Kellan smiled softly at Piscas efforts, door kicking was a fine art after all and one that he himself did not get enough practice with. Why Alergast had once taken one right off the hinges after those Stewart boys had gotten rowdy drunk on spiced wine and barricaded themselves in old man Gills barn. That had been a fun night.

He was about to open the door for her when she did it for herself, and like his comrades he stood struck dumb at what he was seeing. This did not make one lick of sense, but then again magic seldom seemed to. How Cato managed to keep it all straight was beyond him, and even little Pisca seemed to know a few tricks but this...he did not even know where to begin.

"Well..." he began peering from the edge of the door "That aint natural..."

He looked back at Cato and clapped him firmly on the shoulder with that now trademarked farm boy grin "This ones all you buddy"

Once it was clear there was no danger of immediate attack, Cato walked to the front of the line and gazed at the room.  He pointed to the glowing runes on that appeared and disappeared.  "I wonder if perhaps these might be related to the fiery messages promising doom I've been seeing in the rest of this complex?  From what I can catch before they disappear, most of these runes deal with things like wrath, anger and revenge."  He gazed appreciatively at the room.  "You know, if this wasn't at the end of a dungeon filled with horrible monsters and except for the writhing maggots, it might be almost relaxing.  I bet you could float in there, sleep if you wanted, without caring about anything else."  Cato laughed.  "Well, except for the buzzing and the strange runes on the wall.  That ruins the peaceful vibe."

Cato cast Detect Magic, and carefully examined the room, trying to discern the exact enchantments that powered the room.

"Pisca, I'd love to see that book and scroll as well.  It might give us more insight into what's happened down here, and what kind of deal the quasit may have had with the goblins and Nualia."

---

---

Kerr covered Liseth’s hand with his as he too stared at the strange room revealed by the obstinate stone door.  “That does look like a raven,” he said in response to his girlfriend’s possibly-rhetorical question, scrunching up his nose slightly.  “But remember this place has had access to the outside via the Glassworks’ tunnels for some indeterminate amount of time at this point.”  He nodded.  “We know some people have even visited.  Maybe they brought gifts.”  He gestured at the wine bottle.  “That wine bottle doesn’t look thousands of years old either.  Or maybe the quasit had already sent out her minions to scout the surroundings and bring back the spoils.”  Kerr didn’t like that thought.  What if those minions were still out there?  Or possibly worse, returning here?

The young acolyte nodded at Liseth’s suggestion that they shouldn’t enter the room.  “I agree.  I’m not sure rooms themselves can be evil, but if there was ever a room dedicated to evil,” he pointed into the spherical chamber with its sparking red-metal walls, “this one would certainly seem to fit the bill.  As Kellan said,” he nodded grimly at the guardsman, “it isn’t natural.”

---

---

---

---

Pisca’s flung arrow floated with some velocity towards the ceiling of the room, hitting it with an audible “tink” before bouncing off at an angle towards the far end at the same, slow, lazy pace as the rest of the chamber’s items.  Meanwhile the wand, as if responding to Pisca’s call, moved purposefully in the gnome’s direction, traveling directly towards her until it reached the frame of the door, whereupon it suddenly dropped to the floor, striking the fitted stone tiles with a startling clang that echoed up and down the corridor.

These twin disturbances did not seem to affect the room or its remaining contents at all; they continued their slow, relaxed spinning in the charged reddish light of the chamber’s metallic walls.

---

---

"Maybe Neutrogena brought the wine," the gnome mused.  "A welcoming gift for the Freaks."

"Iponznig."

"I'll pull out the book.  And the scroll," she said as she reached again, this time for the later of the two objects she'd just mentioned.  "But if you want to go in there, feel free.  It didn't seem to do the arrow much harm."

"But if it is relaxing, I wouldn't sleep with your mouth open," Pisca added, and gestured to the orbiting debris field composed of pale squirmy fly larva.

Use Mage Hand to pull out the book, the scroll, and the bottle.

Active Effects:  Antitoxin 1h, Message-All but Kerr 20m, Dancing Lights 1m

AC15
HP 24/24
Archaeologist's Luck: 0/7
Used:  Antitoxin, Arrows -6

Kellan watched as Pisca began pulling out the items one by one from a distance. He seemed to have no desire to enter the room himself, but did gesture towards the bottle.

