Lady Magister wanted to see which enemy was looking the weakest for the link would be broken. As one falls from the attacks then only one more remained. She points her finger to let more missiles streak in the air.

13:40, Today: Lady Magister rolled 5 using 2d4 ((1,4)).
This message was last edited by the player at 18:43, Wed 29 Dec 2021.

The group kills the remaining two foes swiftly. At some sentient level the last savage must understand its life is about to end. Its exited thrills turn into high-pitched squeals when multiple attacks cut its flesh from different angles. The last savage's final moments make it look like a flailing training dummy, hopelessly out skilled and outnumbered. Its squeal is cut short with an audible thud when Lady Magister's magic missile hits it squarely on the chest killing it.

Silence returns to the chamber apart from occasional crack of slowly burning wood in the fireplaces at the NW and SW corners. It looks like the wood burned is from dismantled furniture.

Tristan wipes his sword clean on one of the corpses and walks over to the nest-structure and Morland rummaging through it. "They're not there?"

"No, they're not! So far I've found a gold ring, a belt made of some predator's hide and total of 6 cooking pots, but no sign of my son." Morland replies and stands up, defeated.

"A ring? Let me see it, please." Tristan takes the ring the peasant hands over. "Ha! This ring is Lesviel's. I've seen it in her hand when she performs. This is a good sign! These beasts must have taken it from her, right?"

The village elder looks at you all and displays the ring. "This is Lesviel's, I'm certain of it! We must push on! "

Vandren steps quietly inside the room and picks up the torch Doherti had tossed on the floor. The young wizard looks the bloodied corpses and swallows hard.

You stand near the western door that is in the middle of the west wall of this room. Now being able to look more closely, this area might have been a kitchen at one time ages ago. Beyond the nest there are two doors in the corner of the room, both sealing a passage towards the east, one in the NE corner and the second one in the SE corner.

+++

The combat is over and we're back in the exploration mode. You can use Recoveries dice if you want to heal. What do you want to do?

Thorgrim rubs his aching spots with a grimace. They got him good, the bastards. Luckily, he's a Dwarf of the mountain holds, not some soft-skinned lowlander - he's a bit bruised, but not badly hurt.

"All right, which way do we go?" he says. "I suppose one's as good as any, right?"

He heads for the north-east door.

10:56, Today: Thorgrim Stonefriend rolled 13 using 2d10+3, dropping the lowest dice only with rolls of 10,5.  Recovery.

Jobol hovered close to Lady Magister, taking up his accustomed position by her side. "What I want to know is what these scalies are doing down here in the first place." he grumbled. "It's not like them to set up somewhere this dry. They like the damp." The nasty little hunchback sniffed the air and casually inspected the nest himself to see if his eyes might spot something the others wouldn't.

Doherti collects any arrows that might be reusable and then leads the way toward whichever path has the strongest indication of missing people behind it. Or the closest one, if there's no clear difference.

Logresia follows behind Doherti, trusting in his abilities.

Marthohta also follows Doherti.

Jobol checks out the mound like nest-structure, perhaps 15' in diameter. It has been build of branches, sticks, mud and random junk and appears to be rather recent construct; some of the wood material and perhaps the mud must have been brought outside. The holes in it, basket like and not much different of a bird's nest have the same punchy stink as the lizardfolk bodies, only stronger. Jobol himself could easily curl up in one of them, but even for him the stink is quite repulsive. The nest hold random junk, pieces of pottery, bone shards etc. There's nothing valuable in them.

There are no clear tracks for Doherti to follow. Following Thorgrim's initiative you enter through the NE door arriving into a new chamber. It's also square and slightly larger than the previous one. Vander lifts the torch higher but the light doesn't reveal far walls or corners.  Few long dried wooden benches stand in disorder nearby and a partially broken large table. Next to them is a pile of broken wooden stuff, pieces of similar wooden furniture which have been crudely broken into portable chunks and piled up. You saw similar chunks burning in the fireplaces in the previous chamber. On the left-hand side wall there are still remains of long ago decayed tapestry. Only upper portions of it still hang from the holders, lower parts have been torn away or fallen loose by their own.

The air here is dry and cooler than in the previous room. As you carefully move on, Vander's torch reveals an exit; a decorative, heavy wooden door with metal enforcing in the middle of the east wall, empty torch holders on each side of it. All of you can see on the floor a lot of movement has been going towards this door, which is firmly closed now. Closer to the door, you notice a familiar crude, recently carved, glyph on the door; an eye with a slit iris on it.

As you approach the door, you think you hear sounds behind the door, quick footsteps maybe? They end as soon as you pick them up.

Lady Magister was pleased to see the last one fall but still there was something peeking its ugly head up in the back of her mind. As she was thinking, Jobol's words brought her out of thought. Nodding her head to him "True but that is not my main concern.  Its this Her the other one spoke of and this New Order. she softly said as she allowed those that were skilled at tracking to do what they do best and follow behind.

Watching Jobol as he rummage through the large nest.

