PRP: Jewel Hunt

Log Info

• Title: Jewel Hunt
• Emitter: Velothin
• Characters: Alik 4, Thistle 5, Fazahd 3, Landau 5
• Place: Veyshan - Tashraan
• Time: August 2, 2016
• Summary: Hired to 'reclaim' a family heirloom, a group of adventurers go on a chase through the city streets and spelunking beneath them too.
• APL: 4
• Encounter 1: Arrow Traps, CR 2
• Encounter 2: Mummy, CR 5

The city of Tashraan; arguably the most massive city on the face of Arcania. On the Golden Cost - and perhaps anywhere else - there is no greater city. Whatever one needs or wants can be found somewhere, surely, within the confines of the vast network of streets. Sometimes, however, those within must reach out beyond the walls of their fine city to bring in what they need; a local is not always the best choice for certain jobs, after all. For specifically that reason, each adventurer summoned to the great city was invited there by a personally directed letter constructed of fine white paper with an elegant, spidery writing. Arrangements for travel were prepared ahead of time, and the matter of getting /to/ Tashraan was a simple one.

Each adventurer was summoned to precisely the same spot, under an awning of red silk somewhere within one of the many merchant bazaars across the city. The sun beat down viciously from above but life bustled and went on as usual for the locals. Waiting for the assembled group was presumably not the one who cast the spell, as he does not look particularly wizardly. A short, dark-skinned man stands dressed in a simple outfit of sand-coloured cloth, rubbing his hands - adorned with a couple gold rings - expectantly.

Upon the group's arrival, he throws his hands up. "Welcome, my friends, to Tashraan! I am here at my master's behest, to guide you to him," he announces in an accented, rather pleasant alto. "Shall we proceed?" He gestures as he speaks, motioning to a nearby paved street next to the awning. Apparently there will be walking.

So here we are. Miles from home. In Tashraan. Lovely.

Fazahd stands amongst the rest of you, dressed in his red mail, weirdly without the slightest trace of sweat as he stares at the fellow who make his greetings. Apparently there will be walking. There will also be a cleric in full armor in full sunlight with a profoundly strange metal backpack looming over his shoulders. With tubes going into said armor. He is also carrying a handful of plain leather parasols in his hands.

Because Reosians are weird.

Dressed as always in the long, fringed mantle that drapes over her arms and down to her thighs over the tunic that's she's almost definiteyl wearing beneath, Thistle keeps her face turned slightly toward the fresh sea winds. Her white hair tousles about her face and she doesn't bother to get the bangs out of her eyes, but pads along in unfamiliar thonged sandals, seeming to feel the ground with each step. "...It's hot," she grumbles in her sandy little growl. "Lets go."

Alik is not, truth be told, a great lover of travel. That said, he _is_ fond of coin, and therefore of the opportunities to earn coin that the Adventurer's Guild makes available. So when the letter arrived inviting him to join this job, he accepted it, even though it involved a trip to Tashraan, where a servant of a master awaited them. "We are proceeding," he agrees, unsure of why they'd been collected somewhere other than where they were going. He nods to the others of the party and follows.

The young Sentinel, Carwyn Hartway, frowns deeply at...everything. The blazing hot sun, the exotic buildings, the traveled merchants. He looks on with mild disgust. "The city of slavers," He says, his normally gentle voice sounding a bit grim. "Let's get on with it, then."

"Here." The priest holds out his handfuls of parasols, handles pointed toward you. One is considerably larger than the rest, and has a small thistle stuck in the leather of its grip. "To keep the sun off." Okay, so not weird. Just...well-prepared. And thoughtful?

Thistle almost walks into one, just stopping barely in time with a hand that jerks up on front of her face as she senses the object she was about to bonk into. "Th...thank you." she says, taking the cylinder into her hands. And scowling blindly straight ahead. "What the ^&@$ is it?"

Alik accepts the parasol with a nod of thanks, then regards it carefully. "It is keeping the sun off of...?" he asks, then finds the fastener and undoes it, causing the armature to expand. "Ah! Yes, I see," he exlaims. "Very clever." He continues to half-walk, half-jog to keep up with the long-legged types.

"Oh! How thoughtful." Carwyn accepts the parasol thanfully, the sin of this region momentarily forgotten. He follows along wordlessly, back to brooding.

More hand-rubbing ensues on the part of the messenger who was sent to fetch the group. "Good, very good. It is but a short stroll from here to there, we will not tary long in the sun my friends," he says when all gathered seem ready to proceed. Motioning with both arms obsequiously to the road he had indicated to before, he leads the troupe away from the bustling bazaar.

True to his word, the stroll is a short one. The winding road seems to become less commercial and more residential as they walk, with a generous amount of cloth stretched across from one set of buildings to the next to block out the sunlight. Chimes hang from them here and there, coloured glass that shoots the street with an abundance of multi-coloured light until at last the messenger comes to a halt and motions to a doorway. Beyond it, a set of stairs can be seen leading down. Comfortingly, perhaps, it seems much cooler than the street and rather well-appointed. For a doorway.

