It's the 10th aeon.

Or maybe the 5th.

Perhaps the Pandiluvian Age?

The sages disagree, and really, what does it matter?

To you, right now, not much.

Pwenet, your homeland, is land of rolling grasslands and savannah, spiked with occasional outcrop of hills and bluffs. Bordered on one side by the Nabu Desert and on the other by the Wyvern Coast and the Tepid Sea.

Your town, A Thousand Sands, is along a small trade route that winds across the land.  Not a major route (that route passes several towns to the north), yet tavelled enough to bring occasional wayfarers and allow your village to support a bustling population.

But for the past month, people have been disappearing.  First one or two, then three or four, and more, and more.

"The haunting of hill keep," your neighbors groaned.

Several miles away is a desolated keep on a bluff.  Everyone stays away from there.  far away.  Then, for the last week, it's been worse.  Almost all the outlying farmers are missing.  And last night, over 20 people disappeared from town center (gathered in a group not much unlike your own).  But their kidnappers left clues: trampled grasses, scuffed ground, and over-sized black pellets.

You are the volunteers, the villagers without enough reason to flee certain death or just enough to improve your odds.  Or perhaps avarice draws you to the keep (and with the protection of others?).

You gather close to share the whispers on the wind (each pod can make a d10 rumors roll).

Erik and Dale were arguing as usual.

"C'mon," said Erik. "I heard there's gold in that ole keep, buckets of it!"

"Cobblers!" replied Dale. "Where'd you hear that rubbish! Honestly, one too many jars of mead and you'll believe anything! Anyway, I 'eard there's diamonds an' emeralds an' sapphires."

"Same thing!"

"No it ain't! Gold's kinda yellow, an' emeralds is green and sapphires is blue."

Erik tried to cuff his kid brother around the ear, but missed. Dale had been expecting it. Erik tended to resort to walloping his brother when he was losing an argument, which was most of the time.

The third young man piped up. "Well, I don't know what's going on up there, but my knight's gone missing. He said he was going to investigate, and that was three days ago. Ain't heard from him since. My Ma says it's the squirely thing to do, to look after my knight. So I reckon I gotta go lookin'."

"Yeah, Maldwyn, you can go look for old Sir Donkey-Breath an' we'll get all them jewels." Dale grinned at his friend.

"An' the gold!" Erik chipped in.

"I said there aint no gold, just jewels!"

Maldwyn rolled his eyes. "Gold or jewels or whatever, we should still go and investigate. And don't call him Donkey-Breath, it's Sir Donald. People might hear and I'll be up for another hiding."

"Right then, looks like we're off. Are we just going alone, or is any other bugger daft enough to come with us?"




16:47, Thu 20 June 2013: Jarodemo rolled 7 using 1d10 ((7)). Rumours

The village's octogenarian flaps his jaws, "If yer lookin' for 'ems and ewe's and such ..."

He stops speaking, his attention captivated by two buzzing flies. They whirl and dance in the early morning light before settling on several faintly steaming black pellets.

"...beware the 'ell! It has swallowed many a poor 'oul." Like many old men, he seems to swallow parts of his own words but you hear every syllable of his inappropriate laughter.

''I say, we are in the Pandiluvian Age.''
''No, we are not! We are in the Tenth Aeon after the Creation of Everything. Time is a circle, and everything has come to pass in the exact same way nine times now.''
''No, no, no! It is the time of All Floods, where great deluges will clean the World of All Evil. See, when the Principle of Good will...''
Zarathustra the farmer and Siddhartha the ditch digger come strolling down the street, in deep discussion, followed by a silent and dour woman.

Siddhartha rises a hand. ''Hold! We have arrived. Wait! Isn't that this weasle Dale over there? HEY, DALE! Why aren't you in the trenches?''
He shakes his shovel in a kind of threatening greeting.

Zarathustra, gripping his pitchfork, speaks to the village elder instead. ''Honored Elder. We stand ready to defend humankind against the forces of Evil. To lead the Good to the triumph it is due. Where's that haunted keep?''

''You'll all die, you know?'' It's the first time the woman opens her mouth. She's clothed the tiniest bit better than her commoner companions, and is actually carrying a real metal blade. Even if it's only a knife.

An elf, a dwarf and a human walk into a tavern...

Strike that. It sounds like the set-up to a joke. Let's try this again:

A tax collector, a glassblower and a miner walk into a tavern...

Oh hells. There was no easy way around it. This was an odd trio, but they were reasonably good mates, all with their own hopes of making something of themselves, however the odds might be stacked against them. What was one if they had no hope?

So it was that The Brothers of Another Mother, as they were often called, happened upon a tavern eager to hear whatever rumors might be floating around concerning the mysterious hill keep.

Finn asked around, but nobody liked much talking to a tax collector. Jobb struck up a conversation or two-he was a likable sort after all. Finally, Nyll plopped down in a chair and would have ordered an ale if he had the coin to spare. Alas, he did not so he plied a nearby guest for whatever information he might glean. Perhaps even a drink if he could...

14:56, Thu 20 June 2013: Udly rolled 3 using 1d10 ((3)).

The nearby guest happens to be the village octogenarian, one of the few tea house occupants this early in the morning with the rest having gathered in distress in the village center after last night's mass kidnapping.

Happily he obliges Nyll, telling him that "'vil still festers" on that "cursed hill." He might have meant to say "accursed," but what's the difference, anyway?

He works his jaws into a good lather, "The evil, it waits for the day it can 'merge."

"And that day is now," he adds, as if anyone hasn't caught on.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:36, Fri 21 June 2013.

Dale looked around, sniffing the air and wrinkling his nose. "Smells like someone's been scrubbing out the privies again! Oh, Sidd, I didn't see you there!" He looked over and smirked at his rival. While not exactly enemies, there was no love lost between the two young men. They had competed for several years for the same contracts in the village, so every coin in the other man's pocket was one that could have been in his.

Erik sniggered and snorted, absently wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Maldwyn looked over at the old man, trying to work out what the old duffer was banging on about. Was he just an old drunk, or did he know something?

''Hah! And your mother, too!'' Sidd cries cheerfully in direction of Dale. He then turns towards Zar and notices he's talking to the old drunk.
''Zar, that's not the 'honored village elder'. That's Jorge, a drunk git even older an madder than you. Let's leave the tavern and go to the market place, where everyone else is!''

''Zounds! I think you're right. HEY! Anyone wants to tail along? The Principle of Evil MUST be opposed! To the market place!'' He waves his pitchfork, and even considers lighting his precious candle in lieu of a torch.

Del only sighs in desperation and trails glumly along.

Virgil and Dante stand off to one side, stamping out the cold and blowing on their fingers, watching the others gather.

"I tell you, Virg, she was the most beautiful mortal creature I've ever seen.  I stood like one struck dead, then born again into a new life."

"She's the burgomaster's daughter, D."

"She remembered my name, did I tell you that?  From when we were kids.  She remembered my name."

Virgil rolled a stone back and forth with his toe.  "It's not really a common name, is it?  Dante, she's the burgomaster's daughter.  And you're a forester and an elf.  You're going to get yourself banned from the village."  His friend had no luck, in life or in love.

The sparkle in Dante's eyes does not diminish, and the faraway look grows no closer.  He leans against his staff, watching the morning sky grow pink.  "Did I tell you about my dream?  Love came to me, carrying her sleeping in his arms..."

Virgil squatted on the ground, pretending to busy himself looking at tracks on the grassy hill.  He is a trapper, after all.  Perhaps he can tell what kind of creatures and how many haunt this keep.

"...then Love awoke her, and frightened though she was, he made her to eat my burning heart."

"That's fucked up, man."

"Virgil, have you ever wondered...  Maybe all Love is one.  Maybe Love is the force that animates all life, on earth and in heaven.  Maybe the same Love that moved the stars now moves me."

Virgil rubbed his close-cropped head and stood.  He really didn't get his friend's mystic visions.  Duty is what moves men, he knows.  Duty to one's family, past and future.  That's what brings him here to this hill: he must make something of himself, chisel on time's stony face a legacy that his sons and grandsons can be proud to name.  If it came to a choice, love -- even the epic love of princes and queens -- must be sacrificed to duty.

But he doesn't say any of this.  Instead, "Here comes Milt."

Milton struggled up the hill, dragging behind him that big empty chest he carries everywhere, squinting up at the gathered crowd.  They wave.  He spots them, but does not return the gesture.  He only changes course and plods morosely toward them.  Milton was an odd boy, that was certain.  Though so near-sighted that he was practically blind, he spent all his time in the tavern, playing darts.  He only owned but one dart, which he'd throw hopelessly against the wall, never hitting the bullseye and only rarely hitting the board.  This hopeless repetition elicited howls of laughter and earned Milt the ironic title of village jester.  He bore that name with a surly patience, as he bore all things.

Virgil and Dante had asked him once why he kept playing darts when he was so bad at it and only owned a single dart.  He had thought long, then answered slowly, "To be a living symbol of man's futile attempts at righteousness."

Milton came puffing up to them, and nodded a ponderous hello while he caught his breath.  He really had a weak constitution.

"Milt, I don't think you should come."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"You're going to die, you know."

Milton sits on his chest and mops his brow with a silk sleeve.  "We're all going to die, Virgil.  It's how one spends his life--"

"You know what I meant."

Dante kicks the chest, a hollow thud.  "Milt, why did you drag along this old thing?  Couldn't you have left it home?"

Milton ponders that a moment.  "Yes.  I suppose I could have.  But I'd rather bring it."

"But it's empty."

"As long as it is empty, it is filled with human hope."

"Come on," Virgil says.  "The others are starting to gather.  Let's go listen to what they're saying."

OOC: Rumor roll: d10 = 6

The superannuated coot hoots, "That's right. You're going to die. You're all going to die," nearly bouncing in his joyous delivery. Then, after a few post-pronouncement hoots, he sags.

"Hey, that's my line," his frown inculpates Virgil.

Without his customary glee, he exhorts the assembled men, the last hope of a Thousand Sands, "Nothing good can come of disturbing the evil ruins. You’ll only unleash the horror beneath the hill."

With this, he appears to have regained some wind for his sails and his gums flap in appreciation -- which would be Timmy's cue.

Little Timmy. He bobs up and down with as much excitement as Jorge, "A sleeping dragon lurks beneath the keep. Accept his quest and he will grant you a wish."

But it's all wrong of course. So incongruous as to rob the morning of its solemnity. A wish-granting dragon. How absurd.

There's little left to do but march for the keep.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:26, Fri 21 June 2013.

You stand before the ruined keep, which squats atop a low, craggy hill, its walls of toppled stone and massive granite blocks hinting at forgotten battles and the clash of mighty armies. Now the ruins seem host only to creeping vines and the foul miasma that drifts down from the keep.

The air is overrun with pestilence. Fat flies bite at you incessantly, and clouds of small black insects choke your every breath. The long abandoned land is choked with thorny vines that drape the sickly trees and hang from the ruined walls. There is an odor of rot and decay, as if the hill itself were decomposing from within.

A sight gives you pause: a ragged banner, depicting a crimson skull on a black field, stands high atop the ruined walls.

You turn to your companions and ready your meager weapons if even those you have.

Zar grips his pitchfork even tighter and Sidd makes a few practice swings with his shovel. Any groundhog facing him today will face certain death. Even Delphi strokes her dagger - that might have as much to do with the ruined keep and the apparent danger as the fact that she's suddenly realized that she's the only woman among a band of 15 halfcrazed maniacs though. She moves a bit closer to Sidd for savety.

Zar clears his throat. ''Maybe we should send a scout ahead. Let's draw straws!''
Quickly he has improvised 15 straws and pushes one into everybody's hand. The process is a bit hasty as everyone struggles to not have the short end, and in the end it is Virgil who's left standing alone, a short straw in his hand. Most of the others keep their distance, just in case it is contaminous.

''There, we have a volunteer! You ready to go, Virgil? We others will be right behind you!''


10:48, Today: Levkojen rolled 14 using 1d15. straws for scout, alphabetic order.

The Brothers of Another Mother sort of clung to one another amidst the cluster of would-be adventurers. Truth be told, all were looking for someone to back out. That would lessen the pain of losing face. They could all go back to their professions and live a long, dull life of collecting taxes, blowing glass and mining ore. But nobody had the courage-or good sense-to be the first.

They were in this. For good or ill.

After some long, silent moments, Finn chimes in, "Well, I have a sword."

Jobb replies, "I have a torch," to which Nyll rebuts, "and I have a lantern!"

Finn chides each while stooping down to select two suitable heavy sticks, "Here, you should both have a weapon, even a stick will do." He thrusts one into their hands.

Both accept their humble weapons.

When it came to the drawing of straws, The Brothers of Another Mother were relieved Lady Luck had looked askance in their case. Poor Virgil.

Finn, offered to take up ranks alongside Virgil, to which Jobb and Nyll both gave a look that said, 'so long sucker...'.

"Dragons," said Maldwyn. "Nobody mentioned dragons before."

"Ah, shut yer bellyachin'. There ain't no such things as dragons. Crocs, yeah, but not proper dragons." replied Erik.

Dale kept quiet as they arrived, more concerned about the banner than fanciful tales of winged lizards. Between them the three young men held their weapons tight and prepared to follow Virgil into the keep, all very pleased that they didn't get the short straw...

The ritual of the straws is interrupted by the appearance of another trio or travelers, two humans and a halfling.  All have streaks of red paint on their faces in a futile attempt to make them look halfway intimidating (the better traveled among you will have seen these markings before, on the militiamen a couple villages to the east).  Their image is not helped any by the fact that the lighter-skinned of the humans smells worse than Sid and Dale after a bad day in the sun, or by the halfling's black leather gloves with the fingers cut off halfway (only the gloves' fingers, thankfully; his own fingers appear to be fully intact).

As they approach, the darker-skinned human calls out Oi, is this the group that's going to the haunted manor?  We heard you might need some help with that.  And we also heard- what did we also hear?

The lighter skinned man rolls his eyes and says That loony old codger back in the village told us that...

Josh rolled 5 using 1d10. rumor.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:12, Sat 22 June 2013.

Despite his expressed desire to make a name for himself, Virgil finds himself a little reluctant at being singled out to take point.  He can't argue that the method was unfair, though, so he slowly leads the group forward, using all his trapping skill to read what he can of the ground in front of them.

Milton follows Finn's lead and picks up a heavy stick for himself.  Dante helpfully passes Virgil an iron crowbar.  It was a little rusty, but still solid enough to wallop some unfortunate pate.

"A crowbar?"

"For smiting dragons.  Or opening stuck doors."

Virgil gives a grim chuckle.  "Again, you're a forester.  What are you doing with a crowbar?"

"Oh, I found it in the woods the other day.  It curves so gently at the neck, like She does, so I could not bear to part with it."

Thus armed, Virgil continues forward, hoping the others don't tarry too far behind.

========== OOC ==========
Virgil picks up 16 stones, will mark as "found stones" in case they have penalties.

Dante gives crowbar to Virgil.  Milton gets stick.

Virgil Perception d20+0 = 9
This message was last edited by the player at 17:07, Sat 22 June 2013.

"Gosh 'armpit," the septuagenarian+10 exclaims. "Plausibility. There's got to be plausibility. You'll never be a rumormonger, let alone a harbinger of doom if you don't salt your meat."

Brothers in chaos ruled the keep,
Untold beasts they molded as clay.

Brothers to men besieged the keep
For thirty-nine and then one more day.

One fell into his tomb to be, the keep.
The other shed his shell for the dark gods.

One thousand years later: the ruinous keep.
And a promise to keep, a promise to keep.

The old man flaps his jaws a few times unconvincingly.

From its current position, the group can discern that the keep’s walls rise 30 feet from their rammed earth embankments. The walls and all the fallen stones are covered in a patchwork of moss, sickly vines, and lichen. Rather than simple carved blocks, the keep seems to have been built of enormous standing stones and mighty dolmens. The blocks are fitted together crudely, leaving cracks between the stones for rotting vegetation and pools of water that act as host to the gnats and mosquitoes.

Thus the parsnip farmer invokes the dictate of fate, and what more can one man (or more precisely 14 men and one woman) expect to bear besides that? He advances ahead of the group to discover possible approaches.

10 feet. 20 feet. 30 feet. And then 100 more.

There appears to be three ways to go: around the left towards the heavily damaged western wall, straight up the causeway to the gatehouse, and around the right alongside the eastern wall (with cleverness getting you nowhere).

Finn the Taxman surveys the keep from a distance and comments, "Well, no need to get cute. My vote is to use the most sensible approach: right up the middle."

Nyll the Dwarven Miner throws up a single fist in reproach, "Ut, ut, ut. Not so fast Finn. How about you let a miner do what he is good at, and examine this stonework for any signs of imminent collapse!"

Jobb the Elven Glassblower did not want to be one-upped by his companions. He desperately tried to find a way to contribute. He fumbled around with his sack of glass beads for a moment. Nothing. He had nothing.

Nyll paces toward the western wall, gatehouse and eastern wall to determine whether any of them exhibited indications of structural collapse. Of course, the west wall looked rough, but how about the other two approaches?
This message was last edited by the player at 02:28, Mon 24 June 2013.

Arnie, familiar enough with the depths of shit to know when he's descending, looks at the gatehouse and says nervously Do you think there might be anyone still manning it?

Milton takes advantage of the pause to sit on his chest and catch his breath.  He closes his eyes, then recites,

"One Gate there only was, and that look'd East
On th' other side: which when th' arch-fellon saw
Due entrance he disdaind, and in contempt,
At one slight bound high over leap'd all bound
Of Hill or highest Wall, and sheer within
Lights on his feet."

Virgil, meanwhile, is chewing the inside of his lip.  "I think that arch-fellow is smart to disdain the obvious entrance.  It might be watched, like this man here says."  He nods to Arnie.

"The arch-fellon is the Great Enemy, Virgil.  He shuns the gate only because it invites entry."

"And this gate does not," Dante interjects.  "So if the proper use of an inviting gate is to be entered through, the proper use of a menacing gate is to be gone around."

The three poets agree: avoid the gatehouse, and examine the damaged western wall for some less obvious entrance.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:10, Mon 24 June 2013.

Felix gives Milton a quizzical glance and says You can just give a straight answer if someone asks you a question, right?  Because if you see a dragon around a corner and I ask you what's there, I don't want to hear no hundred page epic while it has time to come up and eat us!

Professionally, Nyll detaches himself from the others and picks his way along the approach to the western wall, giving the gatehouse and western's counterpart a wide berth. He steps through tall grasses and scattered debris until he's close enough for a proper examination.

While anyone could fathom that the keep’s massive wall has collapsed here, spilling cyclopean stone blocks down the rocky slope, with the blocks being precariously balanced atop one another, like a titan’s game of dice, a stone hewer could thread his way past one teetering dolmen and then another. He would even verily discover himself on the other side as if has leaped from one to the other.

OOC Nyll can guide the entire group into the "safety" of the courtyard via this approach.

OOC Again Knowing this, does Nyll still wish to measure the other two approaches, one at a time?
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 00:48, Tue 25 June 2013.

