With the possible exception of the Dwarf, none of the Exemplars has ever even seen a gnome before, but they have encountered their handiwork. The mechanical claw, the printing press, the false ghost, the word lock, even the runaway minecart engine.

But not even the wonders glimpsed by the deadly locomotive could have prepared for what lies in this room as Manaku and Amalrik swing the doors open wide over the protest of their screeching hinges.

The air is dusty and leaves an acrid stench in your nostrils. The eerie blue light burns ominously from an orb set into a blue pylon at the back of the room. The light reflects in shifting patterns off the ceiling, indicating the two platforms flanking the pylon are filled with liquid.

The center of the room looks like it was a very organized place with gnome-sized wooden furniture. But everything is smashed and strewn about with scattered leafs of parchments and bits of unidentifiable machinery. A small skeleton crumpled at the base of an upturned table indicates the grim fate that befell them.

The walls subtly reflect the blue light and the party's illumination as well. The smooth metal would shine much brighter after a through dusting. Then you could probably make out all of the consoles and controls wrapped in thick cobwebs.

Brodd looked on in awe and wonder at the sight before him. He took a step forward, drawn by the blue light and the sights he was seeing.

"Help!"

Harald's plea echoes from distant corridors, your best guess from behind that pylon.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:57, Thu 30 May 2019.

Brodd, trying to figure out HOW Harald could have been barred in a room from the outside, doesn't believe it is Harald, but he says to the others "It sounds like Harald, I don't know, do not leave the door unattended!"

Brodd works his way in, "Where are you Harald, come to us!"

Einhard stopped short of entering the room with his steed in hand. "If Harald is inside this room, someone locked him in there. I better stay outside the door, so we do not all suffer the same fate."

The Seeker had seen many things in his days, he was having trouble keeping track of just how many days (lumped into years) that exactly was, but he was surprised to find himself surprised at the room full of machinery. "Don't drink that Chomper... gnomes don't get very big. You wouldn't want to stunt your growth..."

He shuffled into the room and began to look around, particularly for dust on the floor and any tracks that might be therein. "You smell anything Chomper? Anything that's NOT rotten gnomish pastry crumbs... like our lost bard perhaps?"

Chomper seemed to sigh and resign himself as assigned, though he cast a lingering glance at a certain place among the dust bunnies under a table.

"Whatever it is, it isn't Harald I don't think."

Amalrik places his hand on his sword. When in unusual places, be ready for anything, including dearly departed recent friends. Being imitated by something else. He follows Chomper's glance under a table, squatting down to check it out.

It's rather dusty. A quick brushing reveals more parchment with a script neither the Barbarian nor the dog can identify. The scribble looks totally different from the blocks of that printing press he saw before, he knows that much. Some of them have drawings too.

"Leave? Or try to kill what it is? Harald did not come this way, how it sounds like him, I don't know."

We won't know for sure, until we have looked behind, under and inside every machine.

Regdoc stooped, bones and joints protesting, and scooped up the papers, drawings and so forth. He rifled through them to perhaps get an idea of what they might be all about. In his days long past as an acolyte, he'd been charged to catalog and organize sacred writings. Granted such writings in the faith of the Wandering God were few in relation to other religions, most records being the trodden and worn soles of adherents, Regdoc nonetheless had gained a bit of worthwhile experience.

"What's all of this about..." he muttered.


Intelligence check (Acolyte Background +4 = TN11): Regdoc rolled 18 - Pffft. Nope.

Some of the drawings are so complex, their paths so circuitous, they make the poor old priest's head spin.

Much like his days in the abbey, which was a tent - the servants of the Wandering One were never in one place for long, paperwork had always had that affect on him. Ah the memories of those long ago days...

"Firestarters," he grumbled. "Shame Sasar isn't here to make sense of these scratchings...."

He continued his perusal, perhaps more oblivious than he had been as to the purpose of the room.

[DM acting for Stoneblood]

The dwarf picks up one of the papers.

"Aye, that's Gnomish! Somethin' about...securin' the pipes an' blockin' th' rails cuz th' creatures below are makin' more attacks since they recovered the...what is this word?

He carries the page closer to one of the torch bearers.

"I hate when they smoosh their words together to make new words! Before? Oh ancient...stone...lightning...spreader?"

Brodd backs up toward the door, not turning his back on whatever it is.

”Help!”

It’s a bit louder this time. A bit more of a metallic echo to it.

"I think we should leave it alone and leave." Brodd says continuing to back toward the door. "It isn't Harald"

Creston tries to find the source of Harald's voice. He believes it is coming from some object in the room, so he is looking inside the most obvious ones.

"Harald, where are you? Are you inside one of these boxes?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Sun 02 June 2019.