"Would you mind grabbing the bottle too? Who knows what could be in there"

He then looked to Cato with a smile "Well if you guys do end up turning this place into a mueseum or a library...I think you have your center piece."

He looks back at the ominous red plates and arcing energy "Assuming its safe of course..."

pfhmpf *snork* the gnome snorked.  "Right, Stomper.  Sure."

The scroll paused briefly on its Pisca-bound trajectory.  Then it continued again as the gnome recovered from her moment of thought and also resumed speaking.

"Not a library.  It's too far away from Sandpoint for a library.  All that walking through the tunnels.  If there's one thing you have to know about libraries, it's that location is important.  Location, location, location.  And there are no nice airy windows here.  And no coffee.  No, not a library."

"But a museum on the other hand ...  That's an interesting idea, Stomper.  What do you think, Cato?  A museum of Evil!  Why, just the room back there with the dubious recreational equipment would be a great draw.  And it has a Zombie Pit room!"

"Too bad we can't open up the original entrance.  That would make a much better entrance for a museum."

Use Mage Hand to pull out the book, the scroll, and the bottle.

Active Effects:  Antitoxin 1h, Message-All but Kerr 20m, Dancing Lights 1m

AC15
HP 24/24
Archaeologist's Luck: 0/7
Used:  Antitoxin, Arrows -6

Cato gestured at the contents of the room.  "That book is probably ancient.  It's got the same kind of magic coming from it as everything else in this complex that's been preserved.  The scroll and the wand are also magic, though I can't see that preservative effect.  I think they're of more modern creation, perhaps.  If I can examine them more closely, I can probably figure it out.  I think the room itself is powered by some kind of permanent levitate spell.  It looks somewhat ominous, but I think it's safe."

Cato smiled.  "I think, perhaps a museum of evil would be interesting.  Might not be exactly the kind of tourist attraction that the Sandpoint...Sandpointians?  Sandpointers?  Well, it might draw the wrong people.  Ancient and mysterious, like the Old Light is nice.  Evil and disturbing, less so."

Cato pointed at the bottle of wine.  "And good news, Kellan.  I think that wine is of a relatively recent vintage, too.  It might be a gift.  Hopefully not from the goblins.  Who knows what kind of taste in wine they have?"

"I...I don't think I understand why this evil magic room is here."  Liseth continued to watch Pisca draw floating items out with her magic, "And if those are gifts, or even spoils, why were they put in there?  Just to make them float?"  She shook her head, "After all of the terrible things we've seen down here, I don't think it could be so simple."

"Maybe we shouldn't take all those things out of there..."  Her eyes went to the levitating raven and maggots.  "What if the evil magic in there rubbed off on them?  They might be cursed!"  She rubbed her hands anxiously, "Um, Kellan...you don't plan on drinking that wine, do you?"

"But a museum is a bad...bad idea.  I wouldn't want to visit a museum dedicated to evil monsters, torture, and even Lamashtu."  Liseth nodded at Cato's comment, "That's right.  Something like that would definitely attract the wrong kinds of people.  Bad sorts of people."  She frowned and looked at their resident scholar, "But I suppose that no matter what we do, people are going to want to visit this place anyway, won't they?  Historians and wizards that would love to study this place and...things like that."  The girl in the white dress pointed at the evil levitation room.

Tearing her eyes from the room, the blonde acolyte looked back the way that they had come, "We could probably leave now; I think that's a good idea.  We already did everything, and more even, that we came here for..."

Kellan shook his head at Liseths question. "No, no...I am just curious to see if its wine at all, and if so if its actually that old...which it sounds like its not."

He took one last look around "As for getting out of here, I think that's a great idea." Turning and beginning to make his way out.

"I suppose I had not really thought the mueseum thing through...maybe you would have to limit it to only respected scholars or things like that...Academies..not just anybody who wants to wander through. And only after Father Zantus and the Mayor and the Sheriff have all weighed in of course...who knows, maybe they will just want to flood it"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:50, Tue 20 May 2014.