Nyll stooped down to examine a deep fracture running up the spine of a massive stone column. Exhaling between his teeth he comments lowly, "Well folks, no danger here if you know how to read stone. Fortunately, this is something I know. Shall we proceed this way, the less traveled path to gain a measure of surprise?"

Nyll volunteers to lead the way, if needed. He will even begin edging them that way, quite proud of his ability to contribute to the group's modest beginning.

With Nyll beckoning, you depart the old dirt road, now overrun with weeds and sickly vines, which rises towards the ruined citadel and instead swing to the left. You are pleased to be moving for the mosquitoes and black flies enjoyed having stationary targets, more than a few having burrowed contentedly behind a villager's bun.

It's not until after all of you have completed the passage from outside to inside that the miner reveals that even one misstep or stumble could have caused the entire stone conclave to crash down, a veritable avalanche.

One of you pretends to dismiss the real possibility, "We weren't going to prove that codger right so easily as all that."

The courtyard is overgrown with sickly weeds and thick brambles. A deathly silence hangs in the air, as if even the frogs and insects are afraid to draw attention to themselves.

The smell of rotting vegetation is pervasive, and the ground sucks at your boots with every tentative step. Nearly all of the courtyard’s buildings have fallen into ruin. A single burnt-out shell set against the keep’s east wall is the only remaining structure. Set near the heart of the courtyard is a well, framed with a crude pulley system. To the east is the keep’s sole standing tower.

And, of course, to the south the keep's gatehouse still stands as well. The courtyard appears to be deserted.

 
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:13, Tue 25 June 2013.

Sidd's eyes scour over the vast ruin. ''Hmm. If our fears prove right and someone is lying in ambush in the gatehouse, I'd suggest turning the tables on them now? Sneaking close and seeing if someone's there and our worries were justified, and jump any miscreants if they were.''

''A devious plan,'' Zar chimes in. ''I use to employ similar tactics to get the drop on my parsnips. Tricky opponents, parsnips. Doggedly and obstinate, and more sly than many would suspect. Let me ask Nefertiti about it.''
He pulls back a bit of sack cloth from a bundle he has been wearing under his arm all the time. A bald hen stretches its head out of it. ''Gaaawk? Gawk ak ak.''
Zar begins to chat up the chicken, though it's not quite clear wether he's asking her about the gatehouse or the trickery of parsnips.

Del views Zar and Nefertiti with renewed interest, realizing she's quite hungry and smacking her lips.

It had been a touchy business, real touch and go, conveying Milton's chest over one vertiginously balanced dolmen and then to the side of another. In the end, the sixteen of you had formed a human centipede, if one discounts the missing 84 sections, to propel the bastion of hope forward. If one of the sixteen had muttered something about dropping the whole business down the well, no one admitted as much. It certainly wouldn't have been one of the Brothers of Another Mother who had skinned his knee viciously on a jag of rock.

With Nefertiti, the Hen of the Nile, assenting, or at least choosing not to abstain, Sidd and Zar approach the gatehouse:

The dark, moss-eaten gatehouse towers above you, grim and forbidding. Murder holes, fashioned in the likeness of looming toads, threaten to gout forth flaming oil and tar. Black arrow slits pierce the high stone walls. You can hear the flap of the heretical banner above, hidden from sight by the vine-draped battlements.

The ancient drawbridge (still visible from the interior) has long since fallen away into ruin, leaving only a few rotting planks placed across the ditch. The heavy iron portcullis stands half-raised, the rusty spikes a mere four feet above slots cut into the stone floor.

From above them in the gatehouse, Sidd and Zar hear the snuffling of breath and the scuffing of lower extremities. However, there is no access presently to the house itself.

The Brothers of Another cling closely to the west wall's interior as Sidd and Zar approach the gatehouse.

Each, in turn, glances about for any possible portals which might grant access to the moathouse.

Sidd and Zar hurry back to the relative safety of the group. ''There are some people around in the gatehouse! We heard vile breathing and the steps of feet. How to roust them though? Seems like the only access might be along the top of the wall and the east tower. Let's head over there? And maybe look into that burned-out building on our way.'' ''Gaawk ak ak.''


OOC: By the way, what's that pool in the northeast, swallowing a big part of the wall and the tower in that part?

I was going to suggest that too, Dave says, trying hard to sound like he meant it and wasn't just copying off of the thinkers.  With his bow and an arrow in hand, he gestures toward the other building and says Lead the way.

To get into the moat house, you'd have to get onto the keep walls themselves, presumably through stairs in the southeastern tower, should they still be serviceable.

So various members of the group trundle towards the smoking building to the east and the one extant tower to the southeast while others mill about Milton's chest stupidly, not quite sure what to with themselves but glad that they haven't been eaten before lunchtime.

This once-proud edifice has fallen into ruin like the rest of the keep. All that remains of the building are fire-scarred high stone walls and toad-faced gargoyles leering from above. The singed, bronze doors—cast with hundreds of wailing demonic faces—are barred from the outside. The portal is marked with a single word drawn in flaking red paint: REPENT.

where as the other landmark...

Flanked by crumbling stone walls, the moss-covered tower stands proud despite the ravages of time. A tall, rust-bound portal bars the tower’s sole entrance, watched over by a leering demonic gargoyle. Rings of deep arrow slits pierce the thick walls, and overarching battlements loom high above.

OOC Lev, that pool appears to be a massive sinkhole which hasn't been investigated yet (the same of which can be said for other courtyard features).

OOC Josh, d4 missiles at d6 each.

While Sidd stares at the intricate weave of demons worked into the singed bronze doors and fumbles with their bars, Del breaks away and approaches the well. The hidden depths it might harbor provide a near mesmeric attraction for the most reluctant of the three prophets.
Meanwhile Zar and Nefertiti go investigating the cess pool.

Looking over the facade of the smoking building, Arnie gulps and says Has anyone actually seen tracks or anything to indicate that the missing people are here?  Because I certainly wouldn't want to disturb anything, er, anyone, if we don't need to.

Dave responds by elbowing his companion in the ribs and saying Quit being such a bloody coward, mate.  We came to vanquish evil, and we're going to vanquish whatever evil we find, even if it's just tangential evil.  It's not clear how much effect his pep talk has, but at least it shuts Arnie up for a minute.

The poets stare at the command -- REPENT -- for a moment.  A fierce light burns in Milton's eyes; Dante bows his head in deep thought and humility; Virgil seems unimpressed.

"If there are people in the gatehouse, we should scout that first," Virgil suggests.

Milton shakes his head and points to the tower door.  "Look at the rust.  We'll be lucky  we'll get this open without alerting the gatehouse."

"The pilgrim must pass through repentance before he can ascend," Dante says.  "Let's try the smokehouse."

The other two seem agreeable to this, so the poets make quizzical expressions to the others to see how they wish to proceed.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:22, Wed 26 June 2013.

Led thither by his destiny, Del contemplates the near sublimity of the well:

A barren ridge of black stone rises from the overgrown courtyard. A low stone wall marked with eerie sigils is built atop the crest of the stone, marking a well. A stout block and tackle frame supports a single thick chain that plunges into the inky blackness.

A locksmith, Del can't comprehend the eldritch markings though the concept of a well is simple enough.

Led thither by their destiny, man and bird investigate the collapsed ground:

A yawning sinkhole has devoured nearly a third of the courtyard, causing a tower and wall to collapse and plunge down into the depths. Mist billows up from the sinkhole, obscuring sight.

Nef, always pecking, pecks with greater urgency at Zar's hand and wrist. Either she's craving her second breakfast or she's balking at the billowing mists and plunging depths. Zar, with his calloused hands and wrists, might not notice either way.

A few loiterers pause to inspect the ground and discover a muddy trail leading from the gatehouse through the brambles to the south tower with a small side trail running to Del's well.

As for the muddy prints, they indicate a wide variety of creatures: human footprints, the tracks of large creatures with only three toes, hawk-like talons, and perhaps even the slithering trail of an enormous snake.

And then time slows, falters even. Sidd lifts the great wooden beam barring the door. Cooly, he pulls the enormous rings held within the maws of two fiendish demons to draw open the bronze portals:

Six charred skeletons lie about the chapel, some crushed by burnt fallen beams. At the head of the chapel is a fountain depicting a squat, demonic toad. A foul, black ichor seeps from the toad’s broad lips, pooling in the basin seated at the foot of the fountain.

Time stops. What do those near the chapel wish to do?
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:54, Thu 27 June 2013.

Seeing the fallen beams, Nyll looks around the room for any signs that the building is prone to collapse.

Meanwhile, the other brothers seem mesmerized by the toad statue and more specifically the vile liquid oozing from its mouth. Neither are brave enough to approach just yet. For the moment, they attempt to puzzle together what the liquid might be? Tar?

OOC: What does the room smell like?

21:17, Today: Udly rolled 14 using 1d20. skill check: mining.

Del leans wide over the abyss of the well, trying to peer into the depths, but her own head is blocking off the daylight and foiling her attempts. ''Hmph.'', she says.
Curious she traces the mystic markings with her fingers, and then time seems to stop.

Zar chuckles. ''Yes, Nef, I know. Evil lurks behind the mists of this hole. Oh, I know, I know. Psssssht.'' He nods to his hen, joyfully excited, and then returns to his friends to share the good news. Because where there is evil, mankind has to grow beyond itself and discover goodness. And then time seems to stop.

Hell harbors no terror for Sidd, secure in his knowledge that everything moves in circles and that no demon can harm someone truly enlightened. After having opened the bronze doors and looking over the charred remains of the supposed demon worshippers, Sidd steps over the bones toward the altar.
His ditch digging senses are kicking in though. When surrounded over the head by walls of mud and liquid shit, you have to step carefully if you don't want to be buried...

Dave and Felix head inside to look over the skeletons and see if they hold any clues as to their previous identities (a shred of clothing, perhaps, or maybe a scroll with an official seal preserved inside a fireproof case).  Arnie, meanwhile, bravely stands guard outside the door, ready to shout an alarm at the first sign of danger.

Sidd, Nyll, Finn, Jobb, Dave, and Felix all brave the dark chapel. Their ears prick as they hear the crackling of cinders, and their soles flush with the heat of the blackened earth. Arnie's the only who could stand the reek of the place without grimacing; it's like a charnel house with the cloying scent of sour incense. The incense only reminds everybody there is something they'd rather not be smelling.

But that doesn't stop Dave and Felix from getting to work. Felix stoops and tentatively handles a still mostly whole ulna -- hot, hot, hot! He flicks the bone to the side in a disruption of glowing red cinders and ash. When it has settled, he spies a chain hauberk, scorched but certainly serviceable. Dave joins the search and finds another, along with several weapons, still in bony clutches: a mace and a flail.

With eyes excited to the possibilities, the others spot another hauberk-clad skeleton by the altar, this one holding a mace. And the altar! The frog fountain has red gemstones for eyes and jeweled fangs within its capacious maw. Ten feet from the fountain, Sidd halts as he feels the heat emanate from it.

Hanging from a long, bronze chain a few feet to his right is a golden censer.

Milton casually joins the others and smacks his foot against something hard.

Meanwhile, the miner assures everybody that the building looks to be sound, structurally anyway.

I don't recommend touching anything in here, sirs.  Kryt-amun, the odd-looking local man who arrived with the "red dwarf" militiamen, finally speaks up from just inside the doorway.  Later, perhaps, but not now.  We should at least give everything time to cool down.  And this looks like the sort of place that might carry a curse, so it might be better not to make direct contact with anything even then.  Especially anything valuable.

Cursed?, Arnie asks skeptically.  Don't be ridiculous.  This place might be reputed to be haunted, and it might be the final resting place of gobs of folks who've gone missing under mysterious circumstances, and it might even be some sort of shrine to a foul toad god, but none of that says cursed now, does it?

Arnie continues to stand there indignantly for another three or four seconds, then says in a less steady voice Has anyone had a good look at the well?  There might be something hiding in there, or something...  He trails off as he walks from the door of the shrine to the well in the middle of the courtyard.  He has made some distance before he is willing to turn his back to the shrine, and even then he repeatedly throws suspicious glances over his shoulder.

The Brothers of Another Mother  visually take in the room's contents with the rest, but for the moment observe Kryt-amun's admonition. "That fellow's probably right," Jobb replies, desperately wanting to feel useful, especially after the dwarf had already proved his merit.

Omm, who had thus far remained silent, chimed in "couldn't hurt nothin' to outfit ourselves with what livery we find..."

The young cobbler takes a few steps toward the mailed skeleton, perhaps visually assessing whether the hauberk might fit him.

For their part, Nyll and Finn seem content to await further directions.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:28, Sun 30 June 2013.

Milton looks down, "What's that?"  ((The thing he smacked his foot against -- is it important?))

The others enter cautiously.  "I do not like the look of this place," Virgil says.  "In the tales, improbable devices can be created: traps that blast an empty room with fire if the trigger is touched."

"Wait just a moment, Omm," Dante interjects, "Let Virgil have a look around."

Virgil is a trapper.  This kind of thing is far beyond his experience, but at the most basic level all traps are the same: there is the bait, the trigger, and -- depending on the trap's purpose -- either the snare or the lethal mechanism.  Looking at the charred bodies littered around this room, Virgil has his guess which kind of trap this one would be.

Virgil uses his trapping background: d20 = 8
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Sun 30 June 2013.

Three unacquainted  strangers make their way into the courtyard. They all are traveling individually and have somehow wound up in this out of the way place.
The first one in, is a burly dwarf with a long red beard in two braids, almost down past his midsection. Dourdoff Glendoor, stands at about three and a half feet tall with a pick nearly as big thrown over his right shoulder. Coal and ore dust cling to his mining pick and his mining breeches and shirt. Thick muscles protrude a bit under the tight fitting sleeves of his tunic. A sturdy well worn lantern is attached to his belt with a large iron spike tucked into his belt at the small of his back..
The burly dwarf bellows "Any o ye dolts know what n e heck is good in that thar place yonder?"

A wiry human with hawk-like features snugs up his traveling cloak and looks around at what the loud, mining dwarf is talking about. A huge courtyard stand before him. Bill Richels is one who uses his quick wit and guile to his advantage. Not in the mood to argue with the loud mouth dwarf, he bites his tongue and doesn't reach for the sharp dagger hidden in his boot. He continues to look around, all the while leaning on the 10 foot pole he always carries around with him. It has many more uses than one could imagine and he has used it in as many ways..


A rotund sow pig squeals and oinks loudly at the prod of her herder's staff."Get ye out from under me durned feet ye oaf afore I turn ya on the spit for a good slab o bacon an ham!" Callum McMckyndorr yells at his sow as he nearly again trips over her. Having herded pigs and goats his whole life off in the meadows of the distant mountains, he has always prided himself on the ways of caring and working a big herd of the animals. The four foot dwarf is in very good shape for his kind due to many many miles of wandering that comes with the job of herding. Well muscled legs are not visible under his plain woolen breeches and shirt but any one who ever had been kicked by him, knew a mare in season couldn't kick much harder.. He pauses and takes a swig from his water skin and looks around the courtyard..

It'd be good fit, the cobbler concludes. And you wouldn't have to be a haberdasher or milliner to surmise that. Only a dwarf, elf, or halfling would have trouble shrugging it on.

Milton's experience with modes of capacity extends beyond chests. Even though he can see only a fraction of its exposed iron corner, he knows that he's looking at a distant cousin of his companion: a coffer. Mostly buried, sure, blackened, doubtless, but a coffer. A coffer and a chest, they'd be a lot to look after, but maybe they'd look after each other?

It's the consensus of all that rather than setting off any specific trap, the people who were incinerated were trapped inside. Of course, this couldn't possibly have been a recent occurrence. That wouldn't make any sense. It must be an echo from the past with tangible reverberations. In a world of wonders, that would verily make more sense. One of the rumors suggested a long history for this keep.

Now as for the bait. That could be any number of things, most obviously the bejeweled toad or the censer. But probably not both.

Sidd is a bit miffed that he has not found a useful bit of armor like that cobbler guy. Whoever that Omm is - should he even be here? Anyway, Sidd has a thing for reliquary stuff, always since he has been a kid. The heat-emmanating frog is a bit too risky for him, but the censer hanging just a couple of feet to his right, that's totally up his avenue.

Gleefully he takes a step and stretches on his toes to pick it off its hook. (Along with line and sinker.)

Meanwhile Zar waves cheerily to the newcomers outside. ''Hey, Dour, Bill and Callum! Wondered where you were!'' ''Gaaawk, ak ak,'' says Nef.

Bill, Callum and Dour all move over to where the others are looking at the censor and toad. Bill says "Whats all going on over here if i may inquire?"

Virgil answers, "We think that this is some kind of trap, and we're not sure what sets it off."

"It looks," Milton puffs, squatting by the corner of the iron coffer, "like these people were trapped within and blasted with fire."

"Has anyone a shovel? Dante asks.  "If we unearth this iron box, we could place it in the doorway so that the door cannot slam closed on us."

Virgil is skeptical.  "How's it going to slam closed, D?  It's heavy.  Do you see any kind of spring mechanism sufficient to close a mouse trap, let alone a big metal door like that?"

"Magic."

"Pffffth."

Milton pauses to catch his breath and wipe the beads from his brow.  "There are more things in heaven and earth, Virgilius, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"Damn, that's a good line."  Virgil narrows his eyes suspiciously.  "That's not yours -- you read it somewhere."

Milton shrugs.

"How about that shovel?" Dante asks.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:04, Mon 01 July 2013.

''Ah, my shovel,'' says Sidd, ''thanks, that's actually a good idea.''
And instead of trying to reach the hook from which the censer is dangling by hand, he simply extends his shovel to take off the censer.

''Besides, trap, rubbish. Obviously there had been a mob which barred the doors from outside and simply burned the chapel down. No mechanisms about it.''

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg # 47):

The dwarf Dourdoff exclaims " Ah but I don't have a shovel but I can far shar guarantee that me mining pick here will blow through this dirt an dust faster than a weevil through cotton if'n ya want me to er dig that thar chest out o' the ground for ye"

Dourdoff leans on his heavy pick and awaits with a grin..

Virgil nods to Sidd, "That makes sense."

But Dante shakes his head.  "I don't like the red gaze and gaping maw of the frog idol there.  And heat still comes off it.  I wouldn't rule anything out at this point."

"Here," Milton says to the dwarf, "help me dig up this iron coffer buried in the ground."  Milton pulls while the dwarf digs.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:29, Mon 01 July 2013.

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg # 50):

Dourdoff spits on his hands and rubs them together and grips his pick and begins to dig around the coffer..

10:33, Today: Dourdoff rolled 5 using 1d20. Mining

Felix produces a crowbar and tries to find a good spot to help lever the coffer out while Dourdoff digs.

In reply to Josh (msg # 52):

While the other two dig up around the coffer, Bill uses his 10 ft pole to prod around the nearby grounds mostly out of boredom but also with a sharp eye out for anything useful..

What can be salvaged from the charnel ruins is brought outside into the courtyard by twelve or more stout arms: two chainmail hauberks, a mace, a flail, a golden censer, and a disinterred coffer. There they are left to cool, if possible, in the stultifying heat. But cool they do.

And time resumes for Del at the well (led thither by her destiny), as her fingers glide along sigils gleaming a pale purple along the black stone. Even as she feels pain in her left index finger as if she had been bitten (impossible! by a well?), she leans over the lip to peer at the answers below.

