1. The Entrance
[w] cobble stone path (smell of wet dog) to 2.
[e] tight squeeze, dark and over grown with unmanaged trees (smell of roasting meat) to 3.
[n] large weathered doors with brass nobs (locked) to 4.
[n] foggy window (figure moving inside against a light) to 6.
[n] boarded up window (dark inside) to 5. [s] Iron gate to 0.
———————————————

In reply to The Conductor (msg # 1):

With a gasp Zikko points north toward the foggy window. "Undocumented looters!" He sets off, stopping a few paces ahead to insure others are in follow.

"Now, just to be clear, we're documented looters, right?" is Smoot's response as he strides after Zikko.

"This is such a bad idea..."

Bartholomew makes his way after the two, hands extended in front of him to try to stop himself from bumping into anything within the fog.

The assistant looks to Warfhand.

"Which way should we go, Boss?"

Sparky ties Matilda's lead line to a nearby tree, looks at her intently, and gives a command. "Stay".  The cow dramatically rolls her crossed eyes and begins munching on a blade of grass.  Satisfied, Sparky straightens his wig and strides up to the foggy window with more bravado than he feels. He wipes the glass hoping to get a better look at the figure inside. He glances back at the others with a shrug and then raps sharply on the glass. "Oi! You there! You're going to have to go. These premises are off-limits except to us, the authorized looters."  He gives a satisfied nod. "Let's see what they say to that! Gave them a solid drubbing, eh?"

The window is warm to the touch and wet from condensation.

For only a moment Sparky sees what appear to be a pair of eyes the size of dinner plates staring back at him through the steam before they vanish.

"Well? Sparky, is it? What do you see! Have we got the jump on them!?"

Smoot looks at the front window.

"If the door's barred, you can bail me through that." he says, evenly. "Tooms'll keep me company while I get the door."

He said that as if it were the most obvious thing ever.

Sparky jumps backward at the momentary glimpse of huge eyes.  "Well, I say!  Not your ordinary looters.  No Sir!  Something quite large lurks within."  He looks back at his companions, "I think that way is ill-advised.  Perhaps we should seek out another?"  He makes his way over to the front door and listens intently for any sounds of doom emanating from within.

"Move aside, simpletons. The faster we loot this place, the faster we can get the hell out of here"

Grabbing what looked like a pipe with spikes, Bartholomew starts wailing at the locked door with brass nobs. He shows that he is no expert looter by making a tremendous amount of noise and aiming at the center of the door rather than the hinges. But hopefully is weathered enough that it will give way.

08:30, Today: Bartholomew Ravenman rolled 3 using 1d8.  Spiked Periscope.

Barhtolomew's family heirloom manages to batter a hole through the door. Steam and smoke flow from the aperture. From there it's a simple step for him to stick his arm in and unlock the door.

You enter and the room is thick from the bubbling pot cooking over a makeshift fire in the center of the room. It's hard to tell what this room originally was, such is its state. Chairs have been smashed and fed into the fire. Upturned tables and bookshelves litter the room. The floor is marble (logically), and the ceiling is stained black from the smoke.

In addition to the battered door there is also a wooden door to the west.

Sparky leaps out of Bartholomew's way in indignation.  "If you'll give me just a moment to listen, I'm sure that...oh, nope.  He's definitely just bashing at the door.  Very subtle Sir!"

As the door swings open, Sparky peeks his head around the side and give the escaping steam a sniff.  He exclaims, "My word!  Who keeps a cooking fire and pot in their entryway?  This doesn't look at all safe...or sanitary for that matter."   He takes a timid step inside and searches through the debris for anything else of interest.

"This is not even the worse I've seen. You people really know nothing about architecture or design. The local pub had a bathroom in the corridor. It had two doors! Anyway, after you"

Sparky, roll a d20.

The skeletal hound sniffs at the pot, then shakes his head.

This will either be really good or really bad:


16:52, Today: Sparky rolled 1 using 1d20.  GM Request.

Sparky, you find a…

Ball of twine.

Also you notice a pair of webbed feet crouched behind the fallen bookcase.