Brodd heads out the door, knowing Harald is not inside, not alive anyway.

Amalrik joins Creston in looking for Herald ... Poking and prodding things, trying to zero in on the voice. Leaving an adventuring mate behind is not the barbarian way ...

"I say move on, Harald is not here, the door was barred from the outside and had not been opened in ages, he is not in here."

"I hate when they smoosh their words together to make new words! Before? Oh ancient...stone...lightning...spreader?"

The last two words caused Alietra to pause for a moment.

"Lightning...spreader? Huh."   She thought for a pair of moments.

"Erm, like, something that spreads lightning? Throws it around?  I...don't like the sound of that.   And, I agree with Brother Brodd.   I think we should move on."   

Regdoc and Chomper ignored their companions a bit longer and, as a team, they moved over to inspect the shriveled body, looking to surmise his fate and perchance lighten him of any heirlooms he'd been unable to pass along to posterity.

Manaku steps into the room and simply stares. "Incredible!" he says. "I've seen naught like it in my many days!"



Manaku was quite ready to spring forward and investigate, but Brodd's comment stopped him in his tracks. "What, now?" he says, puzzled. "How can you tell?"



Manku shakes his head. "Maybe. Maybe not. This thing has captured his voice, though, and I mean to find out how, if he truly is not contained within."

He turns and waits to see what Regdoc's examination of the body turns up.

]

"YAAAAAAAH!"

You hear some clanging above you, and one of the metal plates in the ceiling hinges open. Harald falls from opening with a splash into the tank to the right of the pylon, followed by his hat.

"By the gods!" Brodd says as he rushes the tank to save Harald! "How did he get in here through a locked door!" he sticks his cudgel in the stuff and hollers "Grab on! Someone help pull him out!"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:36, Mon 03 June 2019.

The body looks like it was partially scorched. There's also something in his death-grip in his right hand. It has a smoothly carved wooden handle and a steel tube the length of the gnome's forearm, and some sort of small lever where the two meet.

Whatever this gunk is, it's not water. It's some black oily substance, and without a doubt it's where that harsh smell is coming from.

When Harald grabs the cudgel, Brodd will start to pull him to the side.

Alietra moved to help Brodd help Harald, still feeling they should get the hell out of here, as soon as possible.  She'd heard a little about gnomes, and their well intended yet sometimes inadvertently sinister inventions...

Amalrik also helps Brodd, but is loathe to touch any of the liquidy stuff. He looks for broken somethings or others to help hoist the body out of the goop. Oi that smell !!

When they get him to the side, Brodd reaches in and pulls his head out of the goop and checks him for life.

Harald coughs and sputters as Brodd and Amalrik pull the bard over the rim of the tank.

As they do so, a shape rises from the inky depths.

First you see a skull the size of a cow's or horse's just above the level of the liquid, but it's shaped more like a deep sea creature's head with rows of curved daggers for teeth. As its tubular body rises up to 10 feet in the air, and the rivulets of oily muck roll off its clear scales, revealing its endless rows of ribs and pulsing organs within.

It flails its small fins as it balances, pointing its maw at the intruders. One can't say it stares because there's nothing resembling eyes in its empty sockets, but it does whip its catfish-like feelers about wildly, sparking blue arcs of electricity!

[ R O L L   I N I T I A T I V E ! ! ! ]

d6 or d10? I forget?

08:56, Today: Brother Brodd rolled 6 using 1d10. initiative.
08:55, Today: Brother Brodd rolled 3 using 1d6. initiative.

09:01, Today: DM rolled 6 using 1d6.  Monster Initiative.
09:07, Today: DM rolled 7,17,1,3 using 1d20,1d20,1d4,1d4.  Monster Attacking Brodd: twin electrical touch attacks, metal does not protect. Needs a 7 to hit.

As the three Exemplars stare up dumbfounded at the abomination, its antennae thrash at Brodd, striking his helmet and chainmail. Fountains of sparks, accompanied by buzzing and popping sounds echo through the chamber as the cleric is thrown backwards from the electrical shock.

Brodd lies on the floor twitching for a moment, then is still.

Einhard was watching the tunnel from just outside the room when he heard the commotion inside.  He turned to see what was happening and saw Brodd collapse on the floor with some sort of monstrosity looming over him.

"What has the bard gotten us in to?!" he shouted as he threw his spear at the strange creature. His aim was horrible and the spear landed no where near his target, so he grabbed for his handaxe and prepared to run in to the room.

---

11:16, Today: Einhard rolled 3 using 1d6.  Initiative.
11:23, Today: Einhard rolled 5 using 1d20.  Ranged Attack (Spear).

