[Group 2] The World's Largest Dungeon - IC

[Quakes]

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(1d20+2)[13]

Elias looks around to see if there's any evidence of creatures having been here lately.

This looks as good a place as any to rest.

[Mr. X]

Aside from the carvings, the room is bare... But for the dust.

[Simba]

Vlorah looks around and checks the place for any signs of possible danger. Traps, hidden mechanisms, whatever.

"Are you sure you want to sleep here? This place feels strange....."

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The forum ate my earlier post, so here it goes again. Just imagine it happening before you told us that there is nothing there :)

Search: [roll0]

[Simba]

Arghhhhhhhhh: (1d20+10)[29]

[Mr. X]

For Vlorah:

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Heh, no worries. There being nothing here doesn't stop the place from feeling pretty strange. ;-)

[Fates]

The shaman shrugs. It seems as good a place as any. I've used most of my magic, after all.

Malthos sits with crossed legs, munching for a little while on his trail rations, before suddenly starting. He stands, and, muttering to himself with the smallest trace of smile across his lips, gingerly takes a number of items from his pack. An iron pitcher, a wooden keg, and six ceramic cups. He taps a hole into the keg with a dagger, and then pours a dark liquid into each cup. Golden brown foam rises an inch or so off the mugs, but does not spill over. The shaman gestures to the drinks, smiling. I've been saving this for a special occasion. It's ale, from my village, well-aged and brewed by a man whom had been a dear friend of mine. His talent as a brewer was renowned in the area, though he is now long dead, and this may be one of the last of his masterpieces still around. If memory serves, this may be the best drink some of you've ever had.

The draught is bubbly and warm, and the familiar smells typical in such beverages are highlighted by aromas of honey and exotic spice. Malthos hands everyone a cup, and then raises his own. To new companions, and a future far away from this hellhole.

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Okay, technically, I just had listed that he was carrying a keg of ale, but I decided to add some flavor to it.

[Mr. X]

Fredric laughs wearily and sits down awkwardly across from the Shaman, stretching out his skeletal leg.

"Heh. We've been down here for weeks, two of our crew have been killed, our escape blocked, you cut my leg off yourself, and you've been holding out on us?!

He shakes his head wearily, but shows more mirth than you've seen from him since the start.

"Still, this certainly qualifies as a worthy occasion."

He takes his glass and lifts it.

"To old friends, and new... And may the gods carry Taribo and Murgan to brighter places than this damned hole."

[Quakes]

I'm sure that they were worthy companions, and hope that we can give honor to their sacrifice by surviving. Cheers!

[Simba]

"To companions old and new!"

[Sucrose]

"May the gods bless our journey, and theirs."

[Fates]

Malthos takes a swig from his cup, grinning. He then asks the newcomers. So, I suppose this is as good a time as any to tell us more about yourselves....

[Quakes]

There's not much to tell about me. I was born on the streets, the grew up on the sea. Once the new captain decided he didn't need me around anymore, I came back to the city. I found a map, and ended up here. I'm sure your story is much more interesting.

[Simba]

"Elias and me are both from Beluvah, and we were both born to the same streets. He went to sea, I learned urban survival on the job." With a sad smile Vlorah continues after a short pause. "I did what I had to do in order to survive. I stole, begged, lied, cheated. It did not help, it only got worse. I lived in constant fear. Everyone was larger, stronger, faster. Living at the lower end of the foodchain is not fun, believe me. Then Lathander came into my life and I received a new chance. Suddenly I had a home, friends, clothes and food. I run errands for the temple, help everyone in any way I can. I swore to give everything to Him for that. He is my life. I hope that one day I will be able to repay what He gave me, but chances are slim. Small, just like myself."

She shrugs, looking relieved, sad and somewhat hopeful all at the same time.

"I met Elias in an alley and we decided to work together. Another new start, another chance to make a difference. Lathander provides."

[Fates]

Malthos sips from his ale, and nods. It is always good to see a life changed by the light of a god.

The shaman then smiles, and his grin seems warmer or more sincere than usual.

I was born in a small, nomadic village, far to the west. My mother died in giving birth to me. My father, fool that he was, treated me as if it were my fault she had died, and so I was raised by the village shaman, and advisor to the chief. His name was Yethri, and he was the wisest and most powerful man I have ever known. He saw in me an innate connection to the world of spirits, and taught me all that he could about his craft.

