The Gavisoria Games (IC)

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix rubs his eyes with one powerful hand, clearly frustrated. After a moment, he growls, and then addresses the room with a stead, if exasperated, voice. "You're a room. You were built, and presumable enchanted with the spell that allows you ask this question. A trap was built into the ceiling and walls. That is your story, literally." He then waits for the walls and ceiling to start moving, none to confident in his answer.

[Galathir]

There is a brief pause and then the coarse rumbly voice growls out its single word "No".

The walls and ceiling once again move inwards a few inches in a powerful compacting and bone-rearranging motion.

OOC @ Darmok

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As you think about the room you are reminded about your studies in the past when you learned about the Oracle of Delrial. Before giving a prophesy, this oracle would think of a brief story, phrase, or idea and require the supplicant to guess it before expounding on the future. It is possible that the voice here is thinking of a story that acts as the password for the door.

[Serpentine]

Alwynn scrabbles about in the bag for a minute, and then looks entirely unsurprised. He shows the pipe to Maekrix, and talks softly.
"This thing keeps turning up like a bad copper. Do you think maybe the carvings on it might be the answer?"

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For ease, would you mind terribly repeating the description, dear DM?

[Galathir]

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The pipe is an ornately carved bit of ivory with the bowl displaying a carefully crafted scene of a dragon devouring a knight.

[Witchdoctor2012]

Darmok remains quiet while the others converse about what to do. If one where to look at him, one would think that Darmok was deep in thought, as if he were desperately trying to remember something. He hems and haws for a minute, he lets out a sigh of frustration at Maekrix second failed attempt and then when Alwaynn makes his comment, Darmoks eyes light up and and snaps his fingers as he exclaims: "That just might be it exactly Alwaynn! I knew this was familiar...i just couldn't put my finger on it. When I was in a young man and a student of Robin's greatness, I remember my master telling me of the Oracle of Delrial! This Oracle would always encrypt its prophesies with a password of some sort. Usually it was a short story or phrase that must be repeated before the Oracle would cooperate with the inquisitor. This pipe might give us a clue to the story or the phrase that must be said before we can proceed, does anyone have an idea on how to interpret the carvings on the pipe?"

[Galathir]

Vinto crawls his way through the hole battered through the wall, and with cautious footsteps, he approaches the smashed corpse lying in the middle of the room. He raises one hand in a "wait for me" gesture, and then flips the body over on its chest. After fiddling around for a few seconds, he pulls out a small leather object and holds it up with triumph. "I thought I saw something that could prove useful! I think it's a sheaf of paper."

He walks back to the rest of the party and opens the cover to reveal several pages of parchment with neat printing lined across. Vinto holds it out for all to see.

"If I don't make it, then you can at least start where I was forced to leave off. There were two trapeze artists in love and the female was killed, but not by her lover. . ."

"Well, I think we have a starting point."

[Jarian]

"If you know where to begin, by all means please do so. I had thought I knew some small bit of your peoples' histories, but I haven't a clue as to where to begin."

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I could be wrong here, but I'm thinking nobody wants to be that person, you know, the one that crushes the party to death by going on the wrong tangent in the whole Twenty Questions bit. I certainly don't, and I don't know what sort of answer I'm looking for here.

[Serpentine]

Alwynn looks from the note to the pipe.
"...ah. Can't see many trapeze artists on this thing. Hm. Maybe we should examine the room a bit more carefully, see if there's anything on the walls or something... No one guess again while anyone's in there!"
He starts doing so - examining the walls, every brick and any feature in there, for anything that could help. He also gestures at the broken body.
"Maybe we should move that out of here, too, and have a closer look at what else he might have on his squishy person."

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Perception check: (1d20+6)[17]

[Galathir]

Alwynn:

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You examine the left wall where the voice seems to be originating and find that at the bottom of the wall there is a small panel or plaque of cement with pictures engraved into it. It shows two people swinging on a high trapeze, one about to leap off and fly into the other's waiting hands.

In the next scene, the one who was about to leap is now falling to the ground and a figure behind them is pointing a finger at the falling person.

[Serpentine]

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How detailed are these drawings? Was the pointing figure in the first one as well? Does it have an identifying features? Do the trapezing figures?

Alwynn examines the panel, and points it out to the others to have a look. He then continues searching the rest of the room - always keeping his ears open for that tell-tale grinding noise.

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Do I need to do another Perception check, or will we stick with the same one?

[Galathir]

OOC @ Alwynn

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The drawings are not particularly detailed, but there is enough information that you think the pointing character is some kind of arcane master. The trapeze artists are clearly (but not erotically so) male and female ,but there is nothing else about them that would seem significant. And you can just keep your old perception check. You can feel free to roll a new one is you wish, but quite frankly, there isn't much else for it to reveal.

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix leans his head inside the room, not risking actually moving inside. "Do you see anything? I'm beginning to really dislike this place, and I'm of half a mind to start smashing things." He glares at the walls of the place, as if to convey his dislike directly to the dungeon.

[Serpentine]

Alwynn looks up from where he's examined the walls as best he's able.
"That picture over in the corner is the most I can find. Looks like some mysterious villainous type using magic to kill a trapeze artist, to me."

[Galathir]

Vinto nods at Alwynn. "That seems to about sum it up. What kind of magic do you think that wizard's using though? Paralysis, blindness, or something like that? Anyway, it may be time to just give it a shot and see what happens. I think we've got room for a few wrong guesses."

[Serpentine]

Alwynn humms, and goes to have a closer look at that panel.
"I'm not sure. Let me see..."

