[DnD] Once More Into The Depths (GFF D&D Adventure 8)

What Has Gone Before

Spoiler:

Adventure 1: The Dungeon Of Doom

In which the newly-formed Horde is cast into a subterranean prison, and fights their way to freedom through a host of vicious goblins, selfish kobolds, suspicious dwarves, and a dragon entrapped by its own machinations. After overcoming many hurdles (and losing Fescue, the party rogue, to an accursed jewel), the Horde blasts a hole through the dungeon walls and escapes to freedom — dragging along with them an old halfling woman who really only seemed to want to take a nap.

Adventure 2: Crusader

In which the Horde, having formed a small mercenary company for lack of any better prospects, takes on the responsibility of retrieving a magical sword for an unfortunate paladin. To their dismay the Horde discovers that the sword (the eponymous Crusader) is not only hidden in the abandoned home of a most paranoid mage but is greatly sought after by agents of evil who wish to keep it from the paladin's hands. In the end their client is dead, and the blade is sold to a halfling crimelord in exchange for a future favor — a favor that (of this writing) has not yet been called on.

Adventure 3: The Haunting Of Hargast

A desperate plea for help from a distant village leads the Horde to the tiny farming community of Hargast, where a terrible curse has taken root: Hargast's dead are rising from their graves. Worse yet, they always come out at night and the Horde is unlucky enough to have arrived at dusk. After a grim battle to defend the local tavern until dawn, the Horde descends into the ancient catacombs beneath the village to discover the restless spirits of more than a few dead adventurers not unlike themselves. Even as they close in on the source of the disturbances, a terrible miscalculation on the part of the party's warlord leads to an onslaught of venomous spiders and the tragic death of Brigid Conmara, cleric of Melora. Only by making a grim pact with a demon do the rest escape with their lives. In the end the terrors seem to stem from a supposed "vampire lord" who is nothing more than an unusually persuasive gnome. The fortuitous arrival of a human mercenary following up on the same lead helped to shore up the flagging morale of the Horde, but even so the battle against the gnome and his servants was only barely survived. Harrowed by the experience, the party's burly fighter (Argumentus) retires in Hargast to live the rest of his life as a peaceful farmer.

Adventure 4: All In The Same Boat

Seeking fresh air and freedom after second excursion underground, the Horde signs up for simple guard work aboard a merchant ship — and an enthusiastic nobleman with a flair for the dramatic invites himself along with them. Alas, not only is the craft beset by pirates but by a terrible storm that dashes the craft into the rocks and beaches it on a barren island. The lighthouse meant to help guide ships through the vicious local reefs has gone dark, and the Horde is asked to investigate while the ship's regular crew works to repair the damage. As they climb the dizzying heights to reach the lighthouse, the Horde's dwarven paladin succumbs to the common dwarven curse of agoraphobia. Driven mad by the great heights and the open sea, Gabriel Sledgehammer casts aside his worldly goods and flings himself into the icy waters below. Soon after, the ragged band encounters a sickly bear. Though they prepare to fight the beast, it merely vomits on them — expelling a small, confused halfling druid in the form of a badger. He promptly invites himself to join their company. It is discovered that the lighthouse's magical fire is doused by the intense power needs of a damaged magical spacecraft — one which the Horde is able to help repair. After a brief joyride, the spacemen deposit the Horde back on the ship in which they'd arrived just in time to finish their originally intended deliveries.

Adventure 5: Delicious and Moist

Tired of even the simplest jobs ending in some bizarre twist, the Horde takes the simplest assignment they can find: retrieve a cake from a thieving orc. Despite the orc having fled into the Freeport sewers, the inexplicably heavy pastry is retrieved quickly and without complication despite the group's great paranoia.

Adventure 6: Secret Cow Level

A sage requests that the Horde descend into an ancient labyrinth beneath a mountain to recover artifacts from a long-ago minotaur civilization. Things quickly take a turn for the bizarre as both the party's warlord and the elven mage disappear without a trace in a single night. Still, a bustling settlement thrives in the corridors beneath the mountain, and a mechanical bard and his long-suffering cleric friend are invited into the fold for a share of the rewards. After some missteps, the newly formed "G-Unit" frees a clutch of slaves almost entirely by accident before smashing the nearest ancient artifact and fleeing back to the surface — discovering along the way that their noble companion was nothing more than a terribly confused shapeshifter the entire time. A shapeshifter with... unpleasant hobbies.