"You know, I hear that there are people in Westcrown who dig huge stone lined holes, forcing slaves to carry countless buckets of water just so they can swim, Lysa.  Maybe this room is built this way just so someone can float.  I think the answer to the question of why they built it is pretty simple.  It's because they could.  Why does a cat worry a mouse?  Why does a badger balance a peppercorn on its nose?"

The gnome rolled her eyes at the unspoken answers.

Next came the scroll.  Pisca repeated the spell again, locking onto it and tractoring it in through the pod-bay doors.

"I don't see why you don't like the idea of the museum, though.  It's a good idea.  Well, it's a good bad idea.  It wouldn't be an Evil Museum if it wasn't bad.  At least we could get them to pay to come see it.  If you restricted it to scholars and such you wouldn't be much of a museum.  It would be ... an archanic research site.  Not much fun in that."

"Say, are the rest of you feeling alright?  You sound ... well ... tired."

Use Mage Hand to pull out the book, the scroll, and the bottle.

Active Effects:  Antitoxin 1h, Message-All but Kerr 20m, Dancing Lights 1m

AC15
HP 24/24
Archaeologist's Luck: 0/7
Used:  Antitoxin, Arrows -6

"Just worried about Cato mostly" he admitted as he tried to follow Liseths suggestion to be back up to the sun and fresh air. "It seems clear, we can post another guard tonight and make a good, deep sweep of it tomorrow...I wonder what time it is anyway."

Relaxing a little bit he let the head of his pole axe rest on one shoulder.

"Well if we were going to destroy it...I might consider trying to get the town to recycle all this stone" he rapped on a nearby wall.

"Get a team of Dwarves in here maybe and collapse it section by section...or fill it in. I bet we could rebuild the walls and maybe have enough left over for a whole other building...or maybe a tower" the guardsmen obviously was growing more fond of the idea as he spoke
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 20:54, Tue 20 May 2014.

---

---

"I know I'm exhausted, Pisca," Kerr responded to the gnome's comment before raising a dubious eyebrow.  “But I don’t know if a Museum of Evil is something Sandpoint wants to be known for.”  He squeezed Liseth’s hand.  “I agree with Liseth; I think it’s best if we leave this place for study by people like Brodert and Cato.”  He nodded at the scholar.  “Seems like a Lair of Wrath would lure definitely lure the wrong clientele, if you know what I’m saying.”

The young acolyte grabbed the wine bottle as Pisca maneuvered it through the open doorway.  “Look at this,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice.  “A Varian Jeggare chardonnay.”  He looked up at the others.  “A very nice, but still recent, vintage.”  He paused.  “Don’t you think, Cato?”

---

---

"Yes, I suppose you're right.  Though I'm sure Brodert will be itching at the chance to examine this place once he hears more about it."

Cato perks up when the wine is retrieved.  "Oh, that is a rather nice vintage.  And you know, white wine isn't really supposed to be aged anyway.  I think it's better if we were to consume that soon, perhaps as a small reward for defeating these monsters.  The only question left is, with what should we pair the wine?  I bet this would go splendidly with some cedar-roasted salmon.  I bet some nice spice would go well, too.  I'm sure Ameiko could prepare the perfect dish."

Cato sighed.  "But yes, I'm feeling somewhat tired.  I'd be glad for an opportunity to finally head back up and talk with Father Zantus about..." the wizard gestured aimlessly at himself.  "Well, about what happened.  I'd feel much better knowing that he could help."

"Mmhmm..."  Liseth nodded her agreement with Kerr.  She was exhausted, "Father Garrick told me that I have to use my power so that I could strengthen my 'divine muscles.'  But he never said how tiring it would be."  She reached a hand out and said a prayer; for a brief moment it glowed lightly with divine energy, then the glow faded away.  Beads of sweat formed on the girl's forehead and she closed her eyes, "I can't..." she breathed deeply, "I can't even summon enough energy to mend a small bruise."

The acolyte swayed unsteadily on her feet, reaching for and leaning against the wall.  "I don't think that I want to drink any wine from down here..."  She glanced towards Cato, "I'm sure that we can find something a lot better to toast your health with Cato.  After we get Father Zantus' help."