"Down here, friends," he explains, before leading the way below.

"A moment." The priest takes it back, if Thistle is willing, and demonstrates its action as he unfurls it, furls it, and unfurls it again. "Hold it over you. It will keep the sun off your skin as much as the rain. Cooler, you see." With that, he hands it back to her, and the priest of Reos makes to follow the guide with his face set in what for all the world could be a stone mask.

Thistle takes the open parasol, having heard the action of opening and closing several times even if she didn't see how it worked really, and thanks Fazahd politely. She holds it up over her head and hurries to keep up with the others, stretching her legs in a lope. The sounds and smells of the city are a little bewildering, but she keeps taking deep breaths and stays within a few feet of the others.

Alikcarefully affixes the parasol to a support structure built into the spine of his Titan Armor, looking like a poorly designed parachute, and follows their summoner's servant to, and then down, the stairs. Along the way he fussily rearranges several colored crystals on a metal frame near his right hip.

"Tinkly tinkly," says Thistle in the sudden dark of the stairwell. It seems to be directed at Alik. She accidentally bangs the parasol against one of the walls and swears.

Carwyn doesn't say much. He follows uncomfortably, trying not to look at any of the locals for too long.

Fazahd says nothing either, but the tension inside him grows considerably. Well, it would, dark alley, lots of noise. Target rich environment. Alik follows, as cheerfully as he gets. Mostly he remains distracted by tuning his gear.

"What is that smell? Smells like..." Thistle takes a huge sniff of the smell of someone's cooking nearby. "Smells good. I want to buy some spices after." She elbows whoever is closest to her rather innacurately (hopefully not in a delicate place). "So I can make dinner for my hot date."

The stairs lead down, down and away from the street they wandered in from. It does not take long for the passage to level out and widen, however, as it becomes increasingly home-like. It would be dark indeed were it not for the many-faced lamps which glow gently along the edges where brown stone wall and ceiling meet. Long carpets of rich red cloth with golden whirls and curlicues lead the way along the passage until a wide round hole in the wall permits the group to pass beyond into what could be best described as a massive, underground lounge.

The ceiling sits much higher than one might expect given how far down they went, but all throughout it are signs of wealth and comfort; couches, tables, containers for food and drink. It would be quite the room to party in, assuming there were plenty of people in it. At the moment, however, the only ones inside of it are the four adventurers from far away, the one leading them, and a man seated against the far wall on a wide bench draped in silks. The chair /and/ the man, that is.

Thick, grey whirls of smoke pass slowly from the lips of the man apparently waiting for the group. The room smells subtly of the fine smoke which drifts up and away from him, and his eyes themselves are like two low-burning coals in his face as he watches the group approach. One hand holds a long, ornate pipe while the other is used to gesture to them, a smile forming itself into existence on his face at the arrival of his guests. "Excellent, you have arrived," he begins in deep, rich voice that is as smoky as the gentle curls rising up from the bowl of his pipe. "Come, sit," he carries on, gesturing to the number of spots near his own seat for visitors to rest themselves. "And I will explain to you why I have called you all this long way."

Alik moves unhesitatingly to the tallest available seat and hops on top of it, either sitting or standing depending on what brings his eye level closest to that of the room.

Were he another sort of man, Fazahd would have immediately broke for the nearest slave market and tried to bring down the government in a cloud of arcane blasts and the wrath of the Stonefather as he blasted the city to ashes and freedom. Mostly ashes. Unfortunately, he is not quite ready to be a one-man smasher of states. Yet. Instead, he keeps his mailed fists behind his back, and keeps an eye on the man behind the proverbial curtain as he moves to sit. No motion wasted, everything exact and spare. Someone doesn't want to waste his energy.

The host watches the group as they arrange themselves, a very subtle smile on his dark lips as he takes another slow breath in through his pipe before allowing the rich smoke to float about in his lungs and then slowly exhale to cloud his face momentarily before dissipating. "I can see you are all eager to be on your way, so I will be brief to the best of my abilities," he begins anew, setting his pipe down on a small holder designed specifically for it along the arm of his small bench. "In essence, I was robbed very recently. I require faces which are not known to the city. What I need from you is two-fold; to bring back what was stolen from me, and to collect a very precious heirloom. They are not one in the same."

Alik tilts his head to one side. "What was stolen, and what do you wish retrieved?" He may have read a book once about the importance of small talk before getting down to business in certain cultures, but if so, he doesn't seem to have taken it seriously.

Fazahd remains silent, himself. Look at that chin. Absolutely set. Man's practically made of marble.

Thistle takes a seat on one of the low divans, stretching her legs out before her and making herself very comfortable in the pleasant cool air of the underground room. "Do you know who stole them?" she asks, locating a plate of fruits by accident with a idylly trailing hand and pulling it off of its table and setting it on her lap. Soon there's juice on her chin and running down to her elbows.

The young Sentinel sits down, a frown still fixed on his face. He takes a whiff of the fine smoke, then scrunches up his nose, and starts frowning for different reasons. "Or why they stole it?" He offers his own question.