OOC Del must make a DC 13 will save. 
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 22:33, Tue 02 July 2013.

Arnie notices the strange woman leaning over the well and tenses himself, preparing to catch her if she starts to fall...

Delphi has been fascinated by mysteries and deep obscured holes ever since she crawled on top of the smoking hut as a kid and inhaled too much fumes as she stared into the chimney hole, and consequently began babbling in tongues. Earned her a strong whack on the head.

Anyway, as it has been then, she can't stop herself now. She ignores the minor pain in her finger and leans wide over the well, trying to pierce the darkness for the mysteries promised to lay hidden beneath...

10:34, Today: Levkojen rolled 12 using 1d20+2. Del will save.
this includes her special save bonus, but not any other ability modifiers which might apply

Meanwhile Zar and Sidd argue about possession of the censer, a discussion Sidd eventually settles in his favor due to the profound argument of being the one who found it first, supported by his profound mastery of shovel wacks, which has already proven to be the death of many a groundhog.

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 56):

Callum, with his sow pig in tow, makes his way over to where a few people seems to be interested in a well. He gives his sow a small whack across the rump with his staff to get it out from under foot. As he approaches the well he asks "Does it look an like there may be any good drink o water in yonder well? Seems with the heat, me water skin acts as if it has a hole in it."

Sure enough, Del looks like she's going in.  In a moment of uncharacteristic heroism, Arnie leaps and grabs her around the waist, pulling her from the brink just in time.  Or at least, that's how he explains it if she objects.

Josh rolled 15 using 1d20+1. Arnie: ref save (which I labeled incorrectly in the dice roller and didn't catch in time)

Vertiginously, Del droops, drawn by the eye of chaos. Her feet lift off the sodden ground, and her waist pivots against the lip of chaos. She's wont to fall straight in!

But then there's Arnie, realizing this may be his only chance to touch a woman without her shuddering, with his arms about her legs. Hefting, he pulls her free and she reflexively grabs his arms to hoist herself up. He feels a prick.

They both stand away from the ensigiled well, she reeling dizzily and him gasping at the blood on his wrist where she had grabbed him. He looks at her left hand. A wicked claw, still inchoate, has started to protrude from below the tip of her index finger. Did it just extend further? That must be excruciating, he shudders.

''Der Brunnen... endlose Tiefe... ich sehe... das Auge... das Auge des Chaos!'' Del is doing it again, babbling in tongues. All that peeking into enigmas simply can't be good for mental health. Eventually she realizes she is clinging to Arnie though and instantly lets go.

She takes a look at her hand, what all that pain is about, and blinks. Slowly. Then she casually takes off a scarf and wraps it around her right hand.
''Er... what happened?'' With the left she pushes some hair out of her face, the right wanders inconspiciously behind her back.

Sidd is searching for stuff he can burn as incense in his new censer. This ruin seriously needs some cleansing. ''Hm. Grass or lichen may do. Or... Zar? You happen to have some dried chicken shit?''

After seeing the scene unfold at the well as he is wondering if he can fill his water skin, Callum feels that something just isn't right with what has just transpired there.. He tightens his grip on his staff and continues to watch on..

Arnie looks worriedly a couple more times between the cut on his wrist and the claw that gave it to him, then tries to adopt a more casual expression as he explains to Del what happened.  Well, you were about to fall into the, uh, well, but luckily I got here in time to save you from the dark forces that were pulling you in.  Although maybe not a hundred percent, but, you know, I did stop you from falling.  After another moment of thought, he adds I don't suppose you saw anything in there before I pulled you back?  You know, demons, liches, dark portals to an abyss of eternal torment?  Anything of that sort?

Virgil still has Dante's crowbar, which he uses to open the metal coffer if it resists.  Is there anything inside, or is this another chest full of "human hopes and dreams"?  (Which, Virgil grimly notes, one cannot eat, spend, nor fight with.)  Of course, being the careful trapper he is, he checks it for traps before popping it open.

Trapper: check for traps on chest: d20=14

Once it's open, he tosses the crowbar to Milton (who fails to catch it) and claims the flail from the pile of recovered items.

Even as Sidd scans the keep's grounds for an incense substitute, Virgil pries the locked coffer open (technically a DC 12 str maneuver). Within he finds three cones of incense wrapped in sanctified, unholy cloth stitched with golden signs of Chaos. How does he know that they are the signs of Chaos? They match the sigils emblazoned on the well. Glimpsing Del and her arm lurking behind her back, he declines tracing his finger along their alien intersections.

Even as Virgil defers, Sidd, spying what he hopes to be growth of rosemary and thyme, pulls away the surrounding dead brambles and matted weeds, and finds a long flagstone, half-buried in the muddy ground. Digging away the rotting soil, he discovers a sigil carved into the face of the flagstone.

There is also some discussion of the best dispensation of the found weapons. It would appear that desperation has made warriors of you all, the jester no less. He could wield the flail as effectively as his quill.

Meanwhile, the other antsy villagers gather by the lone surviving tower, still closed to them. A bravo, perhaps the group's only one, tugs at the door. Nothing. It must be barred from the other side.

OOC All zero-level pcs have the weapon proficiencies of a warrior. That could change at level 1.

If you have a shovel, everything looks like a ditch. Or a shallow grave. Or whatever, there is a saying going somewhat similar, Sidd is sure. Anyway, silently whistling under his breath, he proceeds to lay the large stone free (using his shovel of course), in the hope of finding some more treasure. Or at least a secret entry.

Zar meanwhile ooh's and aaah's over the unholy contends of the chest.

Del gets second thoughts about her two supposed protectors and sticks to the vicinity of Arnie instead.

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 65):

Dourdoff approaches the one with the shovel who looks to be ready to dig and says "An there n you look ta be ready to do some more diggin with that thar shovel o yours. I am always glad and handy to put me mining pick here to good use with ye if than being if ye need any help or wanting any for that matter."
Dourdoff then leans on his mining pick.

The human ,Bill ,says to no one in general "Hmm.. There is always something intriguing about an entrance that is not easily opened.."

Dourduff and Sidd, with shovel and pick, free more and more of the flagstone from its embrace of soil. Smiling greedily, they both slip their fingers underneath edges and heft on the count of three. Ungh. It goes nowhere and Sidd yelps when his thumb rushes free and feels his nail rip. There it hangs, half on, half off, the pale, pink bed mostly exposed.

Dourdoff scratches his head with dirty fingers and says to Sidd "Ouch! Seems thar's gonna be more n diggin and muscle to get this n here to budge. Hows the hand ? He nods towards the damaged nail ..

''OUCH! Ouch! Ouch ouch ouch ouch! Ooooouuch.'' Sidd is in pain.

''Hush, you fool!'', he's rebuked by Zar, ''you'll bring down the guards of the gatetower on us!''

Del decides that getting out of the courtyard wouldn't be that bad and takes a closer look at the tower's door. She hasn't been a locksmith's apprentice for nothing. Deftly she slips out her thin dagger and inserts it into the tiny crack between door and doorframe, to see wether she can do anything about that bolt.

She's mainly using her left hand though, causing her to be somewhat clumsy.

16:54, Today: Levkojen rolled 5 using 1d20. Del: Pick Door.

The tower door's not locked, just barred from within.

There is probably a better way to lift the flagstone.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:00, Sat 06 July 2013.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 70):

Dourdoff has an idea and says to Sidd "I wonder if n that o' stone there is not so much n' needed to be dug up but more n' the need to be step on or some more burly weight be put n' on it to make the durned tower door open?"

Sidd looks at Dourdoff. ''You know, that sounds really... far fetched.''
He sucks at his smarting thumb. ''How about the crowbar?''

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 72):

Dourdoff replies "Maybe it is a little to tall of a tale.. Aye the crowbar seems to be a good of start as any. I can pry with me pick too at the same time."

The better way wouldn't involve any handheld implements.  The flagstone doesn't need to be pried open; it needs to be lifted out of the earth and hoisted above.

Try to imagine that you need to lift a massive stone slab that's sunk into marshy ground.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:41, Sat 06 July 2013.

"I don't get it," Dante admits.  "Why are we all so eager to hoist up this big stone?"

Dourdoff studies the flagstone to see if he can see any sigils and make out what they say if any are seen..

19:22, Today: Dourdoff rolled 4 using 1d10. Translate Sigils.

Zar joins the small group around the stone slab. ''Never mind the reason. The thing has a sigil, that's enough! What we need, I think, is a winch. Maybe like the one by the well...''

"Right!" Nyll replies to Zar's stroke of genius. "Maybe if we can dig enough mud out from underneath the slab, we can then fasten a rope around the exposed edge and then just hoist 'er up?"

Nyll also suggests that they could simply drive iron spikes into stone, both at an angle, and then affix a rope between the two to possibly lift the slab. This was of course assuming one possessed spikes and a hammer.

Nyll will gladly assist with either course of action.

OOC: the spikes would need to be spaced closely to one another and angled to create an 'X' formation, such that the bottom, upside-down 'V' would provide the "hook" to fasten the rope to.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:39, Sun 07 July 2013.

Dourdoff reaches behind his back into his belt and produces a iron spike and says to the group "Well here is one o' me iron spikes but I don't have another and we be needing a hammer too it seems .."

Before any more work is done on the mysterious (and quite likely useless) slab, the three prophets gather around the big stone. The rational and scholastic Zar. The rather mystic and patient Sidd. And unwillingly even the chaos-touched and divining Del. Of course, looking at them from another angle, they are just a parsnip farmer, a ditch digger, and a runaway locksmith apprentice, and they might know nothing about sigils...

14:41, Today: Levkojen rolled 7,10,4 using d10+2,d10+2,d10+2. Sigil knowledge, Zar, Sidd, Del.

It works like a dream. A collection of literate and semi-literate farmhands and dirt movers decipher a line from a specialized language of demonologists.

Or maybe not.

The flagstone, buoyed by the miracle of levers and pulleys, rises forth from the sodden ground verily on the wings of angels, revealing a small, coffin-like nook, walled and floored with stone. A hide-wrapped bundle sits atop a pair of wooden rests.

Before the contents have even been exposed, Dave and Virgil appraise the hide. Dave simply says, "panther," and Virgil strokes his chin and agrees, pronouncing the previous owner to have been a "pánthēr." Inconceivably, one of the assembled asks, "Would that be a loan word or a calque?*"

But the question is lost as excited hands unfurl the bundle, from which issues forth a noisome gas. This effluence heralds a fly-specked idol, with most of the insects happily feeding its coating of green mold and gray decay. A few buzz forth. Although its features can not be fully distinguished beneath the slime, they betray multiple bloodlines, with the curved spine of rattus rattus and the noble chin of homo sapien.

Within is also a fur-tufted longbow and a leather quiver containing 25 arrows. Multiple voices ring out, too many to count really, that question its craftsmanship and condition. The bow, but not the arrows, would be risky to use.

A longsword forged of milky steel sheathed in a jewel-encrusted scabbard.

And a leather pouch containing a granular green powder and a roll of five cloth bandages.

OOC Loanword, duh!
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:02, Sun 07 July 2013.

Dave looks excitedly from the one lonely arrow in his quiver to the bundle of them that his allies just uncovered.  Wisdom gets the best of him (for once), and instead of just taking the lot he says to the group If anyone else here is handy with a bow, I'll split those with you.

Felix is more focused on the idol.  He dons a pair of gloves and gingerly picks it up.  Flies, slime, ratman, he says.  Or is it manrat?  Either way, looks like we got some kind of decay theme going on here.  I wonder where it's all leading?

Josh rolled 10 using 1d10+1. identify idol.

Callum licks his lips at the sight of the finely crafted long sword that has been found. He moves towards it and asks to the group "Me always wanted me a fine o' bit o' steel for me own. Suppose it be ok if n' I got that thar nice long sword for meself eh?"
He then picks it up and marvels at its beauty..

Sidd gingerly picks up the poach with the green powder. After all, it might be suitable for his new censer! And also it does remind him of the pound of very fine dirt he had to leave home in his hovel, due to a general lack of a sack.

If no one else does, Zar will take care of the bandages. They might be soaked in ancient healing balm, he thinks - either that, or the mildew inside will inflame any wounds they'll come in contact with. Around fifty fifty, if you're optimistic about it.

Despite his misgivings about lifting the flagstone, Dante's eyes light up when he spots the bow.  He is an elven forester, after all, and since the bow he formerly used belonged to his uncle, he had to leave it behind when he took up adventuring (against said uncle's dire pronouncements).

"If no one else..." but it's pro forma.  His hand is already on the weapon.

He takes Dave up on the offered split, and feeling a bit guilty for claiming the bow so greedily, he offers the man 15 arrows while he takes 10.

"I'll take the hide," Virgil says.  "Given time and tools, might make something useful out of it."  For now it is rolled up and tucked into his belt.

"A curious discovery," Milton says from atop his chest again, "but we're no closer to getting inside the keep, where our story must take us.  Unless ours is the tale of fifteen youths who scaled a hill to dig around a bit and were back by lunch."

He casts his eyes this way and that.  The pit seemed a bad idea, the door was barred, the shrine was looted.  Had they missed something?  Or was the descent into hell their only option?

"How about we search about for a secret entrance somewhere along the wall?" one of the Brothers asks aloud, probably Finn.

"Either that or we just use our crowbar and force an entry on that barred door," Nyll proffers.

Jobb wonders how this large group has thus far managed to avoid detection by the gatehouse sentry. Clearly they must not take their job very seriously, or perhaps they were asleep?

Finally, the elf offers, "Or, we could scale the wall to gain access from above?" He glances back at the rope. "After all, we have the proper tool..."

''The well...,'' Del whispers, ''the well might offer an entry...''

Sidd and Zar, who have been standing near to her, instantly take a step away and act as if they hadn't heard her at all.
''The sinkhole,'' Zar brings up. ''It might easily have opened an access to any cellar room and tunnels beneath the castle...''

Sidd moves away from him a bit, too, to make sure.

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 87):

Bill asks the group "Or what about behind? On the back side of the tower? Is there a way to access there? Maybe a way in lies there.."

Felix looks confused by Bill's suggestion and says Aren't we already on the back side of the tower?  Or do you mean you want to go back outside the wall, around to the part of the tower that's facing the wilderness and the potential invaders, and see if there's a door there?

I'm for just smashing it down.  We got this flagstone to move; think there's enough of you tall folk to make a good battering ram out of it?

In reply to Josh (msg # 89):

Bill replies "Ah, I see what you mean. Do forgive me for my thinking out loud as most times, it makes little sense to any other than the voices in my head. I need to get more familiar with the area indeed."

"Alright then, let's try to force the door."  Virgil pulls an iron spike from a small leather bag.  "With a hammer, this might wedge it open enough to fit that crowbar in and yank."

"And if that doesn't work," Dante adds absently, his eyes and hands on the curve of his new bow, which reminds him of the graceful curves of a certain beauteous lady, "we can follow Felix's idea and use the flagstone as a battering ram."

"All that noise will surely alert whoever is inside.  Those with ranged weapons should stand back and keep a weather-eye out for trouble."  Milton is sure this is a bad idea, almost comical in its over-eagerness.  But then he is a jester, so he just shakes his head and goes to the door to help.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:31, Tue 09 July 2013.

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg # 91):

Bill asks the group "Should we check it for any traps before we go messing with it?"

Dave shrugs and says Suit yourself, mate.  As long as you're the one checking.

Bill moves back over to in front of the tower door and gives it a good looking over for any type of trip wires or the like he can see that would trigger a trap..


15:50, Today: Dourdoff rolled 8 using 1d10. Search Check for Traps.

It's on the tip of his tongue. The name of the chaos god, not the flies. They're there, too.

Nim-lu-run, he painstakingly pronounces.

The bandages are dry neither enriched by a healing salve nor ... envenomed.

About the green powder none of the assembled can speak confidently. Either experimentation or expertise, one of which is missing.

Of the myriad options for storming the tower, the group deems wedging to be too weaselly and hammering the door down with small tools to be too prosaic. But launching the flagstone from the fingertips of eight men from which it sails forth to smite the leering door? Epic, or so declare Dante, Milton, and Virgil.

It is epic!

The hot stench of rot rolls from the tower, raising bile in the back of your throat. The floor of the wide tower is covered in rotting hides of cattle, sheep and men. A narrow staircase spirals around the tower wall. Dark forms hang from chains spiked through the wall—surely these are your fellow countrymen!

A pack of snarling beast-men slowly emerges from the shadows, bloody spears clutched in their gnarled hands!

Roll one Init for each Pod! Beat 10 to act first!

OOC No bonus to your roll, Josh, but I decided the name of the chaos god would be common knowledge. Only attribute-specific skill checks enjoy bonuses or penalties.

17:54, Today: Dourdoff rolled 18 using 1d20. Initiative Roll.

The Brothers of Another Mother were slow to react the approaching beast-men, whether it be through fear, inattentiveness, or analysis paralysis. Perhaps all three?

13:43, Today: Udly rolled 8 using 1d20. init.

The Red Dwarves prepare for combat...

Josh rolled 16 using 1d20. initiative.

Real content coming after questions in the OOC thread have been clarified

Dante had stayed back with his new longbow readied.  Virgil and Milton had helped with the battering.  They're overcome by the grisly sight inside -- Virgil blanches, Dante retches, Milton gives a slow sad shake of his head at the sinful state of the world -- and are too slow to get the first blow in.

Initiative = 9

The sight of the tower's insides is gruesome enough, but something in it makes Del blanch so that she's white like a sheet. ''No...'', she whispers, clutching at her wrapped hand. Perhaps she imagines some horror beyond compare, or perhaps she's just gripped by madness (again).

Ripping her dagger free she storms forward, into the hellhole of the tower, and jumps the nearest beastman. Screaming all the time.

Sidd, who even if not as strong as Del had also been helping with the slab, looks confused after his friend, and then grips his shovel. ''Like Krishna I will vanquish the demons! Wait, I'll help you, Del!''

His shovel is easily deflected by the beast's thick hide though. It doesn't matter. Del's dagger has already found the beast's eye and has pierced its skull.


Yay, crit! How are those handled?
21:31, Today: Levkojen rolled 20,4 using d20,d20. Del, Sidd, Attacks vs BM1.

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 100):

Dour yells out "If n me dont make it through the battle then the more o' ale an mead and wenches with me brothers that done moved on to the halls afore me!' and he immediately attacks BM#2 with a quick swing of his mace to the beasts midsection
15:44, Today: Dourdoff rolled 6 using 1d20+1. Dourdoff Mace Attack Roll.
15:44, Today: Dourdoff rolled 3 using 1d6+1. Dourdoff Mace Damage Roll.

Callum on the other hand, says nothing and draws his newly found longsword and goes for a stab at the BM#2 midsection as well.. His sow pig squealing the whole time..

15:47, Today: Dourdoff rolled 19 using 1d20+1. Callum Longsword Attack Roll.
15:47, Today: Dourdoff rolled 9 using 1d8+1. Callum Longsword Damage Roll.

