LEAVE! COME AND DIE."

The Five have a few free moments to act before the living dead become a real threat; despite their quickness to spring to life, the old bones are unused to movement.

"I AM A SLOWPOKE", the magus proclaims in dismay. Howard honks. It is a mocking honk, triumphal.

Defenses:
Corpse Magus AC 26 Fort 24 Ref 22 Will 26
Skeletal Legionnaires AC 23 Fort 20 Ref 20 Will 18

:savepoint: Sam 30, Garold 17, Uxig 17, Gra-fa-zut 16, Beefi 12, Skeletal Legionnaires 11, Corpse Magus 7

"But.... but the door finally open- COME ON!"

I sighed and moved my full speed, one could say I double moved, towards the stupid undead and away from the really interesting door thing.

A delicious and familiar smell floated towards Slim just as the pile of bones started yelling.

Man I haven't had zombie nacho's in ages! Lets make this quick so we can hit the concession stand.

Run and use shifty to AD-90 ranged basic against Skeletal Legionnaire at AI-87

Intimidate a skeleton if ones in range

Hey you! Fetch me some nacho's and I won't set you on fire! THIS IS A LIMITED TIME OFFER ACT NOW!

Garold showed the undead magus that he wasn't afraid by boldy striding toward him. That was the plan anyway. He made it five feet and then decided bravery was overrated.

Move south 1 square to get into 15 square throw range

Garold recalled the unfortunate incident with Murray and the traitorous wasps, and infused his spear with bee spirits. Bees were bros.

Biting Swarm on magus

"Thank you, old man. We've heard quite enough from you already!" I shouted, running to join the fight.

Move as far as I can to get into the room this turn

It seems as though my bravado might have got me into trouble again. I found myself rather exposed in the room alone, surrounded by the recently re-animated corpses of the long-time dead.

My natural instinct was to beat a retreat to the relative safety of the rest of the group but I could hear they were already hurrying in towards me and I didn't want to make a bad impression in front of my new friend the mace and Howard.

I took a couple of steps back up the stairs in the name of regrouping with the rest of the Five and assumed what I hoped was a suitably heroic-looking pose of grim defiance whilst secretly really hoping that none of the undead nasties would come anywhere near me.

Move north a couple of steps, full defence and try to intimidate magus

"Nachos?" The skeleton looks around desperately. "Paolo! Hey! You've got some nachos, right? Help me out here." The skeleton to his left responds with disgust. "First of all, Dave, that's racist. Secondly, although I did bring some nachos when I came in here that was at least 50 years ago."

Dave emits a terrified squeak, glancing from Paolo to Uxig and back again, before promptly collapsing back into the bone pile. "¡No huyas, pendejo!", shouts Paolo, as Uxig's hammer whirls past his head. "Hijo de puta!"

"Tu madre chupa la polla Orcus!", Murray cheerfully remarks. "I'm negotiating!", he confides to Sam.

The nine remaining legionnaires pull javelins from their quivers in eerie synchronicity, stepping toward the center of the room. "The negotiations have broken down", Murray sorrowfully reports. Four of the javelins hurtle into Slim; the skeletons have apparently taken his attempt to frighten them rather personally.

28 damage to Slim; marked by Skeleton E (Blue)

"THIS TOMB WILL BE YOUR GRAVE!", thunders the magus. "Tomb? You guys always told me this was a sepulcher", Paolo mutters. "It's all the same shit", hisses another skeleton. "They're synonyms."

The magus strides imperiously toward Slim, throwing open his dusty tome and reading aloud from the vile curses within. Despite his normally fearless nature, the sight of the decaying thing approaching him throws Slim into a mild panic — too busy deciding between fight and flight to make a competent attempt at either.

15 psychic damage to Slim; bloodied, immobilized and -2 to attack for 1 round

With the ridiculous kobold out of the way, the magus turns his attentions to Beefi — and that offensive cudgel. The magus levels his scepter in the minotaur's direction, and the serpent's head spits out a vile spray of toxic filth. It settles on Beefi's armor without much effect.

:savepoint: Sam, Garold, Uxig, Gra-fa-zut, Beefi, Skeletal Legionnaires, Corpse Magus

I couldn't help but smirk at Murray's attempts to negotiate with the enemy. We were truly two peas in a pod, an evil, snarky pod. I slid to the top of the stairs, leveling my crossbow and loosing a bolt for the nearest skeleton. I had an idea, and if I'd understood the concept of fear, I may have been uneasy about what I was about to do. But I didn't. So I was sort of excited.

