Nico! Make yourself useful! Gurgun calls back to the rogue, indicating the tripwire. Make sure we don't activate it accidentally, but don't destroy the trap; it might be useful still.

With that, Gurgun takes a mighty leap over the wire and joins Wicker, facing the sound of the belch. Will Wicker bring Mr Lumpkin along to investigate? Gurgun asks, casting a sideways glance at the room allegedly occupied by the said Mr Lumpkin.

Wickers startled at Gurgun's leap, and fell backwards off his chair. ^{"What are you doing?"} he demanded.

Gurgun stuck his head into doorway and looked inside the fey's room. "Growl!" Mister Lumpkin roared, hot meaty breath gusting in Gurgun's face. It was a big brown grizzly bear. And he was angry.


17 - Guest Room
18 - Balcony
19 - Trapped Corridor
20 - Kitchens

19 is the corridor you're in, Wickers and Lumpkin are in 20, the belch came from the direction of 17
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:10, Sat 19 Sept 2009.

Hello Mr Limpkin. Gurgun says calmly. He then takes a step back and addresses Wickers once more; Now that we're all here, let's find out who it is with digestive problems. At least it's alive. Gurgun shows the direction of the belch, clearly inviting Wickers to come along.

"Gurgun? I'm not sure if it be a good idea to go near that thing..." began Jorn, casting a nervous glance at the creature. It seemed the pixie wasn't the only one twisted by the nature of this place.

Wickers scowled at Gurgun, and Lumpkin huffed and growled. ^{"Yes, let's go look. And stay out of my room."} Peeking inside, Gurgun saw that it seemed to be kitchen - table, chairs, bench, basin, cupboard, all immaculate and sparkling clean.

There was a glass bin in one corner, neatly piled high with dirt and scraps. A roll of paper seemed to be squashed down inside, visible through the transparent glass.

In the middle of the floor was a bedroll and blanket spread across the floor. Curiously, the corners were held down with heavy chunks of broken glass and old hobgoblin armour pieces. And one stray piece of blanket was continually being tugged up by an unseen force.

Wickers jumped over the tripwire. ^{"Come on then!"}

This looks strange. Gurgun say better be careful. Have Wickers been cleaning?

Gurguns uses his keen senses to scan the room for hidden dangers and more clues to the strange scene in front of him. Carefully, he pokes the blanket his his staff.

21:42, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 8 using 1d20+7. Spot.
21:42, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 19 using 1d20+5. Listen.

Nothing happened, though the unseen force continued in its vain efforts to lift the blanket. Gurgun saw and heard nothing in the kitchen.

Wickers stood in the doorway, and said crossly ^{"What are you doing-doing? Be careful, or the cleaner will take away my blanket."}

Yes, that I see. Where is cleaner? Here? Again Gurgun uses the end of his staff to carefully poke in the air where an invisible blanket-tucker would be.

^{"It is a stinking elf-spell. It cleans-cleans everything up and puts it in the bin. Very annoying."}


OOC: Spellcraft DC 21 - unseen servant

Not the one belching. Need to go on.

Gurgun continues into the kitchen, looking for possible hiding places for the belcher. He also takes another look at that roll of paper squached down the glass bin.

OOC: The noise came from area 17, you're in 20.

Gurgun peered closely at the glass rubbish bin - the screwed up ball of paper showed a few arcane symbols. He was no mage, but he was fairly certain it was a spell-scroll. He stuck his hand into the bin, into the accumulated dirt and debris of the centuries, and rummaged around until he found it. He yanked it out in a shower of dust and unrolled it. A little tattered, but it was a spell scroll!

The invisible cleaner immediately stopped its futile efforts with the blanket, and began sweeping up the scattered dirt. Little bundles of the stuff rose from the floor and were deposited back into the bin.

OOC: Oh! Well, 'tis fun just the same!

Gurgun, suddenly realizing Wickers is waiting for him to enter the other room brings the scroll with, hands it over to Jorn after hopping over the tripwire, and peeks into the next room (room 17).

OOC: looks like there is a door to area 17 ?

Garel gestures toward the half-orc. "Do you see a trap or something on this door ? Does it look like it is locked ?", does he ask, pointing at the door to the room from where the belch came.

There was no trap, and the door slid open easily, releasing a cold breeze. Inside was revealed a fine bedroom, with a intricately shaped glass bed, a desk and chairs, a set of shelves that joined with the wall. Otherwise, it was empty.