"A scroll was taken from my home recently. That is what was stolen. I know, roughly-speaking, where it may be found. The heirloom I desire for you to collect is a trickier task," the man explains, relaxing himself in his chair as he regards each member of the group in turn with a weighty, penetrating stare. "The scroll detailed where my ancestors kept an heirloom locked away, one which I wish to retrieve. To find the heirloom you will need the scroll, which will tell you where you may find my family's artifact."

He glances at Thistle. "The man you are looking for is named Thresh. You will find him, this very night, in a night market here within the city. As to the why, I would imagine it is to claim the heirloom for themselves. Which is precisely why I wish for you to bring it to me, so that I need not leave its safety up to fate any longer."

Fazahd now speaks. "Do you have any proof that this belongs to you? Begging your pardon, sir, but this is Tashraan. Power games and political maneuvering is part and parcel of city life - and we are perfect instruments to execute such maneuvers. And to hang for them." Well. That's Fazahd for you. Giving out some good old Khazad-bred diplomacy.

Thistle smiles with her white teeth sinking into the crisp flesh of the fruit, chuckling. But she keeps whatever about that amused her to herself and tears the fruit away from her lips, chewing in good humor.

Alik nods in agreement with Fazahd. "Also, am thinking, is two jobs: steal map scroll, then also steal artifact. Is paying only once?"

The host merely tilts his head to the side faintly and regards Fazahd with an unassuming stare. "No, I have not pencilled my name onto it to prove that it is indeed mine. I have never held it in my hands to do so, unfortunately. If you would like a proof of the theft, you may question the local guard. They've been notified," he remarks absently. The gnome's comment, however, draws a chuckle from the thick man's chest. "Ah, a fine question. No, my friend. You are to be paid twice. Retrieve the map, and payment is rendered. Achieve the second goal and you are paid twice."

Alik nods, apparently satisfied. The ethical question of who actually owns either the scroll or the artifact doesn't seem to bother him quite so much.

"I like being paid," Thistle announces, and tossing the pit of the fruit away stands and lets the platter lie next to where she'd been sitting. There's another in her hand still, and this she polishes on the front of her mantle. "For now, I'd like some iced mint tea, and a nap while the sun goes down."

Fazahd doesn't look satisfied either, but he does not speak further. He keeps his gaze firmly on the man's face, watching him for...whatever it is that priests watch for. Possibly signs he might turn into a djinn or a demon.

Carwyn nods, deciding not to partake in all the diplomancing. He leans back. He's not aiding the poor or saving innocents, so he's not really bothered. Payment sounds nice, though.

There is a rather echoing boom when their host brings his hands together in a singular clap. "Excellent, if your questions are assuaged I invite you to relax and refresh yourselves here in my home until nightfall. You will be guided to the market, and given the thief's description. I have every confidence you will find the scroll, and my artifact in time. The reward is, of course, most generous," he explains, a hand coming up to stroke the long dark beard which stretches from his chin to his chest. The pipe next to him is plucked up, and his large frame departs from the bench to reveal his true size. He is... Not a small man. In any sense of the word. "Ask my servant for anything you desire," he adds as he makes his way from the room, leaving a pluming trail of smoke behind him as he puffs away happily at his pipe, his robes rustling gently as he moves from the room. The servant in question bows at the statement.

Thistle is perfectly happy to take the sweet iced mint tea and eat several more pieces of fruit before taking a little nap on one of the many low couches, not bothering to listen to the description of Thresh. She's blind as a bat, so it wouldn't do her any good. Pretty soon she's snoring.

Alik turns to the servant. "Tashraanian coffee. Also, am hearing about local pastries, good to try. And description of scroll. And bench to be working on. And taller chair. And more coffee."

Fazahd, for his part, does not look convinced. "I am going to take a walk," he says suddenly. "I will return at nightfall. If you would like for me to go anywhere or get anything for you, I will do so."

Alik unrolls some half-completed blueprints and spends the time working out schemata.

Alik's requests are fulfilled, and in short order. Away from the heat of the world outside, the lounge is a perfectly comfortable place to relax and wait away the hours. Fazahd returns by nightfall, his expression stony still, more so than possibly before - the fire in his eyes is bright and angry. But he says nothing of where he's been, save for a simple 'I am back.' Because Reosians like to state the obvious. Note, however, that when he /does/ return, he does so with a large, artifice-wound musket with a barrel studded with crystals moored to his backpack and connected to it by a leather tube. Was that there before?

Alik seems indifferent to Fazahd's comings and goings, but the artifice-wound musket catches his attention as both a gunsmith and an artificer.

Once nightfall has arrived, things begin to move. The servant from earlier reappears and gives to the gathered a group a very detailed description of the thief, the area they will be in, and what the scroll actually looks like so they'll recognize it when they've found it. Information thusly delivered he leads the group from the underground lounge and back out into the streets which have both cooled and quieted immensely since the afternoon.

