Ero traces an arc in the dust with the toe of his boot.  "No one's been done here in quite a while," he says.  "That probably means we'll be accosted by dozens of undead.  Why can't anything be simple?"

"Do dwarves even have undead?" he asks no one in particular.  "Short barrel-chested skeletons?  They probably still have their beards."

Nyssia has no problem detecting the magical trap on the box, some sort of shocking burst linked to the lock/keyhole.

She thinks it'll be tricky to pick the lock (DC20) without setting off the trap, but it probably won't be lethal if she fails.

"Mae kin have the deepest respect for their forebears an while we mature as fast as the humans we often wait til our fiftieth year ter marry an many live past three centuries. When yer livin with yer aunts, uncles an fore bears back ter yer great, great, great, great, GREAT grandfather yer dinnae tend ter muck around with death magic an the tombs of the fallen are wonders of artistry an love. Sometimes our strongholds fall ter goblins, orcs or even worse the dark kin, Duergar an Derro an those nasty sods love ter unleash horrors."

Broson is happy to stay near the middle of the lower chamber ready to react to any threats. "If I were ter find a poor Dwarf brought back as a sick puppet I wouldna rest until they were put ter rest an the necromancer that made em slain. If I couldna find the foul mage meself I would tell mae clan cheif an it would be recorded in the book o grudges."

"I daresay if we were to find such a thing, you'd have plenty of help in making said necromancer slain", opines Lureene. "I can think of few things more disgusting."

Nyssia looked at the trap as Ero spoke. Mid flight, she turned her head with wide eyes. “Gods strike us down….the fool elf doesn’t know something” She turned again and looked at the box with a snort. “Can you be that much of a fool - of course there can be dwarven sized undead. I once saw a Goliath sized one - would have made you soil your pretty robe Ero. And as for the hair, I’d think you’d kn ow at least that.  Depends how long they’ve been dead.”

She shook her head as she took something out of her pouch. “Maybe if you pull your stick out of your elven ass, i can teach you a few things.” She took the items, lock picks and began a whistle, low and soft as she began picking the Lock

---

<OOC: Casts Dispel Magic as she picks the lock

Nyssia rolled 25 using 1d20+6 with rolls of 19.  Dispel magic>

"I'm glad ye dinnae know much of the undead master Elf, I've learned a wee bit from the other preists of the silver mother but mostly ter better slay them an I'm always happy ter discuss the best ways ter put a soul ter rest. Ye seem handy with fire magic, have ye mastered many other incantations?"

Nyssia couldn’t help b it smile at the thought. “My sweet, dear Branson, you have no idea how much you. Have made my day.” She looked at Ero, a big grin. “Yes, master dwarf….teach this pointy eared egomaniac a thing or two.”

With the magic gone, Nyssia easily picks the DC12 lock. The little cupboard door swings open to reveal a 6-inch long brass key hanging there in the center. A quick search turns up nothing else--no secret or hidden compartments.

The woman smiled and took the key.

"Lets see what this opens, huh?"

Victor said, "I've got an enchanted light mace called Lightbringer that works exceedingly well on all sorts of undead, but I much prefer to use my longsword. If someone would like it, I ask nothing in return other than you treat it with the respect due any weapon that's earned itself a name."

"I appreciate the offer, but for myself, I don't really have enough skill with weapons. I'd just get in the way trying to clobber heads. Thanks, though."

"To get to where we want to go, we need to get through these double doors... and the trap in front of them," Ordun says.

"You seem to be our resident trap expert, Kassan. Any idea what kind of trap is there? Or, more importantly, can you disarm it?"

"While you do that, the rest of us can check out these side rooms."

"So, Portia, what is it you are looking for here in the crypt? For that matter, how did you know the crypt was even here? I thought I was the only one who'd discovered it."

Portia’s expression turns dour, not at the question, but her circumstances.

“I’m hoping to find something called ‘The Door into Summer.’ I’m not sure what it is, or how it’s supposed to help, but my old master" (There’s palpable bitterness when she says the word.) “needs it to … he needs something he hopes me to find there.”

"Didn't you step through a magical door that appeared in the castle ruins?" Ordun asked. "I would have guessed that was the Door into Summer, though I've never heard of the castle called 'Summer' before. I suppose it could have referred to the 'summer' garden or courtyard."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:51, Mon 06 Mar 2023.