Another door led outside, and the wind blew in, carrying a slight noise of shuffling and gurgling.

Jorn accepted the scroll with a air of curiosity, studying it carefully.

[Cast] Read Magic

Upon hearing the sounds of what he presumed to be undead though, the dwarf immediately stashed it away, bringing his weapon up to bear. He looks at Flit, trying to judge from its reactions if they were dealing with another creature or the living dead.

Gurgun says nothing, but motions to Wickers to stay close and stay quiet. Owning to his name the monk silently makes his way across the room to take a look at what is making the noise.

07:02, Today: Gurgun Nightwhisper rolled 17 using 1d20+10. Move silently.

The arcane words of the scroll immediately became clear to Jorn, and he rapidly deciphered it. It was a spell of blink - quite a find for something fished out of a rubbish bin.

Gurgun crossed the bedroom, with Wickers creeping after him, so silent he didn't notice he was there until he spoke up later. [Wickers Move Silently 28]

The monk came into a small square balcony jutting out of the side of the tower, overlooked the raging sea and giving a view of bridges and two more towers that they were yet to explore. There were no rails or walls around the balcony, just a sheer drop - the star elves must have had a terrible disregard for safety, even before this world was transformed into a windswept nightmare realm. Doing his best not to fall, Gurgun crept closer to the edge, and peered over...

The bridge was teeming with undead of all kinds: bow-slinging elven skeletons mixed with meaty orcish and hobgoblin zombies, armed and armoured. Some were soaking wet, evidentally fished out of the sea - the method of pushing the corpses into the sea wasn't going to slow a lich that didn't need to breath to fetch them. One bloated and gas-filled orc zombie had been the clear source of the belch heard earlier.

More undead were trooping along the bridge, all gathering for a great assault on the mercenary camp.

^{"Stinking elves!"} Wickers hissed beside him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:20, Sat 26 Sept 2009.

OOC: How far up are we?

Gurgun quietly withdraws and whispers: The Dead-that-walk are massing. They will charge from the bridge very soon. Someone tell Thraka to be ready. Also, Wickers check your kitchen for oil, or anything that burns; we can make dead burn from here.

Gurgun looks at his companions: The dead must be stopped. This is it, all be ready or we join the un-living.

"Moradin's beard," swore Jorn, at the sight, "that be a lot of undead."

His grip on the spiked chain tightened, "Gurgun, see if yer can get Wickers occupied by them."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:57, Sun 27 Sept 2009.

OOC: You're about 20 feet high above the undead. They haven't seen you yet.

Wickers shrugged. ^{"I have some holy water, but-but that's it. I can toss them from here, pepper them with my bow."}
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:16, Mon 28 Sept 2009.

Garel thinks, This time, no way I can repel that many undead. Not that it turns to be a good idea each time.

"We should get moving before they get to us. A frontal assault is not going to do any good to anyone.", he says to his companions.

Gurgun nods, then turns to Wickers and hands him three flasks from his belt. Here little one; take these. Throw the oil first then the alchemists fire. That should catch their attention.
The hobgoblin then joins Garel, ready to head downstairs.

OOC: Gurgun gives Wickers his two oil flasks and one of the alchemists fire. Sheet updated.

^{"Mister Wickers will do his best-best."} Wickers nodded, taking the flasks and setting up a position on the balcony where he could take cover from the undead as he rained down arrows, holy water and flaming oil. Grimly, the twisted fey creature settled down to wait for the battle to begin.

The undead stood waiting, eternally patient, as their forces massed and prepared for the coming onslaught, swarming through the second level entrance and into the Grand Hall. The wraith scout had not returned; surely soon the lich would grow suspicious.

Gurgun, Jorn and Garel rejoined Slove at the stairway, then returned to the guard room, where Thraka was marshalling his forces. "How goes the scouting?" he demanded. Around him, orcs and hobgoblins were sharpening swords and axes, strapping on armour pieces and slapping each other hard on the back in their camaraderie.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:38, Fri 02 Oct 2009.

The dead-that-walk are marshalling on the bridge. Wickers is on the balcony ready to start firing down on them. If joined by orc and hobgoblin archers he should be able to hold the position together with his pet bear. Make sure to arm them with oil or other flammables if possible. Thraka, the dead will launch their assault soon; where Thraka want to meet them?