Regdoc was about to pick up the strange tool from the gnome's charred hands when pandemonium broke out within the chamber! He quickly rushed toward Brodd's twitching body and grasped an arm. "Grab hold Chomper!" he commanded and the two began pulling the dying cleric from the room!

"Pull hard you lazy, parasite-ridden, flea-infested, impolitely sniffing..." Motivation was a strange thing.


(Assuming group Initiative?)

Correct. Brodd groans as the the other cleric and his pawed companion drag the victim to safety.

[DM acting for Dwarghar]

Dwarghar moves aside as the spear lands near his feet. He picks up and tries to throw it himself. Unfortunately his throwing arm is as least as bad.


13:22, Today: DM, on behalf of Dwarghar Stoneblood, rolled 4,2 using d20,d8.  recovering and using Einhard's spear.

In reply to DM (msg # 41):

Creston tries to stick an arrow in the monster, before the melee-types get in the way.

11:54, Today: Creston Fairwood rolled 8,3 using d20+3,d6 ((5,3)).

The arrow bounces off the creature's transparent scales.

"You -dare- strike down the great holy man of...whatever god!   Ugh! Damn you!!!"

Alietra rolled 4 using 1d6+1.  initiative.
Alietra rolled 6 using 1d20.  sword attack.

Alietra lashed out with her blade, but truth be told she was far better at stabbing humanoids from behind.     As well, she was repulsed and horrified by this thing that confronted them. Her hand trembled on the hilt of her sword.  The woman she once was would have run, but her integrity had grown a little stronger of late.    For all that it would likely get her killed.

Manaku chants in a deep voice as a film covers his body. He then readies his sword to contribute to the attack next round.

Cast Shield.

Amalrik flinches for a moment ...

20:23, Today: Amalrik rolled 8 using 1d20-1.  Amalrik - initiative.

Disengage. Amalrik throws himself backwards getting some range on this beastie since his hands are/were busy with Harald, or the former Harald that was ... Only then does he see Brodd on the ground.

Yagi stares up at the monster, and double-takes at Brodd blasted across the room, then back up at the beast.

"BREE YARK!"

She scrambles behind a piece of broken furniture and cowers. When she realizes she's sharing her hidey-hole with the gnomish skeleton, she starts talking to it.

"Hey what dat 'ting in you grips? Notta fetch... Oh wait dat a bitty-wot? I borrow, I set you free, dealy-deal?"

The bard is hanging precariously over the rim of the tank. His clothes are dripping wet and dyed inky black from the chemical, even down to the feather in his soggy hat.

He rather looks like he lost a bet.

14:33, Today: DM, on behalf of Harald, rolled 1 using 1d2.  Heads he falls back into the water, Tails falls out of the tank.

Still woozy from his fall, Harald slips off the rim of the tank when his companions let go of him, and he slips back into the mire.

In reply to DM (msg # 49):

"Please help!" Harald will start to try and climb again.

14:44, Today: DM rolled 9,1,17,3 using d20,d4,d20,d4.  Monster Attacking Alietra, 9 to hit, 2 attacks for stun damage.

The transparent creature spins to confront the thief. Jaws open wide as its antennae lash at the former barmaid. Even the slightest touch leads to twin flashes of light that feel like a broken chair smashed over noggin, and it happens from both directions at once.

Yagi takes the strange item she pulled from the dead gnome's grip and props it on the upturned table to aim at the monster. She pulls the small lever right by her forefinger...


14:54, Today: Yagi rolled 1,16,2 using d6,d20+1,d8.  Yagi fumbling with the boomstick.

*click*

Yagi blinks.

"Hey dead guy! You lie to me! Dis ting no work! Where de boom-boom?"

As Einhard charged in to the room he saw yet another party member collapse as this monstrosity smacked at them. Instead of charging head first in to its grasp, he stopped and throw his hand axe at the creature. Then he turned to go retrieve his spear lying on the floor.

---

22:01, Today: Einhard rolled 14 using 1d20.  Ranged Attack (Hand Axe).
22:02, Today: Einhard rolled 4 using 1d6.  Damage (Hand Axe).

[+1 Strength damage for hurling - DM]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:20, Fri 07 June 2019.

Regdoc, once back where he could prop up the young acolyte looked up just in time to see the creature attack Alietra! "Get her Chomper!"

The oldster whirled his sling in an attempt to distract the strange foe long enough for his faithful guard dog to pull the girl to safety.


Attack hits AC8(11) for 2 damage
Chomper will attempt to drag Alietra out of range and next to Brodd.

Einhard’s axe lodges it the monster’s side, the sling bullet slaps into glassy flesh and bounces.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:26, Mon 10 June 2019.

Manaku fires on the translucent creature, catching the creature squarely.

Shoot at the thing, hit AC 7 (roll of 12 with +2 from DEX) for 5 damage.