Bill moves in around his two dwarf companions and tries to land a stab with his dagger to BM#2 backside..
15:52, Today: Dourdoff rolled 6 using 1d20. Bill Dagger Attack Roll.
15:52, Today: Dourdoff rolled 1 using 1d4. Bill Dagger Damage Roll.

Arnie sees Del getting herself into a position where she might become surrounded by beastmen, and runs in after her as quickly as he can.  As he does so he pulls out a filthy, dirt-encrusted trowel and shouts I'll keep you safe, fair maiden!  Since she appears to have taken care of the nearest beastman well enough, Arnie goes for the next closest one and hits it as hard as he can.  He doesn't notice just yet whether or not that's hard enough to break through any armor it might be wearing.

Meanwhile, Dave shouts from the back Oi!  I'm trying to line up a shot here, It's not going to help if you get in my way!  He lets loose an arrow anyway, trusting in his years of hunting experience to guide it properly.  He is not disappointed.

Felix, having wisely not done any of the heavy lifting with the stone slab, is too far away to do anything at the moment.  He pulls a wickedly sharp awl from one of his pockets and casually strolls over to the doorway, where he waits off to the side (no need to get in Dave's way).

Arnie attacks #3...
Josh rolled 12 using 1d20. Arnie melee attack.
  Josh rolled 4 using 1d4. damage? (just in case 12 was good enough to hit)

Dave shoots at #4...
Josh rolled 20 using 1d20. Dave missile attack.
  Josh rolled 3,3 using d6,d4. damage and crit effect.

Three fall before they have thrust their spears. The first, a man in all respects except for his hunched, furred back, upon which sits a second, diminutive head, has his femoral artery severed by Del (BM#1 dies). The second to fall, a man in every way save for his thick, leathery skin and head of an elephant, is ventilated by a longsword of milky steel. And then a third and a fourth when Arnie and Dave attack gallantly, well, Arnie anyhow.

But that leaves two.

Oh, sweet Del, the last cookie. A "man" with iridescent scales and a saurian head catches her flush with his spear thrust, impaling her verily with such force as to lift her off the floor and have her slide, inch by inch, down the foul thing's shaft. She dies then and there and no longing look from Arnie can free her.

Callum, having just fleshed his longsword and still recovering his stance, can't defend himself from the other. He smells the thing upon him all brine and sweat, its octopod face before him. As the eight tentacles frame his ashen countenance, the chaos cultist slips his spear between the herder's ribs and to the ground, he falls. The blood spills some, not much, but enough to attract a sow's eager lips.

Summary: Beastmen (4 dead, 2 alive) PCs (13 alive, 2 dead)

Having seen four vile beast-men felled, Finn and Nyll team up on another, while Jobb grabs a handful of glass beads and hurls them at the feet of the other.

Finn, the tax collector, while not the strongest of men proves to be quite adept with a longsword and perhaps scores a telling blow against the Beast-Man. Nyll is not so fortunate however; his pick whooshes harmlessly through the air. Being one-upped by a tax collector has to be a blow to one's ego.

And Jobb, poor Jobb. While he may have some skill blowing glass, none of that transferred over to hurling glass beads as make-shift caltrops. Hopefully none of his companions would slip and lose their balance on account of his errant throw.

OOC: Finn and Nyll attacked #5. Jobb threw marbles at the feet of #6. Finn may have hit (17) for 6-1=5 points of damage.

16:27, Today: Udly rolled 6 using 1d8 with rolls of 6. longsword dmg vs BM.

16:27, Today: Udly rolled 16,2,7 using d20-1,d20-1,d20+1 with rolls of 17,3,6. finn, jobb, neil atks vs BM.

This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Thu 11 July 2013.

As Dourdoff watches his fellow kinsman dwarf fall lifeless to the ground he yells out "Save me a wench and a keg o' ale from the halls Callum!'
He then takes a mighty swing with his mace at the horrid creature that just slayed his friend and kinsman...

Bill again joins his short dwarf friend with a slash of his dagger at the same creature, trying to land a good slice to fell the beast..



Bill and Dourdoff both attack the BM that killed Callum

1:51, Today: Dourdoff rolled 9 using 1d20. Bill Dagger Attack Roll.
21:50, Today: Dourdoff rolled 11 using 1d20+1. Dourdoff Mace Attack Roll.

Finn's impressive slash leaves only one Beastman standing.  Milton, with a saturnine melancholy, raises his crowbar and brings it down hard on the monster's head.

While the creature totters, Virgil leaps in and clobbers it once more with his flail for good measure.

Dante nocks an arrow with elfin fluidity and scans the battlefield for more foes.

Milton attack with crowbar: d20=18 hit, d6=6 dmg
Virgil attack with flail: d20+1=20 hit, d6+1=3 dmg
This message was last edited by the player at 04:19, Thu 11 July 2013.

Nooo! Arnie screams.  She was the first woman to acknowledge my existence without complaining!  Enraged, he tries to throw himself at the beastman that killed Del, but is quickly crowded out.  His need for vengeance is not sated so easily, and he looks for any spot he can squeeze in to attack either of the monsters.  Even if the body he attacks doesn't seem to be alive anymore (it won't hurt him to make sure, after all).

Josh rolled 19 using 1d20. Arnie attacks whoever is left.
  Josh rolled 3 using 1d4. damage.

Sidd kneels down beside the bloody body of Del, sharing Arnie's grief. ''Why? Why did you charge in here so heedless? Oh oh oh.''

Zar approaches with slow steps, also mourning the mutual friend. ''I think,'' he says with the insight which comes with watching parsnips grow across the seasons, ''I think what she saw inside the tower, the beastmen, the human skins, it might have led her to believe... that she was changing. That the magics of the well were turning her into one of those. I think she sought death.'' He sighs, shaking his head unhappily.

''Gosh! You saying that these bestial men were guys from the village once? Surely not!'' Sidd looks around the opened bellies, hacked off limbs, and streams of blood. No, he would rather believe not.

Is that even possible? Arnie asks, suddenly wary of anyone in the group who might have more facial hair now than when they first met up.

Dourdoff is stricken with grief deep down for his fallen dwarf friend. However he sheds no tear for Callum, as he knows he has went on to the halls with all the others who have left before them. To better things and times. Many a tankard of ale and wenches abundant. Callum's sow squeals at her former masters body but even the pig senses the dwarf is no longer there. "An now n what is to be done with the slab o' meat there walking and squealing on four legs?" he says more to himself than anyone in particular.

Meanwhile,Bill leans over and picks up the newly found longsword that the deceased dwarf had just recovered from the hole outside this tower and he wonders if the blade may be cursed. Nevertheless, Bill knows how handy such a fine instrument of death can be with either the sharp end, or for a fair price at the market, should he make it to one again..


With that Bill asks the group "What do you want to do with our departed? We could bury them outside in the courtyard and raise a cairn in their honor if you want to?"

"Aye. A stone cairn would befit these men." The dwarf looks about for the man who possessed the shovel. "I will break the ground with my pick. A good shovel would help. The rest: gather stones."

Nyll searches the courtyard for a suitable burial spot. If none are found, he will increase the search radius to include areas outside the ruins.

In reply to Udly (msg # 111):

Dourdoff replies "I will also use me mining pick for the diggin .. The noble ones deserve all the best as they leave this life here."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:03, Fri 12 July 2013.

The eight smoking corpses do not improve the atmospheric conditions in the Tower of the Beast. Regardless, people start talking earnestly about funereal practices and testing the weight of liberated weapons. Dante drifts towards the steps. He wouldn't even be able to say precisely why; he's just always thinking about ascending or descending, rising and falling. As he lifts his right leg to gain the first tier, an enormous beastman champion, a seven-foot monstrosity with the head of a feral bull, meets and cleaves him in twain (Dante dies).

The beastman champion wears a large silver torc hung with bleached skulls with room for more.

Combat Summary: 1 Beastman Champion (AC 12); 13 pc's. PC's are up.

Nyll wipes a bead of sweat from his brow just as the beastman champion appears and summarily cuts down Dante. Calling over to Finn, "Come, before others suffer the same fate!"

At that moment, Finn wonders, 'And why exactly must it be us that jumps first to the fray?'

Reluctantly, he joins the dwarf in battle. Finn's lack of enthusiasm is apparent, judging solely by the half-assed swing of his sword at the beast-man.

Nyll fares much better and pelts the creature with his miner's pick. The dwarf needed to get his hands on a better weapon--and soon!

Jobb had been busy searching for his lost beads and makes no effort to enter melee. Surely others would step up...

OOC: Nyll hits for 4 points of damage.

17:38, Thu 11 July 2013: Udly rolled 3,7,12,4 using d20-1,d8-1,d20+1,d4+1 ((4,8,11,3)).

"NO!!"  "DANTE!"

The poet of love's two friends watch in horror as Dante is cut down.  The luckless elf has one final word on his lips: "Beatrice,"

Virgil and Milton charge.  The passion in Virgil's breast and the tears in his eyes make anything tactical or practiced simply impossible.  The flail does nothing but chip the stone doorway.  Milton, though, is full of surprises.  He fetches the seven foot monstrosity a telling wallop with the curved end of his crowbar.  The forked claw at the end of the curve bites deep into flesh, and Milton tears some away with a savage pull.

Virgil misses.  Milton hits (d20=19) for d6=6 dmg

Things are happening too fast. At one moment they were grieving for the dead, and at the next there's already another one of their companions cut down. By a huge monster of a beast, no less.

Sidd grabs for his shovel and charges the monstrosity - or he tries to, but actually place is somewhat restricted and he can't get close to the thing. Zar shows some more sense, pulling Del's dagger out of the beastman's corpse and throwing it at the huge brute. It harmlessly clatters against the wall though.


09:41, Today: Levkojen rolled 5 using 1d20+1. Zar, thrown dagger.
09:40, Today: Levkojen rolled 6 using 1d20. sidd, shovel.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:33, Fri 12 July 2013.

Dourdoff and Bill can't quite get to the Beast Man Champion as their companions are already there, dishing out proper justice to the beast. They remain behind their friends though, ready to offer aid should it be needed..
This message was last edited by the player at 15:20, Fri 12 July 2013.

There's no room for Arnie or Felix to enter the melee, but Dave has been keeping a watchful eye.  He quickly nocks and looses another arrow at the huge beastman.  He shoots too high, however, having overcompensated to not hit any of his companions.  The arrow ricochets off the stone wall and clatters against the steps some distance ahead.

Josh rolled 6 using 1d20. Dave shoots.

Milton slays the devil. It does not matter. They are legion. When one falls, six and sixty more rise. That might be metaphorical.

You've won the first floor of the tower and its spoils, if they can be called that: gore-covered furs on the stairs and floor, hides on the walls, and a few broken spears, perhaps more for those with grubby fingers.

And then there's the matter of the dark forms hanging from chains spiked through the wall. You probably know a few them, brothers and sisters and the like.

Once the dust has settled, Dave lowers his bow and walks into the tower.  He looks around and the corpses, both prone and suspended, and says I suppose now might be the time for that burial you guys were discussing.  His voice lacks its usual cheerful tone.

"Right, let's cut them down and be quick about it," the dwarf miner adds while gesturing toward the suspended bodies. Finn assists with the grisly task, perhaps studying each body to determine whether any were known to him. As a tax collector, he knew most, so the likelihood was strong that this task would prove more personal.

Jobb does not help with the recovery of bodies, rather the elf searches behind the furs and hides for anything which might have escaped casual notice: whether treasure or perhaps secret door.

In reply to Udly (msg # 121):

Dourdoff heads out to the courtyard with his pick to start digging the graves for the fallen..

Zar retrieves Del's dagger and also her other things, a fine set of tools and an empty sack. Then he and Sidd help with taking down the bodies in this slaughter house. Humans - friends and relatives - are wrapped in a cloak or a blanket and put outside to the left. Beastman are put on a heap to the right.

Sidd wipes his brow. ''I don't think we have time to do anything more right now. Digging graves will take ages and there are still beastmen about, I guess. Both heaps might grow yet.''

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 123):

Bill agrees with Sidd and says "I think you are right. We also need to conserve our strength for any future fights we may have with these creatures. How about a funeral pyre for our fallen? We can still honor them and accomplish the safe keeping of their bodies from any other things in the area that may defile them. The gods know our fallen deserve not to have their remains desecrated."

You make a quick discovery when you free the hangers from their hooks. They're not ready for burial on account of still being alive, not in any useful fashion but enough to bring the matter of "live burial" into question. It is at once a great relief, not all of those abducted from the village had been subjected to the full course of demonic rites. It is also, one must admit, a stickler. Seven scarcely conscious sisters and cousins do not augment the fighting efficiency of the company. What's to be done with them?

The seven survivors groan. It's good to be alive but to feel like this?

You remain in the Tower of the Beast. A spiral staircase leads to second floor. Gore-covered hides hang from the walls and befouled animal skins and furs repose on the floor.

The stinking corpse of the beastman champion lies slumped on the first step of the stairs where Milton felled him with his crowbar.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 125):

Bill takes the waterskin that he kept from his fallen dwarf friend , Callum, and offers it to the captives that have just been freed. He awaits while they each take their turn drinking if they so choose to..

While the others deal with the bodies, Felix goes back to check on the armor they pulled from the charred chapel.  If it's cool enough to wear, now would probably be a good time to distribute it and decide who's going first up the stairs.  Or maybe do that in reverse order.

Bill asks the captives when they are ready to talk "Any good details or information you can give us on this place would be so helpful. Are you the only ones that you know of here ?"
He patiently waits to see if they will even answer him, or can for that matter

Zar scratches his wizened head. ''Hm, what to do with our free cousins? We can't have them search their way through the stone field we came in through, and the gate is still barred. I think you will all best wait here, in this very room, until we return.''

Sidd meanwhile makes a few training moves with his shovel. He didn't manage to hit anything yet and begins to feel useless. He's eager to begin exploring the rest of the tower.

With the contempt of a righteous victor, Milton rolls the beastman over with his toe.  "To he who conquers the spoils belong," he intones.

Virgil has seated himself by Dante's corpse.  "You're one foot short," he adds sadly.

"I will add "And thus" at the beginning." Milton says as searches the beastman's body.

Virgil laughs in spite of himself, and tears come with the laughter.  Milton joins him at their friend's side.

"We'll lay him under a cairn for now.  Do not weep for him, Virgil.  Death is not the end.  Weep instead for one of us.  I have a premonition that before this adventure is concluded, one of us two will be left alone, and the other will join him in Paradise."

"Not me," Virgil rejoins with a rueful smile.  "The little bastard said I was a pagan and could never see his blessed mountain."

"He said Virtuous Pagan.  And he gave you the best spot in Hell."

"Yeah, he did."

Virgil and Milton say their farewells and help with the cairn-building.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:00, Sat 13 July 2013.

The two surviving poets agree with Zar's plan to leave the captives hidden under the spiral stairway.

"One the gatehouse is clear, we will open the gate and take the survivors home."

The Brothers of Another Mother concur with the plan: leave the captives here for now. They did not have time to escort each back just now. "Leave them some water and rough directions to return to the village, should they regain enough strength to do so on their own," Finn offers.

Nyll approaches the base of the stairwell and gives its stonework a scrutinizing glance. The dwarf hefts his miner's pick in both hands and looks to the other, indicating 'ready'?

08:05, Today: Udly rolled 7 using 1d20. mining.

Bill and Dourdoff join the others as they get ready to go up to the next level of the tower..

It's scarcely possible to breathe in the Tower of the Beast let alone respond coherently to Dour's interrogations.

Paying no heed to the dwarven interlocutor, the milliner's daughter chants to herself,  "Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee."

Both Milton and Virgil know this line and the ones that follow, yet they forebear from providing a fuller interpretation for the semi-catatonic lass. It's really not the "we're all going to die" chiller it's commonly understood to be. Even if only the two poets cry, Dante's death diminishes all of mankind.

Experimentally, Nyll taps the stone stairs with his miner's pickaxe, feeling the vibrations emanating, always a thrill of pleasure for him. Practiced as he is, he counts a shortfall. There must be a hollow space nearby.

Besides the champion's axe (a d6 weapon), still beslimed with gore, Milton beholds his large silver torch still hung with bleached skulls but with no prospects for additions. Now, he can observe that each skull bears the brand of a chaos rune, and the thing verily reverberates evil.

Two of the beastmen's spears could be recovered from the room.

OOC The chain hauberks can be donned.

Jobb will casually approach, and retrieve, a spear from the death clutches of one of the slain beast-men. Now that it was almost assured that combat would be inevitable, it made sense to be outfitted with more than glass beads. Assuming nobody else lays claims to the other spear, Nyll will grab that.

Virgil buries the axe at Dante's feet and with his looks dares the others to gainsay him.  But he does note Zar's eyes lingering on the bow.  After some reluctance, and a little prodding from Milton, he takes the weapon to Zar and holds it out in both hands.

"He would want to see these put to good use.  I think he'd want you to have them."

Milton leaves the evil skull-torch on the ground and backs slowly away, as though it were a serpent.  As for the other gear, Milton has been making heavy weather with the crowbar, so he keeps it.  But one of those spears just feels right in Virgil's hand.  This, now, is the sort weapon one can write epics about.  He offers Nyll the flail instead.

Longbow & 10 arrows to Zar
Virgil takes a spear
Flail (d6) to Nyll

As they head up the stairs, the two poets question Nyll about they hollow spot he found and help in uncovering it.

Search Hollow Stair d10=9

Nyll gladly receives the flail, "a fitting weapon, this. Thank you kindly." He gives it a test swing. "Weight feels good too!"

When questioned about the hollow space, Nyll beams, "Ah, yes! Over here. Listen!" he taps it again with the blunt end of his miner's pick. "Somebody went to some trouble to hide something down there. Now it's just a matter of finding how to get at it!"

With his new spear in hand, Jobb the elf catches some of Nyll's conversation and lends his keen elf senses to the task and follows alongside the dwarf as he taps at the stonework in hopes of narrowing down where the hollow space might be.

"Quiet now," Nyll intones as he follows the sound.

OOC: Jobb will actively search for concealed/secret doors near the hollow space, assuming Nyll can narrow it down to a general area.

Zar thanks Virgil for the gift. ''An elf bow! I'll try to be worthy of this weapon, and bring death to evil everywhere. Well, in this tower predominantly.''

Sidd is helping out with his opinions at the stair. ''Why, isn't it more likely to be a trap, covering a pit or something, than a secret treasure stash?''

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 138):

Bill gathers up Callums water skin and longsword and heads up the stairs with the others. Dourdoff asks him "Now reckon what is ta be done with the squealin slab o' meet here? "
Bill says over his shoulder "Just leave the sow, those captives will take her out of here when they clear out"
Dourdoff tightens his belt and follows in behind Bill as the group ascends the stairs...

Though the weapons all seem to have been claimed already, Arnie is quick to don one of the mail shirts.  Felix, meanwhile, walks over to the site of the secret something.  He has his crowbar ready in case it will be helpful in any way.

Nearby, in this case, refers to the wall opposite the first steps of the spiral staircase. Behind one of the gore-streaked hides, Jobb finds a passageway leading north and then descending stairs. Upstairs, one of you locates the lever for precipitously dropping the portcullis and the crank for more measured operation. Any beastmen here must have joined their brethren in their failed tower defense.

