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.