Adventure 7: Magnum Innominandum

At the request of a genasi barista, G-Unit travels to the remote village of Hallowfeld seeking a play. However, their search for theatrical treasures soon pit them against a traveling company of actors who have something truly remarkable in store for their audiences: an irreversible transformation into horrors from the Far Realm. G-Unit moves quickly enough to save the larger town of Lamid, but exhaustion prevents them catching up to the players at their next destination: mighty Freeport! Glock and Gordok take advantage of a gift from the Lamidans to flee the planet before anyone learns of their momentous failure. Little do the rest of the team know their base of operations is in a panic, as they are unwillingly escorted to their next adventure...

Life in Lamid isn't glamorous, but it's easy enough; retaining the status of "hero" in a town of a couple thousand isn't a tall order. Gheth knits a broken leg, Garrmondo gets a cat out of a tree, and the gifts roll in.

Until, of course, the excavation of the Lamid Amphitheatre is complete.

Discovering beneath the rubble none of the horrible hordes they anticipated, but a mere three foulspawn corpses, the high esteem in which G-Unit is held soon begins to dissipate. While certainly fighting off three monsters was still an act of bravery, it was nothing the guard could not have eventually handled. Making things worse, news of Freeport's fate eventually wends its way to Lamid — and from there, it doesn't take the Lamidans long to put two and two together. They begin to hatch a scheme to get these freeloading foreigners out of their town without a confrontation.

One chilly day, Radcliff (still favoring his injured hand) comes to G-Unit's room in the barracks with terrible news.

"Friends! We must hurry! The mayor's staff of office has been stolen by some vile hoodlum! We must hurry to retrieve it, ere his insipid half-brother Gary seeks to reinstate his claim!"

The group quickly gathers their supplies and sets out with Radcliff into the woods. Along the way they stop at a small boarding house on the outskirts of town, inducting two more into their search party. An eladrin and a half-orc had arrived in Lamid a week or two after G-Unit's own momentous arrival, and were largely subsisting on odd jobs in the same way.

A mere ten minute's jog into the surrounding woodlands, Cal spots a sinister silhouette atop a nearby hill. The newly-assembled team of five quickly dash to the top of the rise.

The mayor's staff of office lay abandoned on the hilltop when they reached the summit, with the culprit sprinting away into the dark forest. Considering the job done, Cal reaches down to scoop up the staff — only to find it quite stuck to the rocks surrounding it. Shoving Cal aside impatiently, the half-orc grabs hold of the staff and gives it a mighty pull — and the hilltop collapses beneath them.

T'was not so long ago that Lamid was a town under constant seige by the ogres and giants that prowled the land, and massive deadfall traps like this dotted the woods. It had been discovered not long after Lamid's founding that a massive labyrinth was buried in the earth beneath the forests there, and dumping such dangerous monsters into the depths seemed the best way to deal with them. What happened to them down there was unknown, and the Lamidans were quite happy to remain ignorant on this point. Anything that went into the pits never bothered any Lamidan ever again; that was the important thing.

The five of them fell for what seemed like hours before smashing one-by-one into a conveniently-placed bed at the bottom of the seemingly-endless chasm. The dusty old mattress does little to absorb the shock of the fall, but at least any broken bones or other major wounds are avoided.

Coughing violently from the dust kicked into the air from their erstwhile landing, G-Unit and their new acquaintances take stock of their surroundings.

The top of the pit is still visible as a twinkling light far above them, but even between the five of them they didn't have a tenth of the rope they'd need to scale such a height. They seem to have fallen down an impossibly deep well, though there's no sign that any water ever flowed here. Evidently they'd landed in some ancient oversized bedchamber; aside from the moldering bed they'd fallen on, a rotting desk stands against the opposite wall. A cold, long-abandoned fireplace squats on the south wall, with a narrow chimney that promptly merges with the stone ceiling and vanishes. Wooden doors are accessible on the north and south walls, and there looks to be a third door on the east wall, if some skinny individual can squeeze past the hearth.

On the other side of the south wall a high-pitched voice can be heard babbling away; none of them understand the language

Enough light filters down from above to make all these things visible, but not in any significant detail; it's quite gloomy down in the pit. Come nightfall it'll be black as pitch.

How ya doing, buddy?

1 Die Roll How stealthy am I

This place looks rather dreary. A little bit of illumination would be most helpful!