Sparky is down on all fours, reaching under the bookcase to retrieve the twine that he...JUST...MUST...HAVE...when he sees strange feet standing motionless just inches away.  The actor freezes, hoping that the practice from his last gig as a living statue will pay off.  He looks over at Bartholomew and silently mouths "Duck feet here" except that it looks like he's saying "Snuck sweet pear"

Sparky feels an alarming itch form deep inside his nose.  He must have breathed too much smoke from the fire.  He scrunches his face grotesquely as he tries to stifle a sneeze.  The effort causes beads of sweat to form on his brow and his entire body begins shaking as he holds it in but he finally succumbs to the urge lets out a thunderous "Ah...ahh...ahhh...CHOOOO!"  Wiping a bit of snot on the ball of twine, he quickly back peddles from the mysterious form.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:35, Thu 02 Mar 2023.

As the actor lets out a thunderous sneeze something human-sized yet fish-like with eyes the size of dinner plates jumps out from under the bookcase and bolts to the west door. The fish-person opens it, rushes through it, and slams it shut. You hear the distinctive click of it being locked.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:41, Thu 02 Mar 2023.

Sparky scrambles back to his feet, feebly muttering an apology and blaming "allergies".  He gestures to the (now) locked door, and nodding at Bartholomew he quips "I believe this is your department?  Bash away Sir.  But please try not to hurt the poor thing.  It appeared quite harmless."

"Ew"

Watching the fish man escape, Bartholomew turns to Sparky, an expression of disgust showing on his face. "I hate pears"

At the comment about the door bashing, the nobleman frowns his brow. "I don't appreciate the implication that I'm some brute that bashes doors down for a living. But yes"

He then proceeds to bash away.


11:07, Today: Bartholomew Ravenman rolled 1 using 1d8.  Spiked Periscope.

Sparky looks at Bartholomew quizzically.  What an oddly specific and yet personal bit of information to share.  The actor smiles encouragingly.  "You don't say?  Yes, well, it's grapes for me.  Disgusting little things.  Can't touch them."  He sticks out his tongue to emphasize his point.  An odd conversation, but at least they seem to be bonding.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:27, Thu 02 Mar 2023.

"I'm sorry, did someone need a door bashed?" Smoot answers, coming up.

Bartholomew punches a spike sized hole, not big enough yet.

"That... that was intentional. I was just making a peephole"

Slightly embarrased, Bartholomew reared back, but stumbled as he lowered the spiked rod, making another small hole.

"I... I made another one, in case two people want to peep at the same time..."


11:48, Today: Bartholomew Ravenman rolled 1 using 1d8.  Spiked Periscope.

Sparky holds up a hand.  "Just give me a moment."  He stoops over to peer through the hole in the door and calls out in his most soothing voice, "Hey there little fella!  Sorry to startle you.  We're not going to hurt you.  We just have to collect a few things from the house and we'll be on our way.  Can you understand me?"  Sparky cranes his neck around to see if he can spot the odd fish-man.

Peeping through the whole into the foyer, Sparky gets a better view of the fish-man creature and the large rusty knife he's carrying before he runs north, deeper into the house.

At the same time, the double doors to the west open, and a man in medieval clothing with a sword at his belt and a bow and quiver over his shoulder enters the room, followed by five men in ratty cloaks, one carrying a lantern.

"Did you just see something? No matter..." The leader turns to his cloaked companions.

"Remember, we need ten thousand New Pounds worth of goods to fulfill our debt, newer technical items count for double!"

Sparky waves at Bartholomew and Smoot and points to the peep-hole in the door.  He whispers angrily, "It's the competition!  Another team of looters trying to beat us to our own payoff!  Ms. Fancy Pants warned us that there would be others."

Bartholomew checks through the second handmade peephole to see the fellow looters.

"Ah, I see. Best to approach with diplomacy. Just follow my lead"

He then lowers the weapon(?) aside, and knocks on the battered door.

”HALT! WHO GOES THERE?”

"My name is Bartholomew Ravenman, heir of the noble line of Ravenman. Me and my companions wish to parlay with you, gentlemen, so we may figure a way to share the spoils that we may find in this haunted place today"

Bartholomew turns around and gives the others a confident thumbs up.