Pushing off of the wall, the small blonde took hold of Kerr's arm and leaned on him for support; glad that they were finally leaving.  "I'm sorry Kerr.  I shouldn't have tried to use my healing magic again..."

---

---

A quick perusal of the formerly-floating volume proved it to be completely incomprehensible; none of the group was familiar with the language in which it was written.  Pisca, ever the one to rise to a challenge, took the book for further examination, and was seen to be puzzling over it as the party returned to Sandpoint.

Deciding that perhaps discretion was the better part of valor when it came to the Room of Mysterious Levitation, the group headed back the other direction, past the blocked staircase and into the Zombie Pit Room.  Skirting past the dismembered remains of the zombies, they labored back up the incline to the Room of Torture Devices, and then on into the prison.

They walked single-file on the prison’s wooden walkway, each thinking back on what had happened to them during the expedition and worrying about what might become of Cato.  Returning to the entry hallway, they passed the eternally-wrathful statue of the Runelord Alaznist and headed back out into the tunnel excavated by, it seemed, some enterprising but unfortunate Sczarni.

Although they kept a careful watch as they traveled, nothing moved, stirred, or otherwise indicated the presence of any sentient creature in the complex.

It seemed that the Sandpoint Saviors were victorious over the catacombs' subterranean evils.

Although it was something of a bitter victory, given what they had seen and experienced.  Not to mention what had happened to Cato.

The return trip to the room below the Glassworks felt much shorter than the seemingly-interminable outbound trip.  It was almost difficult for the five tired explorers to believe that relative normalcy and peace were just a few short steps away from the horrors of the prison/laboratory.  But they could feel accomplished, proud even, that they had protected Sandpoint from those horrors.

Before they knew it the frightened faces of Santo Flitworth and Quint Plinsman appeared from behind the barricade, the gleaming blades of their poleaxes reflecting their pale, peaked features.

“Kellan, is that you?”  Ventured Santo, as if he thought that Kellan might be some sort of apparition, undead creature, or other unimaginable monstrosity.  “You guys okay?  What happened?  We . . .,” he glanced at Quint, “. . . heard things.”

“Yes we did.”  Agreed Quint, who, apparently not as unsure about the group’s status as his comrade, began opening the barricade.  “Fighting.  Howling.  It was . . . unnerving.  But you guys look,” he took in the bedraggled, blood-and-gore splattered figures before him, “um, okay, I guess.  I mean, considering.”

He paused, then gave them a relieved grin.  "To tell you the truth, we weren't sure if we would ever see you again.  We were half-convinced that an army of Howlers was going to come boiling out of the passageway at any moment."  He stepped through the now-open barricade to grasp Kellan's forearm.  "So I can't tell you how good it is to see you, big guy.  I'm guessing," he glanced over Kellan's shoulder, "that whatever was down there, um, isn't there any more?"

---

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 20:45, Thu 22 May 2014.

It took a few minutes for the realization that they were leaving to sink in. Since entering this place it had all been a blur of fatigue, pain and fear. Time had ceased to make any sense and without any natural light to guide them Kellan half expected to be emerging into darkness.

Cato had suffered a terrible experience, but the wizard was wiser than Kellan by no small margin and did not seem afraid, this more than anything bolstered Kellans belief that Father Zantus would have whatever they needed on hand to stop the blasphemous transformation that the others believed was coming.

So with that in mind his spirits seemed to lift with every step towards the exit. His weariness seemed less pressing and his thoughts less dark. They had done it...he had been so worried, for his friends, of failing the town, of dying in some dank pit down there that being able to walk back out made him hold his head up high and his smile to shine through the grit and dried blood.

"Santo!" He called out through a cupped hand as he recognized the first face peering over the barricade. "Were comin out!" His words echoing down the hallway.

As he saw his friends and compatriots the thought suddenly struck him that this entire event was huge, massive, nothing like this had ever happened in the in the history of the town, to his knowledge of course.

The recent unpleasantness had shook the little seaside hamlet to its core...but compared to the last few weeks in seemed almost quaint in retrospect. Goblin attacks? Lord Kaijitsu murdered? Followed by an assault on a subterranean temple of a dark goddess, with an honest to Desna thousand year old demon priestess and her whole host of slavering beasts! How was he even going to explain this to his family? To Shayliss? To Alargast?

