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.