"Don't worry about it, Murray. As long as it is other people taking the javelin to the chest, you and I are good."

Move to AA -92
Deft strike AI -89 for 9 damage

The well-lit "lane" down the middle of the room suddenly reminded Garold of an amusing sport he'd once participated in when an extremely drunk man randomly invited him to a birthday party. Garold only wished he was inebriated. Blood alcohol content seemed to be a crucial element of the sport.

Move to Z-93

It's bowling for boneheads!

Stampede Shot on AH-93

15 damage to AH-93 and pushed up to 4 squares before two adjacent enemies are pushed 2 squares

NO DAMMIT! I said nacho's not kebabs! There isn't even any meat or vegetables on these skewers I will be writing a strongly worded letter to management.

In his head Slim makes a note to give this restaurant half a star in his next review for the Kobald Cuisine Quarterly.



Shield of sacrifice taking a surge from beefi and healing Sam and myself as if we'd burned a surge +5 AC for everyone involved until the end of my next turn. Hammer throw at blueC.

12 damage to skeleton +4 temp HP to me

"Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, JO-LENE," I sang, gleefully sprinting into the midst of things. At the last syllable, I burst my aegis onto the field, enveloping several of the skeletons and the magus.

Major to move, move to AH-91.
Swordmage's decree.

The zombie thing that seemed to be in charge of the whole shebang hurled a blob of oozy gunk at me. It didn't hurt at all but it made rather a mess of my tunic which had been clean on only yesterday. I was expecting a fight and instead I found myself in the midst of a mud-flinging contest. Well if that's the way these undead beasties conducted themselves then so be it.

Heedless of the carnage my companions were wreaking around me, I strode purposefully over to the Magus.

"Now look here Sonny-Jim, I appreciate that you may well have been down here for some time and perhaps things were different up top before you ended up as an undead freak of nature but in this day and age, civilised people do not throw slime at other people. It's simply unpleasant and frankly, more than a little unhygenic. Can't you see I have an injured goose here? The last thing he needs is some kind of magic muck getting into his wound and infecting it, the poor chap might never fly again! Now stop all this nonsense and let's talk things through like grown-ups, eh?"

Move to AI-91, diplomacy on magus, full defence

The Five fell many of the skeletons, but the remaining legionnaires draw javelins once again as Beefi makes his plea for sanity. The magus raises his hand in a gesture of restraint, however, and responds to Beefi in a new and civil tone.

"A goose, you say. Truly, I could no more wound an innocent creature than I could allow your intrusion into my tomb to go unchallenged. How do you propose we resolve our conflict, then? I cannot simply let you go without testing your mettle, having delved so far as to disturb my eternal resting place. How should we resolve our conflict, stranger? As you are both outnumbered and, I daresay, outmatched: I leave the choice of contest to you."

Slim isn't his own ally (lol rules) so I healed Garold instead :shrug:

Well this was a pleasant surprise, a reasonable undead magus rather than the usual cackling madman.

I made a pretence of thinking his offer through carefully but in truth, there was only really one sensible option. Minotaurs have settled their disputes down through the ages in one of two ways, either a month long debate followed by a series of voting rounds using all kinds of convoluted rules about supporting nominatinos and tie-breaks that more often than not resulted in an option never ever first considered winning out, or a poetry writing contest and I wasn't sure the rest of the Furious Five were in the mood for lengthy discourse.

I took my pipe and smokeweed out of my pack, charged the bowl, lit up and inhaled a lungfull of sweet smelling smoke.

"Why my dear fellow, we shall settle this like gentlemen. A poetry composition contest. We all write one, five of you write one, they go head to head at random, best of five wins. If we win you shall submit to our superiority and go back to being dead. If you win we shall turn around, walk straight back out of here and pretend we never met. Reasonable?

We will need an impartial judge of course and I propose that as the person here with the least to gain or lose from either outcome, we have Howard here perform the duty."

I wasn't convinced that if we lost the rest of the lads would indeed walk calmly from the room like nothing had happened, I had a sneaking suspicion that Slim would almost certainly "accidentally" hit one of the skeletons in the face on the way past but if there was even a chance of a peacefull resolution to this then I was happy to take it.

I blinked at what was transpiring, slowly lowering my crossbow. I muttered under my breath to Murray.

"I think this just became the best lich fight ever."