20:06, Today: Manaku rolled 5 using 1d6.  Damage.
13:44, Yesterday: Manaku rolled 10 using 1d20 with rolls of 10.  Longbow on creature.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:50, Mon 10 June 2019.

[You get +2 fox Dex. You hit. Roll damage.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:14, Sat 08 June 2019.

Amalrik moves to the creature's other side, and swings with his trusty blade ...

Refresh the dice log  18:13, Today: Amalrik rolled 4 using 1d10+2.  Amalrik - Damage.  18:13, Today: Amalrik rolled 10 using 1d20+2.  Amalrik - To Hit.

To Hit = 10

Damage = 4

I've seen pregnant yaks do much better. You're buying drinks afterwards. his old one eyed trainer would say.

A shrill hiss erupts from the creature as the arrow tears into its side. The arrowhead and the blade of Einhard's hatchet can both be seen lodged between the countless rows of ribs.

The dwarf pulls the warhammer from his belt, and with two hands makes a solid swing.


12:48, Today: DM, on behalf of Dwarghar Stoneblood, rolled 19,2 using d20+1,d6+1.  Striking with warhammer.

Creston tries again to get an arrow to not bounce off.

16:17, Today: Creston Fairwood rolled 8,2 using d20+3,d6 ((5,2)).

OOC - I'm unconscious! It's been a  MONTH!
This message was last edited by the player at 12:58, Mon 15 July 2019.

Brother Brodd dreams of rapping the translucent beast soundly on the snout with his quarterstaff.

Retrieving his spear, Einhard charged forward toward the creature and thrust it toward its empty eye sockets. "I'll try to hold this thing off." he shouts. "Is anyone able to help Brodd?"

---

12:14, Today: Einhard rolled 20 using 1d20+1.  Melee Attack (spear).
12:15, Today: Einhard rolled 5 using 1d8+1.  Damage (spear).

[Critical Hit by Fighter does maximum damage (9 points)]

Einhard's spear pierces transparent flesh into floating red organ that approximates its heart. With an inhuman screech and its antennae flailing sparks everywhere, the beast finally goes silent. It slides off the spear with a great splash, and the inky depths of the tank slosh back and forth as the only memory of its presence.

[3 XP to all combatants]

"I tellz ya dis ting is BROKEN!" shouts Yagi as she peers down the tube of the strange device.

"Ain't nuttin' in here but..."

There's a sudden CRACK along with a lound TING against the wall that echoes through the chamber, heralded with a puff of sulphurous smoke. A splash of blood races across the floor. The goblin shaman falls to the ground, lifeless.

Having cheated death more than once, it seems her luck has finally run out.

With the threat abruptly gone, Manaku moves quickly to see if he can help Brodd somehow.

Although you're not a cleric, as an elf you've probably learned some first aid tips over your century of life thus far. The symptoms are similar to having been struck by lightning, though much milder. Best in these situations is just to give them time to recover.

Regdoc gestured for his guard-dog to stand watch while he knelt to attend to the young acolyte. His knees popped just as the noise in Yagi's direction went off. "I'm too old for this," he grumbled, thinking the loud noise was his body's protests. When her body hit the floor his head snapped around!

"Rockfalls, Softspots and Unexpected Detours!" he cursed, words bearing a certain weight coming from a cleric of the Wandering God. "Give me that!" He yanked the strange wand away from the corpse. He had no idea how to use it, but it was obviously not a relic the curious should possess!

Returning to Brother Brodd, Regdoc touched the ragged hem of his robes with one hand and placed the other over the acolyte's heart. Bowing his head, the old cleric muttered about future pathways and winding routes and the cathartic blessings of the open road. "Wake up young man, by the Wanderer I say this!" he finished.


Cast Cure Light Wounds! Brother Brodd, roll 1d8+Con of healing!
This message was last edited by the player at 18:41, Mon 15 July 2019.

Brodd's eyes flutter open, he just lays there for a minute, "I'll be fine Regdoc, check o the others, thank you."

Brodd too?

I'm going by the original material, in my book I'm reading cure 1d6+1 hp OR paralysis. The shock counts as paralysis.

Yes, you were part of the group.

Level 2 then.

Brother Brodd groggily rises to his feet. He's babbling about some vision he had that's already starting to fade from memory, but he's brought his first clerical spell back with him: Cure Light Wounds.

"Is anyone hurt? I feel the gods in my veins! How is Yagi?" He goes over and looks at the little shaman, realizing she was beyond his help.

True, she is quite beyond help. Whatever that strange, still-smoking rod was that Regdoc retrieved from her cold dead hand, she shouldn't have pointed it at herself.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:46, Tue 16 July 2019.