And that leaves only the sinkhole, yawning infinitely for your souls, and the secret passageway for further exploration.

Secret passageway into the dark it is, then. Breathing the cool and wet air, you go down twenty feet to a landing, switch back for another twenty feet of descent, and then you reach the second landing. What's that? A hint of amber, a glint of gold, almost, nearly liminal at the edge of your light, several steps below.

OOC Marching order (10' wide passage) and light source time. Torches provide 8 time units with the first one having been spent.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 141):

Bringing up the rear of the group, Dourdoff and Bill both agree that some light source is needed. Dourdoff having spent many years mining the deep tunnels,knows that anything can sneak and creep up around any dark corner. He therefore takes his trusty lantern and lights it up and hold it with his left hand, while his right hold his mace.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:19, Wed 17 July 2013.

It takes some time until the dozen striving heroes have agreed on a marching order, but finally the men in armor are pushed to the front, followed by the more zealous people, while the archers and cowards, er, less brave men, hang in the back.

Zar, from his save position in the back, starts to ramble. ''It's obvious by now that the castle's inhabitants were corrupted and sunk down to venerate the chaos gods. As witnessed by the various frog and rat idols we have seen. Then the common people rose up against them - either from the castle itself, or from the village, or even from a neighboring town - entered the castle if they weren't there already, cornered the culprits in the chapel, and burned it down.''
''They failed though to cleanse the whole place. That is our job now! To make sure Chaos will never return here like into a comfortable niche, where it can hide, and prosper, and corrupt others...''

''Pssht!'' Sidd hisses from his position in the second row. ''Something's glinting below us. Let's carefully approach.''

Dave lowers his bow for a moment and gives Zar a suspicious look.  How exactly did you work that out?, he asks.

Virgil is eager but wary.  In truth he wants to be in the front rank, but it made good sense to put those with the metal shirts there.  "Lead on, friends," he says with grim determination.

To the charge of being a coward, Milton gives only the same phlegmatic shrugs that put him in the back row in the first place.  Besides, he's got to drag his chest, so he needs some space behind.  From his place in the back, he offers this ode to their journey:

“Into this wild Abyss --
The womb of Nature, and perhaps her grave--
Into this wild Abyss the wary Friends
Stood on the brink of Hell and looked a while,
Pondering their voyage; for no narrow frith
They had to cross.”

Virgil can't resist.  "What's a frith, Milt?"  Nothing.  "You can't just make up words because they sound good."

"Will did it all the time."

"Yeah, well you're not Will."

Milton smiles ruefully.  "I suppose I'm not."

(The bickering poets are ready to descend.)

With lighting arrangements and marching order established, the elven glassblower turns to Arnie, "Well, it's me and you chap. Shall we?"

Jobb peers down the stairs and makes a practice jab with his spear before leading off. Hopefully he wouldn't need to use it, but that probably wasn't too realistic.

Jobb suggests that the party proceed slowly--and quietly--so that they might hear any potential enemies that lurk ahead. "Besides," he further reasons, "there might be traps..."

OOC: Jobb (elf) will look for any obvious tripwires or loose floorstones while descending. Nyll (dwarf) will keep an eye out for potential structural weaknesses

No sooner has the squadron been ordered for the underworld delve, Sidd squirms between Arnie and Jobb to scoop up three golden pharaohs, each of their namesakes holding their crooks, from the first stone step. The crooks, any student of the divine could divulge, symbolize hospitality. Surely, a good omen.

Not disgruntled, Jobb deduces that the coins must have fallen and scans the stonework, looking for the crevices and cracks that promise full access. Oh, that's not fair. The secret door's not even fully closed. That won't even count. He pushes the door open another half foot to fix his Elvish eyes on the space beyond: a narrow hall is lined with cut stone blocks. Dusty cobwebs hang from the low ceiling and time itself seems to weigh upon this ancient place. A trio of upended chests rest in the shadows in the rear of the chamber amid a scattering of coins. Tracks in the dust record the path of recent looters.

The place is ancient. This vault could not be as coeval as the smoldering chapel? Unless time twists this way and that...

So Sidd scratches his forehead; the story might be the backstory.

Arnie starts a chain of whispered messages to the back to inform Dave about the tracks.  Dave, the experienced hunter, then comes to the front of the group to take a look at them and see if he can figure out where they go and how old they are (surely the strata of dust will give some indication).

Josh rolled 14 using 1d20-1. Dave tracking.
(wasn't sure which attribute to use, guessed Int)

''As it is known, the...'' Zar starts to launch into a lengthy answer on Dave's question, but Sidd cuts him short.
''The word 'repent' on the chapel doors was a dead giveaway. Or Nefertiti told him - she's the brighter one of them both.''

Then the ditch digger utters a sound of delight and dives for the gold coins. Mumbling something about sharing this wealth once they've made it back into the village. Between whispers of ''Preciousss.''

As the secret chamber is revealed - are the stone blocks meant for the dead and this is a crypt? - the two philosophers are contend to let Arnie first take a look at the tracks.

''Has it been the beastmen,'' asks Zar doubtfully. However, above no gold has been found, so the looters must have been some other creatures...
This message was last edited by the player at 19:38, Sat 20 July 2013.

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 149):

Bill and Dourdoff continue to look about their surroundings Dourdoff says to Bill "Better keep an eye out around o' these halls an what not. Me thinks this place has more t' offer than those fell Beastman we fought in the entrance."
With that he tightens his grip on his weapon and holds his lantern a little higher to shed more light...

"Well," Jobb comments somewhat sardonically, "extra chests to add to our already expansive procession of empty chests..." While Jobb might have been disappointed in finding empty chests, Finn saw these as a boon indeed: at least they did not have to worry about having containers to haul away the copious amount of treasure they had yet found.

Of course, they had to find treasure first.

"Let's at least search the chests," the dwarf rumbled. "Might be a few spare coins the others left behind..."

Nyll proceeds to search the secret room for anything which might have escaped previous notice.

Bill also looks around for any more valuables they may can pocket...

The three chests identify the chamber as a vault, or, more precisely, a former vault as the preponderance of tracks leading out of the room and deeper below ground suggest a "monetary transfer." On the floor, 9 coppers, 11 moons, and 7 pharaohs attest to a sloppy transit.

Jobb, Nyll, and Bill set about a proper search of the room, confident of illuminating "secrets within secrets."

And one of them does!

Jobb, while sliding his spindly fingers along the base of the middle of the three empty chests, confirms the presence of hidden compartment, hidden saliently (the floor of the chest is four inches too high). With more sliding of fingers, this time along the back of the chest, he feels the gentle slide of false panels. "Lies within lies" someone comments. It's a badly timed comment. Whoosh! A blade would scythe delicate digits (DC 15 reflex save for Jobb).

Jobb attempts to pull his fingers out of the way before the blade does its grisly task...perhaps too late. Poor Jobb...it didn't take much to take him out, and this might have been it.

OOC: 16:42, Today: Udly rolled 3 using 1d20. reflex save (jobb).

I think he is also at a -1 for poor Agility (7)

The severing of Jobb's ring-less finger doesn't remove his page from the book. Not directly. To the surprise of none, he faints at the sight of his first droplet of blood, before even his digit touches the scuffed floor. A rat niblet. Ok, for a very large rat. Someone among you staunches the bleeding, and someone else even has the foresight to pour wine over the wound, worried glances at the rust "filigree" on the scythe.

He does not regain consciousness. He sweats through his linens. He moans distressingly. He starts to stink not ten minutes after shedding his longest member. You turn to each other knowingly and return to the landing but not before recovering two silver rings set with emeralds, a silk tabard stitched with the sigil of Chaos (oh, to have seen it blazing across Del's breast), and a steel vial containing two doses of black lotus oil from the false bottom of the middle chest.

OOC Jobb dies!

Bill shakes his head in grief, hating to see another fellow adventurer go by the way side like suds down a drain and says " There is bound to be more like that nasty trick around here in these tunnels and vaults.. We all could do with being more careful."

Dourdoff is sad as well, thinking of his recently lost fellow dwarven kin , Callum and answers Bill with "If n the coward lot o' sissies would show themselves and not hide behind a trick , I be more n glad to give them a piece o' me pick right n between the eyes.."
With that being said, Dourdoff tightens his belt and looks on with the others

''There goes Jobb,'' Zar sighs, ''he was one of the best among us.''

Sidd lets his finger glide appraisingly across the rich fabric of the tabard. It might be magic, with protective capabilities! Finally the fascination with the tabard overcomes his good sense and he dons it over his ditch digger's clothes and belts it at the waist with a rope.
''Even odds it is either cursed or enchanted. I'm going to trust my luck here.''

''Shall we try the tunnel first, before we go deeper into below? It might just lead to the sinkhole...''

Neither Finn nor Nyll appear to be tooshaken by Jobb's unfortunate demise. Everyone knew what they were signing up for.

Taken out by a severed finger. Sheesh. Some guys just can't catch a break.

And to think he could have been an elf?!

After confirming Jobb's fate, Finn suggests, "Anyone have any clue what black lotus oil might be used for?" He picks up a vial and holds it at arms length while examining the strange liquid.

Nyll suggests the other items be placed in one of the group's many empty chests, to be divided later. The thought never occurs to him that one of the rings, or even the tabard for that matter, might be enchanted.

Maybe the dwarf was inwardly distraught over the loss of one of the Brothers of Another Mother. He would never admit it though.

Milton and Virgil exchange a long-faced glance at Jobb's passing, but they know there's nothing they can do.  Were Dante still here, he might give the departing his last rites, but Milton eschews such things as empty ceremony that cannot change the course of one's faith and virtue, and Virgil cares little what happens in the next life, so long as one's death is avenged in this one.

Speaking of that, there is evil to rout.  Virgil removes the chain shirt from Jobb's torso and fits it over his own.  He takes up his spear and is ready to press on.

At someone's suggestion, Milton offers his chest to transport found items.  Its rear edge is already worn smooth and rounded, and that's almost as good as wheels.  "In stories, the nectar of the lotus flower brings lethargy and forgetfulness of all one's cares. As it is an oil, perhaps it is meant to be coated over a blade." But he shrugs, since that is really just conjecture.

"Yes," Virgil responds to Zar, "the tunnel."

Having spent many years below ground , mining the tunnels for ore, Dourdoff knows his tunnels, or he thinks he does at any rate. As he and his companions enter this tunnel, he looks it over for any weakness of mortar, structure or stone. Just to be safe as they don't want to be trapped down here in a collapse..


6:15, Today: Dourdoff rolled 7 using 1d20. Dourdoff Tunnel Inspection

Even without the oil, Jobb has forgotten all of his cares and is presently forgotten himself, except by the man who would be a dwarf. You drift down the tunnel, turning this way and then another, until a strange and foreboding portal bars your way.

Whereas before the air outside the vault had been cool and wet, before the portal it is now redolent of the grave and the grave worm.

You do a head count. Still eleven. There is room for some more death yet, so Arnie (it can't be Jobb, for he is dead and has past from knowing) or the man who moved up in the line peers at the portal:

Circumscribed in runes, it has, at its center, a large pentagram inscribed within a circle. Both the runes and the pentagram are set with silver and seem to glimmer faintly in the dim light.

There isn't a blessed person among you...who could decipher those runes. Then again, one of you might have an outside chance. Four don't require puzzling; they are the signs of the four elements.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 161):

Bill does not know much about rites of magic and what not, he still gives it a try and studies the rune-inscribed portal they stand before, in hopes of seeing some small detail that may aid them in proceeding safely...


16:47, Today: Dourdoff rolled 3 using 1d10. Bill Decipher runes
This message was last edited by the player at 21:48, Thu 25 July 2013.

Zar doesn't have a clue about runes, but he does like riddles. Even if most he had heard were among the lines of 'How many parsnip farmers do you need to pull a cart?'

First he and Sidd make a thourough inventory about the lot of runes they have already encountered here or are even carrying with them.
There is one blazing on Sidd's chest, on the tabard.
Also on the cloth wrapped around the dubious incense from the chest they found in the temple.
On the rat idol.
There had been some on the temple frog, but they didn't take that one with them. Same with the silver skull torq. And the well of course. (Oh, poor doomed Del!)
And probably even more!

Lots of runes. Does anyone of those match with the runes on the door?

While the philosophers try cross-referencing all the runes, Felix takes the idol he picked up earlier and places it on the floor in front of the doorway.  In response to any questioning looks, he says simply I don't know, maybe evil magic recognizes evil magic, and something will happen?

Bill can read; that's a good thing. He absolutely can read. Completely, absolutely. All of you would vouchsafe his mastery of letters. You really would. At least you think he can read. He's a confidence artist after all.

"Gents, I'm not going to lie and say I understand every twisted sigil, but damned if I don't have the gist. Now, listen to this: I've seen fire and I've seen rain, I've seen sunny days that I thought would never end, I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend, but I always thought I'd see you again."

There are tears, copious tears, for all of the friends you'll never see again and all of the friends, on four legs and two, who won't see you again.

Like snakes writhing in a pit, the runes wriggle over and under one another, so Sidd can't tell one from another. Is that one the cute adder with the wiggly tongue or the butch Timber rattler? He'd have a better time if he were a wizard, an apprentice, a fortune-teller, or an astrologer.

Bill steps back and watches the runes do their thing and thinks to himself that those words sure are familiar, yet he is not quite sure from where he may have heard or seen them before..
He looks on as the runes continues to move about..

''Ah, that's rubbish,'' Sidd exclaims eventually. ''I won't go and catch what Del got by touching anything! Let us go down the stairs instead.''

With prudence in hand, you retreat from the ensigiled door and delve deeper. From the landing, you descend ten feet to another one and then ten more for to the fourth with the switchback having been the first.

Wide stone steps descend into a long hall. The walls are decorated with elaborate tile mosaics depicting ceremonies to fiends. The walls are slick with condensation and black algae. The condensation runs in rivulets and collects in a long, brackish pool set in the center of the hall.

OOC All PCs make a luck check.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:02, Mon 29 July 2013.

17:19, Today: Dourdoff rolled 16 using 1d20. Bill Luck Check .
17:19, Today: Dourdoff rolled 13 using 1d20. Dourdoff Luc

ooc: finn 19, nyll 11

sorry phone post

''This is... completly... disgusting.'' Zar utters, leaving it unclear wether he refers to the mosaic images or the black algae and the rivulets of vile water.

09:51, Today: Levkojen rolled 4,16 using d20+1,d20+1. Luck for Zar, Sidd.

Virgil and Milton say nothing as the group descends the stairway.  The hair on the back of their necks prickles equally, as though something bad is about to happen and it may happen to either of them.  They glance around uneasily, but when they spot Zar the feeling subsides.  He wears an aura of rotten luck that makes theirs feel less ominous.

Luck checks: Virgil d20+1=6, Milton d20=6

The Red Dwarves do their collective best to stay out of the muck.  Felix seems especially worried about it possibly staining his boots irreparably.

Josh rolled 7,11,9 using d20,d20-2,d20-1. Luck: Dave, Arnie, Felix.

As luck would have it, Bill, Finn, and Sidd form a trio of unlikely brothers, all feeling as they do a strange compulsion to peer into the pool. They don't feel like they're being tugged so much as they intuit that this would be the right thing to do. The others simply don't give a toss unless they have strong feelings about brackish pools.

Those without compulsions peer about the room. It has four nooks, each with its own hooded robe that have, visible even from a distance, silver-threaded sigils. It also has, more saliently, two mosaics celebrating the exploits of chaos cultists. That old man back at your village was right. Evil does still fester on the accursed hill. The two dude bros at the center are rockin' out.

You can almost hear the steady assault of layered guitar and menacing vocals:

You take a mortal man,
And put him in control
Watch him become a god,
Watch peoples heads a'roll
A'roll...

Just like the Pied Piper
Led rats through the streets
We dance like marionettes,
Swaying to the Symphony...
Of Destruction

Yeah, you could get into that.

Sidd thinks of Delphi. Surely her first steps would have drawn her towards that pool, he says to himself. She always had been prone to stare into things. Unconsciously his steps follow the route she would have taken and he goes to the pool, to peer into its depths.

Zar meanwhile looks disapprovingly at the mosaics and the other features of the room. Clearly the images are depicting the worship of Chaos. A bleeding skull scepter seems to play a dominant role, and a man with a horned helmet is sacrificing an innocent maiden. What a vile act! And it lets loose hordes of Chaos from a pit which might very well be the waterlogged pool right before their feet!

''Abhorrent!,'' he exclaims. ''This catacombs must have been left undiscovered and undisturbed by the valiant men who have once cleansed the courtyard above. I guess scavengers have stumbled upon it recently, looting the vault, and maybe falling under the influence of Chaos in this very room. Maybe even partaking in some of the rituals depicted here! And surely transforming into the beastmen we have slain!''

''It is time to purge this castle again, and more thouroughly this time!''

In reply to Autarch (msg # 174):

Bill simply gazes into the pool with his other two companions. Not really sure what is compelling him, nevertheless, there he gazes...

Dourdoff looks about the chamber at the strange mosaics along the western most wall, deep in thought, but with also a feeling of impending doom which always seems to be lurking in the back of the dwarf's , sometimes, stubborn brain..

Finn's thoughts are lost within the well; however Nyll, a sensible dwarf, is more concerned with the meaning of the strange mosaics plastered on the east and west walls.

"Dark sacrifices to the nameless Demon Lords of Chaos..." he whispers to himself, though perhaps others might overhear his words.

Louder now, "Those who worship at this altar must surely have been claimed by those same lords, to suffer the fate of being transformed to one of those mongrel, beast-men."

Nyll then attempts to draw Bill, Sidd and Finn's attention away from the pool, "Snap out of it. We need you in the here and now!"

We should burn the robes, Dave suggests.  Even if it's only symbolic, it'll at least make things harder for any cultists that might be hanging about.  They can't do their rituals without the robes, right?

Arnie, meanwhile, is absorbing the details of the mosaic on the east wall.  He appears to be worried by what he sees on the left side of it, and he says Do you suppose all those tentacles belong to one creature?  And that that fellow there is summoning it?  Because if we see a fellow who looks like that, maybe we should just kill him right away.  After a few seconds, an even more frightening thought crosses his mind, and he adds Or ask if he's summoned any tentacle beasts lately, and then kill him if it's safe.

Felix jovially slaps his companion on the back and says Don't worry, big guy.  It's never safe.

At least one of you is reluctant to take the mosaics at face value. Some artistic license must be granted in these matters. The sacrificial maiden, for instance. Not even Lilly, the tea room owner's daughter, just now coming into her fifteenth year, could be said to be as beauteous as the woman upon the altar. Truth is Lilly has too fond a taste for buttered figs and candied olives.

The tentacles, though. Those could be real. Seven, you count. That would leave four of you to slip past unless you can think of something more clever. What might they want? What could pacify them? The priest in the mosaic must know but he's not here to be questioned.

Those that gaze upon the pool blink in astonishment: three human skulls, one for each gazer, have risen to the surface, a faint glow emanating from their eye sockets.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 179):

Dourdoff tightens his grip on his mace and says "Me thinks we should move on out o' this cursed place.. Something in me old bones doesn't feel quite right here.."