The route the servant takes the group on is a winding one as well as long; it takes a good while to get where they are growing, during which they pass over multiple bridges and through many more bazaars and plazas. At last, however, it seems that they have come to where they need to be for the servant draws to a halt on the edge of another bridge.

"Here I must leave you, my friends. The night market is just beyond here, where you will find Thresh. I wish you the best of luck, but my master has every faith in you," he states, bowing to the assembled group as cool water rushes along quietly beneath them and the bridge they stand on. Beyond, the gentle noise of the night market reaches the ears of the collected group. In the time it takes to notice and observe these things, however, the messenger has disappeared.

Well, it isn't a /gun/ anymore, really - it was, once, but now it is a death-ray. Impressive, but something that every artificer has. Most artificers do not have badass dwarven scale and heavy weapons, but hey. Fazahd's weird.

Alik looks around at the others. "We grab thief, threaten to puncture skull unless he produce scroll?"

"I will attempt to find the man," Fazahd says. "There are dwarves even in /this/ hive of horrors. Or I will find the information by other means and report back. Are you agreeable to this?"

Thistle nods at Alik, humming under her breath. The cool night air is wonderfully pleasant and she shakes her head to get the cobwebs out, so to speak, enjoying the sound of instruments and barter. "Go forth," she chuckles.

Alik shrugs. "Is good. You let us know what you find."

(NB: I must have accidentally deleted the roll in here. It was a good one too. )

It does not take long for the priest to return. "I have found him," Fazahd informs you all. "Even now, he is engaged in deals in a cafe by the market. I have the name," which he then gives to you. "How shall we approach?"

Thistle says, "We could offer to buy the scroll, and then when he starts to run, we chase him."

Thistle looks like she likes this idea. Especially the chasing part.

Alik shrugs and nods. Any plan that ends with the man in their custody is good as far as he's concerned. And he's really not a diplomatic sort.

"Let us...go that way," Fazahd says. "I will linger in the market a bit longer. Then I will find you." The wheels are turning in the priest's head.

"You are leaving before we ask him?" Thistle looks blindly up at Fazahd. "Your legs are long. You must join us in the chase."

Alik isn't quite sure what the priest has in mind, but is basically agreeable and doesn't really have a plan of his own, so he heads out in the direction Fazahd indicates. He figures it will all make sense at some point.

Fazahd shakes his head. "I need to gather a bit more information," he replies. "Go to the cafe and await me. I am...not entirely convinced that all things are as they seem." Of course, he's apparently decided he's running the show, here, so if that's a problem, he probably has pegs you can move him down.

Thistle raises an eyebrow beneath the impassable FLOFF of her bangs, but then shrugs expressively with both hands palm up to the sky. Should she be more concerned with his lack of intent to get them paid? Possibly she will just rough someone up for money if they lose the job. She looks like the sort. So she pats Alik's shoulder or head or whatever her hand finds first. "Bring us to coffee." She says. "It smells good."

Alik nods. "Will wait." He is content to follow the lead of a priest of Reos and fellow artificer. Plus he has some ideas about more efficient gap excitation valves he wants to work out.

GAME: Fazahd rolls diplomacy: (4)+7: 11

GAME: Fazahd rolls diplomacy: (11)+7: 18

Thresh is seated in the cafe when the group arrives, already in the process of speaking to someone. He looks precisely as he was described to the group, albeit a great deal more fidgety than might have been mentioned. His foot taps anxiously on the floor as he speaks, his voice low, and so focused is he on the conversation at hand that he does not even notice the approach of the group. Then, he does. Then, he yelps.

There is an almighty clatter as the platter of cups on the table is upended into the air and a loud, bright bang startles everyone in the cafe. The fast-moving feet of the thief have already carried him to the cusp of the backdoor of the small cafe by the time the dust has settled. GAME: Fazahd rolls athletics: (12)+2: 14 "HA!!" Thistle crows joyfully and takes off after Thresh, bounding over a fallen chair and vaulting lightly over a table that comes crashing down at her, springing with her hands so that she goes sailing feet first across the cafe, landing with a SLAP of sandals and charging on after the man. This is the part she was looking for.

GAME: Thistle rolls athletics: (2)+5: 7

Thistle only to hit a table. The second one. And goes ass over teakettle.

GAME: Landau rolls athletics: (15)+-1: 14

GAME: Alik rolls athletics: (13)+-2: 11

Alikjumps to his feet as the supposed thief flees, and heads after him on slow gnomish feet.

Fazahd is off, but the man is a walking foundry. While others are falling left and right, Fazahd has unlimbered his shield and is charging through the kitchen. As he does so, the skin of the shield opens in several places; a number of blunt muzzles, akin to cannon, telescope out. And then, as he begins to lose ground on the thief, Fazahd presses a trigger connected to the shield's foregrip. Immediately, a tiny meteor of light hurtles in the man's direction down the alley beyond, promising some terrible fate as it goes...