"My axe is lodged in that thing. I can't afford to keep losing weapons." The knight retrieved his steed from the doorway and led her toward the tank. He fastened a rope to her harness and tied the other end to the tank. Then he prodded her to pull until the tank spilled over so he could retrieve his axe. "Anyone want to examine this strange creature?"

Manaku helps Brodd up. "Glad to see you back on your feet. I propose we back out of here and find a place to take a rest. If anyone wants to look at that...thing first, feel free, but otherwise we need to back up and rest, set up guards. I can take a middle watch."

"Thank you Manaku, appreciate the help, yes, get back because that liquid is foul and disgusting."

With your prodding, the mule begins to tug. It does not seem to be budge.

A second one of those giant transparent creatures emerges from the inky depths! It grabs the rope in its gaping maw and splashes back under the water!

The mule brays in terror as it splays its hooves in an attempt to resist the slide back to the tank!

[R O L L   I N I T I A T I V E ! ! ! ]

11:26, Today: Brother Brodd rolled 2 using 1d6. initiative.

"There's more!" shouts the armored knight. "Ready yourselves!"

---

11:37, Today: Einhard rolled 2 using 1d6.  Initiative.

In reply to Brother Brodd (msg # 81):

11:49, Today: DM, for the NPC Otus-Vurm, rolled 4 using 1d6.  creature initiative.

The Party can go first. The mule will be pulled to the tank at the end of the round if nothing is done to stop it.

Brodd cuts the rope to save the horse.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:11, Wed 17 July 2019.

Einhard thrusts his spear toward the tank in an effort to pierce it and begin draining the fluid.

---

12:00, Today: Einhard rolled 19 using 1d20+1.  Melee Attack (spear).

*If need be, I will burn 1 XP to make that a 20 and execute a Might Deed to actually pierce the tank.


FYI - It's a horse, not a mule :)

"'Ware! It's already spawned offspring! Must have eaten is way out of the other!"

Initiative: Regdoc rolled 5

[OOC: Are you trying to hit the WORM or the TANK?]

[GM acting on behalf of]

The barbarian draws his mighty blade and severs the rope, allowing the horse to jerk free and bolt from the chamber.


13:13, Today: DM, on behalf of Amalrik, rolled 19,11 using 1d20+2,1d10+2.  Cutting the rope.

OOC: It sounded like worm retracted back in to the tank, so I was going for the tank. My goal is to pierce it and drain its contents.

The spear slams into the metal, creating a large hole stoppered only by the spear blade. The inky fluid roars out around the edges of the blade, spraying everywhere.

((17:45, Today: Creston Fairwood rolled 16 using 1d20.  Initiative.))

Creston draws his bow and levels it at the worm, but holds his shot.
"Um, Einard, what are you doing?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Fri 19 July 2019.

Manaku does not wait to react; he pulls out his bow and shoots the worm-thing.

Longbow hits AC 4 for 1 damage.

21:52, Today: Manaku rolled 1 using 1d6.  Damage.
21:52, Today: Manaku rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  Longbow on beast.

Brodd pulls out his sling and skillfully misses the worm by a mile, just missing Einhard!

07:06, Today: Brother Brodd rolled 6 using 1d20. to hit.

The arrow lacerates the translucent flesh as it arcs past.

"Draining the tank. Maybe they're like fish and cannot survive without the liquid." Einhard shouted over the sound of the spraying liquid.

The old man twirled his sling in the air a few times and released. It struck with a sickening crunch, and for a moment the decades, centuries, or millennia seemed to melt away, back to a time in his youth when he could have slung his sling all day and not been sore the next morning.

"Ha-ha! That's how it's done!


Sling Attack: Regdoc rolled a Natural 20! Crit!
Sling Damage: Regdoc rolled 3 (x2 Crit) = 6

Once again being revived through the grace of the gods, and a little help from Brother Brodd, Alietra decided against attacking with her sword, opting instead to strike at range, and so avoid getting wumped again by the thing they battled...

Alietra rolled 13 using 1d20+1.  bow shot.
Alietra rolled 1 using 1d6.  arrow damage, if needed - *doink*!   

The wurm lurches forward and snatches the dead goblin in its maw, then immediately slithers back under the murk. Its disappearance is immediately followed by the sounds of metallic thumps under your feet.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:47, Mon 22 July 2019.

Dwarghar throws a rock at the creature from the back of the group, followed by a yell of "And stay down!" before noticing the obvious metallic thumps and drawing his warhammer close to his chest.

Manaku waits for a long moment, training his bow on the spot where the beast could re-emerge.

Wait for 5 rounds, ready to shoot it; if it does not reappear by that span, look around and re-assess the situation.

After about five tension-filled minutes, the creature does not return, but the gush of black oily fluid on the floor has slowed to the faintest trickle.