"Let's feed the slain beast-men into the pool," Nyll suggests somewhat weakly. There was no telling whether that would sate the tentacled beast's hunger, but perhaps it was worth a try.

Felix raises an eyebrow at this suggestion and says You want to carry one of those rotting fleabags down here, big guy?  Because I sure don't want to touch one more than I have to.  Dave, as close to a voice of reason as this trio has, shushes the halfling and says It might not be a bad idea, actually.  I mean, would a tentacle beast even know if it's getting live meat or not?  Would it care?

Nyll brushes off Felix's question with a dispassionate shrug. The dwarf wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Apparently, halflings were: unless they were stuffing their faces, of course.

Nyll then spins on his heels to face Dave, "Right! You. Me. Let's make this happen!"

Taking a step toward the direction of the nearest slain beast-man. Assuming Dave agrees, and no huge objections are raised, Nyll will suggest the duo two-man drag the beast-man to the pit and unceremoniously drop it into its murky depths.

Nyll will then high-tail it away from the pit and suggest that everyone stand several feet back, weapons at the ready. Especially those with spears.

In reply to Udly (msg # 183):

Dourdoff hears the conversation of what Nyll and Dave are planning to do. With his mace already in hand, the burly dwarf adheres their advice and steps back a few steps..

As Bill is staring into the pool, he sees the skulls with glowing eyes appear and he shakes his head, to clear his foggy mind a bit from this stupor he seems to have been in, and takes a step back..

''Are you mad!''Zar exclaims. ''No sacrifices to the Chaos gods! No virgins, not even budding Lily! No slain foes! No nothing! Is that understood?''

Of course, while Zar holds up the principles of light, Sidd slides down his own dubious path. He locks eyes with one of the skulls, either confident in his own power of will or simply not caring, and reaches out to touch it.

Dave casually responds This isn't a sacrifice, it's just a distraction.  A sacrifice requires chanting and rituals and all that bollocks.

In Dave and Nyll's eagerness to surrender the chaos born to the ritual pool, they neglect one consideration. What if the seven tentacles don't reside, as it were, within this pool? The mosaics wouldn't rightly depict that which is right in front of their own eyes. For that matter, the two Chaos Brothers, the virgin, the ragin' cultists, they're not here either, a fact the two brothers of other mothers are mostly thankful for.

Sidd's skull radiates a noticeable and insistent heat, assuming he touches the parts not still coated with black algae.

Nyll shrugs after being reproached by Zar. "Suit yourself. What next then?"

Sidd looks from the skull to the mosaics and back to the skull. He then decides to put it onto some shaft. In a pinch his shovel might serve, too, since he hasn't got a torch or something similar.

Gingerly he picks up the skull, preferably at the cooler slicky places, and fastens it to the the shovel's stick end.

You're in the ritual chamber with the brackish, skull-filled pool, the ominous mosaics, and the moldy robes.

You can leave the ritual chamber through a northern passageway that leads deeper into the underworld or return the way you came.

Pointing a stubby finger toward the northern passageway, "Well, it seems clear to me, only one thing to do. C'mon, let's delve deeper..."

Hopefully the trio of pool-gazers had concluded their admiration of the skull-filled pool by now. If not, Nyll will attempt to jar each out of their reverie. "Snap out of it already. Work to be done!"

In reply to Udly (msg # 191):

Bill shakes his head again and clears the fog once more..
Dourdoff nods his approval at leaving and gets in line again so they can all move on out..

Even without a clear manner of sticking the skull to the shovel, Sidd grinds the shaft against the pate regardless. And the skull sticks, its eyes aglow. As he and the others descend the five flights of stone stairs, two to the right beyond the ritual chamber, and the three more after another right turn, the skull emits waves of anticipatory heat.

At the bottom of the last flight of stairs, people realize why they've been enjoying cool, moist air beneath the ruined walls of Chaos Keep:

The wide stone steps run down to the dark-sand beach of a vast underground sea. Far out across the water, you can make out a golden glow through the gloom. An enormous menhir stands at the water’s edge, dark waves lapping at its intricately carved faces.

Past the towering standing stone, a dragon-prowed longship emerges from the darkness, its hull scrawled with forbidding sigils and runes that glow a sickly green in the dim light. The ship draws to a stop some 50 feet offshore.

The beat of distant drums and far-off wails of terror mixes with the quiet lapping of the waves.

What wonders has life bestowed upon the stalwarts of a Thousand Sands. An underground sea! A dragon-prowed longship! A menhir. Well, nobody really knows what to call the monolithic monument, the party lacking a junior geographer in its composition.

Zar suspiciously eyes his friend of long years past. ''Sidd. You are carrying a glowing chaos skull on your shovel.''

''Right, Zar. I think I do.''

''You know, that will spell doom for your immortal soul and maybe the whole of us, too, yes?''

''Aaw, now you are just paranoid. I'm sure it's mostly harmless.''

Zar coughs and chokes, but then they have reached the bottom of the stairs. The enormity of the view is sinking in.

''What the...''
''I'll be damned...''

''True enough, that!''

Bill mutters to his companions "How interesting as I've never seen the likes of an underground sea, yet the addition of drums and screams off in the distance does little to keep the hairs on the back of my neck from performing a show at market for us. I think our time here on the beach should be short at best. The ship does seem to pull at my curiosity though."

Dourdoff on the other hand scoffs at the notion of having to cross at least 50 feet of water to reach the ship...

From his position in back, Dave says Just who d'you reckon is on that ship?  Felix responds I don't know, but ten silvers says we're not gonna like it when we find out.  Dave nods at this and draws an arrow to be ready.

Arnie, having a flash of insight no one would have expected from him, asks the group at large That stone there - do you think that might be the same as the spike from the mosaic?  The one by the water, with the sorcerer and the tentacle beast nearby?

Dourdoff nods in agreement to Arnie and his observation and says " Hmm, me thinks the fellow here has a good head on his shoulders and me thinks the same. May be we should not stay here long ."

''A ship just waiting on us to stumble down here?'' Zar spits out. ''Has to be enchanted. Probably not a living soul on it. Wouldn't be at all surprised if it isn't here for us, but for certain potential chaos worshippers carrying glowing skulls around on their shovels. Just saying.''

''You might be right there. I'd better go and take a closer look. Sailing on that boat is kind of a committment though I'm not sure I want to make.''

''If you don skulls, you can as well go and take a look what's glowing over there beyond the gloom. 'Posed the ship goes there. In for a penny in for a pound, my granma always said. Of course she'd come to a bad end, there's that.''

As far as Virgil and Milton can tell, their choice is simple: ride the boat or go home.  Yes, a seven-tentacled devourer of virgins might dwell in this dark glass lake, its surface untroubled by wave or wind but its deep roiling with monsters.

"Maybe it only eats virgins," Virgil offers without conviction.

Milton blushes.

"Oh.  Well..."

"We've come too far to go back now," Milton says, and before his courage can fail him he strides into the chilly water, making for the boat.  He recites as he goes, his voice rising in intensity as the water rises up his leg and torso:

"...So eagerly the fiend
Ore bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way,
And swims or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flyes:
At length a universal hubbub wilde
Of stunning sounds and voices all confus'd
Borne through the hollow dark assaults his eare
With loudest vehemence: thither he plyes,
Undaunted to meet there what ever power
Or Spirit of the nethermost Abyss
Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask
Which way the neerest coast of darkness lyes"

"Wait up, Milton!"  Virgil rushes after him, weapon at the ready, eyes scanning for sea monsters.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Fri 09 Aug 2013.

''He, wait!'' Calls Sidd out, and splashes into the waters after Milton and Virgil, holding his shovel high.

''Oh damn it.'' Mumbles Zar, and wades in after them.

Bill and Dourdoff pause for a minute as some of the others wade into the water..
Not so much in fear as there is no need in that cause whatever is here is here, but in maybe a chance to offer help from shore if the need arises..

A thought rattles around inside Finn's head: a moment of clarity really. The tax collector had often heard tales of the wondrous utility of a ten foot pole. Now was just one of those occasions.

"Maybe the lake isn't too deep and we could walk to that ship, yonder?" Lacking a ten-foot pole, Finn approaches the lake and breaks its surface with his long sword. The tax-collector gives it a few exploratory probes to assess its depth, at least near shore.

Bill steps forward and says "Here, I have a 10 foot pole, allow me to check the depth."
Bill then steps out a bit and starts probing with his pole with his left hand

Finn marvels at the appearance of a ten-foot pole. How had he missed such an implement, it was, ten feet tall after all!

Perhaps it was a telescoping affair?

"Handy thing to have, that," Finn comments while watching Bill probe the shore to assess its depth.

A narrow series of steps winding up the surface of the menhir and a mess of spiral-shaped carvings upon it confirms Arnie's suspicion. Curious climbers could ascend.

The cool water soaks through Bill's boots, a frisson spoiled by the drums of sacrifice, villager more like than virgin. Still grinning (so much water!), he splashes forward a few steps and then sounds the lake's depths.

Deep.

Milton and Virgil join him at the shelf where the water reaches their waists and chills them from toe to trunk. Having waded this far, they would have to swim to the boat, with no manner of creeping or flying apparent. They are more, truthfully it must be said, than a little daunted as they are not fiends.

The sands show signs of much disruption with the passage of many malformed and finely feet.

I've got another, Arnie offers.  Maybe we could tie them together.

In reply to Josh (msg # 206):

Bill says to his companions "As can be seen, if we proceed any further from here, we are swimming. I am already wet so its no water off my scales to do so. What do we do as a group?"

"Swim it must be," grumbles Nyll in response to Bill.

Nyll was was not thrilled with the prospect, but what what else was there to do?

Then, a thought occurs to the dwarf, "Wait-a-minute...that mosaic we saw a little while back. That obelisk. There!" he says while stabbing a finger in the air toward the menhir.

The thought may have already occurred to his companions. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Those tentacles...you think they might lie in wait somewhere in that muck?" he asks aloud, to the group in general.

Finn then proffers that it might be a better idea to flush out any potential sea creatures before committing to swimming the short channel. "We could stand here on the shore and throw rocks in the water to see what comes of it?" he reasons aloud.

Seems a reasonable idea, Dave says to the rock-throwing suggestion.  Though if anyone has food to spare, that might work even better.

''Seems to me like a perfect waste of good food,'' mumbles Zar. He decides to go looking up the menhir. It might sport some more illegible runes, or preferable recognizable pictures.

Given that people ought to stand on its top, he looks for a way up and climbs atop the menhir.

''Hey, Sidd! Come up here and wave your unholy shovel! Might also evoke a reaction!'' He calls down.

''Yeah, sure. First damn me and my skull, and then put me to use. That's downright utilitarian, I'd say. Where are your principles?'' Sidd replies grumpliy, but then also climbs on top of the menhir, to give his glowing skull a good waving.

Finn surveys the narrow steps leading up the ancient menhir. If he finds no obvious traps, the tax-collector will carefully ascend the device to determine what lies at its top.

All three of the Red Dwarves stand back and wait to see what happens to the climbers (while also keeping an eye on the ship).  No need to put everyone in the line of danger, if indeed there is danger there.

And the beach party commences in earnest as the beating of the drums promises relaxation and delivers good vibes.

Dave and a buddy toss some bread crumbs into the sea, tempting tidbits for tentacles of the deep, at least in theory. More robustly, Finn and his mate hurl stones into the night where they disappear before splashing out of sight.

Other beach goers bob happily in the water. Vigorous activity is good for the body and the soul! Upon this, Milton and Virgil agree.

On the sands themselves, some make sport hunting shells but discover moons instead.

Sidd and Zar, inseparable after the spearing of Del, propose a hike "to see what can be seen" and further "to make merry atop the menhir." With sure steps, they reach the summit and fill their lungs with the finest of subterranean alpine airs.

The top of the stone has been fashioned into a platform with a shallow bowl having been cut into its center. The bowl is partially filled with hardened wax, and the stub of a red candle sits atop the mounds of wax.

Finn bristles as Sidd an Zar muscle their way past him to reach the top of the menhir first. Had he brought anything to take notes with, he would most certainly take a note to scrutinize their earnings a little closer next year. Perhaps it would never come to be. He could become rich beyond his wildest dreams and never have to do that job again...or, well, he didn't want to think about that right now.

"Hey, wait for me!" he calls out while hurrying along behind them. Once atop, he will suggest lighting the candle. "Perhaps a beacon to call the ship?"

Finn will readily light the candle barring any major objections.

''Yeah, we might do that,'' says Sidd. ''Let's try it this way first...''

He puts his heat-emanating skull next to the candle stump and looks wether there's any reaction. If not he simply sighs and uses flint and steel to light the thing the normal way.

It is a beacon to draw the ship. After the candle is lit, the dragon-boat churns close to shore, the last beat of unmanned oars leaving it beyond the poet and the ascetic.

You can all now board if you choose or chance a free-style crossing.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 216):

Bill and Dourdoff both lick their own lips in anticipation of what may be on this vessel. They both move towards it with the hope of boarding it with little trouble..
 Dourdoff says "Well an here goes me o' dang fool of the o' wooly head getting meself in a spot for sure. Folks o' the rock dont be having no business messing with these waters! Bah!"

Finn watches in wide-eyed wonder as the ship approaches an docks near the shore.

"How's that for service?" he quips aloud before giving the ship a cursory once-over, perhaps searching for potential enemies hiding within. If none are seen, the tax-man will deftly hop over the rail and board the ship.

The nimble man will lend assistance to any who need help getting aboard.

Nyll grumbles something and extends a hand. Time to haul a dwarf aboard. "And the rest of you?" Finn asks aloud while holding out a hand....

OOC: Boarding the ship.

''On we go,'' says Sidd, and boards the ship of doom.

''Are you all mad?'' Zar eclaims. ''Eagerly going on a journey which as well might have no return? In the slaughterhouse above still lie our womenfolk, waiting for us to return and lead them out of this hellhole.''

''What about the locked portal? The riddle of the altar? We might miss things here of vital importance!''

But then he sighs and shrugs. ''Who am I kidding? We'll go anyway.''

And he boards the ship, too.

Felix nudges Zar and says Ain't we supposed to pay a boatman if we want to rescue anyone from a hellhole?  Well, where better to do that than on a boat?

Such talk puts thoughts into Arnie's head, for once not about being eaten alive.  His eyes take on a dreamy look and he says A chance to bring Del back?  Certainly we can at least see what this ship has to offer.  As an afterthought he adds Oh, and I suppose we can save the others too if they're there.

Dave, watching all of this, simply shakes his head and sighs as he follows the rest up the gangplank.

"That is clearly better."

The two poets turn wade back toward the shore, then board the boat with the others.  Most are wet to their knees and they are wet to their armpits, but other than that they're all there together.

Virgil's underground sea beach party ends before the bonfire and burnt offerings to ancient gods; when a dragon ship proffers conveyance to the island of the ragers, the sacrifices can wait.

On board, you discover neither mariners nor a captain. No hands that you can behold hoist the oars that disturb the depths yet the galley-slaves' song you can hear:

Dead longing, sundered evermore from pain:
How dim and sweet the shadow-hearted love,
The happiness that perished lovers prove
In Naat, far beyond the sable main.

A convulsive yearning worms through your hearts for Del! and even for hapless, short and long-fingered Jobb!

All the while the invisible thews of the undead thralls propel the boat forth, their suzerain, graciously, absent. Half way across the lake, the waters roil and froth, the black spew splashing the sailors on the starless sea. Two great tentacles erupt and wave, one on each side of the ship. You can easily imagine them crushing each and every one of you, leaving you lifeless and jellied, only to be raised to lend your hollow lungs to the dirge.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:44, Sat 24 Aug 2013.

"Daenthar help us!" Nyll cries aloud when he first notices the tentacles breaking the surface of the water. Despite being quite startled by the appearance of the monster, the dwarf had expected some sort of trouble after entering the boat and will attempt to smash the creature with his flail in the event it draws close enough.

Finn too will jump to action, though he might not be among the first responders who rush out to engage the beast. He's not trying to get himself killed or anything...

OOC: both characters will attack if they get a chance.

Nyll: 17 (4)
Finn: 8 (4)

18:10, Today: Udly rolled 7,4,17,4 using d20-1,d8-1,d20+1,d6+1 with rolls of 8,5,16,3. attacks: finn/nyll.

Bill gasps as he sees the tentacles pop up out of the water. He draws his sword, mockingly, as he thinks what little damage the sword could do against such a beast and yells to Dourdoff "Hey dwarf, this may be it! Enjoy the ride as fish food!"

Dourdoff snickers at Bill as he draws his mace and yells back "By me hairy bum if n' me to go now then rest assure that me mace will take many o' slab o' meat from this overgrown cod and may it never bugger another again! Bwwaaaaahhh!"

Sidd keeps his calm - or maybe he's begun to loose any connection to the here and now anyway with all the strange things that are happening - and waves his shovel with the blazing skull at the tentacles. The thing hasn't done anything yet, but it is such a weird item, it simply has to reveal some otherworldy use eventually.

A third tentacle joins the other two and surface bubbles promise the arrival of more.

There is quite a bit of aquatic disruption causing the boat to rock and waves to crash. Those not born to the sea might feel uneasy about the gills.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 226):

As the vessel begins to rock and sway on the water, Dourdoff uses his stocky legs and squat frame to steady himself. Being one of short stature races helps him a bit he thinks, keeping his form low and well grounded for now..

Bill on the other hand is not afforded the dwarfs low center of gravity, therefore he keeps his drawn sword firmly in his right hand and uses his left to grope for the nearest bit of rope that is swinging about and holds on for dear life. A spill here would pretty much seal ones fate he thinks..

''In the mosaic...'' Sidd says while gripping a handhold, ''the beastman with the skull sacrificed a maiden to the tentacles in the water...''

''But really, you have to draw a line somewhere. I guess I'd rather drown.''

''Besides the fact I'd shoot you dead with my bow if you were to try sacrificing anyone,'' replies Zar through clenched teeth as he holds on for dear life.

''Nefertiti, you have to promise me that you'll save yourself if we go down!''

''Gack-gaaawk?''

Sidd looks at Zar. Zar looks grimly back.

Sidd says ''Uh. Say. Where's that pig gone to? From what's-his-name? Dead guy?''

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 229):

Dourdoff hears Sidd's question and replies "The slab o' meat stayed in the first entrance we came to."

"This ship cannot carry us to shore quickly enough," Nyll grumbles while watching the flaying tentacles.

To which Finn half-heartedly replies, "Ah, now why'd you have to go and doom us with that sort of talk..."

The tax-man is taking all this in with apparent aplomb. It really was more serious than he let on.

OOC: just taking in the scenery until such time action is needed.

A moment before he can stiffen the sinews and summon up the blood, Virgil's face falls.  This is far more than he had bargained for.  "What is a just man to do, Milton?  In the face of overwhelming opposition, with no promise of success, I  mean?  Is this when we call one last time on our household gods, set our faces like flint, and seek a death that would make our fathers proud, since we will have no sons to honor us?"

Milton is sitting on his chest, right arm lashed into the rigging, left arm wiping the vomit from his mouth.  He looks positively green, but other than that he wears only his usual melancholy.  "This has always been our condition, Virgil.  Today we see the monster, but he was always there, under the surface.  Let us place our hope in the strength of one far greater than we, then do what we may."

