OOC: relocating to a new thread

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The large gear door opens to reveal a large wooden loom, its skeletal frame draped with cobwebs, stands in the middle of this fifteen-foot-high octagonal room.  Three smaller spinning wheels surround it, also covered with cobweb sheets.  An iron coat rack stands next to one of them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:30, Mon 08 Jan 2018.

Marik look at the loom. He gathers that must be something used to create fabrics and textile for clothes. As he try to see where threads would start and end, he ponders for a moment about the advantages of having clothes created by hand or spells instead of a machine, before deciding machine-created clothes would probably lack the "personal touch" of ones created by magic and hand-crafting. It was the little details that made for the beauty of the craft. He doubt it could be possible to replicate these with a machine like that, though he has not idea how it function.


"Hm...Doesn't appear to be much here... I'll go check the balconies with Rani. Think a key could be hidden here, Omaron?"

As Marik enters the room the spinning wheels start to spin on their own, causing a loud clatter in the room.

Rani get startled and growls loudly as the clatter begin, baring her teeth before the machine.

"What in??" says the elf as he turn to Omaron. "Make...Make it stop!".

He draw his sword and shield, getting ready to fight...

Omaron chuckles at Marik's obvious discomfort as he follows after the mounted team. He cautiously approaches the automated machines, looking for any kind of controls on the loom and wheels. "Calm yourself, kitty," he says to Rani, with a smirk for Marik. "It's just old ghosts performing their final duties."


OOC:
Perception- 6
Investigation- 15

Filimena slides cautiously into the room after the dwarf and the elf, eyes flitting around in search of sources of danger

OOC: 07:00, Today: Filimena the Gentle rolled 10 using 1d20+3, rerolling ones ((7)).

Blah

"Ghosts..."

He know some things of ghosts. The forest is full of them and usually they are not agressive. Their laments and whispers can be heard on any given night in the woods as a relentless reminder of the violence and grief that born them. Some he recognize as mourning elves, others as fey creatures slain while their homes were invaded. Others souls, finally, are warped beyond any recognition. He never had to fight a ghost. Not that he would want to. He had always kept his distance from these apparitions and give them a wide berth as soon as he spotted one. There was no telling what a soul tortured by grief could do or how it would react to the living. Best not to risk it.

Marik lower his sword.

"I'll... Rani and me will go check the balconies. She doesn't like ghosts too much...I'll leave you to deal with them. Who knows...maybe they'll tell you where the children  are kept..." says Marik, not without some sarcasm, as he guide Rani out of the room and into the stairs.

As he looks over the spinning wheels, Omaron notes that they are operating as though invisible hands are working them. He is aware that Korim dwarves often use magics like this to make repetitive tasks easier and stream line their manufacturing.