Since it was my idea, I thought I should probably take the lead.

I cleared my throat and more or less off the top of my head, recanted our tale thus far in epic poetic fashion

Now gather all you gentles near
And listen to my story
Of warriors bold and their hunt for a liche
(Don't worry, it's not too gory)

Five were they, our fearless troop
Adventuring as they ought'a
Three of them were average height
The other two, much shorter

The Sage's sent them underground
Into the mausoleum's halls
They started as they meant to go on
By smashing up the walls

A riddle of sorts they came across
To tell them where to go
And did they pay it any heed?
Of course they didn't, no

The entrance hall was far from safe
Deep pits they were abundant
But strangely they found no living foes
Their weapons might prove redundant

Upon an empty room they came
But trickery was afoot
A baffling puzzle room it was
The prize? Some decent loot

Their next encounter, for a change
Didn't feature any traps
A pair of gentle elven folk
Both thoroughly nice chaps

Next up was a watery pit
For a ladder they were wishing
While the others jumped from plinth to plinth
Slim did a spot of fishing

Once past the fish they found a hall
With artwork on the wall
The lads weren't sure which held the secrets
Some they just took down them all

Sam explored a side passage
Seemed he was in a hurry
A minor fight they won with ease
And that's when they met Murray

Through a chapel, down a hall
A hop, a skip and jump
Sam could not quite clear the gap
(He's perhaps a little plump)

But what was this behind the door?
A party in a tomb?
They knocked on the door and sauntered in
Peering through the gloom

You might have thought the boys would learn
From each successive mishap
But apparently this was not the case
They'd walked into a trap

A desperate scamble thus ensued
To avoid a fiery death
It ended with an uphill sprint
That left them out of breath

Puzzled as to which way next
Slim looked into a hole
And smashed apart the bottom
Using GFZ strapped to a pole

And that, my friends is all but it
The rest we take as read
A magic mace, a secret door
And a bunch of walking dead

These mighty warriors stand fast
In search of death or glory
Churlish indeed to stop them here
And not let them finish the story

So Howard dear, my favourite goose
I hope I've entertained you
(And bear in mind that without my help
These skeletons might have maimed you!)

Finished, I paused for applause before taking a deep bow.

Slim walks up to the magus and begins wildly gesticulating while screaming in the style of his peoples greatest Orators.

Look AT me HOAKE HOGAN!
This IS Seven SYLLABLES!
YEAH beefcake BEEFCAKE!

SKRONK!

intimidating poem yes?

My fingers ran across the brim of my hat, adjusting it down over my eyes as I soft-shoed my way down the hallway towards the lich. Hands disappeared under the shadow cast across my face, a spark and a puff of smoke the only hint of the cigarette lighting before I flicked the match in the direction of a nearby skeleton. I adjusted Murray to my palm, giving a nice visual to my words.

Your time has past. Your time is done.
Your bony feet have stirred dirt for too long.
Hiding in your crypt, afraid of sky and sun
Cowering here, behind your bony throng

I skipped past another wave of skeletons, smirking to myself while Murray cackled in my hand. I spun him deftly, distraction of movement on top of distraction of sound.

Bony fingers clutching life tight
long after it should have flown away.
Clutching at the last remnants of might
But the end comes, with no more delay.

I know you're weary, lay down your head
There will be peace when this is done.
Quick and quiet, no words need be said
Trapped already in the web we've spun.

I slipped away from another skeleton, approaching the lich directly as my undead friend chortled and danced from hand to hand, the practiced ease of a lifetime of sleight of hand.

You needn't suffer, the hurt can end.
No more running, stop, breathe deep,
Father time has no moments left to lend
You've no need to pray, no soul to keep.

You built these walls to keep you safe
Like a child hiding under covers when abed,
But the truth is bound to truly chafe,
For the damned will soon be simply dead.

I flicked the catch on my sheath open, ready to draw it the moment I'd unloaded the bolts in my crossbow. I'd used some sleight of hand and distraction to get myself close enough, and if I saw this verbal fight wasn't going in our direction, I was ready to cut down the skeletal minions and put the blade through this thing's cold, black heart.

No man was ever meant to hear his elegy
So accept this final fact to be as rote
Perhaps the next world will grant you clemency
But all I can offer is a swift slit of throat.

Big ol' 10 for Insight.

Slightly more inspiring 28 for thievery

Well, they say you should write about what you are familiar with, and Garold had a particular lesson in mind that he had learned in this very tomb.

