"We had best move on from here. If the basilisks were intelligent, they would have used this as an ambush point," Leohart whispered to anyone near him.

"Well, thank the gods we've a bard!   That kind of thing should be a song."

On other matters, she whispered back- "Eh, if basilisks were intelligent, we'd be extinct.  But point taken.  I second moving on."   

Regdoc simply nodded and gestured with a jut of his bearded chin in the direction of continuance.

"Hmmm...[tries the opening to Seasons of Love]


...Seventy-three years frozen killed by a ko-bold...

...I'll work on it."

He goes back to peering over the shoulders of the other arcanists at the lost gnome's grimoire.

Einhard continues to press forward.... cautiously... crystal in one hand, sword in the other.

Brodd raises his torch up to light the way for Einhard, himself, and those trailing them.

Dwarghar continues in the back. Looking about them. Now interested in the art, now cursing himself over the dead especially his family. He has the stupid crystal for all the good it would do.

Manaku drops at the rear ranks again, keeping watch of the party's rear.

The party comes to a sharp curve to the right. The streaks of blood, now more faint, seem to follow in that direction as well.

Brother Brodd inspects the blood on the floor to see how fresh it is. Trying to decide how close they are, keeping the crystal in his hand!

Some crimson rubs off on your finger.

"We're close, it's very fresh. Be on your toes people, we can only help two people that get turned to stone."

He holds his crystal tight in his left hand, the torch in his right.

"Who holds the cure? Perhaps they should hang back so they are not the one turned to stone." Einhard suggested to the others.

"I hold it. I'll wear it on the outside just in case so it is not encased in stone."

He ties a string around it and hangs it around his neck so that it hangs outside his robe.

Regdoc had been about to volunteer for the very important job of hanging back while the others engaged stone-gazing death, but was edged out by the younger cleric. With a grunt, the old Seeker readied his mace as well as his own crystal.

"Not sure the Wanderer Himself tread very much along this particular path, perhaps we can simply outrun such a creature?"

Brodd continued to hold his torch high for Einhard near the front.

In reply to Regdoc (msg # 43):

"I doubt it's very fast, since its main attack is deadly gaze. But if it comes to that, run like a wind, Regdoc!"

Amalrik looks up and down. Cracks, fissures, ceiling paintings ...

Dwarghar continues with the others.

"OK, I will defer to your wisdom Brother Brodd. Just be ready." Einhard cautiously moved forward. Now holding the shard out in front of him like a holy symbol warding of the undead, head slightly cocked to hopefully avoid gazing upon whatever monstrosity lies ahead.

Amalrik follows Einihard, sword in one hand, crystal in the other, and looking at about knee height along the passage floor. Amalrik tries to keep in a crouch, down low.

Manaku follows the group acting as its rear guard. Once every ten steps or so he turns, scanning the darkness behind them and trying to hear if anything approaches from that direction.

"Damn it, first frozen, now buried." Pock feels a little deranged but he starts tapping the iron cart to alarm the others. Maybe they will come for help.

10:54, Today: Brother Brodd rolled 3 using 1d6.  listen. Brodd pauses because he thought he heard something tapping, but shakes his head and dismisses it as fantasy.

[New Scene!]