With a muffled grunt, Thorgrim sets his feet and raises his shield in the direction of the door. If anything comes out of it, he'll meet it with the business end of his axe! But if nothing does, he'll wait with opening it until everyone else is ready to face whatever is behind it.

Logresia drew her crossbow and aimed for a point ten feet behind the door.  Yes she knew it wasn't open yet, but she had no plans to fire until it was.

Marthohtar chuckles.  "My turn, Thorgrim?  That's fair.  Everyone ready?"

Not waiting for a response, he raises his shield, crouching slightly behind it, to protect himself from javelins, then steps forward, and flings the door wide.

Marthohtar yanks the door open. Behind it is an corridor - empty.

Some 40 feet away the passage opens to an open space and you see low light - perhaps daylight - faintly emitting from somewhere above in there.

As you advance towards the end of the corridor, it opens into a rectangular chamber. Walls have been chalked white, amplifying the faint beam of sunlight emitting from a very small hole in the ceiling. The beam is directed somehow and it illuminates a rectangular stone altar, also chalked white, at a dais in the north end of the chamber. From the distance it looks like a fallen candelabra is on top or the altar. You can make out remains of a mural picture on the white stone wall behind the altar but it has been messed and vandalized unrecognizable with soot, dirt and, perhaps, blood?

On the right-hand side of the altar, on the wall there is a piece of worn and partially torn tapestry hanging from ceiling to the floor. What has been portrayed on it is no longer discernible.

From the dais to the south wall there are heavy wooden benches, made of heavy dried wood, in disarray on the floor. Some of them have collapsed on their own, some still maintain their form but look brittle.

The room is silent. There is a similar heavy decorated door near the SE corner exiting south. It's ajar, darkness cloaking the corridor behind it.

"Is this a chapel?" Vander whispers and lifts the torch he carries higher.

Doherti puts a finger to his lips and uses hand signals to indicate that something is moving behind the altar. He nocks and arrow, but doesn't draw it back. He approaches the altar while moving to one side to get a view of what's behind while still some distance away.

Thorgrim scratches his beard and gives the room a lingering look. As a dwarf of the cloth, he has some knowledge of other faiths; straining little-used brain cells, he tries to remember if this chapel reminds him of any of them.

10:50, Today: Thorgrim Stonefriend rolled 17 using 1d20+3.  INT+Theology of the Stone.

Logresia moves slowly to the side of the room, looking for a place where she could view the back of the altar, but as she approached such a place, she continued to examine the walls, being careful not to startle that which she had heard behind it.

When she felt she was in position, she turned to have a look and approached the altar.

Marthohtar heads into the room rather incautiously, hoping to attract an ambush by feigning obliviousness, but still ready for a fight.  He looks over the symbols, trying to identify who is worshipped here.

Those looking behind the altar can see a small Gnome individual hiding there, pressing his back firmly against the altar and trying to be quiet. He has a big bulbous nose and large ears, even for a gnome, and his short brown hair and beard are messed with dust and dirt, as is his leather armor. He is unarmed, and with bloodshot eyes appears quite exhausted and stressed out.

"Oh dear. Um, hello?" he says to you as he notices you've found him.

Logresia bends to make herself look as small and unthreatening as possible as she looked at the gnome and said in as soft and gentle a voice as possible, "Hello, are you okay? You seem somewhat afraid."

Thorgrim relaxes slightly. If he remembers his lessons correctly - and admittedly he spent a lot of them doodling pictures of himself slicing goblins in half with an axe in the margin of his books - this shrine is dedicated to a benevolent god. That's good. Shrines dedicated to deranged hell-gods have better treasure, but you never know when you'll pick up a pesky curse from one.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:00, Sun 09 Jan 2022.

Doherti relaxes somewhat, but is still focused on the primary problem. He moves to the door, ready to go through it once the others are finished, but exuding and eagerness to keep moving.

"Water, please? This thirst is killing me." the gnome pleads, looking each of you nervously and trying to read who you are and what you're up to. "I thought you're them... people patrolling these chambers all the time."

"Vavrus?" Tristan comes over to the gnome. The old man is visibly shaken by finding this individual.

"Tristan? Man, I'm glad to see you, boss. You found me, heh." The gnome says but there's no visible relief in his expression or body language. "You're not... Um...what are you doing here?" Vavrus asks very, very carefully and tentatively. Even after meeting apparently an old friend, the gnome is still looking very worried and guarded.

Marthohtar steps forward, relaxing his stance a little, and says, "Vavrus, is it?  I'm Marthohtar. I don't have any water, I'm afraid... we're here to rescue some children.  You say people are patrolling?  Do you mean lizards?"

Lady Magister kept to the back, she didn't trust the being even if it was a friend of Tristan.  Its first reaction to him and the way it stopped in sentence made her wounder what was he not saying.

When Marthohtar moved up to speak and it seemed that he too was under the false illusion that they were here to rescue children.  When in fact they were here to rescue missing people from the village.  Men, woman and children.

Her eyes moved to Jobol to see if he could get a better look at this gnome.

Logresia shrugged and offered a flask to Vavrus.  It's half full and lukewarm but it's water.  "Drink slow", she said, "And don't choke."