As he recited his poem he summoned spectral insects for visual aid.

The next time you should see
an insect buzzing on the wing
If you'd care to avoid a sting
make sure that it's a bee.

For bees will only defend
their royal queen and hive
A vow to lay down their lives
for in attack they meet their end.

But wasps can strike as they please
so beware or be sure they will
sting and sting and sting you still
while suffering no unease.

And while nectar into honey bees do mix
prey and foes only do wasps seek out
And that is why without a doubt
bees are bros, and wasps are dicks.

29 insight
21 nature

The majority of the Five present excellent verse, and Slim's pure physical intensity is more than adequate to convey the emotional turmoil of his feelings. No one in the room doubts his enthusiasm for beefcake.

Beefi 36, GFZ 36, Slim 56, Sam 43, Garold 55; Furious Five Total 226

The Magus seems impressed with the unexpected show of talent, and confers with four of his minions. It's Paolo that steps forward first.

Dry
Tomb air
A spear trap!
It has pierced my
lungs.

A second skeleton steps forward.

Here stand the bones of Arthur Slag
'twas slaughtered by an ooze
Hid all the treasures in his bag
And surely paid his dues
'tis in the nature of a thief
To take more than his score
But Arthur's but a fallen leaf
And robs no one anymore.

And a third steps forward, perhaps a bit shorter and stockier than the rest.

Axefist's crew were the best
The finest swords in the west
Down came the stones
and shattered their bones
Here's Axe at the end of his quest.

A fourth, slightly taller than the rest and still clad in a few rags of his mortal clothing.

Bard
paid well
to observe
to see and sing
of the victories
of the dwarf Axefist.
Seven we were, and bold
Separated by portals
Axefist triggered a juggernaut!
Mowed down underneath, I and the rest
I find no rest, and the lich pays nothing.

The magus smiles, his leathery hands pattering together in a dry clap for his troupe.

Never tarry
in a tomb
For what is buried
spells your doom
Cursed you are
and hexed, and pox'd
If doors unbar
If opened locks
Yet all will come
for greed, for glory
My tomb, the end
to all their stories.

The magus pauses briefly before finishing, taking a long drag from a pipe of his own. The smoke trickles freely out of the many holes in his torso.

Burma Shave.

Skeleton 1 33, Skeleton 2 49, Skeleton 3 36, Skeleton 4 29, Magus 63; Magus Troupe Total 210

Despite the fine poetry of the dead, Howard remains firmly in place atop Beefi's pack. The goose has clearly chosen a winner in this contest. The magus snarls and retires to his couch.

"Goose, I disagree strongly with your assessment but the terms were clear. Stand down, my legions. These fools may go about their business with no further interference from us."

"I blame the bard", mutters Axefist, already collapsing back into the bone pile. "What was that bullshit, you poncy elf? It didn't even rhyme!" The bard just sighs.

Victory! 2150 XP (430 each)

"What?!" shouts the mace, practically rattling around in Beefi's grip. "Rather than crush evil, you talk it to sleep?! Cowardice, friend, pure cowardice."

Mace concordance -2

"I just want you guys to know", Murray interjects, "that was the fruitiest goddamn thing I've ever seen. And I once worked for a druid who made golems entirely out of strawberries."

After a vigorous bout of pelvic thrusting at the various piles of defeated bones Slim finally stops to remove the javelins from his torso.
Finding himself woozy from various ailments and blood loss he collapses face first into a pile of femurs.

I'mma lay down now.

extended rest

Aha, victory to the Furious Five, as if it were ever in doubt. St Cuthbert seemed a little upset but unjustly so I felt, we had after all vanquished the undead, even if we hadn't technically smashed them to bits. I had a feeling that the mace wasn't going to enjoy it's time in my keeping one bit if it wasn't a fan of non-violent conflict resolution. I had got this far in life without getting into any fights, I wasn't about to start now.

With the undead back in their more natural state of just dead and Slim looking like he needed a breather, I had a good look around the chamber to see what secrets these recently poetic bones were hiding.

Search the room for anything at all of interest; Doors, treasure, traps, whatever.

The immediate danger at an end, Slim promptly collapses to the floor for a well-earned rest and most of the Five follow his lead (Sam carefully keeping Murray well away from the skeletons). Beefi takes a moment to peruse the room while its guardians were in a dormant state. Many of the deceased adventurers now in the employ of the magus still had some small treasures in their possession, though it's now a tricky business trying to pry them out of the jumble of bones.

