Leaving the kippers and eggs spread, regrettably, behind, the guests make for the now opened trapdoor behind Chester's desk, joined in their movement by the sixth guest, their inclusion within the party having been tacitly, if not enthusiastically, agreed upon. When Rasxif's within arm's reach, Chester reaches out and tugs his the end of his cloak and then points meaningfully at a manure-smeared parchment with a line for a signature at the bottom. Written at the top in in a script both elegant and legal is the title of the document: "Rasxif's Last Will and Testament." He hands the gnome a drippy stylus, and he, along with the document, await his signature.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 15:48, Sun 03 Mar.

"Is that really necessary? We can simply wait for him to return to life," Archonia pointed out. Turning to Rasxif, she asks, "Or do you prefer to handle the negotiations for your items on your return, or do you instead plan on staying dead? That's not unknown, of course, but novel enough."

Rasxif mutters something under his breath about ”insufferable jurists”. Removing an unused piece of parchment from the back of his spellbook, the gnome writes a succinct missive, declaring that in the event of his death and unsuccessful resurrection Archonia is formally appointed as the executor of his estate and may disburse his worldly possessions among his surviving adventuring companions in whatever manner she deems wise. He signs the document with a flourish, hands it to Chester, then descends through the trapdoor.

Ornwin asks Chester, "Do I need to sign something too? In the event of my death, all my possessions would revert to the House of Unwin, though my companions here would be welcome to use anything they needed to help them survive and return safely. After all, if they did not return, all my worldly goods would be left down there anyway. "

Retrieving his prinz nez from one of his interior vest pockets, Chester scrutinizes the produced document from its first capital to its final signature. In the end, it meets with his approval and he produces his signet ring and presses it upon the testament, leaving the Rump heraldic crest imprinted there, a golden hind dormant upon a wine-red field. After a flurry of bureaucratic legerdemain, the concierge returns not one, not two, but three official documents to Rasxif, the Tegelian will, the gnome's testament, and a codicil.


Chester's response is both lyrical and succinct: "Dwarves don't die; they just multiply." They lock eyes. That's all it takes. The dwarf's dormant racial ability has been awakened.

With Rasxif having descended below, Archonia approaches the trapdoor but finds her progress arrested with a gentle tug on an extension of sartorial fabric. He roots around in a burlap sack across which are branded the words "Property of Chester" intended for the storage of the "Discipline and Punish" scenario for his "Barnyard Bonanza" playset, quickly producing a stout rod with an oversized ferrule, marked with zigzag-shaped etchings. The air around it thrums with potential.

He smiles at the enchantress, "For you and for your chosen."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:20, Mon 04 Mar.

Giving Chester wide berth in case he might be likewise accosted, Brant descends.

"It has a pleasant feel to it," Archonia says, tapping the rod with one hand into the palm of her other hand. "The Amaranthine Doxy accepts. has it power beyond the obvious, or does it require words of command?"

In reply to Chester (msg # 5):

When he receives Chester's gift of the Mirror Images spell, he touches the corner of his left eye in a sort of salute, and says "So be it. Confusion to my enemies, and may they always attack the wrong image!" He gives a grim dwarvish grin and goes on down.

When Archonia takes the rod in her hands, Chester comments, "She's a beaut', ain't she? Puts the 'whoopsie' in the 'daisy, she does -- just be careful where ya stick her, ya hear?"
Before Cass can duck down the shaft after Orwin, the concierge waggles his fingers. "Not so fast missy, I've got something special for you, too."

He opens his master playset chest and retrieves another burlap sack, with the same branding as the last one, this one intended for his "A Hootenanny at the Hoedown" playset. From within, he pulls out knee-length cowgirl boots, freshly waxed, polished, and lubricated.

"How about you slip right into these?" he invites.

Archonia nodded at Chester's elaboration, and thanked him. While she considered the enjoyable uses for the rod, it occurred to her that it could be of some use in combat as well. She doubted she would use it as such though, since such an action would, well, require her to be in combat. Perhaps she could lend it to one of the others when going into such situations.