GAME: Fazahd casts Flare Burst. Caster Level: 1 DC: 14

GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20: (17): 17

GAME: Thistle rolls athletics: (17)+5: 22

GAME: Fazahd rolls athletics: (5)+2: 7

Alikdraws a complex device from his back, then puts it back as the barbarian fires a barbarian as the fleeing thief.

...and the comet turns into a blast of light, which - apparently - the damned thief runs through anyway. Need to tune the instruments.

SPLAT! But Thistle gets up quickly, rolling forward and coming up on her feet in the wink of an eye. Slapping aside a hanging plant near the back door she catches the fleeing Thresh, bounding up and tackling him bodily like a small, cackling freight train to the midsection. They go crashing to the ground and Thistle sits on him, siezing hold of his clothes in both hands and grinning down at him. "GOT YOU."

Alik begins to rudely and efficiently search through Thresh's clothes, looking for the scroll. Or anything else interesting.

Thresh is, very briefly, caught in a stretch between elation and anxiety. He avoids every hand that reached for him, slipping away like the nimble man he is and even a /meteor/ cannot stop him. Then, he is stopped. Perhaps it was the bright flash and bang that startled him despite not stopping him that made it easier for him to be caught, but when Thistle barrels into him he goes down to the ground like a particularly rickety scarecrow with a squeaking thud. Instantly his hands are in front of his face. "Don't hit me! I'll give you whatever you want!"

"We aren't going to hurt you." This is said by Fazahd, and his voice is like a holy oath. Which it is. The priest towers over the man, hanging up his shield. "I am a priest of Reos. Do you understand what that means? Unless you do evil in my presence, I will not harm you." He looks to Alik. "Does he have the scroll?"

Thistle scowls down at Thresh. "...That is very dissapointing." she pouts. It is way more fun when they struggle or make evil threats or fight back or SOMETHING.

Alik nods. "Yes," he agrees, withdrawing the scroll. It's unclear who he's agreeing with. "Where did you take from?" he asks, wondering of Thresh's story will match their employer's. The man peers over his fingers at them slightly, eyes rather wide. "I, uh, found it. In someone else's house." It seems he thought about bluffing, and then opted to just gently sugar-coat the truth instead. He ducks back behind his hands. "Take it, I want no part in this anymore!"

Fazahd looks between the rest of them. "Please let me see it," he asks of Alik, and then looks down at the man again. "Do you know what this is?"

Alik shrugs and hands the scroll to Fazahd.

Never one for physical pursuits, (nor swift of limb) the cerenzan magic user nonetheless has a pechant for reacting quickly when there is danger afoot! This is however not one of those times, and Landau's companions-in-arms steal a quick march apon him with flashing lights and a crash tackle which turn out to be well suited to the task at hand indeed,"Well, that could have turned out worse." his sonorous voice languishes drolly with a raised eyebrow as he studies the immediate area and then back to their detainee

Thresh shakes his head so vigorously his eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. Then he pauses, thinks, and nods just as vigorously. "It's a scroll!"

Alik looks over at Landau and grins gnomically. "Not to be worried: it will," he replies. GAME: Fazahd casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 2 DC: 13

Thistle stands up and dusts off her legs, stepping off of where she was sitting on poor Thresh like he was a log ride. She stalks off discontentedly to sulk behind a table, sitting on her haunches.

Fazahd frowns as he holds the scroll in his mailed fist, murmuring devotionals in the ancient Khazad tongue - looking over the roll of vellum without yet opening it, waiting for Thresh to also chime in as asked.

GAME: Fazahd rolls spellcraft: (18)+8: 26

Thresh lays there in the dirt, doing his best to melt away into it. Unfortunately he is neither a druid nor a mage of any sort and cannot do so.

Alik keeps an eye and a Thunderbelcher on Thresh.

"Tell me where you got this from," Fazahd commands of Thresh, frowning at the scroll in his hand. "What house? To whom did this belong?" He looks to his fellows then. "This has been in the presence of powerful magic for quite some time. I will not open it, as that would violate the trust of the person who hired us, and as...questionable...as this situation is, I am not moved to violate that trust. All the same, be on your guard." Back to Thresh. "Answer. Thief."

Alik says "Didn't our employer ask us to use the scroll to track the artifact? Why would opening it violate his trust?" <khazdul>

GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20: (16): 16

Thresh keeps his hands in front of his face, for all the good they would do him if someone actually started thumping him like a rented mule. Or, shot him. He does not seem predisposed to falsehood in that particular moment. "I don't know names," he explains quickly, shaking his head as he does so. "Only that I was asked to acquire the scroll for someone else. I am, actually, a very good thief." There is a touch of pride there, misplaced though it is. "Current appearances aside," he adds.

Alik , demonstrating a complete lack of any notion of subtlety, pulls a fancy-looking gilded key out of his pocket and looks at it curiously.

Thistle appears to be tossing little pieces of broken glass from a tea glass that she knocked down in chasing Thresh. They keep clinking off of the first table she tripped on.

Thresh also adds, "I tried to look inside it, but I couldn't get it open."