Beefi leaves the question of whether it would be best to take the items 'til he's rested, and the Five spend an uncomfortable night aside the bones. As they break camp the next morning, many of their ailments seem to have cleared up — though the halfling still seems a touch red and sweaty.

Found: 2 vials Battle Mind potion, 1 vial Psychic Resistance potion, 450 GP, bag of ritual scrolls (Remove Affliction, Steal The Voice, Skull Watch, Aces High. Will detail the effects & etc later.)

Diseases: All cured save Sam's Filth Fever.

Slim climbs to his feet rubbing the sleep from his eyes and a tibia from his forehead.

I feel great! Now to see about them nachos THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS!

grab the potions and take fifty gold splitting the rest amongst the party.

wander over to cheese door.

Slim handed me some of the coins I had found. I pocketed them, resolving to drop them into a collection box should we ever end up in a church again. The scrolls I ignored, nothing good could come of messing with strange incantations you found in a tomb.

I followed Slim over to the not so secret door. He looked much better for his rest, I pitied whatever monsters or beasties attacked us next.

Garold stretched and got to his feet. Not the most comfortable night of sleep he'd ever had, but still refreshing. Seeing everyone else wander off to the other door, he decided to follow along. No point waiting around and risking the dead things changing their mind and becoming undead again.

Uxig returns to the now-open secret room, looking at it in conditions other than pitch darkness for the first time. Most of the group follows (Gra-fa-zut is a heavy sleeper, and the group is hesitant to interrupt his unconscious mutterings about rare umbrellas).

This hidden chamber is by far the messiest so far of the tomb. Two tables are strewn with a dizzying array of alchemical tools, reagents, and manuals — much of the glassware, however, has been shattered on the floor. In the south of the room stand three massive cauldrons, the one nearest to the door still bubbling away though no source of heat is immediately apparent. The contents are yellow and somewhat curdled — this is probably the source of the appetizing cheese scent.

In the north of the room stands a table apparently dedicated to some form of war planning. Tiny tin ramparts have been erected over a sheet of green wool, and an assortment of little iron soldiers are on the attack. An impossibly thick manual lies open next to the miniatures, but the war planners evidently left in a hurry; all the chairs by this table are smashed upon the floor.

In the northeast corner of the room, a half-butchered corpse lies in a pool of blood next to a bucket full of its viscera. The entirety of the poor man's skin seems to be absent.

The secret door remains in hiding in the room's northwest, doing its absolute best to be inconspicuous.

At last the molten cheesy goodness is mine!

Walk over to cauldron and give the contents a taste test. Attempt to be perceptive while I'm at it.

Exciting thought the new room seemed, I was reminded of the riddle on the floor in the entrance hall and made a quick trip back to the undead room to check the throne out. I recalled something about a columned hall and a throne and this room did after all have both, although that would mean we'd skipped a bit of the riddle.

Go and give the throne a once over then rejoin the others

Remembering a throne being present in the hall of the corpse magus, Beefi wanders back in that direction. But there never was a throne there; merely a couch. It's a very nice couch, festooned with gold and jewels, but it is decidedly not a throne. Moreover, the magus (pretending to be asleep) clearly has one eye open and is giving Beefi a dirty look.

Uxig jumps as high as he can to reach the lip of the cauldron, attempting to get a handful of the delicious-smelling cheesy goop. He doesn't notice anything untoward from his slightly-higher vantage point. The goo does indeed taste like it smells; a fine sharp cheddar. Despite being a liquid, however, the cheese is only slightly warm to the touch. There is a brief gassy sensation in Slim's gut after a moment, but it passes.

Having at last taken care of his cravings it was time for Slim to get down to business. First things first though we seemed to be missing someone.

Go back and grab the scrolls ,Also grab GFZ by the feet and drag him to the cheese room.

Quick he seems to be having one of his spells again! Somebody do something!

Begin waving him vigorously at the various implements trying to shake an arcana check out of him.

Garold decides to pass on the undead fondue and opts to investigate the war planning table, looking for any traps as he walks over.

As he looks down on the tiny men on the table, a strange sensation hits him. For a moment he feels that just as the iron figures are pawns whose fate are determined by men, he and the rest of the five are being controlled by greater beings who percieve them in the same way. They are just tiny miniatures to be moved around a table in someone's game. It is a very discomforting thought, but fortunately fleeting.