Stuff dusty bedsheet into fireplace, pour oil into it, and set it on fire with flint and steel.

I hear voices coming from the South. Even if I can't place the language (hopefully it's goblinoid and not deep speech), I wonder if it's possible to identify the age or gender of the speaker. I try this by quietly tiptoeing to the door and pressing my ear against it.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

1 Die Roll Perception

Glenn tries not to panic when he comes to the realization that he is trapped in a hole with four complete strangers. Closing his eyes, he remembers the most important lesson he learned while growing up. He needed to give them a chance, at least.

Glenn rolls his eyes as the halfling almost trips trying to move quietly toward the south door. He could tell that it knew what it was doing, but clearly it had forgotten which foot was its right foot and which foot was its left.

Knowing that his eyes are better attuned to the dim light than most, Glenn takes a quick glance around the room, looking for anything which might betray the existence of a secret door or the like. These sorts of labrynths often had those sorts of things, at least in his experience. Glenn suddenly felt a pang of homesickness in his gut. She had always been better at this sort of thing.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Cal stuffs a dusty old sheet into the fireplace and quickly ignites it. The ancient bedsheet catches alight instantly, merrily burning away — and swiftly filling the room with billows of filthy grey smoke. Coughing his lungs out, Cal still attempts to stealthily listen at the south door. With his ear pressed to the door, Cal can hear a second lower-pitched voice as well as the initial shrieking that initially attracted his curiosity. Though he can't speak Elven, Cal's encountered enough elves in his time to recognize the low, dulcet tones of their men. This one sounds somewhat angry, although it's impossible for Cal to guess what the elf might be upset about. The nature of the first speaker remains a mystery — judging from the exceedingly high pitch and general excitability, Cal guesses it might be a small child. The door feels a little colder to the touch than the rest of the room, but not enough to cause discomfort. Luckily, the two strangers in the next room seemed too busy arguing with each other to notice his wheezing or general incompetence.

The bedsheets burn away quite swiftly indeed, leaving the fireplace empty of anything but soot — wait, what was that? Searching around the room for anything less than obvious, Glenn squints against the harsh smoke. In the thick haze, the changeling almost looked half his height somehow. Still, Glenn was sure he spotted something glinting in the fireplace. Looking closer, he makes a discovery — the sudden heat after such a long rest had cracked open some of the old chimney stones, and whomever dwelt in this room long ago had hidden some of their precious wealth in those very stones! Tearing apart the entire chimney might reveal more treasure, but Glenn questioned if it was worth their time. For the moment, nothing more than a simple fire had added a fine amethyst and a lovely statuette to their collective coffers.

Further, the back wall of the fireplace now looked fairly brittle — Glenn could see some faint light passing through from the room on the opposite side. This might be a more cunning way to get the drop on whomever might be in there, if such a thing was warranted.

Glenn discovers an amethyst (value 100GP) and an ivory statuette depicting a centaur (value 100 GP), as well a secret door (of sorts).

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

1 Die Roll Stealth Check to Hide at I1

Elven eh? Well, language isn't one of my strong suits. Ironic for a changeling that can shapeshift into virtually any race, and whose people spend more time in other 'skins' than their own. I guess I should have paid attention during school.

In any case, I motioned to the Eladrin to listen at the door. "Friend Eladrin." I whispered. "Might you be able to determine by accent alone whether we might be facing elves, eladrin, or drow? Might be useful for how we choose to approach them."

I have grown extremely curious about the staff yanked out by the half-orc, so I give it a thorough examination. After which, I pour a pint of oil into my empty flask, and take 30 arrows from the little wagon to put into my quiver.

I watch with dismay as the brash warlord pushes the door open. I take a deep breath, and stepped back behind the smokescreen to obscure my presence. That way, if hostilities break out I should have immediate combat advantage from concealment.

Stealth Check to hide: 13 + 1 + 8 = 22 vs. each (potential) enemy's passive perception

I was speaking idiomatically.

Puyet rubs his head, shaking away the impact of the fall, and begins to blame himself for the whole situation. After a small consideration, though, he is bright enough to realize this whole was meant for them to fall into, and the ill will was definitely not directed toward him. Whatever resentment was held against the others he might soon be harboring as well.

Brashly, the small man approaches him and attempts to take the staff from him in order to examine it. Puyet pushes him back. If he wanted to look it over, at this moment, he would have to do so hanging gutted from the end of it.