Orn called up to Archonia, "Come on, lass! Best be off before that fellow puts his rod somewhere you don't want it!"

"The Amaranthine Doxy would like to see him try," she replied, although it was not said in a tone of defiance or dismissiveness, but in one of curiosity.

With all the finality of the fall of the guillotine, the trapdoor slams shut behind the guests as they descend the ladder to the concierge cave below. Any sounds produced by Chester (the grunts, nickers, and feed slopping, etc.) during play do not penetrate from above. Likewise, it must be presumed that any sounds produced by guests (screams, gurgles, and rattles) during their play will not penetrate to the hotel above.

You are in the Concierge Cave. It has all the appointments and accoutrements of a chamber dedicated to the recharging of a concierge who has spent himself in vigorous play, including, but not limited to, a sectional sofa, eel-skin rugs, wet bar, and a larder. Positioned in the middle of a rug is a redwood table of short stature atop which sit several bowls of concierge snacks. On its own smaller rug, a still-swaying rocking horse, its springs still jiggling up and down, waits for its next rider. The concierge cave odor, which had been noticed immediately upon entry, is most intrusive around the horse with its wooden, champing head.

Against one of the walls is a bulging wardrobe.

On one of the walls is a precious print, advertising some long ago forgotten attraction that must have been Coming Soon at some point in time:



We'll leave Cass's response to Chester to the side for now.

Archonia checks the wardrobe for other dimensions.

Ornwin looks over the wet bar, the snacks, and the larder for anything he might want in the way of adventuring supplies or immediate consumption. While moving round the room, he is very careful to avoid coming within snapping range of the rocking horse.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:30, Sun 10 Mar.

Rasxif draws his blade, dedicating himself to keeping watch on the unsettling rocking horse while silently acknowledging that it seemed the sort of thing that Chester would be amused by.

After having checked his pack and found it bare of provisions, Orwin sheepishly investigates to see if any of the cave's offerings will do, all of the other guests having had the foresight to pack away a little something for excursions such as this. He finds mixed nuts and dried fruit in the bowls and salamis, dark rye breads, along with cheese wheels and a few jars of spicy condiments in the larder.

Heaving open the doors to the wardrobe, Vixl finds it to have been overstuffed with crisp, white linens, feedbags, bridles, and the like. She nimble hops backward to avoid the eruption of equestrian essentials. Knowingly, she clears out more of wardrobe's contents, sure that something magical awaits her at its rear. The first assurance of this is a surge of temperature and humidity with the coolness of the cave submitting to the sultriness of the jungle. The second confirmation of this is the brambly, woody smell of ... lianas? Why yes there is no back to the wardrobe at all. Instead a cave mouth, festooned with lianas and creepers, extends back straight and level, with the beyond appearing to once have been a road or path, for in places the stone appears to have been worked. There are many tracks on the ground, some of them human-like.

Orwin may add 3 days worth of travel rations to his sheet. There is also a reasonable selection of wines, whiskeys, and ciders in the bar.

"I think we will need no clothing from the wardrobe as we proceed forward, if you even consider bridles and blankets clothing. But the temperature is high, so perhaps the cider would be a relief as we continue on. If not for us, then perhaps as trade to whomever left these footprints."

Brant leads on through the wardrobe, lighting a torch if one is needed.

"Keep your eyes open for a witch. Or a lion."

"The climate seem wrong for a lion. A jaguar, perhaps," Archonia offers as they try to make their way on the remnants of the road, "If we are lucky."

”Pumas,” Rasxif mutters, his voice edgy with anxiety, ”in the crevasses…”

In reply to The Host (msg # 17):

Ornwin has duly added 3 days worth of travel rations o his supplies. He might pick up a jug or so of cider if it is not hard cider.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:40, Wed 13 Mar.