Fazahd flicks a glance at Alik, frowning at his words - which are entirely NOT of the common tongue. "You make a good point," he replies, choosing to respond in Common. "Here is what is going to happen, good thief," the priest says, frowning back down at Tresh. "You will give us the location of the house. You will tell us everything you know about this house, and you will assist us in the collection of property. You will not try to run. You will not try and cheat us. You will do these things because if you do assist us, I will let you go. You will owe me a favor, but I will let you go. Do you understand? Our client does not want you. He does, however, want his property."

Fazahd adds, "I believe they still cut the hands off of thieves in this city, is that not so?"

Alik extends an open palm to Fazahd, indicating the scroll with a tilt of his head.

Fazahd hands the scroll over as he says this.

Alik , lacking either Fazahd's ethical or common sense, unrolls the scroll and reads it. Or tries to, anyway.

Watching the rather relaxed interrogation in progress Landau nods distractedly at Alik's premonition before his eye - and attention - is caught by the scroll and the gnome's subsequent arm movement,"Is this a part of the contractual agreement?" he muses thoughtfully, not seemingly upset by the ethical question he raised as he lifts long fingers to rub at his jawline as his eyes attempt to plunder the knowledge within the scroll regardless.

The thief is not exactly in the place to bargain, given that a small but weight barbarian is holding him in the dirt. He suspects she might also eat people. "Ah... Alright then," he decides after a rather brief moment of consideration on his part, his hands finally lowering from his face as he glances at those assembled.

Alik hrms, regarding scroll with non-exploding eyes as he copies down both the map and the information into his notebook, as though it were a schema. Then he hands the scroll to Landau, who seems interested. If the directions he can read make ordinary sense, he reads the first step out loud and adds "Shall we, then, to go?" If they're more like a puzzle he tries to solve it.

The instructions are surprisingly easy to follow. The map leads the entire group - thief in tow - to the mouth of one of the city's many waterways. It is cool and fresh standing next to it as the water flows along, a welcome change from the heat of the earlier day. Where the group stands is a small stone walkway along the waterway itself. Ahead of them is a solid stone wall some fifteen feet high; the water pours down a small grooved and sloped chute that projects the water a foot away from the wall itself. The instructions say that the door to the heirloom's keeping place is directly behind the water. The walkway on which everyone stands can be seen to lead behind it, although the stones are slick and the footing is likely to be shoddy at best.

GAME: Alik rolls perception: (3)+15: 18

GAME: Landau refreshes spells.

Alik approaches the wall carefully and checks it out.

GAME: Landau casts Detect Magic. Caster Level: 5 DC: 14

Alik pulls some artificer-like tools out of his pack and probes in some grooves he finds in the wall, attempting to open any secret doors.

GAME: Thistle rolls perception: (11)+2: 13

GAME: Fazahd rolls craft/stonemasonry: (16)+8: 24

GAME: Landau rolls knowledge/engineering: (10)+13: 23

Closing his eyes, Landau begins chanting a cantrip neath his breath in Eldritch, one of the languages of magic. This done the human nods his head, as if the results had confirmed his suspiscions even if nothing has visible happened. Apon opening his eyes the magic user turns his brown eyes apon the stonework, using his knowledge to guide his conclusions more than a perceptive sense of details,"Well, this shouldnt prove hard to deal with in any case." he murmurs, only half speaking relevation because it is... well... obvious after all.

Thistle goes and sits on the edge so that the wind might rush up aat her, dangling her feet over the edge and shivvering, listening to the sounds all around.

"Not at all," the priest agrees. "Go ahead, sir. I will cover." Shield out, hammer out. Gleaming head made to look like an angry xorn. Dwarves are strange smiths, for certain.

When the door is unlocked, a gear and hinge somewhere go off with a dull click. Immediately the door begins to slide to the side, disappearing into the stonework to reveal a long, dark passage that slopes downward into the earth. The sound of water rushing overhead is quieter when one steps inside and the air is cold and damp; no one has opened that door in a long while. No light springs into life helpfully, however, leaving the path of the tunnel in a deep gloom.

Alik approaches the tunnel with the caution his race and class are both known for... which is to say, he starts walking down the stairs, eyes and ears peeled for anything anomalous.

Thistle gets up when she feels the rumble going through the stone. It startles her, actually, and she bounds up with a "Ah!" Following the scent of her fellows despite the cold humidity of the artificial fall, she turns round and follows the others in.

GAME: Landau attempts to cast Dancing Lights but fails due to ASF.

As the darkness encroaches and becomes too much even for his low-light senses, Alik begins to intone some arcane words, but stops as the actual mage does so more smoothly.

GAME: Alik rolls perception: (19)+15: 34

With a flourish (hardly steet magician worthy) Landau directs Alik to the metallic seal apon the scroll and passes it over for the gnome to handle,"There, that should do it." he says as the way is opened to them, voice muted before he begins casting another spell. Then there is light! The magic user allows any and sundry to forge the trail before them, the spinning chandelier of magical light sweeping forward with them.

Alik stops short. "Is floor trapped."