For Milton, "what we may" is not much.  Try to keep his puke sluiced off the deck, mostly.  But Virgil nods, raises his sword, and waits to strike should the tentacles comes near.

Virgil's readied attack roll = 7, miss
This message was last edited by the player at 21:52, Mon 26 Aug 2013.

The tax-collector rolls his eyes and sighs, "Shh...no more talk of death, Milton, lest you wish to tempt Ahriman to grant such a thing." Finn stabs his thumb into his chest, "Me, I am trying to live."

Probably everyone felt the same in that regard; he just wanted to make sure the Gods knew it. Not that they would take that into consideration, but still.

Dave has been trying to line up a shot at one of the tentacles, but it's hard when the boat won't stay still like a proper piece of land.  Eventually he decides he has aimed as well as he's going to, and lets fly an arrow.

Arnie has quickly retreated to the hold, deciding he'd rather stick it out with the ghostly rowers for now than try his luck with the tentacles.

Felix, sharing some of Dourdoff's advantage of low center of mass (albeit with less mass overall to stabilize him) does his best to stay in one spot on the main deck.  He has a sharpened awl in one hand, waiting for one of the tentacles to get close enough for him to strike.

Josh rolled 11 using 1d20. Dave missile attack.

The fourth tentacular eruption -- 75 feet, it could be! -- lifts the dragon boat out of the water, and it becomes airborne for a stomach-wrenching aeon before it returns to the lake with a resounding SMACK!

You can only reasonably conclude that passivity will engender your destruction. You have to treat with these tentacles in some manner. Surely, you're not the first to cross these waters beneath a starless sky. The lighting of the candle, the boarding of the ship, it's all rather ritualistic.

You're going to have to offer it something or pacify it in some way.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 235):

It dawns on Bill that maybe just riding it out on this vessel isn't going to cut the cheese so to speak.. He decides to move to the next lower level to have a look around, for what he doesn't exactly know, but maybe in hopes of finding something that may appease the beast of the sea of get it to leave. He tells Dourdoff "Hey dwarf, hang tight if ya want to, I am heading down a level to see if anything of interest lies below that may get us some headway with this creature of the sea. Or you can come along if you like. It matters not to me."
With that said , Bill lets go of his rope and heads to the nearest ladder he can see that leads down to the next level..

"Shake the glowing soul over the water!" Finn shouts to his companions. "The mosaic showed what looked like blood drops coming from the skull staff. Maybe that will placate the beast?"

He wasn't sure it would work, but it was worth a try. He is also not opposed to offering his own blood sacrifice, perhaps cutting a finger or some such?

''Oh well, here goes my best shot.'' Sidd harrumphs.

Then he stomps his shovel's business end on the ship's planks and rattles the skull on its top, holding it high in the air.

''Great beast of Chaos! We are all travellers on the starless sea, heading towards the lands of the dead! Let us pass! We survived the well and the chapel. We won the trial by combat. And now we are here! Let us pass! We bring gifts of idols!''

''Whoever of you took the rat idol, and maybe the frog, throw it in! Now!''

''We bring the sacrifice of live animals!''

''Zar, that's Nef. Give her up!''

''Never!''

''Aah. Ok. No gift of live animals then. But we have myrrh! And incense!''

Sidd quickly fumbles around with the censer and the incense in his possession, filling one into the other, and lighting it all with his flint and stone. For good measure he also fills some incense into the skull.

''Here! Ah, the smell of the gods. No, Chaos, I mean! And notice I am carrying your robe, and I am carrying your skull, and now I am waving your censer! Let us pass!''

Upon hearing his cue, Felix scrambles to produce the idol he picked up earlier and toss it ceremoniously into the dark sea.

The dragon boat holds no more than the souls of the phantom rowers, Bill discovers. That and some residual ash.

The stone idol drops unceremoniously into the sea moments after Felix's awl does the same, having sailed past its intended.

Meanwhile or betimes or just before, Sidd ignites a cone of incense after having filled all available receptacles, including, outrageously, the skull from the pool in the Dread Hall. Twisting plumes of purple and gray smoke issue copiously forth. Quickly, the wafting tendrils infiltrate the whole of the environment. The air is alive with the scent of chaos: an over-ripened ginger, saffron, and myrrh melange.

Such is the stuff of ceremonies and sacrifices.

And, thus, acknowledging the age-old pact, the leviathan tenderly places its tentacles at Sidd's feet, before sliding back beneath the waves with nary a ripple.

With no further interruption, the boat completes the passage in sublime fashion

The island draws closer, revealing the source of the golden glow: a towering ziggurat, with burning light radiating from within the sliver-thin cracks between its massive stone blocks.

A wide ramp circles the edifice, sloping to the top of the temple. Hordes of beastmen crowd the ramp, howling to the darkness, hammering on massive hide drums and pushing a terrified string of prisoners to the ziggurat’s glowing peak. High atop the temple, you
can make out a fearsome silhouette of an enormous armored figure, wreathed in infernal smoke lit from below.

The boat has not yet landed; you have time to scheme for your lives.

The Brothers of Another Mother watcht he scene in utter disbelief, their mouths hanging dumbly open as they take in the spectacle before them.

"Anyone have any ideas?" Nyll finally asks aloud to the assembled group, "Because I have nothing..." he adds after a brief pause.

To which, Finn responds: "we could dress up in those robes and try to fit in..."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:03, Thu 05 Sept 2013.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 240):

As the vessel nears the approaching shore and spectacle Dourdoff says " I'll be the hairy bum of a north bound jack, seems we have got in a pinch o' the making for a mighty sing along and ale salute."
As Bill ascends the stairs from the empty hold , and witnesses the looming shoreline danger to come , he quickly ducks down and whispers as loud as he can at Dour and company "Maybe we can slip off unseen along the shore at waters edge just as the vessel banks. It would be better than being trapped aboard the ship with the tentacles at our backs. What say you? I'm not for battling numerous beastmen on the vessel."

Zar's eyes seem to pierce Sidd. ''Who has just sold his soul to a bunch of slimy tentacles? Eh?! Who did?!''

Sidd is humming and hawing a bit, weirdly touched by the sight of the terrible tentacle patting the ship's deck near his feet, but then his mouth goes slack and hangs open as he takes in the sight beyond Zar's shoulders (and accusing glare).

''We are so screwed...''

''No! You are screwed! Damned!''

''No, we are. Take a look behind you...''

''What are you... oh... damn.''

Sidd knocks his shovel hard on the ship's wood and cries ''Turn around! Turn around you stupid thing of lumber! Turn around!''

Zar and Sidd begin to look frantically for the ship's rudder.

Dave ponders for a moment, surprisingly calm (at least on the exterior) and says Well, we satisfied the tentacle beast.  Maybe they'll think that means we're on their side?  If we can keep the skull smoking they might even think we're part of the ceremony, and then we can head right over to the prisoners and... I don't know, do something.

After another moment of thought he decides to try draping his kudu pelt over himself in a way to suggest, if not that he actually is a beastman, then at least that he belongs with them.

"It's worth a shot," Nyll replies. "Maybe we can find another way in...you know, a secret door or some such?"

Assuming the others agree, and after safely sneaking up to a hidden lower part of the temple, Nyll will use his dwarf stonesense to search for a secret door which might allow an alternate entry point.

OOC: The idea would be to sneak around maybe the back of the temple, where there are not a horde of beast-men milling about, then take some time to look for a secret door.

''That will never work...'', Zar muses. ''Except...''

''They will expect someone to arrive on that ship. So someone has to. And can distract them, too! Maybe someone... with a robe. A skull. And a censer.''

Sidd pales considerably. ''Er...''

"Which brings us back to my original idea: perhaps our robed, skull-staff wielding Chaos-loving volunteer is escorting a new batch of thralls?" Nyll chimes in.

He uses his index and ring finger to make a walking gesture, "Except when they get to the top..." he balls up his fist and punches his hand for emphasis, "we strike the leader!"

"Or we just sneak in the back," Nyll adds hopefully. "Either way, Zar's idea has merit."

"Whatever it be we need to decide soon," Nyll says while gesturing to the approaching shore.

In reply to Udly (msg # 247):

Bill addresses the group of friends he has made and says "Yes I agree we need to act quickly as the shore looms closer. If all of you want to sneak off in one direction, I will approach the figure head on and draw all attention on myself. Let the cards lay where they may. I have lived a fully life but yet I grow weary of this journey and will make my last stand meaningful if need be."

Realities there must be wherein the goat-headed reveler surmises that the newly arrived train of prisoners has only been affecting a downtrodden mien, and the "prisoners" truly become prisoners, until they reach their full potential as sacrifices.

This is not one of those realities.

With Sidd in full chaos regalia and Dave in his partial kudu get-up, the emissaries from One Thousand Sands wind their way around and around the temple (there being no entrance on the lowest level). There's one at the top but that's never willingly taken.

The peak of the temple is dominated by a vast, smoking pit that glows with a hellish light. A mighty beastman hoists an effigy of a fearsome armored figure high into the swirling clouds as the prisoners are hurled screaming, one after another, into the pit. A trio of snarling beastmen upends woven baskets, pouring thousands of coins in after your fellow villagers, producing gouts of hissing smoke and flame! All about you is the thundering cacophony of drums and bestial howls as the bizarre ritual nears its climax!

Sidd's skull throbs with ineffable rage, scorching his fingertips and flashing a white-hot crimson, with each primal howl of "Mo Lan ... Mo Lan."

In a low voice, Nyll addresses his companions, "Think we can make it to the shaman before the others figure out what's going on?"

The dwarf's muscles tense in anticipation of the coming charge. If they could just take out the leader...

In reply to Udly (msg # 250):

Dourdoff tightens his grip on his mace and says to the companions "That sounds o' like a fine plan to me.. Me mace is wanting a little beastie blood and guts on it anyhows and we owes them a whopping from all the loss of our other fallen I say"

As the ritual scene comes into view, complete with its impossible odds and no clear path forward, Milton remarks with his implacable flatness, "Well, we wanted to find prisoners, and we've found them.  Success."

He has nothing to say when they are hurled into the glowing pit.

But Virgil's jaw clenches, and his eyes burn for revenge.  It's all he can do to keep his wrists together, as though they were bound, and as though Sidd and Dave were their captors.  He nods to Bill, of the same stoic mindset as he.  If the two of them can get near the shaman, at the very least all three tumble into the pit, and hopefully just the shaman.

OOC: So the plan is to get to the top as though we're about to be thrown in by Sidd and Dave, get positioned near the shaman, then pitch him in and see what happens? 

Dave makes a show of pushing the others around a bit and grunting when he's within earshot of any actual beastmen.

Felix walks with the group, doing the whole prisoner bit about as much as everyone else around him.

Arnie is very convincing in his portrayal of a prisoner on the way to who knows what awful fate.  Specifically, he is vocally afraid of going up the hill and isn't just acting when Dave has to shove him to make him move forward more than a few inches.

As the whole group nears the end of their climb, Dave looks around and then whispers to Virgil Sure, sounds good mate.  While you do that, I'll turn around and shoot anyone who tries to follow us up here.

Sensing the moment may be upon him, Nyll rushes forward, flail raised in a striking position:

"By Grum's Hammer, I shall smite you!" he roars while charging one of the beast-men atop the stairs.

"Oh hell," Finn calls out in exasperation. Yet, he too finds the call of battle stirring within. Not to be outdone by his blood brother, Finn also charges.

"Now's the time boys!" he cries aloud.

Well, you can't fault them for effort...but both attacks leave a lot of be desired in terms of effectiveness.

17:02, Sun 08 Sept 2013: Udly rolled 7,2,5,6 using d20-1,d8-1,d20+1,d6+1 ((8,3,4,5)).

Zar really doubts that they will get past the two beastmen on top of the ramp without anyone finally noticing that those 'prisoners' are pretty well armed under their rags. Anyway, things are taken out of their hands as Nyll and Finn charge.

It's time to act!

Drawing the bow he has pressed to his body under the cloak, Zar prays to the gods. The one god actually. They will surely all die, he has no delusions in this regard, but they HAVE to stop what is happening here. No summoning of Chaos gods on his watch.

''I stand with what's right. I will bar the way of Chaos! No sacrifice of people ANYMORE!''

His arrow flies true, aiming for an eye - and is deflected by the beastman's horn as it rears its head.

11:01, Today: Levkojen rolled 9 using 1d20+1. Zar shoots bow.


Sidd grips his shovel and takes a couple of steps down. His father has always said, 'Sidd,' he'd said, 'don't ever shovel a dig that's over your head.'

Oh well, it's pretty much too late for that now.

Swinging his burning and glaring evil skull in an arc, he tries to bluff off the beastmen down the stairs and screams. ''MO LAN... is rising! ... NOW! ... And I am his chosen Priest! ... HAH! Feel his presence! REJOICE!''

Dourdoff with mace in hand, along with Bill who draws his longsword , charge with their comrades up the steps and position themselves to strike and aid their friends when the opportunity presents itself..


19:58, Today: Dourdoff rolled 7 using 1d20. Dourdoff Initiative Roll.
19:57, Today: Dourdoff rolled 8 using 1d20-1. Bill Initiative roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Tue 10 Sept 2013.

C'mon big guy, Felix says to Arnie as the charge begins.  Do it for that crazy girl of yours.  He then runs up the ramp, past the two beastman guards, and straight toward the nearest acolyte.  After a second to steel himself, Arnie follows close behind.  Both have drawn their weapons on the way, and they try to coordinate a fancy maneuver, with the halfling striking at the acolyte's knees while Arnie goes for a high strike that will hopefully bowl their target over.

Meanwhile, Dave turns around, draws his bow and an arrow, and shoots the nearest beastman behind the group.

Josh rolled 13,17 using d20+1,d20. attacks. (Felix, Arnie)
  Josh rolled 2 using 1d4. damage. (Arnie only - I don't know if Felix hit, or what the damage rating is for a crowbar)

Josh rolled 14 using 1d20. attack. (Dave)
  Josh rolled 5 using 1d6. damage.

Josh rolled 5,9,5 using d20,d20+1,d20+1. initiative - D, A, F.

Virgil rushes for the shaman, avoiding acolytes as best he can.  Milton, meanwhile, turns to brain another one of the beastmen behind the group.

Virgil full turn to reach shaman.

Milton attack beastman immediately behind party with Crowbar: att=16, dmg=6.

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg # 258):

Dourdoff and Bill both hone in on the nearest Beastman and both attack. Dour, using his short stature , takes a swing at the creatures legs with his mace while Bill moves in for a forward lunging stab with his longsword at its midsection..

19:54, Today: Dourdoff rolled 21 using 1d20+1. Dourdoff Mace Attack Roll.
19:53, Today: Dourdoff rolled 2 using 1d6+1. Dourdoff Mace Damage Roll.
19:57, Today: Dourdoff rolled 3 using 1d4. Dourdoff Crit Roll.
20:01, Today: Dourdoff rolled 3 using 1d6. Dourdoff Crit Damage (d3).
(OOC) So essentially a 1 since I rolled a d6 and divide by 2 since the dice roller does not have a d3


19:59, Today: Dourdoff rolled 3 using 1d20. Bill Longsword Attack Roll.
19:59, Today: Dourdoff rolled 1 using 1d8. Bill Longsword Damage Roll.

shaman (4) engaged with Virgil (1) (a full turn to reach)
acolyte (19) -- pit -- acolyte (19) (close range)
Felix (9) and Arnie (9)

top of ramp -- two beastmen engaged with Finn (5) and Nyll (5)
15' down -- party in its marching order but with Sidd in the front

Sidd (14)        
Bill (9)
Zar (14)
Dave (7)  and a beastman
Dour (7)  Milton (1)

immediately behind party -- two beastmen (19)
behind them -- hordes of beastmen

With a crushing blow of his crowbar, Milton spills the brains of a big-headed bull-faced rager just as Dave's shaft finds a sweet spot between the ribs of another. Then, Dour descends the ramp to fell the last of the three beastmen just behind the infidels. That's you. You're the infidels.

At the top of the ramp, Felix and Arnie overwhelm one of the three acolytes. It seems unlikely that he will be reincarnated two thousand years hence during a religious revival.

The tide of the chaos-born surges up the ramp, sweeping along Dour and Milton towards their ineluctable doom (Dour and Milton are grabbed and will be carried 15 feet up the ramp unless they pass a DC 15 str test) (On the PC’s own turn, he can do nothing but attempt to escape the grapple with another Strength check).

The two surviving acolytes turn from the villagers at the lip of the pit and lacerate the jugulars of the two last brothers of another mother. Slumping to the ground, they cover their bare necks and count their last breaths.

Atop the ziggurat, at its very apogee, verily, the shaman howls at Virgil's intrusion. He raises the effigy even higher then before, faces, the pit, and cries out "Mo-Lan." To the night or to the effigy, you're not sure (Shaman has not actually acted given his low init).

Sensing this might be his only chance, Omm calls out to the other shackled villagers, "Now is our chance! Fight Man, Fight!"

Using whatever slack he is given, even if he has to drag a man on either side with him, Omm surges forward and rams into one of the acolytes, hoping to send the Cleric of Chaos hurtling into the pit.

16:56, Today: Udly rolled 17 using 1d20. Push acolyte .
This message was last edited by the player at 03:02, Sun 15 Sept 2013.

Invigorated by the action (and their relative success), all of the red dwarves push on.  Yes, even Arnie.  He and Felix run to the next acolyte, hoping to repeat their successful tactic and avenge at least one of the brothers' deaths.

Dave, seeing Milton and Dourdoff getting swept up by the crowd, tries to trip one of the beastmen carrying them (with the goal being to free one of them, or at least make it easier to free themselves).  Inspired by his mediocre disguise, he throws in a shout of Mo-lan! for the hell of it.

Josh rolled 15,14 using d20,d20+1. attacks - A, F.
  2 damage for Arnie (+1 in the die roller was a mistake), 6 for Felix

Josh rolled 10 using 1d20. Dave trip.
  I don't know how trips work here, but that's a 9 if it's based on Str and 10 if it's based on Ag
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:17, Mon 16 Sept 2013.

Dour uses his strong arms, honed through many years of swinging his mining pick, to break free of his captors grapple..

Bill takes another swing with his Longsword a the nearest Beastman. He grunts as he swings for the weapon is starting to feel heavy in his hands..


21:58, Yesterday: Dourdoff rolled 9 using 1d20. Bill Longsword Attack .
21:58, Yesterday: Dourdoff rolled 1 using 1d8. Bill Longsword Damage .
21:57, Yesterday: Dourdoff rolled 20 using 1d20. Dourdoff Strength Check .

Zar looses another arrow at the beastmen at the top. The shaman if he can get a free line, but otherwise any beastman will have to suffice. Doesn't really matter, since even if Zar's motivation is beyond doubt, his accuracy unfortunately is lacking.

It occurs to Sidd that his talents are wasted where he is.
''You are actually on our side, aren't you?'' He says to the burning skull on his shovel with endearing tones.
''Then let's see what we can do together to end this travesty!''

With sure stride Sidd approaches the pit, ignoring the beastmen left and right, and engaging directly the huge beastman shaman.