"Well done, Sir Einhard!   You're a clever chap!"    She shook her head.

"Ugh.  While I was slinging mead for a living, I met these adventuring types, and they spoke of the creatures they battled -  mostly all the same:   orcs, kobolds, giant rats, maybe some skeletons.    But us, we get...whatever the hell that was." 

Regdoc coiled his sling and replaced it to his belt. He was unconvinced that the creature was really gone. As soon as it finished eating the goblin's corpse, it would surely be back...

He winced at a certain catch in his hip and then attempted to walk it off by checking to see if there might be some sort of closure to keep the liquid from flowing and prevent the return of the monster.

"Anybody see any other exits to this room?" he asked. "If not, we'd best re-trace our steps a bit before this thing gets hungry again..."

"But, my axe is still in there!" Einhard protested.

Amalrik places an ear to the ground/floor -- listening for anything ... Pre-earthquake rumblings ??

There's a metal door on the other end of the chamber, past the tanks,

Roll Hear Noise, 1 in 6.

20:49, Today: Amalrik rolled 2 using 1d6.  amalrik - Hear Noise.

Nothing, nada, zip, all is quiet under this floor.

In reply to DM (msg # 106):

"Perhaps we should drain the rest of the tanks, just in case?"

Manaku stands back, his hands in the air. "Be my guest if you want to. I'll be here if you get in trouble doing that, to pull you out."

Brodd carefully approaches the tank and looks in it.

There's the hole in the side which is no longer leaking since it's drained down to waist level. You can't see through the inky fluid, but judging from the ripples there's an opening in the bottom of the tank, wide enough for the creatures to travel through.

"It appears to have gone down some kind of hole or drain in the bottom!"

Manaku shrugs. "All good. Are you going to drain it or not?"

Einhard poked his spear in to the remaining liquid and started dredging around on the bottom. "My axe better be in there dammit."

It's Einhard's lucky day, for once. The handled is stained black, but the blade is clean after its wiped off.

"Perhaps we should start calling it, 'The Black Axe of Einhard?'" Let people wonder why only the handle is black.

Einhard cleaned the blade and hung the axe from his belt. "The Black Axe of Einhard..." He smiled at the elf. "I like it. The start of my own legacy. Let's get someplace safe and rest up so we can get out of here and spread my legend." The knight moved toward the door to retrieve his steed.

Brodd rolled his eyes.

Manaku pats Einhard on the back. "Your lucky day--you keep your axe and get a new tagline. Now, where to next?"

amalrik is the last to leave the room. he backs out, shuts the door , and is ready for a new direction.

"Let's find a safe place to rest and recover. I am sure those that were zapped by that thing need to regain the bearings." Einhard gathered the reins, and started talking softly to his steed to calm her as he gently patted her neck.

Brodd gathered up the reins of the mule and followed Einhard.

In reply to Einhard (msg # 118):

"Right, I guess that's about all you could have axed for," Alietra nods.   Then following her comrades and their beasts.

"Why don't we try that door back there, you want to skip what could be a treasure room?"

Amalrik gives Alietra a gentle poke for making such a bad pun.What ales you these days ?? as he falls back to the rear.

With something that bad back there, he looks over his shoulder more than a few times as they head off.

Brother Brodd steps around the tanks to tug on the handle to the metal door, but it seems to be locked.

"It's locked, can someone open it?"

Manaku walks over to Alietra. "Could you try your hand at unlocking that door?" he asks politely.

The old cleric of the Wandering One made an assessment of the door. "Amalrik, you may well be able to bash it down if the young lady isn't successful. Gnomish locks are clever, but sometimes not very strong. They tend to out-think themselves."

Whether this was based on true experience with the wee folk, or if it was all made up from racial stereotypes and lore, Regdoc was careful to keep all wondering. He waited patiently for his more capable companions to effect some sort of entry.

"What about that rest?"

"And if you can't bash it down," says Creston, "no door is any more secure than the strength of its frame."

Amalrik moves over to examine the door, especially the hinges. Any way to put some pressure on the door ?? As in prying it open ?? Does it open inwards or outwards ?? Is the wall smashable instead ?? He looks around for prying/bashing type tools ... Lock pickers first, then barbarian nastiness ... is Amalrik's observation to this problem. Are you all certain you want to tangle with the denizen again ??

Yes!   For my 50th post, I finally get to roll some percentiles! 

Alietra's attention had been briefly elsewhere, reminiscing about that time at the pub that totally blotzo halfling had locked himself in the only bathroom stall, and refused to come out.     It had fallen to her to try pick the lock.   New to such skills at the time, she'd failed badly.    And jammed the lock.   Fortunately, some dwarf who really needed to go had been willing to help out with his axe.  Now, however, her far more advanced skills could be put to use...