”Wert thou not a noble I would bit my thumb at thee! For this writ in my hand clearly states. That I, Sparrowheart Bagshaw, have right to what remains on these premises before it is torn down for one of those accursed skyscrapers!”

"If that's the case, noble Sparrowheart Bagshaw, then mayhaps we may be of service to you and yours, for a justly pay? Surely our effort combines would help stripe this unlucky location of it's valuable, may their serve your family for times to come?"

”Nay, Sir, for thou art still interlopers no matter whence thou camest! I am already to split the spoils with mine Bemused Associates! Prithee Sirrah, may we meet at the tavern on the morrow, but for now, exit my property forthwith, lest we we come to blows!”

"Very well sir, then we shall take our leave. for it is not our intention to offend your noble house. We have not taken anything yet from this place yours, but shall you wish to verify say the word and we'll subject to examination"

Sparky clears his throat.  "Hold a moment good Sirs.  Mister Bagshaw, you say you have a writ to the valuables on this property.  I will not impugn your honor, my Lord.  However, our company likewise has a deed to the same, issued I think by the same benefactor.  Our recovery of such items to be applied to our own significant debt."

Sparky's tone becomes a bit sterner, "We acknowledge your obligations and shall not impede your work so long as you likewise respect ours.  We have no desire to resort to violence in these matters but a mutually beneficial arrangement must be the alternative.  What say you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:41, Sun 05 Mar 2023.

Smoot attempts to, quietly, get to work while the others negotiate.

"Get to work" meaning..?

See if 'appraising' things in plain sight turns up anything valuable enough to grab.

Sparky looks back at Bartholomew and shrugs.  He clears his voice and shouts through the peep-hole, "I shall interpret your silence as assent.  We will endeavor to stay out of your way and would appreciate it if you would do the same.  Good day gentlemen."

Bartholomew makes sure to not say anything, building plausible deniability if Sparky's hijacking of his own plan doesn't pan out. He can always throw them all under the bus.

The room is pretty much ruined, Sparky was lucky to find the twine. There’s the cooking pot and ladle of course.

”Come, my Bemused Companions! To the victor goes the spoils!”

”Victor couldn’t make it today, he had a dental appointment, remember?”

”I…never mind. Just go up the stairs!”

Once he is sure that the other group is out of earshot, Bartholomew sighs defeated.

"Why did you have to go an do that? We could have had them loot everything and just ambush them outside. Now we have to compete for the loot, so bothersome... oh well, at least you turned out to be convincing. I would have bet against you, but you seem to have a knack for charming the dimwitted"

Smoot, roll a d20.

20:46, Today: Smoot rolled 14 using 1d20.  SMOOT ROLL A D20!

You find a bag of dried flowers.

[DM]

Zikko, who was inexplicably distracted this entire time, looks up.

”Wait…do I HAVE a brother named Sparrowheart? Did he have an extra finger by any chance?”
This message was last updated by the GM at 18:26, Sat 11 Mar 2023.

[DM]

Warfhand samples a bit of the soup. He drops the ladle then falls down, dead as a dorrnail.

”Boss? BOSS!”

He leans him up and starts shaking him frantically.

”Boss! Wake up! Please!”

Sparky eyes Warfhand's corpse.  "I say!  Must be an especially spicy concoction.  I was a bit peckish but I seem to have lost my appetite."

He turns to the still-closed door, listening intently.  "It seems that our opponents have relented for now but there's no time to lose!  Let's get this door open and begin our search in earnest!"  He makes a pathetic show of lightly nudging the door with his shoulder and then stands back, rubbing it tenderly.

Pangwin blows his nose on his sleeve. He picks up his fallen master’s halberd.

”You want me to do it or the guy with the spikey thing?”

"You can give it a shot. I don't want you to feel useless now that you are masterless"

He charges the door with his poleaxe and smashes the lock open.

”We’ll pick him up before we leave, right?”

Sparky gestures with a flourish of his hand, "A true gentleman never leaves a man behind Sir!  We shall of course collect his remains when our task is complete.  But for now, let us venture forth and beat our opponents to the most valuable loot!"

Sparky takes a tentative step through the doorway and examines the room beyond.