Fazahd puts away shield and hammer and unlimbers the rifle from his pack, thumbing a catch on what was once the pinlock. A hiss emits from the weapon, followed by a deep thrumming, and the crystals glow a dim purple as he moves to take up the rear. "Thresh," he commands the thief, "Disarm the trap."

Alik turns to the thief. "Is to be disarming traps, yes?" He points.

GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11

Alik watches carefully and frowns skeptically at the thief's mediocre skills.

Thistle stands with hands akimbo, tapping her foot. So gracious.

Thresh looks very, very unenthused about the notion. He needs the trap pointed out to him for starters, and as he leans down to begin work on the trap, he steps too far. There is a soft, fatal click and an arrow zips out of the wall, piercing Thresh's head as he'd begun to stand up at the sound. His body crumples to a heap on the floor, setting off a few more arrows that snap out of their hidden holes to pummel the wall harmlessly. Except for, of course, the dead thief.

Alik sighs and looks around. "Am thinking next attempt is mine, yes? Or are others better with machinery?" He doesn't seem terribly enthused by the prospect. Or concerned about the thief.

Thistle stiffens, and covers her nose and mouth instinctively. She doesn't scream, but she does shudder, and wipe her lips with her fingers. "I hate traps," she mutters.

Alik shrug. "All machinery is trap to clumsy operator."

"Well, not as good as a hand." Landau winces as the rogue disarms the trap the wrong way round, holding his travelling stick out before him,"And depends on wether it is self loading or not, an attempt might not have to be made."

"No," Fazahd hisses, putting away his weapon and pushing past the lot of you to where the thief lies dead on the floor. He kneels down next to the man, and closes his eyes; the stony expression gives way to a wince of black rage, though to whom it is directed is anyone's guess. "I am so sorry, my son," he murmurs, closing the man's eyes with his fingers and extracting the arrow from his head with the gentleness that may well have been reserved by another man for his own child. This is A Thing.

Alikcontinues along, paying more careful attention for any other traps.

If walls could chuckle darkly, the ones around the group certainly would. The trap seems sprung however, as no further arrows come jetting out of the walls when Fazahd approaches to close the dead man's eyes. All along the walls however are strange designs, murals and the like, that make it very difficult to tell where more traps might be hiding. The hallway, however continues on straight until coming to an abrupt halt in the form of a pair of bronzed doors. There are two handles, one on each door, which have been sealed with a strand of dark rope.

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/religion: (10)+8: 18

Alik regards the designs on the wall, but unless they are Kulthian in nature probably discerns nothing about them. Still, he watches the floors, walls, ceilings etc. as best he can as he proceeds. When he gets to the doors he looks at the instructions he copied over again, to see if there was anything releevant in them.

Thistle follows about arm's length from the next person, arms folded across her chest and feet padding quietly along.

Fazahd lays the thief's body out, folding his hands over his chest, and murmurs a further prayer over him before rising. If you thought he was grim before, well you were /wrong/. "This is a tomb," he says grimly. "I do not reocgnize the religion, but those are elementals inscribed upon the walls. Likely there are undead within." Out comes the shield and hammer. "We should investigate and purify."

GAME: Landau rolls knowledge/religion: (12)+14: 26

Alik scowls. "Undead. Pfah. Inefficient."

Thistle takes a deep sniff. She doesn't look happy with what she smells.

As soon as the dark rope connecting the two door handles is cut.. Absolutely nothing happens. The two ends fall to the ground with a gentle rustle, and the tomb they're in remains as silent and uninviting as it ever did before.

Alik removes a complex device from his back and takes a few steps away from the door, ready for whatever eldritch horror might come barreling through. Or at least for a kitten.

Slowing as he passes Fazahd, Landau gives both him and the thief a solemn nod as benediction as he steps forward,"Neither do I. It does not appear to be of any religion I have studied." and with that the magic user reaches to his sash where the scabbard of his star-knife is seated. With a swift motion he flings the spinning blade at the sash, severing it in twain before it returns to be caught in hand,"I never expected to have to use this trick." he says, coveting the favored weapon of his godess as he concentrates apon detecting magics before them.

Alik frowns and puts the device back. Then looks around at the party and shrugs and once again demonstrates his non-rogue nature by walking up to the anticlimactic doors and opening them. "Am not thinking there is anything to be worried --"

GAME: Alik rolls perception: (2)+15: 17

GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20+10: (8)+10: 18

GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28

GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20+10: (5)+10: 15

GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14

GAME: Velothin rolls 2d4: (7): 7

As the door opens up with a long, mournful creak a clicking sound echoes from within the opened room. In the next second, a brief smattering of small bolts comes zipping out of the darkness and at the group. Fortunately, however, most go sailing past harmlessly down the hallway where they lose momentum and fall to the ground with a clatter. Except for two that imbed themselves in Thistle's shoulder and thigh with two dull thumps.

In the wake of the bolts soaring through the air, the chamber beyond begins to grow brighter. Either something woke up and turned on some lights, or the trap initiated the glow that slowly fills the room beyond with a dull light that more or less illuminates the interior.