"Hey guys" he accepted the hand warmly and helped to reseal the barricade.

"So..." he looked back at his party as if trying to find the words.

"It's a mess down there...I'm pretty sure we got them all, but we are going to need to do a real slow search through that place again...just to be safe."

He took a deep breath

"But first we need to talk to the council about some things...so if I can ask you guys to just stay posted up here for a while longer, I'm hoping we can hit it again in the morning and finally call it good. Does that work for you?"

The trip out of the underground ruin was done in something of a daze for Liseth.  It was all a blur as she wearily walked with Kerr; staying in contact with him as they traversed the dark passages one final time.  She couldn't believe what they had all done today, but the evidence was plain to see even as she closed her eyes to avert them from the image of the slaughtered zombies and their goblin leader.

How many horrible monsters and demonic creatures did they fight down here?  How many did they kill?  All those Rune Dogs, the Quasit demon, the skull monsters, the mutant goblin and all it's zombies...the girl had never imagined herself helping with anything remotely like that.  But it was exactly what Sarenrae had planned for her; to confront evil in it's purest form.  Liseth was not going to let Her down.

But with how exhausted she felt, the small acolyte just hoped that her body could keep up with her conviction.

"I can't believe what we did..."  Liseth breathed once they were finally clear of the ruin and back into the passage leading towards the glassworks basement and Sandpoint.  "How long have we been down here?"  So much had happened, she was having trouble determining whether they had been going for an hour, a day, or a week.

Hearing the voices of the men stationed to guard the passage was the final evidence that their task was complete.  It was just a few steps further and they would all be back in the sunshine, reporting their success.  Liseth let Kellan talk with his friends; instead thinking about Cato.  They had been purposefully keeping from speaking about what had happened, but now that they were almost out of the ruin it would have to be dealt with.

"Before we do anything else we have to talk to Father Zantus," she added once Kellan finished.  "And Mr Voon too even."  They had those demon bodies that had to be disposed of properly; even if Cato wasn't...ill.  But he was, so that made seeing Father Zantus doubly important.

"Are you still feeling okay, Cato?"

Cato breathed a sigh of relief as the party made their way back to the entrance to the dungeon.  He felt somehow better, just knowing that the outside world was close once again.  Then he ran his hand through his hair, and felt his stomach sink when a few stray strands came out.

He smiled weakly at Liseth.  "I'm still feeling mostly okay, but..."  Cato open his hand, and a few strands of hair fell to the ground.  "I think I'd like it if we saw Father Zanus as soon as possible."

"We're coming out ... "

"Huh?  Wha???"  The book snapped shut with that satisfying *fwap* that paper in well-fitting reams can have when working in concert.  "We're coming out?  Oh.  Right."  Pisca Neep Freemish tucked the Prayer Book of Evil Lamashtu-ness under one arm and strode out into the now-familiar basement section of Lonjiku Kaijitsu's Glassworks.  Or, at least, the short stretch of rubble filled corridors should have been familiar.  By now at least.  And, in truth, it was not as though anything was particularly out of place.  But ... things seemed different.  The world was a bolder place.  This small room at the end of the tunnel was a bolder room.  The corridor outside was a bolder corridor.  And, it occurred to the gnome that, perhaps, in entering the Thassilonian ruins and by passing through the ordeal through which they had passed, perhaps, just perhaps, they, the five of them, had recreated the world.

This was an idea that Pisca almost immediately discarded.  (Sort of.  Actually, less discarded than tucked away upon a high shelf where one kept the sparkly things that one fondly treasured.)  It was, the gnome admitted to herself, much more likely that they had themselves been transformed by the experience.  And that they now saw things through different eyes.  Pisca hoped that hers were still the nice pale violet that they had been before.

"You're right, Lys.  We need to get Cato to Father Zantus as soon as possible."  For some reason she still was unable to get the image out of her mind.  The man flopping violently about atop the table, being held down by his friends as the demonic thing burst from out of his chest.  Pisca shook her head and the image got the hint and went off to where images of its kind go when they aren't wanted.  "Keep a close watch," Pisca warned the two guardsmen, Santo and Not Santo.  "Don't let anything out of there," she said.  And then she added, "I'm pretty sure we haven't left anything live down there.  But, that might not stop some of those things from wanting out anyway."