Garold then resumes his investigation of the table and the manual, hoping to find any insight into what the wargamers were planning before they left in such a hurry.

Garold examines the miniature war-game, but learns little. It scarcely seems like a battle worth planning for — if the schemers expected to be on the attack, it would surely be a simple matter; their numbers dwarfed the two defenders remaining within. If they themselves were the defenders, no amount of planning would save their hides. They'd be better off fleeing for their lives rather than plotting some doomed scheme to hold what looked to be a largely empty fort.

Hoping for more insight, Garold leafs through the heavy manual. The bulk of its hundreds of pages are dedicated to an absurd variety of incoherent charts on exceeding petty or preposterous subjects. Garold snorts at chart 239-D; Likely Locations of Arrow Wounds. An arrow, the chart informed him, was roughly as likely to hit someone in the arm as in the leg, and scarcely ever hit anyone in the head. Garold knew better, of course: arrows largely wounded whatever part of the body an archer happened to be aiming at. On a lark, he supposes that this theoretical arrow hits an enemy in the hand, and 239-D advises him to see chart 239-J; Severity of Hand Wounds Via Arrow. There was a 5% chance, it seemed, that firing an arrow into someone's hand would either cause it to explode or simply to make the enemy drop his weapon. The second result, Garold supposed, was an inevitable consequence of the first, and not worth mentioning twice.

Several sheets of loose paper are tucked into the manual, all of them adorned with small, hand-drawn portraits of burly, under-dressed men. Each of these men are identified with little labels above their portraits; they bear names like "Bob the Fighter" and "Zappo II, Son of Zappo". Beneath the portraits, each sheet is crowded with another generous array of charts and statistics.

Arching an eyebrow, Garold carefully shuts the book to get a good look at the cover. A tiny but quite detailed little scene has been painted onto the front of the tome; several of the burly men from the looseleaf sheets were engaged in battle with an army of orcs. The book identifies itself as follows:

Since knowledge is failing to shake out of the swordmages head in a timely manner Slim starts getting bored. Dropping GFZ face first on the ground he goes and checks out the Eviscerated fella.

I think this mage is defective I say we check his warranty next time we hit town.

I approached the cauldron of green stuff, hoping to get an idea of vaguely what was in it without getting too close to inhale any vapours that might be coming off it. After that, I did the same with the blue one. With no other obvious routes onwards, there had to be some kind of mechanism in this room somewhere.

Slim approaches the eviscerated corpse, leaving Gra-fa-zut rocking back and forth on his heels. Other than its sorry state, there's nothing particularly remarkable about the corpse. It is still awfully fresh, Slim supposes, relative to the dusty, abandoned mess that is the rest of the room. An extremely dull silver longknife (a shortsword, really, by Slim's standards) is tucked beneath the dead man's skinless arse.

Beefi peers into the other two cauldrons. The green stuff, to all appearances, is just more algae-clotted brackish water. The blue goo is of more uncertain provenance. The texture looks vaguely like jelly, if it were not for the relative unlikelihood of such a thing being blue. Unfortunately, the nostril-searing acidic stink that comes off the sludge fairly rules out its being edible.

Science had never really been my strong point but I had a look on the cluttered desk for any clue as to what the room's previous occupants had been trying to achieve here.

Given the corpse was pretty fresh and given that we hadn't passed anyone dripping in gore on our way in here, it seemed logical that there was another door forward around here somewhere. I had a look for it.

Search the desk for clues and the room for secret doors, other than the one we used to get in here.

Science is, indeed, not Beefi's strong suit. All the broken glassware and spilled chemicals are very fascinating in the abstract, but Beefi hasn't the faintest idea what any of them were for.

Secret doors, if any, continue to be infuriatingly non-obvious — save for the one hiding in the northwest corner of the room. Arguably one could stroll over to that and open it again, but it's hard to say what that might accomplish.

I strolled over to the secret door we'd already found once and attempted to open it again.

Despite the evident fact that the recently-secret door was not in fact part of the wall it was cowering against, Beefi gives it a hearty shove anyway (ignoring the door's pitiful attempts to cower away). There is an odd sizzling sound as the door opens through a wall that was 100% solid a moment ago; the stone in the way is just being vaporized.