"I got this," she assured the others, extracting her lock pick from a pouch.

"One moment..." she went to work, clicking and jiggling.   Jiggling and clicking...

 Alietra rolled 82 using 1d100.  pick locks @ 15%

It was actually several moments.   And, then:   "Oh hells!  I give up! Smash the damn thing!"  She backed away from it...

Manaku holds up his hand. "Before we do that, maybe we find another place to rest. If the door is locked, keep it that way until we've recovered."

"Why not open the door and rest there?"

"The wise cleric assumes nothing bad lies beyond." Einhard quips. "Amalrik, please oblige the young acolyte. If you like, I can assist or we can see tie a rope to the handle and have the mule take care of it."

Brodd backs Rosie up to tie the rope to to pull on the door.

[Brodd, roll a D6 strength check for Rosie.]

13:59, Today: Brother Brodd rolled 2 using 1d6. strength roll.

"Come on Rosie, I have a carrot for you."

Rosie brays, and follows, splashing through the black liquid now ankle-deep on the floor until the rope strains against the lock. She throws her weight into it several times, and finally with a loud SNAP the lock falls into the liquid with a splash. She extends her muzzle and her dainty teeth seize the carrot from the cleric's grasp. The taste of victory crunches loudly in her maw.

[1 XP for Rosie]

Regdoc had a bit of a thought. Reaching down with one long, bony finger to touch the black sludge, he tested the viscosity. OOC: Is it oil(y)?

"That was good thinking to use the beast. I'm sure our late friend Sasar would have approved."

"Come Chomper, let's find out what fate befell the fallen gnomes..."

[yes, it's oily]

Regdoc easily opens the door once the mechanism is removed. There's a hissing sound as the fluid begins to drain down the corridor beyond.

Amalrik was all for letting the mule do the work. As for the oily stuff, he watches it sizzle as it drains. The nasty stuff could gnaw away at his boots, so he lets it run out, drain away. Only then does he look into the opening, looking for oily, yucky stuff, and any glowing eyes inside ....

"Let's be a little careful with flame around this stuff..." Regdoc began to lecture before his voice trailed off...

"What was that?" He cocked his head toward the hissing sound and then turned to glare at his hound. "Was that you Chomper? You hairy bag of swamp gas..."

"COME ON OUT, WE'RE ON TO YOU!" He loudly declared into the room beyond the damaged door.

[Are you carrying a light source?]

The hissing comes from the billowing clouds of frost that escape the damaged door. It's not cold enough to do damage, but you can hear the black liquid crack and solidify out from the door frame.

Einhard moves forward with a torch in hand. He holds the torch toward the doorway and peers down the hall. "Maybe it's just this metal armor, but it seems a bit cold to rest in there..."

"Keep that flame from the oil or we'll all get hot, boiled hot!"

"I know. I know. But, it's he only light source we have and I don't want to be in the dark in this forsaken mine." The knight looked at the group. "Seriously, several of you look pretty beat up. We really should rest. Shall we press forward to the unknown icy hallway, or turn back and find some other place?"

"We need rest. I was hoping we could rest there." he indicates the room. "I'm not so sure now."

[groaning from somewhere inside the frozen mists]

"What was that?" Brodd steps behind Einhard for cover, just in case.

Manaku squints.

"It is very cold in there! But I see a warm body!"

The elf rushes in, half a minute later he emerges, his cloak covered in frost. He's carrying a gnome in his arms, his beard has long icicles on it and his face is ashen, but his teeth are chattering.

"He is alive!"

"Whatever it is, let's kill it and then figure out how to warm this place up without incinerating ourselves."

"Kkk...kkk...kkk...cold...sooooo...cold..."

The gnome is blue with the cold, and his teeth cannot stop chattering. His fleshy little face however is a comical mix of pain from the freezing cold and indignant anger, while his beady little eyes fix a glare at Regdoc. His shaking hand reaches into one of the many pouches hanging from his ample waist, withdraws a small bit of nasty, and throws it at the old cleric. The weak throw however falls far short of the mark.

The gnome continues glaring at Regdoc.

OOC: 04:09, Today: Pock Oneshoe rolled 2 using 1d20.  throw bit of nasty at Regdoc.

Chomper, ever the vigilant guardian, sniffed at the projectile tentatively and then walked over to stand before the gnome, his large head level with the thawing creature's own, the hound's breath turning to steam with each puff, only inches away.

"BWOOOOF!"

The guard dog snorted and then returned to Regdoc's side.

"It speaks. Hmmm.. Anyone know what 'Koh-zo-kho' means?"

