"Let me go first," Valthur insists, confidence bolstered by his successful detection of the trap door. "With this magical chainmail, I'm nigh invulnerable!"
The dwarf proceeds through the trap door and scans the area below as he does.

Taerix puts Eoni's tiara over one shoulder and heads down next.

Valthur climbs down the ladder first, followed by Taerix, and then the rest of the party. The iron ladder is sturdy, but quite rusty, and goes straight down for 40 feet before terminating in a small vault.

The walls to this small vault are of worked stone, the ceiling 12 feet overhead. The air is thick and smells stale and slightly smokey. Three alcoves have been cut into the walls, two to the north and one to the east. Each alcove is sealed by an iron gate and locked with chains and a large paddock. Beyond one alcove are several shelves bearing 10 small iron coffers. Beyond the second is a small desk and chair piled high with papers and books. Beyond the third sits a single large trunk.

A human skeleton lies slumped against the eastern alcove's gate. Still dressed in tattered chainmail and feebly gripping a sparkling sword, the skeleton has a massive arrow protruding from its ribs.

While waiting for a report of what they find below, the Sister slumped into the overstuffed chair to close her eyes.  They still had a long way to go before they could take a breath.  From here they'd fly to Brindol, perhaps trying to avoid the Red Hand's flying sentries.

She hoped they were ahead of the Hand's schedule.  A few days to rest would do them all good even if they knew the wave about to crash against their walls.

Sarah inspects the trunk.  She is convinced that it is safe.



17:25, Today: Sarah rolled 89 using 1d100 with rolls of 89.  Find Traps (43).

Valthur cautions Sarah as she approaches the gate. "Careful, Missy. I presume that skeleton was once a curious explorer like us. We'd better make sure there aren't any more giant arrows set to shoot out of the wall."

Before turning his attention to the gates and checking them for traps, however, he examines the skeleton's sword. "Funny that this poor fool is in tatters but his blade shines like it's fresh from the armory."

Viewing the trunk, located behind a locked iron grate, Sarah does not notice any obvious signs of it being trapped.

Meanwhile, Valthur examines the sword currently clutched within the skeletal hand of the slumped figure and instantly recognizes it as a masterpiece of craftsmanship. The sword has a golden pommel and hilt, set with brilliant red gems and the blade gleams with what the dwarf surmises to be great magic power!

"Moradin's beard," Valthur gasps as he unwraps the skeletal fingers from the hilt of the gleaming sword. "Marklin, take a look at this blade. It came from no ordinary forge!" He carefully takes the weapon into his own hand, marveling at its fine balance when he does.

Taking the enchanted sword in hand, the blade leaps to life as flames begin licking up from its dark luster!

Certainly Valthur has heard of such weapons in lore, none other than a Flametongue!

Marklin examines the magic sword, his eyes gleaming with wonderment as flames begin licking up the blade in response to Valthur grabbing its hilt.

"A fine find!" he comments.

He then turns his attention to the locked gates. "Can you do your thing, to open them locks?" He asks Sarah. "Or you want me to go to work and break them open the old fashioned way?"

Valthur takes a few more practice swings with the flaming sword. "I'm calling it Ardoth Alar, The Red Hand's Bane. Let's see how those cocksure hobgoblins like me now!"

Marklin cracks a smile at Valthur's comment. "A fine name for a fine blade, if I ever heard one!"

Retrieving a crowbar from his pack, the warrior then goes to work on the first of the iron padlocks. He works at the lock for a few moments then switches tactics and attempts to break one of the chain links. Moments later, he is rewarded with a satisfying metallic snap.

"Best lockpick known," he comments while wiping a bead of sweat off his temple. He then proceeds to do the same to the remaining chains.

The adventurers take stock of the items formerly held behind locked iron gates and find the following:

Ten iron coffers are held within the first of the four alcoves...

Six of the iron coffers contain the following coins: 2,500 silver, 2,100 gold, and 120 platinum. Three of the iron coffers contain notes of credit from the fallen kingdom of Rhestilor, though these have long since expired, not that there is anything left of that old kingdom to lay claim. The last of the iron coffers contains the deed to Vraath Keep.

Within the second alcove the party finds a wide range of notes and letters concerning Vraath Keep's construction and general function. Picking through the assorted papers, the party learns about the importance of this post along a vital trade route during the height of the then Kingdom of Rhestilor. The keep was the home of one Lord Amery Vraath, whom eventually got into a war against nearby forest giants--a war which he apparently lost if the keep's current state and indeed, the large arrow sticking out of the skeletal figure is any indication.

The third alcove contains a single trunk, within which is the skull of a young black dragon, two dozen forest giant teeth tied to a thick string, a mithril chain shirt; a staff made of white oak and carved to resemble braided bands of holly and oak boughs, twisted around a unicorn's horn at the end; and a thin metal wand with metallic grips topped with an angular blue glass bauble.

"Quite the haul," Marklin comments while surveying the spoils. "Enough to set a guy up pretty good with no troubles..."

In truth, this cache represented more treasure than the sellsword had ever seen and it was almost enough to convince him to run for the hills until the dust settled.