Archaeologist's Luck: 0/7
Used:  Antitoxin, Arrows -6
Spells: L1-2/3

---

---

Quint grinned at Kellan’s suggestion that they stay at their posts, raising an eyebrow and very-obviously taking in the group’s battle-worn appearance as the two guardsmen completed reassembling the barricade.  “Well, Storval, we weren’t exactly viewing you guys as our relief.”  He glanced at Santo.  “And I don’t think either Flitworth or I are going to be leaving our post until Sergeant Tiller sends down our replacements.  Heck, we might even ask for permission in writing.”  He lowered his voice, as if the bald-headed sergeant might be able to hear them.  “Man’s in a mood.”  Santo nodded in fervent agreement.

“So, we’ll just stay here and watch this creepy-but-hopefully-empty-hallway some more while you guys go tell the Council about your adventures.”  Quint Plinsman sat down in a comfy-looking chair the pair had apparently purloined from elsewhere in the building.  A quick glance at the barricade showed a small aperture right at the eye level of the chair’s occupant.  “To tell you the truth, it’s not hard duty.”  The guardsman swung his boots up on a table that had apparently been dragged over just for that purpose.  “Tell Mayor Deverin ‘hi’ for us.”

Quint looked bemused at Pisca’s instructions regarding the hallway.  “Yes indeed,” he said, giving the gnome a jaunty salute from his seat.  “You can count on us, Pisca.”  Apparently the gnome’s name was now well-known, at least to the members of the Sandpoint Guard.  The guardsman patted the polearm he was currently using to balance himself as he rocked back on two legs of the chair.  “If anything wicked does come down that hallway,” he winked at Kellan, “you’ll know it.  Flitworth’s frightened screams will be the first thing you hear.”

“Hey!”  Said Santo indignantly, grinning all the same.  “You definitely scream louder than I do.  That’s what your mom says, anyway.  Must run in the family.  She’s quite the screamer herself.”

A rock “plinked” off Santo’s armor.  “Ignore him, ladies,” responded Quint, lowering his arm as he mustered what might have been a false dignity, “man hasn’t learned how to carry on a conversation in polite company.  In any event, we’ll be here.  And if you see Tiller, Storval, make sure to tell him how vigilantly we are watching yon tunnel.  Now,” he said, waving his arm toward the doorway, ”be off with you.  I don’t want to be forward, but you all need to bathe.  Or at least change clothes.”

---

---

---

---

The group left the room and headed up to the Glassworks to the fading sounds of the kind of good-natured insults that were the hallmark of armies everywhere, only to run straight into the gimlet-eyed Sergeant Tiller.  “Glad to see you made it back Storval,” he said, foregoing the usual pleasantries.  “Can’t say I thought we’d ever see you again.”  He ran his gaze over the rest of the group.  “So, give me a status report.  Plinsman and Flitworth still alive down there?  And do I need to be keeping guardsmen in the Glassworks in case we’re overrun by the terrifying, nightmarish spawn of evil?”  He crossed his arms.  “Because I have places for them to be if I don’t.”

---

---

"Oh..."  Liseth frowned and covered her mouth with her hand when she saw Cato's hair starting to come out.  "Um..."  She nodded; seeing Father Zantus would have to be their top priority.

The two tunnel guard's good-natured humor and jabs at each other felt almost mean to Liseth, given the seriousness of Cato's condition.  But they didn't know what had happened, what they had to work quickly in order to stop.  And it would probably be best for everyone if they didn't know; at least not right away.  It would only scare them...and maybe even cause Cato to get bad attention from frightened people.

She looked down at herself when the men mentioned how everyone was in need of a bath.  It was an unconscious action, but it did make the girl realize just how dirty she was; in addition to being tired.  Dirt and sweat was stained all over her brand new dress, even a little bit of blood; not hers this time.  It was completely filthy.  And Liseth had a new appreciation for the thickness and weight of the garment.  It was hot, it was like wearing a winter coat, which made her sweat even more during their long, exhausting, underground adventure.  Then the sweat got absorbed in the layers and layers of cloth, which made it even heavier, and dirty, and smelly, and plain uncomfortable.