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Spellcraft check: (1d20+7)[8]

edit: "Clearly it's using Divination!"

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix frowns at the flippant response, and he inspects the panel for himself, trying to call forth his limited arcane knowledge.

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Spellcraft: (1d20+8)[10]

EDIT- "Yep, Divination looks about right."

[Serpentine]

Excellent

[Galathir]

Vinto glances at Alywnn and Maekrix a bit doubtfully but shrugs and turns back to face the room. "Well . . . here goes try number two."

"There were two trapeeze artists who were in love. A jealous wizard used a . . ." He glances back at the two spellcrafting experts. " . . . a divination ray to blind the girl so she missed the waiting hands and fell to her death."

Vinto jumps back in a small, feminine, motion and winces in anticipation of the worst. There is a rough grating sound and small showers of dust and pebbles fall from the roof. Then after a brief silence, the gravely voice speaks again. "Good enough."

A scraping, grinding noise comes from the closed door and then it swings open on screeching, rusty hinges revealing the dim dancing light of distant flickering flames.

Vinto opens his eyes in disbelief. "It . . . worked!"

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix shakes his head softly, almost in disbelief. He steps into the room, looking around carefully. "That felt like ages. I was beginning to want to just blast this damned room to bits, and through the consequences to the wind. Good thinking there, friends. Your wits are truly sharper than mine, to figure out such a puzzle."

He looks around once more, taking stock of the situation. "Shall we press onwards, then? Time does not halt for anyone, and our enemies are surely preparing for us."

[Jarian]

"Yes. Onwards."

Arafel assumes the form of a shaggy brown bear once more before starting for the opened door.

[Serpentine]

Alwynn straightens and crows triumphantly.
"Ha! Take that dragon-man! We got what you couldn't!"
He has a little dance in his step as he moves to the newly-opened door.

[Galathir]

A powdery shower of rotted iron and dirt sprinkles to the ground leaving a rusty streak across the threshold like the long dried blood of some pagan ceremony. The room beyond is lit with the dim and flickering glow of guttering torches nearly at the end of their life. Broken and shattered frames of wood and iron lie strewn around the room as if the entire place had been tossed about by a giant. Although most of the metal is coated with a thick patina of rust, smooth gleaming edges reveal blades and spikes sharp and undimmed by the passing years. Either that, or they had been just recently sharpened . . .

The one unbroken item in the centre of the room is a sturdy oaken pillar with heavy manacles bolted to the top and bottoms. Shackled in this contraption is a thin middle-aged man with a tanned, careworn face framed with a shock of tousled hair and a thick, well trimmed beard. Sparkling blue eyes look at you with relief and expectation. His clothes are old and well travelled, but were once of great expense. A tunic of thick brocade with elaborate embossing and needlework are now dirty and threadbare. It drapes with the lose and flowing style of one who has lost quite a bit of weight in recent times and is all held together with a wide leather belt. His left hand, shackled securely above his head, is bright red in colour and you can see that his index finger has been severed and left unbound.

His lips break into a small grin. "Any chance of some help?"

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix holds up his hand to the others, cautioning them. "I will indeed help you, and all I ask is a moment to ensure that we will not be putting ourselves in harm's way by entering this room."

He closes his eyes, chanting a few draconic syllables, before opening them and slowly sweeping his platinum eyes across the room, lingering on the man himself. He then blinks away the magic from his sight, before calling up the more recognizable glow of his Paladin's Sight, which he focuses on the bound man. The whole process takes only a few score seconds to complete.

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He uses Detect Magic, also known as the poor man's See Invisibility, and the Detect Evil.

[Serpentine]

Alwynn freezes mid-step, and awaits the results of Maekrix's examination.

[Galathir]

@ Maekrix

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You can detect no magical auras on him and you do not detect the presence of evil.

The stranger looks at Maekrix and grins with a painful smile. "Very wise my friend. Much wiser than I was, I must say."

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix blinks once, slowly, and the faint silver light fades from his eyes. "He is not black of heart, as far as my sight can see. And there is no magic on him, baleful or beneficial, which should mean that there is no way he could hide his heart."

He looks around the room, squaring his shoulders, before walking in, his ranseur held at the ready lest he be surprised by anyone or anything. If nothing springs out at him he will cross to the bound man and inspect his bindings. "How did you come to this place, friend? I am Maekrix, Paladin of Dragonkind. These are my companions, Arafel, Vinto, and Alwynn. What may we call you?"

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I hope no one minds me introducing them. I'm also working under the assumption that Witchdoctor2012 and Darmok have mysteriously vanished.

[Galathir]

"We are well met Maekrix, Paladin of Dragonkind. I am Travers Standish, Landgrave of Rangatira and servant of his most noble person, the Dragon Novartis. As for my tale, I beg you to release me and then I shall be most humbly at your service."

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix nods, and then looks to the others. "Walls are one thing, but manacles have hands inside them. Does anyone with more finesse want to take a look?"

[Jarian]

"Be still," Arafel commands as she shifts once more to the guise of the lithe fey, burly ursine flesh and fur blurring together to become the pale green skin and white hair. Without waiting for assent, she crosses to the aging man and places her hands around his manacles. A series of rapid flashes of green light spill from between her fingers, then the bonds are nothing but dust and filings.

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Assuming the manacles aren't immune to the damage, Arafel will disintegrate them as is quickly becoming her wont.

[RaggedAngel]

Maekrix watches the transformation and subsequent display of power with interest, smiling openly when the manacles fall away. "Is it just me, or are you more dangerous when small and delicate? Either way, remind me to never anger you, Arafel. I enjoy my limbs as they are."