Briefly examine staff

Not in the mood to sit any longer in the smoky room, Puyet enters the door to the south. Somebody must know the way out of here.

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Gheth shrugs off the fall after finding no injuries but he takes a quick inventory of the desk, wondering if perhaps anything on it or in it might be a clue to the room's inhabitants-- including who might be in the next room.

As he speaks in low tones to the rest of the party, he takes surreptitious glances at the two newcomers, taking stock and wondering how well they'll all stand up to hardened enemies.

"First priority for us should be information. Let's see if we can get these other fellas to tell us where we should be headed next. We'll get things done much better if we have a goal in mind."

After searching the desk, Gheth goes to the door to test if it is locked or not.

If something of note found in desk, stop and read
If not, test door

FELIPE NO

Puyet takes a look at the supposedly-valuable staff that got him into this mess. While it had looked nice enough half-buried in the twigs concealing the trap above, the ruse didn't stand up to close inspection. All the "gems" set into the staff were just cut glass, roughly hammered into what otherwise looked to be a hastily modified shepherd's crook. Of course, it's not like he was in a position to call the Lamidans out on their poor craftsmanship — as if he wouldn't have much more visceral concepts to discuss the next time he met them anyway. Might as well let the changeling have the worthless thing, if it weren't so much fun to watch him pout.

Gheth pokes around the brittle old desk, seeing if anything of worth might be left behind. There's an open ledger on top, but the book is practically a fossil — trying to turn the pages would probably only get Gheth a handful of dust. It's not like he could read with all this smoke in his eyes anyway. The open pages look to have a little diagram of the fireplace and some tepid poetry. Gheth sets the book aside — he doubts the fireplace holds any more secrets than they've already found. Other than more crumbling papers, Gheth finds nothing else in the desk aside from a handsome set of old ivory knucklebones.

Garrmondo takes position at the fireplace, and Gheth cautiously tests the door for locks; the handle turns smoothly. Puyet strides forward, throwing open the door to confront whomever lies beyond.

The room to the south has no obvious function; four battered pillars stand in the corners of the room but no furnishings or decoration remain if ever they existed. The chamber is dusted here and there with what look to be snowdrifts. An unusually burly elf squats next to what looks like a goblin with bluish skin, both of them hungrily tearing chunks from the bodies of two unfortunate gnolls. Puyet spots another exit to the south, and takes special notice of the room's ceiling: the columns supporting it were clearly failing at their job. The ceiling was bowing in toward the floor, and a smattering of rubble was already strewn around from an apparent previous partial collapse.

The elf immediately notices Puyet's intrusion, and nudges the goblin with an elbow. The blue goblin looks up from his meal in alarm, screeching something incomprehensible at Puyet in his strange tongue. The elf takes it upon himself to translate, his command of Common dulled either by underground living or simple idiocy.

"Freeze!"

The elf's hand hovers over a handaxe tied at his waist.

"We don't want to have to put you on ice. Be cool."

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

"While the premise of chilled orc brains seems appealing, I'm afraid I wouldn't have enough of them to satisy either of you. Perhaps if you could just inform us of a route to the surface, we can apologize for interrupting your.........*akward glance at gnolls* meal and be out of your way. We wouldn't want to melt your pretty snow, that would be awful."

In case of combat, ready Battlefront Shift for myself, shifting two south, Flattening Charge and Furious Assault @ elf. Umm...also fuck this staff where's my hamma?!

Jam it back in, in the dark.

I relax after seeing no particularly vicious enemy in the next room.

Moving to the door to my left, I cautiously try the knob for a quick look-see.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Glenn comes out of his melancholic trance for long enough to realize that while the two in the other room, while not an immediate threat, were not necessarily going to remain so long after their current... meal was finished. Quietly picking up the amethyst from the fireplace and slipping it into his pocket, Glenn moves to the south door to translate anything of interest for the rest, while trying to remain inconspicuous. Glenn would rather avoid a fight if it was possible, but he makes ready anyway.

Hopefully someone else would take the initiative and talk to the other strangers. Glenn was never good with words.

Move next to Gheth, hand over crossbow

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

The elf attempts to confer with his goblin friend, and Glenn listens in.

"You ever hear of something called a 'surface'?"