As miserable as she felt wearing her heavy quilted dress, Liseth imagined that Kerr must feel twice as miserable.  With that heavy steel plate and the padding underneath; the girl might not have been able to make it through the day in something like that.  She glanced at Kellan, in his heavy suit of mail armor.  How does he do it?  Being so big and strong probably helped a lot.

"Hello Sergeant Tiller..."  When they met the Sergeant upstairs, Liseth stayed behind Kerr.  After everything that they had been through today, he could at least be a little bit nicer.  She decided to let Kellan take the lead in answering him; Kellan was a member of the militia, after all.  But then again...

"Kellan, maybe it would be best if you stayed here to tell Sergeant Tiller what happened.  We still need to hurry and find Father Zantus."  She glanced worriedly at Cato, "I'm sure you can meet us at the Cathedral after your...um...debriefing."

Kellan was trudging up the steps, trying to keep his mind off of his aching muscles when he spotted the Sergeants trademark profile, stiff as a board and a face full of scowl.

"Sergeant" He began, loudly enough to give early warning to his comrades down stairs. "It was probably a good call posting you here...things could have easily gone south down there."

He looked over to his party and nodded to Liseths suggestion to catch up with them later. "Good idea, I'll catch up" he slapped Cato on the shoulder with the back of his gloved hand. "Feel better ok? I'll be right there"

Looking back to Tiller, Kellan straightened a little as he thought on what details to include. No doubt people would learn of it all eventually, but it was a small town and controlling the gossip around here was like trying to outrun a brush fire.

"Plinsman and Flintworth are well, they heard us coming up the tunnel from quite a ways away. I think its best we keep at least two men posted for another night. We made a pretty complete sweep but there  are lots of little nooks and cranny down there, and we were ambushed more than once" he looked to Cato once more as his friends filed out.

He cleared his throat "That being said we killed everything that moved" his voice sounding a little tired "So with luck and another detailed search that should hopefully be the end of that place for us"

"We even killed all of the things that were already dead," added the gnome.  "And a few things that had just been born," Pisca continued, swaggering somewhat as she sauntered her way past the guard sergeant and, from there, to the door to the street.  "But, according to Cato, they were never alive to begin with.  Like having a pet knife-rack with spider's teeth."

"Rahr-rahr-rahr-rahr."

The gnome walked about, stiff-legged with her arms outstretched before her.  She stopped just in time to catch the Prayer Book of Evil Lamashtu-ness, saving the book from a fall to the floor.

"Don't keep Stomper for long," Pisca called behind her as she disappeared through the doorway and out into fresh air and lofty sky of Sandpoint.  "After we save Cato from becoming a Flying Skull, we'll want to talk to the Mayor.  And he won't want to miss being there for that."

There were, in fact, many things to do.  But there always were, weren't there?  Upon coming home from a trip one invariably found that there were just as many things to do, what with unpacking and settling the many things that had happened while you were away as well as cleaning up the things that you had just done while on your trip, that you might as well not have left to go on your trip in the first place.  Or, as an alternative to that, never come home from your trip at all, and continued wandering on forever and into ever.

"I think the question we have to ask ourselves," said the gnome as they made their way the short distance between the north door of the Glassworks to the Temple, "is what does all of it mean?  So, Neumonia met with Quasit Girl.  They spent some time together floating around in the Room of Evil Levitation, strangling birds and planning the downfall of Sandpoint.  What exactly does it mean that we've removed Quasit Girl from the goblin stew?"

"Tsuto's escaped and probably told Neurosita that we now know all about the ruins.  She'll have to assume the worst, (and rightly so) that Quasit Girl is dead.  What more do we need to convince her that attacking Sandpoint is something she does not want to do?  Do we have to knock on her door?  Go to Thistletop and rescue Tsuto?"

"At least now we have magic weapons.  I tell you, those gobbies better have the sense to be scared now.  I want to see more fleeing and less stabbing when we show up this time."

Archaeologist's Luck: 0/7
Used:  Antitoxin, Arrows -6
Spells: L1-2/3

This message was last edited by the player at 14:39, Sat 24 May 2014.