The room beyond is in an even worse state than the laboratory in which the Five currently stand. Splintered and shattered furniture is strewn over the entire floor, save a bilious green rug in the center of the room and a small clearing which the door swept aside in opening. Every inch of the room looks damp and clammy; even the bare stone floors are sporting an impressive crop of green mold. Five tapestries hang on the walls, depicting quiescent scenes of undersea fauna; despite the damp, these seem to be in pristine condition.

The secret-door-thing whimpers.

If I was going to put a pit trap in a dungeon, I'd probably hide it under a green rug. I edged into the new room, grabbed the edge of the rug and pulled it aside to see what was underneath. I then turned my attention to the curiously un-rotted tapestries, examining them more closely and looking behind them.

Having no luck discerning anything of value from the dwarven tabletop game, Garold decides to wander into the newly discovered northern room. Upon seeing the tapestries he attempts to recall anything significant about the species of underwater life they depict.

Nature Check

I kept myself near the cow's side, glancing down at Murray.

"Balls. I thought we were done. It was time to get drunk and angry at inappropriate people for inappropriate reasons."

I had never been especially good with magic. Mechanical traps and the like, I was a master, but I was never good with magic. It made me curious, too, which was a bad combination. Very few things end with BZAAAAAP, yum. It's usually BZAAAAAP ow. Or BZAAAAAP dead. We lose more halflings that way, my mom used to say while woefully shaking her head. But she picked fistfights with Minotaurs, so what the fuck did she know.

"Right then, mates. This place looks like it is full of sea debris, and the tapestries are all underwater. Just so we're clear, if I fucking drown here, I will come back and haunt any survivors."

Beefi rolls up the green carpet, revealing what looks to be a drainage grating hidden beneath. The same green mold infests the walls of the pit beneath. The pit below is only 15 feet deep or so, and has the same look of being sort of damp without actually containing standing water. Meanwhile, Garold examines the tapestries more carefully. None of the creatures depicted are particularly obscure.

On the west wall, a small basking shark lies dead in a shallow tide pool. A pair of hooved legs are immersed in the pool as well, but the angle of the image makes it hard to say what manner of creature the legs belong to.

Along the north wall are three scenes involving a kraken, possibly related: Garold has never encountered a kraken personally, so he's not sure if the same kraken appears in all three tapestries or they all more or less look the same. On the left, a kraken seems to be holding court with a clan of kuo-toa, or sea devils; they're presenting it with a group of sea elves in chains. In the center tapestry, a kraken lurks in the darkness beneath a ship's hull. In the third tapestry, a bruised and battered kraken broods in an undersea cavern; the broken bodies of a dozen or so kuo-toa litter the cave floor.

On the east wall there's a lovely picture of some dolphins providing an unconscious (and unaccountably nude) dwarf with an escort to the surface. Well, mostly lovely. There are some parts of the tapestry Garold could do without. Very small parts.

Beefi glances behind each of the tapestries in turn, only for them all to melt into heaps of foul-smelling orange sludge. The slimes, unaccountably, do not leap to the attack; they seem weak and listless, undulating pathetically on the floor.

"THAT'S what I was forgetting!" Murray suddenly remarks. "Feed the slimes! And that explains why there were so many extra rats in the rat pit, too! Damn, I'd forget my own head if it wasn't atta—" Murray cuts himself off mid-sentence.

On the upside, the dissolution of the tapestries has revealed an exit to the north; a narrow tunnel of rough-hewn rock about 60 feet long, then making a sharp turn to the east. The accessibility of said tunnel, however, is in doubt; the ex-tapestry that was blocking it off is still doing so now that it's resumed its natural shape. Weak, yes, but even a dead slime would be unpleasant to wade through.

As I examined the tapestries, they turned to sludge in my hands. I really hoped that they hadn't been valuable and added their destruction to my ever-growing list of things I needed to apologise for should we ever find whoever it was who owned this tomb.

I'm sure someone had told me once that the best way to clear acidic slime out your path was to burn it off but I was loathe to waste my only source of light by throwing it at a slime.

I remembered however that there were three large cooking fires in the other room and an abundance of firewood. I returned to the first room and gathered up as much flammable debris as I could and threw it in the direction of the slime that was blocking our path. I then wrapped a rag around a plank and took a light from the nearest cooking fire before tossing the brand into my impromptu bonfire, thinking as I did that it was really lucky that these weren't sentient creatures or else this would be a pretty unkind thing to do.

Happy to see the cowman getting into the spirit of things Slim helps out by throwing one of his pints of oil into the fire.

Can't have too much of a good thing can we my delicious friend?