At Chomper's approach to close quarters, the gnome puts up his little hands and struggles weakly to get away from the large sniffing hound. He stops, a look of relief on his face, only when the dog leaves.

Slowly getting warmer as moments go by, the gnome gains enough strength to begin standing on its own stubby little legs. He wriggles out of the Elf's arms, plopping on the cold hard floor on its feet. Brushing icicles out of its thick black hair and bushy beard, it pats its robes to get rid of any residual ice flakes. All the while glaring suspiciously at Regdoc and his dog Chomper.

He then turns its gaze, only slightly less suspiciously, to the rest of the party. "Hu er ewe? Ewe shudden be ear..."

Translation: "Who are you? You shouldn't be here..."

As if something suddenly occurred him, the gnome whips around here and there looking for...something. Eyes wide with fear, he turns back to the party, one stubby finger on his lips (still blue from his cold ordeal), with a loud whisper.

"Shhhhhh... Troll...haf ewe seen eat? Beeg...grin...nashty un..."

Translation: "Shhhhhh... Troll...have you see it? Big...green...nasty one..."

"We didn't see a troll, thank the gods! You should thank us who shouldn't be here for getting your frozen bottom out of that room."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:54, Sat 17 Aug 2019.

Regdoc wondered if he was understanding an odd language or hearing a more common tongue being butchered by this little fellow. His companions, including the elves, seemed to think he was a gnome, but to Regdoc he looked more like a malformed and undernourished dwarf with fey heritage.

"What's this about a troll? Did he say troll? Were you hiding from it?"

Turning to his companions, Regdoc reminded them, "The door to the laboratory was shut from the outside, remember? Unless there's a troll hiding in here still, I'm not sure this fellow's making much sense. Perhaps he thinks those wyrms are trolls?"

"Let's keep our guard up, none the less," says Creston, turning around and scanning for enemies behind the party.

The Moon Elf stares into the billowing clouds of frost in the hallway beyond.

"Does anyone here know if trolls have warm blood, like us...or cold blood...like a lizard?"

"I think they are cold blooded, but I could be wrong."

"Then there could be a dozen trolls down that hallway for all we know...waiting to thaw out."

"They need to be burned or melted with acid to destroy them I've been told. I never fought a troll myself."

"You," Regdoc regarded the... gnome? "Is there any more of your lot in there? What did you see?"

"If we're worried, let's shut the door to keep the cold in, and take our rest elsewhere."

Chomper yawned and looked around for something to chew on.

"I've heard tales of trolls.   We wouldn't want to fight with one, let alone several.    Yes, let's keep the door closed just in case, and get out of here."     

"I bet little man here has a good story, after he thaws a bit more."   She eyed the gnome with some degree of suspicion.  Recalling a fairy tale she'd heard in childhood, concerning a gnome whom turned out to be a rapacious cannibal...

Nothing with cold blood could regenerate as quickly as a Troll.

The clouds of frost are now seeping from the tunnel instead of billowing.

After awhile longer of the frantic looks and whispering, and seeing nothing of even the remotest threat, the gnome drops his anxiety with a sheepish look. Shrugging, he plops his butt on the floor with a resigned look on his fleshy face. "Ain't no more of us...just me left. Troll's probably bought the farm and kicked the bucket..."

Shaking his little head and showering icicles all around, he climbs to his feet, picks up a little misshapen bag lying in a corner and shoulders it, then turns to his new found companions with a serious stare. "I think we shud gow...where you guys headed anyways?"

OOC @DM: What are the visible exits from this room? Pock should be familiar with this place right?
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:44, Thu 22 Aug 2019.

In reply to Pock Oneshoe (msg # 169):

[There's double doors opposite the way you came in. This was a control room, but the furniture is in shambles and everything is rusted, with a few gnomish skeletons scattered about. Also there's a fuel leak in one of the primary tanks, leaving a fresh sheen of black fluid on the floor. As for the rest I'll PM you.]

"We seek a path through the mountains in order to rescue a damsel in distress. Is there a path trough the fortress or through the tunnels below?"

Damsel? In distress? And these guys are trying a rescue? Pock cocks his head and looks sideways at the party again, especially the habit-clad man who seems some sort of priest. Perhaps they ain't like other strangers afterall... Eyes wide with curiosity and some suspicion, the gnome pipes up.

"Sow...yaw trayin ta...blubblebuster blubblebluster..." He shakes his head, long hair flailing left and right as he changes his speech pattern.

"So...you are trying to get through this mess instead huh...well follow me then." Pock gives his long matted hair a good scratch, then beckons the party to follow, and stalks up to the bronze double door.

"Where's this damsel now? Kidnapped was she? By whom?" The gnome begins plying these strangers...who do not look so strange and weird now...with questions about their quest. He pushes on the doors to open them...