''I and my shovel, we'll have some words with you!'' Sidd says sternly. Finally all his years of whacking moles pay off. Finally the sacrificed skull gets his own bit of revenge. Because the shovel, skull and all, connects soundly with the beast lord's face.
''Take that! For the pride of A Thousand Sands! And all humanity!''


15:11, Today: Levkojen rolled 4 using 1d4. dmg.
15:11, Today: Levkojen rolled 17 using 1d20. Sidd shovel vs shaman.
15:05, Today: Levkojen rolled 5 using 1d20+1. Zar shoots shaman.

Hapless Milton struggles and writhes, but he cannot escape the filthy claws and grasping paws of the beastmen.  They carry him, held aloft, to the edge of the pit.  Milton's luck has run out, and he resigns himself to the hard dictates of Providence.  Had he not eschewed all papist ceremonies and symbols, now would be the time to cross himself.

Unexpectedly, his luck changes at the very edge of disaster.  One of the beastmen turns his ankle on a loose rock and falls to his knee.  Being a slightly pudgy poet, Milton proves too heavy for the rest.  They drop him, and so there he is, right at the edge of the roiling dark pit, where Virgil and the shaman grapple in the flickering shadow, neither able to force the other down to the chaos gods below.

Surely Milton has burnt all his luck and has none left.  Still, a man must do what he may, so Milton throws his doughy weight against the beastman shaman.

Unexpectedly, impossibly, it works.

Milton STR check vs DC 15 = 8, burn 7 luck = 15.  Luck now = 4.
Virgil push shaman in pit = 14
Milton push shaman in pit = 20 (critical success!)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:08, Wed 18 Sept 2013.

shaman (4 (-3)) engaged with Virgil (1) (a full turn to reach) -- Molan (15, acts next round)
Sidd (14) -- pit -- Felix (9) and Arnie (9)
top of ramp -- two beastmen engaged (5) with Milton (1)
Bill (9)
Zar (14)
beastman
Dour (7)

immediately behind party -- five beastmen (19)
behind them -- perhaps a platoon of beastmen

In another time and in another place, the distance between Sidd and the shaman might be described as being "a bridge too far." Thus Sidd reaches only one of the acolytes who receives the full fury of his shovel. Upon connecting with the cultist, the skull explodes in a blast of fame (2 dmg to Sidd; a DC 12 Reflex check for no dmg).

Before Omm can throttle the other acolyte, Felix and Arnie fall upon him. There is a lot of bloodspray. It's sticky and warm and stains hard to reach places. Omm remains fettered to other hapless villagers, tottering before the fires of hell for that they must be.

After freeing himself from something entirely too hairy, Milton kicks away furiously as if he were swimming. Defying physics, he sends his captor into the pit (so as not to entirely waste that 20). Luckless man that he his, the two beastmen who just wetted their claws grapple with him. One hoists him above the pit (DC 15 str check to avoid DOOM).

Somewhere in the middle of that Dave dies. Nobody really notices.

Meanwhile, Tyche smiles on Dour. Four arms fail to ferry him to the flames (2 grabs miss).

As much as Virgil would love to spill the shaman into the pit (as the acolytes had been spilling baskets of moons not moments before), he settles for whipping his flail across his face (3 dmg to shaman). Unhesitatingly, the cult leader howls to the subterranean night and pitches the effigy into the pit, joining molten gold and melted flesh.

The effigy bursts into flame, magically drawing in the flesh and gold-steeped magma. Animated by the spirit of the chaos lord, the glowing effigy emerges from the magma, rapidly cooling into a hardened, blackened form. Then, the rock crust shatters, revealing the fully-armored body of the chaos lord: a hellish, horned humanoid, with a single, cyclopean eye that blazes with infernal light. Molan emerges from his unholy forge and strides into battle, hammering down foes with his triple-headed spiked flail. The skull-faced chaos lord eagerly fights to the death, madly reveling in the destruction of life.

A new chaos lord is born!

Well, not exactly.

Mohan, brother of Felan, is reborn!
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:41, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Frustrated by his present state of immobility, Omm takes out his aggression on any beast-man or acolyte who is within reach. If he can drag the other captives with him, he will, otherwise he will fight in place. Better to go out like a lion, if one has their druthers.

With that thought in mind, Omm flails the loose section of his chain at the newly hatched, thing, and wallops it good over the head. But would it be enough to take it down?

OOC: Well, I rolled a crit, for whatever that's worth. Couldn't find unarmed damage anywhere in the book.


16:42, Today: Udly rolled 4 using 1d6+2. chain dmg.

16:26, Today: Udly rolled 2 using 1d3. bonus damage.

16:25, Today: Udly rolled 3 using 1d4+2. Crit.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:44, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Sidd stares in awe as the skull literally explodes in flames - and seems to be unable to move an inch to save himself. Alas, the skull does belong to a sacrficied victim of earlier times. As if to say sorry, its flames gush left and right of Sidd, but somehow manage to miss Sidd himself. Must be fate.

OOC: Sidd burns three Luck to make the save. Reducing him to Luck 10.

Feeling like having won a new chance at life, Sidd smashes his shovel into the face of another beastman. ''We will not be overcome!''

OOC: Wee! One damage!

Zar aims very carefully an arrow at the reborn Chaos Lord, or whatever that creature is, but then he's shoved by someone and the arrow just harmlessly falls onto the ground. ''The hell... Nef, pick it up quick!''

''Gaaaawk?''


12:33, Today: Levkojen rolled 1 using 1d4. dmg.
12:33, Today: Levkojen rolled 15 using 1d20. Sidd shovels a beatman.
12:29, Today: Levkojen rolled 2 using 1d20+1. Zar shoots bow at Molan.
12:29, Today: Levkojen rolled 9 using 1d20. Sidd Reflex save to avoid skull death.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:43, Sun 22 Sept 2013.

Having shaken loose from his captors for the moment, Dourdoff yells "By me hairy bum ye fools! If n' ye think for one durn minute ye going to be tossing me about like me daughters rag doll, think again! Bah!"
As he yells, Dourdoff swings again with his mace, at the leg of the nearest assailant . Hoping to immobilize the creature..
08:33, Today: Dourdoff rolled 15 using 1d20+1. Dourdoff Mace Attack Roll.
08:33, Today: Dourdoff rolled 2 using 1d6+1. Dourdoff Mace Damage Roll.

As Bill hears Dour's tirade, he tightens his grip on his longsword and thinks to himself that there has to be a better way to go about things than constantly missing. Still, with no apparent resolution is sight, he grits his teeth and launches another swing at the nearest Beastman.
08:34, Today: Dourdoff rolled 10 using 1d20. Bill Longsword Attack Roll.
08:34, Today: Dourdoff rolled 7 using 1d8. Bill Longsword Damage Roll.

Dave probably shouts some dramatic last words as the mob bowls him over.  No one hears though.  Tragic.

Oblivious to their friend's demise, Arnie and Felix see a new target for their so-far successful tactic.  They look at each other, then back at the chaos lordling.  Arnie says On three - one!  Um, two.  Um, ah...  After an awkwardly silent beat or two, Felix shouts Three! and pushes Arnie into a run.  Arnie is too hesitant in his charge and only attacks by way of giving Molan a nervous hello.  Felix, however, manages a good shot to the ankle.

Josh rolled 4,19 using d20,d20+1. attacks - A, F.
  Josh rolled 3 using 1d6+1. damage.

Milton was sure he had that infernal shaman, but one of the fanatic beastmen leaped in between them and tumbled into the pit in the shaman's place.  Other hands grasp them, and this time the inept jester is powerless to avoid them.  As he is dragged to the edge of the pit, the beatific vision comes over him one more time.  He shouts his final lines.

"Eternity, whose end no eye can reach!
Greatly instructed I shall hence depart.
Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill
Of knowledge, what this Vessel can contain!"

His calls his last words to Virgil as he is pitched over the edge of the pit.  "Fill the vessel, Virgil!  Fill it!"

In Virgil's tearful distress, his wild swing is all power and no aim.

Virgil attack Shaman: 12, damage: 9
This message was last edited by the player at 01:38, Thu 26 Sept 2013.

Virgil (1) -- Molan (1, -9) engaged with Omm, Sidd, Felix, and Arnie
-- pit
top of ramp -- two beastmen (5)
Bill (9)
Zar (14)
2 beastmen (-2)
Dour (7) engaged with two beastmen

immediately behind party -- four beastmen (19)
behind them -- perhaps a platoon of beastmen

Omm wallops Molan with a section of chain still slick with the sweat of captives (6 dmg to the reborn chaos lord)

Sidd joins Omm in assaulting Molan, rattling one of his extended spikes (1 dmg to Molan).

Dourduff and Bill battle on, wounding one of their tusked assailants (2 dmg to beastman).

Virgil obliterates the shaman, but had he more wisdom, he might have struck the head rather than the hand.

Insanely, even with their lord risen, the beastmen surge forth to hurl humans into the pit. One grabs Dour (DC 15 Str check to avoid being born to the lip of the pit), and two snake-tongued cultists rudely hoist Zar as well (DC 17 Str check to avoid being born to the lip of the pit).

Stunned at his rude reception, Molan bangs his head repeatedly. Refreshed, he smacks Arnie with his bangin' triple-headed flail...

...and Arnie survives (2 dmg to Arnie). Maybe he's got a little halfling in him after all.

Spurred on by what little momentum they had gained, Omm whips his chain at Molan once more. Unfortunately, this attack is not as effective as the last.

20:28, Today: Udly rolled 10,7 using d20+2,d6+2 with rolls of 8,5. attack BBEG.

Edit: Burn 2 Luck to Hit AC12
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Thu 03 Oct 2013.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 272):

Dourdoff squeals like a pig headed to the spit. In fact he may be this time. The stocky dwarf tries in vain to break free again from the powerful grip, yet this time it seems they have latched on like a summer tick. Still the dwarf grunts, and strains to wiggle loose from his captors grip. The edge of the pit looms closer. This will more than likely hurt the dwarf thinks....

05:06, Today: Dourdoff rolled 9 using 1d20+1. Dourdoff Strength Check.


Bill grunts. The con artists' arms are heavy. First chance he gets, if he gets any at all, he thinks to himself to ditch this heavy longsword. No time for that now. He plugs away like a madman cutting cords of wood for the long winter with another downward swipe of the big blade....


05:36, Today: Dourdoff rolled 14 using 1d20+2. Bill Longsword Attack Roll.
05:07, Today: Dourdoff rolled 8 using 1d8. Bill Longsword Damage Roll.
(OOC: Burned 2 points of Luck for attack Roll Modifier)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:56, Wed 02 Oct 2013.

Sidd rams his burning head, or what remains of it after the explosion, into the chaos lord. Alas, Sidd is somewhat of a pushover, all considered, and when all's said and done a shovel is still only a shovel. Doesn't matter! At least he proves that his spirit is unconquerable!

Another 1 dmg for Molan!

Zar is helpless in the strong paws of the beastmen. However, in the last possible moment Nef flies on of his captors right in the face, screeching like the hen of hell! And that's enough of a distraction for Zar to save himself.

Zar is burning three Luck to survive. From Luck 13 down to 10.

16:56, Today: Levkojen rolled 1 using 1d4-1. dmg.
16:56, Today: Levkojen rolled 12 using 1d20-1. Sidd attacks Molan.
16:56, Today: Levkojen rolled 14 using 1d20-1. Zar Str check.

Four engaged with the chaos lord, three with the beastmen, still threatening to pitch more friends in as sacrifice.  Not thinking he can reach the beastmen in time, Virgil turns his attention to the reborn Molan.

Virgil attack roll = 9, dmg = 6

You bastard! Arnie shouts as he clutches his head.  That really hurt!  He stabs at Molan again with his trowel, hoping to return the favor, but he's still too dizzy from that hit to aim right.  Little Felix does better though, smashing his crowbar into the back of the chaos lord's legs.

Josh rolled 3,16 using d20,d20+1. attacks - A, F.
  Josh rolled 5 using 1d6+1. damage.

For the first time in his inordinately stout life, Dour feels weightless in the abyss above the pit. Below him he sees the yawning well of chaos churning with hissing and popping magma, the last screams of the villagers still resonating in the air around him.

And he falls but not directly into the fire; instead he tumbles through the air toward the lip of the well (DC 10 reflex save to fall on the right side of the well).

For Molan, so recently reborn, has fallen, his nascent form being able to withstand only so many blows: first, the whip of Omm's chain; then the ping of Sidd's shovel; and finally the crush of Felix's crowbar. With him falls his triple-headed flail and his demon armor. On the ground at the very height of the ziggurat, Molan deliquesces and streams hissingly into his fetal bath.

A low rumble rolls through the cavern, building to a deafening roar. Massive stone slabs peel away from the cavern’s ceiling and fall into the sea. Waves crash up the sides of the ziggurat, even as sizzling magma seeps through the seams in the stone blocks.

The remaining beastmen fling themselves after Molan, or, if they're closer to the stairs, off the temple entirely. They don't pause to scoop up the spillage of silver and gold.

Notes: Omm had to burn 3 pts of luck to hit Molan's AC of 13; Bill did not have to burn any luck to hit the beastman's AC of 12; and this is Round 1 after the Molan's melting.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:06, Sun 13 Oct 2013.

In reply to Autarch (msg # 278):

Dourdoff falls, flinging his short legs and arms wildly, as if he could fly like the pheasants of the grassy meadows, hoping to alter his course, to catch the lip of the well and not take a liquid hot magma bath..

14:34, Today: Dourdoff rolled 4 using 1d20-1. Dourdoff Reflex Save.


Bill struggles with his breathing as he is worn out tired from swinging a longsword that has to weigh more than any plow he has ever harnessed to the farm mule..
This message was last edited by the player at 19:39, Sun 13 Oct 2013.

"Someone," Omm cries out aloud, "strike these bonds so that I might fight unfettered!"

The captive is of course referring to the chains and shackles. If nobody steps forward to assist, Omm will stand ready to flail at a beast-man, acolyte, or any other foe within reach.

Arnie and Felix, having had their fill of the worse part of valor, now go for the better part.  Arnie pulls out the two segments of the collapsible 10-foot pole,* quickly puts them together, and then starts swinging at all of the beastmen, not with the intention of wounding them but just to encourage them to get out of the way (and if some fall into the lava, then so much the better).  As he does so, Felix shouts Come on to the rest of the villagers and adventurers, then starts running down the slope, squeezing between the legs of the larger creatures when this seems like the thing to do.

---------------------
*how else would he have been carrying it through the dungeon this whole time without it getting in the way?

Zar spends precious seconds on securing the precious Hen of the Nile. ''Nef! You have saved me from certain death in searing lava!''
''Oops,'' he adds, as Dour sails past, but there's nothing much he can do.

Sidd meanwhile sits down at the crater's edge. They have won. Unbelievingly so. Now he can die in peace and welcome life in his new reincarnation...

''Get up, you fool! The others are leaving! Though whether our ship will still sail I heavily doubt.''

Sidd sighs, gets up, and stumbles after Zar and the rest of the villagers down the slope of the mountain, to see whether they can make their way out of this hellborn Chaos-bound nightmare of a landscape.

Arnie and Felix, Sidd and Zar, they careen down the path. The water of the starless sea splashes them with its cool darkness as they jump over splits in the steps from which magma seeps. From above, more slabs falls and then crash, sending fragments of stone whizzing past the runners.

It is the end of the world as you know it.

Heedless, Bill swings his sword at phantom enemies; for him the battle still rages and his engines still burn. The cultists, one and all, have leaped to their dooms, fiery or watery.

Virgil stands there beside Bill. He won't die a screaming madman.

And there is Omm, a giant among men, bound in chains, screaming to the night. The night screams back, spewing more stones, regurgitating itself.

Round 2 after the felling of Molan

In reply to Autarch (msg # 283):

Exhausted from his swinging, it dawns on Bill that the enemies are gone for now. As the magma spews and rock overhead tumbles down, he realizes that his remaining friends are heading back down and he should too. With little breath to spare, and a heavy heart , he makes his way down the steps with the remainder of his companions..

Arnie and Felix continue running back down and toward the strange ship.  One or the other of them periodically looks back to make sure the others are following.  They might should an encouraging word, but at this point their heroics are exhausted and they are unlikely to actually turn back without a very good reason.

Omm struggles to run while chained, perhaps dragging those he is connected to, along for the ride. "Run, man. Run!" he exhorts to a nearby villager who has tripped in a coil of chain.

He will attempt to follow on the heels of those headed toward the ship. He has no intention of allowing himself to slip into the void. Not without a fight!

Zar doesn't look back to the devastation - they are in some realm of the dead anyway, and not in the real world. Where they might not be able to get back to. Doubtfully he gauges the ensorcelled sea. For all he knows a sip might make them forget all they know, like in some mythic tale. No, swimming is out of question.

The ship it is. Or has to be.

''Let us board the ship! And hope for the best.''

Zar and Sidd try to climb back unto the magic ship again, if it lets them, and help the wounded and the chained.

In reply to Levkojen (msg # 287):

The ship is as good a idea as any Bill thinks as well. He is in tow with the others and heads to board the ship...

Once again you become sailors on the starless sea. With consecrated passengers aboard, the dragon boat churns the churning waters, making for the far beach, with its passage to the stairs. Already you can imagine your feet flying up the stone steps, taking you to the courtyard of the ruins above -- away from the hissing explosions. For as the ziggurat collapses, the lava erupts and the sky falls.

Too much sky falls to the ship's port side. It gives birth to a wave of tidal proportions which lifts the vessel on watery wings. You feel light in the embrace of the subterranean air. You decide, in your own separate ways, that this cannot end well, this sailing through the cavern with improbable celerity.

You make your peace with the void, except for the newborn halfling, who screams as all do during birth, the extension of his toes being more than he can bear.

And there is more void, more than any of you can bear, until you each succumb to your own night.

<<End Sailors of the Starless Sea>>

<<Sailors of the Starless Sea Timeline>>

The party bypasses the front entrance and instead gains access to the courtyard by traversing the collapsed western wall. -- 1 exp

The party loots the shrine to Tsathoggua without disturbing its guardian. -- 2 exp

The party, with some prodding, lifts the flagstone with the block and pulley and finds more loot. -- 1 exp

The Impaling of Del and Callum. -- RIP Del and Callum

The party defeats the beastman champion and his beastman cohorts. -- 3 exp

The splitting of Dante. -- RIP Dante

The pricking of Jobb. -- RIP Jobb

The party loots the looted vault of the beastmen. -- 1 exp

The party demurs from disturbing the tomb of Molan's brother. -- 1 exp

The party gets all Gidget on the beach. -- 0 exp

The party placates the tentacular monstrosity. -- 2 exp

The party gains the top of the ziggurat. -- 1 exp

The welling of Milton. RIP Milton

The sizzling of Dour. RIP Dour

The party trashes Molan's re-birthday. -- 4 exp

All good or neutral pc's receive a permanent +1 bonus to their luck scores.

Dead longing, sundered evermore from pain:
How dim and sweet the shadow-hearted love,
The happiness that perished lovers prove
In Naat, far beyond the sable main.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:19, Mon 28 Oct 2013.