"I went to the surface once. It's a horrible place, I was hungry all the time. Down here they just throw food down the hole and it walks in to meet you. I only met one guy who ever went back to the surface on purpose, and he had magical flying shoes. Why would you want shoes with wings on, we asked him, and now look. He's on the surface, where nobody feeds you. Serves him right."

The elf makes a few other inquiries but the goblin shrugs him off, gnawing on a leg bone. The beefy elf looks helplessly at Puyet and shrugs.

"He won't tell me where your surface is. But you definitely can't go up from here, so it must be down. Or east, or west, or something. Maybe you ate the surface. I usually find if you wait a couple days that takes care of itself."

The pair don't seem particularly hostile, provided one doesn't interrupt their meal — but neither are they especially helpful. Glenn considers giving his crossbow to the dragonborn for no obvious reason but then reconsiders, since some of his best tricks rely on it. The smoke was making him woozy.

With the duo in the south room dismissed as any kind of immediate threat, Cal squeezes past the fireplace to try the east door. Sadly, he doesn't learn much — the door is hinged to swing into the fireplace room, not out, and with the fireplace in the way he can't even open it far enough for a peek inside. Standing near the door, Cal can hear quiet footsteps moving around in the next room, like someone pacing back and forth. Someone pretty small, judging by the volume.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

All my attempts at diplomacy thus far have failed spectacularly. Although I briefly entertain the notion of befriending the odd couple by offering to cook the gnolls for them (I have lots of oil), or offer them a smoke, or some good wine, I decide to let the warlord handle diplomacy.

After stuffing the centaur statue into my pack, I shadow the human fighter and wait and see what happens. He is, after all, the senior adventurer and de facto leader of the group.

Move to 1sq behind Garr. Keep staying 1 square behind Garr.

Pang, I think you may have misread what Hawkeye wrote. He means "hand" as a noun (put his hand over his crossbow, readying it).

I was speaking idiomatically.

1 Die Roll diplomacy

Gheth inhales sharply with the idea of saying something heroic, and fully expecting that bloody, vicious combat would come of it. The warlord seems to have solved the problem before it started, however, so Gheth pretends to yawn instead. Noting a few stares from the newcomers, he takes it up a notch.

"OH MAN," he proclaims a little louder than necessary. "These dungeons make me SO sleepy."

Nailed it, he thinks.

"Anyways, we'll just be passing through to the other side if you guys are okay with that. Not that your kobold doesn't look delicious."

Gheth makes some preliminary shuffles towards the opposite end of the room.

Diplomacy check

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

1 Die Roll Active Perception

I remain attached to the fighter, shadowing him 5 feet behind.

As we pass through the cold room, I gave it a critical look, looking up, down, left, and right. How is it possible for ice to form here? Is it emanating from that little goblin?

FELIPE NO

Not at all interested in the diversions these characters are involving themselves in, and still supremely irritated at the lousy mess they managed to suck himself and the other fellow into, Puyet advances through the room to southern door. He'd heard of underground dungeons before, but never been to one. It was obviously not meant to exited with ease, so he would have to venture about until a means of escape was found, and the only escape the two jokesters in this room provided was of the mental kind.

South door, go. Regard for caution, no go

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

4 Dice Rolls pit trap vs Garr

Gheth announces their intent to pass through to the south, and the elf seems to shrug it off.

"You go where you want. Could probably eat you, but not need more food now. Come back later, eat you then maybe."

All of the party save Glenn move for the south door. Cal gives the room a cautious once-over, curious about the origin of the frost and snow. Indeed, the snow seems heaviest near the little goblin, and is gradually melting in the areas of the room furthest from him. No wonder he survives so well down here; he has a built-in method of preserving his food. Who ever heard of a goblin with elemental abilities, though? Whatever force created the genasi, Cal supposed, was not especially picky.

Despite Cal's caution, he's too busy thinking about the goblin to examine the area around the south door. The impetuous half-orc shoves the rest of the group aside, making for the door at top speed. The rest hurry to follow him, and all four are caught unawares when the "flagstones" in front of the door swing open underneath their weight.

Luckily, all four of them are quick enough on their feet to quickly dodge back to steadier footing before they fall into the pit below. That was a close one!