You see, the magic that I channel is taken from whatever spirit is willing to provide it at the time I ask for it. A spirit can be many things, from a god, to an elemental being, to an undead creature. It is a shaman's task to revere spirits greater than himself, and to do as he will with lesser spirits.
Of course, there are always exceptions.

Anyway, I learned fast, and most of the time I spent away from my master was spent training with the other boys in unarmed combat- the woman who taught us was, with the exception of our warrior-chief, the best fighter in the village- with her help, we learned to make our fists and feet into deadly weapons. Eventually, my father, a lowly blacksmith, chose to teach me his own craft.


Malthos hisses a word in another language, and suddenly, seven snakes writhe and slither from his sleeves, He throws them a piece of rat meat from the night before, and they begin to devour it.

I found my snakes as eggs when hunting. With the help of my master, I hatched them myself, and trained them to do as I say. There was an eighth, the curious Greilla. She was killed a week or so ago, and I pray for her still.

After my master dies of old age, I took his place as the wiseman and healer of the village, though I was only seventeen. I did well, at first, but it was clear that I was not my master's equal.

Another tribe, apparently only kept at bay for fear of Yethri's wrath, saw their chance. The village was overrun within a day, despite my best efforts. Some were killed, most were taken prisoner. As far as I know, only I escaped.

I have spent most of my life since then amassing power in hopes to free what remains of my village.

Malthos is no longer smiling, and takes another mouthful of ale.

What about you, Fredric? Let's hear your story.

[Mr. X]

Fredric sips his ale, swirling it around his mouth and savoring the flavor, before speaking.

"Well, Malthos, firstly, I must say you have excellent taste in ale. Your friend was, indeed, and artist of his craft.

My father owned a tavern in Tamaril, and some of my earliest memories were of mixing batches of hops, yeast, and water.

I spent my early years, plying the family trade of helping operate the tavern, scrubbing floors and washing dishes and such. It was the still, that was the most magnificent for me however. The mechanism to purify the alchohol, simmering the raw sludge and just the exact temperature to allow the spirit to evaporate off, without causing the water to, was always where I found my calling.

And there, like as not, was where I was to live my life, were it not for my father's supplier. Oddly enough, or not oddly, depending on how you look at it, he went to an apothacary for his herbs and spices for his more premium brews. Those trips were wonderous... The odd smells of herbs, the bottles of potions, the essential oils and salts... Around such was where I truly belonged, and such must have been apparent to the man. When I was about ten, he gave me a simple recipe as a birthday gift, and asked if I could make it.

I didn't realize at the time, but it was an alchemical recipe, requiring a very simple spell to complete, which was included.

I succeeded in completing the formula, and it was shown that I had some talent for the Arcane arts... Fast as that, I was swept off to the Mage's Colligate in Clear Water, and had largely been there ever since.

Sadly, it was quickly apparent that I was neither the smartest, nor the most talented of wizards, and so I carved a small nitch for myself in the alchemical laboratories, and served my needs from there.

Taribo was there with me for a time, though his path parted from mine fairly early on, though we wrote to one another from time to time.

When it came time to move on, I found myself passing time at various taverns, and happend to encounter Kulkov there over a stein. Well, over my stein, at least. The big man was drinking water, ha!

The bard that evening had sung a most exciting song about a sunken tomb greater than any other, and after a couple of glasses, he not only claimed to have been to the place, but drew us a map to get there...

As they say, all ideas are good with a mug of ale. It took little time for us to come to an arrangement. Kulkov and I parted ways with promises to meet in the morning on this venture. I reconnected with Taribo and enlisted his aid, and the next morning Kulkov returned with you, Malthos...

And here we are..."

He trails off, sadly.

"What about you, Kulkov, how did you end up in that tavern?"

[Sucrose]

Kulkav shrugs.

"Well, just after I completed the rebirth ritual under instruction of great Bahamut, I left my tribe and came to the lowlands. My task was to protect and set an example for those weaker than myself. I thought that clearing a den of danger like this would be a good start, after the way that the bard described it."

He chuckles darkly.

"Well, at the least, I will serve as a cautionary tale."

[Mr. X]

The new party talks away the hours, exchanging stories and memories over Maltho's ale, before eventually setting an order of watch, and settling down to sleep.

Given the previous day's hardships, sleep comes easily and deeply.

For Vlorah:

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Late in the night, as you take your watch, you find yourself weary, and only by great efforts can you keep yourself awake and adequately alert.

At one moment, you almost nod off, when from the corner of your eye, you catch the swirling of a silvery robe, disappearing through the far Eastern door, and closing it quietly behind...