Broson will keep an eye on his uncle and will head left/west? and with axe and shield ready will attempt to open the small door.

Ero scoffs at Nyssia's comment.  "What do you think I majored in at Academy?  Dwarven studies?  Just so I could graduate and get a job serving tables at the local tavern?  Pay off my student loans in tips?  No, I received a degree with value.  Sorcery, thaumaturgy, enchantment, and mysticism; STEM degrees are where the gold is."

"As for undead," he says to Broson, "I have no interest in necromancy.  I'd rather not spend my days dressed all in black, moping around, and smelling like an offal pit.  They have no friends, so that's why they make them out of the dead.  And they wonder why they got shoved into lockers."

"Myself, I am a conjurer and elementalist.  My talents have utility.  That's why my path is littered with dead orcs, goblins, bandits, and what have you, and with nary a scratch on me. Whatever awaits us ahead, I will destroy.  In scores."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:21, Tue 07 Mar 2023.

Nyssia, holding the key and still floating, groaned at Ero's self flattering. "Seems you and the necromancers have something in common - no friends. Maybe you should have paid attention to their metods after all - may have been able to find a personality too. For all good your schooling has done, they couldn't remove the stick shoved up your ass."

she looked for where the key would fit

Ero snorts derisively.  "I have plenty of friends.  Close friends.  Once I am finished here and have accumulated enough gold and riches, I will rejoin them and we'll build an academy of the highest calibre."

"I'm sure I could find you a position there, Nyssia.  We could always use someone to sweep out the chimneys."

And I have a girlfriend too!  She lives in Canada.

Nyssia snorted at the elf's comments, focusing on the door and seeing where the key fit.

At the elf’s snark, Portia rolls her eyes so hard that she risks twisting her optic nerve.

In solidarity with her fellow gnome, she says to him, “Oh, were you talking? Sorry — I have a special kind of deficit attention that kicks in around boring people.”

Ero looks down at Portia under arched brow.  "Oh, another halfling.  What joy.  Did you just arrive or were you always here and I just didn't bother to notice?"

nyssia looked at Portia with a half smile. "Ignore the blowhard - he thinks because he can use magic that he's important. Tell the truth, he's a little narrow-minded....favors magic that destroys everything"

She looks over her shoulder at the elf. "If he had an ounce of talent he'd do something creative, like illusions, or transmutation. Gods know he doesn't have the natural born charisma for an enchanter" She looks at the fellow gnome and winks.

"If his talent matched his ego, then we may have some luck. Unfortunately his ego and self worth is the size of a dragon's. " The woman smiled. "Been telling him for weeks he's the biggest ass i've seen....something elsoe he has in common with a dragon."

Ordun and Broson move over to the door on the left wall. Although it has a typical doorknob arrangement, there does not appear to be a lock. It easily opens and swings away from you into the room beyond.

Your first impression is that this is an office... or was. Down against the far wall to the right is a desk behind which sets an assortment of shelves and pigeonholes stuffed with books and papers.

Three decanters sit on the desk.


Nyssia looks about the outer room for some place the key would fit, but she doesn't spot anything. The door on the right hand wall appears to match the door on the opposite wall--doorknob but no lock.

Victor will open the door on the right-hand wall, and see whats inside.

"If you hadn't noticed, my dear Nausea, we just fought off several dozen orcs.  What do you suggest I have done, dazzle them with simple parlor tricks?"  He flicks a finger in Nyssia's direction and the air above her lights up with tiny starbursts. "Or maybe I could have brought out their softer side and we could have been friends?"  The starbursts disappear, replaced with a tiny orange kitten at Nyssia's feet, playing with a ball of yarn.  "Was that what I should have done?  I think not.  I think the wiser choice was to immolate the cretins and save all your lives."

He turns his back to Nyssia with a flourish of his robes.  "What is taking so long?" he growls.  "They're just doors."  He stomps over to the two dwarves and peers over the shoulders to look inside the newly opened room.  His mood immediately brightens.

"Oh!  Books!"

The elf mutters a "pardon me," as he pushes his way through the dwarves and heads for the nearest shelf.