Puyet sidles around the pit, walking around the southeast pillar to reach the door. With the pit dodged, the door gives him no trouble and opens into a corridor which continues about 15 feet to the south before diverging to the east and west.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"WHO IN THE BLOODY WORLD WOULD PUT A TRAP DOOR THERE!?!" He would have cursed his god if he had any one religion in particular worth blaspheming at the moment, but alas, the life of the barracks was nothing but one foul syllable after another. One couldn't tell a prayer from a fart.

The architect of this place was mad, that is for sure. Puyet considers returning to the room to bash in the skull of that elf who failed to mention this, but it was clear he was barely aware of his own being, let alone his surroundings. If they came across them again, Puyet would be sure to stuff his gut full of iron.

With that said, Puyet waited for the rest of the crowd. Now knowing this dungeon to be as unpredictable as it had just shown itself to be, expendables should definitely be leading the way.

Puyet also ruminated on the local history, wondering if he knew anything about this particular dungeon.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Glenn picks up the ivory statue, then moves silently through through the room, giving the two cannibals plenty of space. He moves next to Puyet, looking around the next room.

Two more days of no internet, then i should be back

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

The trap was certainly a sinister, close call! Traveler be praised for my high reflexes! Note to self: procure a ten-foot pole for future use in this dungeon.

I seemed to have forgotten my little wagon, so I returned to the fireplace room to get it. In the process, I picked up a set of beautiful ivory jackstones by the desk - now all I need is a bouncy ball! I also espied a dirty but potentially valuable antique book. Both are added to the wagon.

I returned to my colleagues, steering a wide berth around the pit trap. I press myself against the right wall of the 15-foot corridor, looking cautiously to the left and to the right.

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1 Die Roll history !

Puyet grumbles at the seemingly arbitrary and unfair placement of the dungeon defenses, pondering what kind of mad bastard would bother to trap a door that apparently led nowhere important. Still, this sort of thing was typical of the tales he used to hear back at the garrison; the arch-mages and dragons who made these filthy pits their homes seemed more concerned with petty cruelty than mounting any organized defense against invaders. Maybe once he'd seen more of the place he can begin to narrow down whether this was one of the land's more infamous dungeons or just another dwarf mine gone wrong. You'd think they'd stop digging so deep after so many incidents, but no.

History check: 17. Puyet doesn't remember anything relevant, at least not yet.

Cal cautiously inches to the split in the corridor, looking east and west. To the east, the hallway travels another 30 feet before turning back to the north. To the west, the corridor dead-ends in a small circular chamber. A massive strongbox, nearly ten feet square, dominates the little room. A ring of white powder surrounds the oversized box.

I was speaking idiomatically.

1 Die Roll No traps amirite

Ooh, a nice treasure box! I retreat by five feet, and check the floor I'm standing on, the ceiling directly above me, and the walls on both sides of me for signs of any traps.

If I am satisfied that everything is in order, I tell the half-orc of my discovery. Surely he is interested in opening it!

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Gheth also moves into the south corridor and walks to the eastern corner, scouting for other possible dangers. He had to admit, he was enticed by the thought of the strongbox, though. A large box could hold a very large treasure.

Or a predatory gelatinous cube. But really, who did that anymore? Cubes were so last autumn.

Most amazing jew boots

1 Die Roll looking for traps

Glenn rounds the corner and spots the oversized box. While usually such a thing would be sorely tempting, it really didn't make any sense. Why here? Usually one kept treasures close at hand, where, even if one had no intention of using them, one could still get at them in case of an emergency. Perhaps they'd fallen into an ancient castle, buried hundreds of years ago by the ground around it, and abandoned hundreds of years before then. If so, then the strongbox would likely hold quite a considerable fortune if it hadn't been opened by thieves before their arrival.

Glenn proceeds to check for traps in the hallway. He knew that the changeling had just finished doing so, but if his eyes were as good as his stealth then Glenn knew that he should probably double check.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

2 Dice Rolls Stealth to hide from box

Our fearless leader attempts to trick a frost goblin. It doesn't seem like the goblin's going to fall for it.

No matter. The strongbox needs punishing, and I'm the changeling for the job. From my position right next to where the fighter was, I load up my longbow and shoot at the evil chest.

Twin Strike on chest with Kruthik Teeth arrows. Both have ropes tied to their shafts.

This is so exciting! I wonder what happens next! I haven't been to many dungeons before, but I try to recall the stories I heard to ascertain the purpose of this strangely well-built fortress.

Dungeoneering: 12 + 5 = 17
Care to give it a shot, Skex?

Jam it back in, in the dark.