You jerk awake, a cold shiver running down your spine, but nothing is there...

Did you dream it? Did you fall asleep on your shift while someone or something came in and watched you?

It's impossible to say.

[Simba]

"Wha...?"

Vlorah jerks awake, shaking her head. She quickly checks on the others and the rest of the camp. Is everything in order?

Then she moves to the door, carefully checking for signs of it opening recently and listening for noises coming from the other side.

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Search: (1d20+10)[11]
Listen: (1d20+10)[27]

[Mr. X]

For Vlorah:

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The camp is in order, the others all sleep peacefully.

Creeping to the door, you open it a crack and peer out...

The hallway stretches off to the east, before turning Southward.

It is empty and quiet... But you can't help shake the feeling that you just missed seeing that cloak swirl around the corner...

[Simba]

Vlorah shakes her head until she feels reasonably awake. Should she wake the others? Was it all a dream? But she can't shake the feeling nagging her, someone WAS there, she is sure of that. So she goes to wake Elias, taking care not to wake the others until she has told her story.

When Elias comes awake she does exactly that, leaving nothing out. Finally she asks: "Sorry for waking you. Is this worth waking everyone and going to explore? I feel bad for maybe nodding off.....shame on me!"

[Quakes]

Don't trouble yourself, Vlorah. I have trouble sleeping down here anyway, though the sounds of running water are soothing.

Elias goes over to the doorway to investigate.

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Tracking
(1d20+9)[29]
Listen
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take that, mystery man!

It's hard to tell, but I want to believe you. If something was watching us, it left no trace. Oh well, it's nothing we need trouble the others about until morning. Though the shaman might know something about watchers that don't leave tracks...do you think he's had enough rest to recover his spells today? If it's been long enough for him to regain spells, I'll go wake Malthos.

[Mr. X]

For Elias:

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Keenly, you go over every inch of the room and door. Missing no detail, the steps and swaths that disturb the centuries of dust tell a clear tale of the evening before, only to find nothing... The centuries of dust remain undisturbed by any mark not clearly belonging to one of the others. The only tracks there are leading to the doorway are Vlorah's, and outside, there are none at all.

Despite the absence of any evidence, there is an odd feeling about the place... An uncomfortable prickle down your neck, like someone whispering horrid threats beyond your listening...

[Fates]

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Oh, sure, don't wake the shaman when there's a spirit about. He certainly doesn't know about these things.

[Mr. X]

For Malthos:

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Heh heh heh.

[Fates]

Malthos gets up in a matter of seconds, seemingly having heard Elias. Yes, yes, of course I can, just give me a moment.

Malthos removes his blindfold, and his eyes begin to glow with a pale blue light as he focuses his sight on the spirit world. Take me to where you believe it is. I can peer into the spirit world, and so if it is nearby, I can tell you.

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Using Spirit Sight. It allows me to see ethereal creatures normally, though I can tell the difference between ethereal and material things. Also casting Detect Spirits, so if there is one nearby, I should be able to sense its aura.

Keep in mind, a spirit is an undead, elemental, outsider, or aberration.

[Mr. X]

For Malthos:

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As your focus dims, bringing into your awareness the spiritual realm, you become quickly aware of the silky wafts of ectoplasmic residue slowely drifting through the air, almost like seaweed waving in a gentle current...

There's nothing here now, but without a doubt, there was something that passed through recently.

[Fates]

Malthos nods. Yes, something was here, quite recently. Wake the others, then follow me.

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Survival: (1d20+14)[24]

[Simba]

At this Vlorah looks troubled, relieved and afraid at the same time. She carefully wakes Kulkav and Fredric. "There was something here. We're going to have a look-see. Interested?"

[Mr. X]

Fredric comes to groggily, but quickly.

"... Yes, Ah... Give me just a moment to go over my spells..."

Slipping out his spellbook, he mutters quietly to himself, going over somatics and incantations for a time, before coming up and saying.

"Alright, I'm ready."

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Spells Prepard:

Lv 0:
Prestidigitation
Touch of Fatigue
Ray of Frost
Read Magic
Mage Hand

Lv 1:
Magic Weapon
Magic Weapon
Grease
Mage Armor
Jump

Lv 2:
Cat's Grace
False Life
False Life
Bull's Strength

[Sucrose]

Kulkav simply nods, getting up, and putting on his armor while Fredric works with his spellbook. He still has time for a short exercise routine and a look around before his allied spellcaster is ready.