Valthur stops swinging the magical sword long enough to examine the rest of the loot. "Quite the haul indeed. Platinum! A pocket of that will feed you for months, although it'll bring with it some attention, and not necessarily good attention. I hope that necklace with the teeth on it isn't another one of those fajactories like the ghostlord had. One of him is more than enough."

23:56, Today: Valthur Ironhelm rolled 7 using 1d8+1 with rolls of 6.  Level 6 hit points.

It's almost more than Sarah can imagine.  And she has quite an imagination.  So, she returns to a theme she's raised before:

"S-so . . . are we done now?"

"Our work here is done, Missy. Well except for hauling it out of this hole." He gives the sword a couple more swings and then stows it. "Marklin, give me a hand and let's start hauling this stuff up to the others. I suspect Eoni will want a look at this funny stick and and the metal wand with the blue whatever that is on the end."

Valthur sizes up the exit to determine if it is big enough for the chest to fit through it. If so, he works with Marklin to tie a rope around the chest and haul it out in its entirety. If not, he organizes the crew to haul it out piece by piece.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:38, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

Once the magic items (including the skull and tooth necklace) are removed, Valthur works to extract the coffers. "Leave the silver," he instructs. "We can't afford all that weight for what it's worth. Take the platinum and gold."

Once those tasks are finished, he climbs up the ladder far enough to poke his head out of the hole. "There's a bunch of papers still down there, Eoni. Looks like the kind of worthless stuff you might be interested in. Ledgers and notes and crap like that."

He waits on the ladder for Eoni to confirm she has no interest in the papers. At least that's what he hopes she says.

Startled awake, Valthur had to repeat his question before she understood what he'd said.  She must have fallen asleep.

"Let me take a look at the papers," she said groggily as she got to her feet.  "Did you find the frostbrand, staff, and gauntlets?"

"I agree that the silver will only weigh us down too much." Taerix tries to keep the excitement from his voice as he sees all the gold and platinum.

Having glanced into the trunk at the top of the ladder, the Sister had an idea of what they'd already discovered as she followed the dwarf back down.  Reaching the bottom, one thing was obvious.

"That's too much gold," she said as the others were counting it out.  "The owls won't be able to carry all of that and two riders.  Maybe a hundred fifty coins apiece.  We'll leave the rest here.  It's been safe here for years.

"I don't know there'll be anything for us to spend it on in Brindol anyway."

She looked at the body with the arrow and hoped for more time to give him a proper burial for his deeds.  Another time, if they lived to return.

"Take his gloves in case those are the gauntlets," she said.  "I may be able to see if they're magic tomorrow.

"Taerix, that chain shirt in the trunk is yours if it fits."

"Valthur," she said, spotting the new sword on his belt.  "If that's the frostbrand, we have three magic weapons and three of you.  Make sure each of you has a magic weapon they can use when the time comes.

"Now where are these papers?" she asked, taking the tiara from Taerix so she could see what she was looking at.

"You're breaking my heart, Sister," Valthur replies. "I've heard of no such thing as too much gold." He opens his mouth to argue more, but decides it not worth his while, instead letting Eoni continue with her inspection.


"Begging your pardon, good sister, but this isn't just a magical sword, it's a magical masterpiece. It's a prize. The Eldbrandur. Ardoth Alar, the Red Hand's Bane!" He draws the sword carefully from its scabbard to observe the light. "See the flames? You can't possibly suggest that I part with prize like this."

"Then give your axe to," she replied, pausing to look at the halfling compared to the size of the axe, "Marklin.  He can give his sword to Taerix.  Then you'll all have a magic weapon.

"Your axe or the sword."

Valthur looks back and forth between the weapons. "Moradin's beard, Eoni" he grumbles. "You might as well ask a father to choose between his two children!"

Taking a deep breath, he looks at both weapons. On one side the flaming frostbrand. Ardoth Alar. How could he refuse such a prize? From it's jeweled hilt to its flaming blade, it nearly sang with arcane power. And it had a name!

On the other hand, his trusty axe. Try as he might, he never settled on a name, but he couldn't escape the feeling that it felt right in his hands. The weight. The balance. The flash when he first pulled it from that razorfiend's (essentially a dragon's) hoard. "The dragon's axe. Wait a minute, that's it. Drakmar Az, the dragon's axe! And let it bite the red hand with the same intensity as that foul spawned razorfiend."

His decision was made. He unbelted the frostband and scabbard and handed it to Marklin before he could change his mind. "Marklin, I would trust none but you with Ardoth Alar. Let the Red Hand's Bane suit you well in the battle ahead. For me, I stand by Drakmar Az, the Dragon's axe. She has served me well so far. I only hope she stays as sharp and true in Brindol."

Math problem solved, Eoni returned her attention to the paperwork.  The most notable item was the deed to the keep.  If they survived this, it might be something to discuss.  She placed the deed safely in the desk and moved on.

After a cursory examination of the remaining paperwork, she set it aside and returned her attention to the others.

"I think we're done down here," she concluded.  "I can see what may be magic in the morning, but now, we need to reach Brindol."

OOC: I expect they've counted out 150 coins for each of them, beginning with the platinum and the remainder gold.