The tomb beyond the rather long antechamber the group walked through is sparsely appointed, if one were to judge by wealth strewn about. There is nary a gem or coin to be had in the entire room. Instead, the room focuses on a huge dais raised up in the center by which one could get to by mounting the several sets of steps that lead from the ground to the flat of it. The walls and ceiling all around are covered in the same iconography and symbolism of the hallway beyond, and black silk veils hang from the ceiling in an arranged pattern throughout the room. Now that the door is open, they occasionally flutter and shake gently as air flows through.

At the top of the dais is a man. Or at least, was a man, at one point. A figure stands there, certainly, supported on either side by two brass spears that keep it from falling to either side. The body is wrapped in dark silk bandages from head to do, obscuring it completely. On its face is a golden mask, presumably a stylized depiction of the person in life. Its blank but gilded features stare outward and down, as if it were looking directly at the door. The figure, however, cannot be seen from within the hallway or the door; a person must be within the room to see it.

       "Thank Elune for that. I dont have another illumination spell ready." Landau breathes a sigh of relief that his swiftly interposed buckler was able to stave off the fusillade of missiles that heralded the opening of the door as a greeting,"'Ware the mechanic and the magical in this place. Both hold their dangers." behind the front line the magic user advances into the next stage of the tomb, buckler held if not ready... ready to be readied as it were.

The instant someone sets a foot in the room, a deep voice booms throughout it. It sounds as though it has not spoken for a thousand years, so scratchy is it, but each word is audible and clear nonetheless. "Who enters this place." The voice echoes down from the masked figure, but the body has not so much as twitched. Even when the voice echoes it, no hint of movement is seen.

Thistle staggers back against the back wall, grabbing with a sharp yowl at the arrow thats buried itself in her thigh and collapsing to her knees. She swears in her native tongue, loudly and angrily.

Alik waits a while, odd-looking gadget in his hand, ready to blast whatever comes thruogh the door. If nothing does, he eventually steps through the doorway, checking for more traps. When he sees and hears the figure, he frowns. "Silly question. Not recognizing my name, you be."

Fazahd, seized by...grief, anger, revulsion, or something of the three, steps past the vanguard with his hammer and shield at ready. "In the name of Roa, Father of the Mountain," he calls, his voice almost like thunder as it reverberates off the walls of the chamber, "I command you to release this false life and be released unto the world behind the fire. May His fire burn away your sins and forge you into brighter substance!" GAME: Velothin rolls 1d20+10: (3)+10: 13

GAME: Fazahd rolls 1d6: (5): 5

The figure is unimpressed. It's hard to tell, given that it hasn't moved and it has no visible face. But the priest's speech apparently does not bother it. "Three riddles," it intones in the same croaking, booming voice, unhampered by Fazahd's attempt. "Answer me three riddles."

Alik looks sincerely confused. "Why?"

Fazahd all but snarls beneath his visor. "To gain the treasure," he replies. Someone must feel really stupid.

The silk-wrapped figure does not answer Alik. A vague silence follows. "Three riddles," it repeats, in precisely the same tone and volume. "Answer me three riddles."

Alik shrugs. "All right. Ask your riddles."

Thistle picks herself up and stumbles into the room, breathing through her teeth, just in time to hear the demand for riddles.

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/arcana: (9)+8: 17

GAME: Alik rolls knowlesge/arcana: (6)+knowlesge/arcana: 6

GAME: Alik rolls knowledge/arcana: (9)+8: 17

GAME: Landau rolls Knowledge/Arcana: (5)+14: 19

The dark-wrapped figure asks its riddle, and then it waits in complete silence. Presumably, it is staring at the group. When it is given the answer, there is a soft clicking sound from the ceiling. Some sort of release was just loosened. "Correct," it croaks, the stones of the room vibrating within.

"I have a riddle," Thistle bitches at the back of the group, very bitterly. "Who wants to pull this arrow out of my leg."

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/arcana: (17)+8: 25

GAME: Alik rolls knowledge/arcana: (16)+8: 24

GAME: Landau rolls Knowledge/Arcana+2: (18)+14+2: 34

Another click echoes in the ceiling, the entire chamber rumbling just a touch. Again, however, the figure speaks, "Correct." The third and final riddle is delivered.

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/arcana: (3)+8: 11

GAME: Alik rolls knowledge/arcana: (3)+8: 11

GAME: Landau rolls Knowledge/Arcana+8: (8)+14+8: 30

The last lock is opened, and a small hole in the ceiling opens up with a gravel-like scraping sound. A little box, no larger than an apple, drops from the ceiling onto the suddenly outstretched hand of the figure. "Correct," it intones one final time, the box vanishing from its grasp in a sudden whisp of smoke and shadow before reappearing at Landau's feet. Then, the room begins to darken slowly once again.

"Let's get out of here," Fazahd growls. He doesn't even look at the box; he makes for Thistle, and kneels by her wounded leg. "I'm going to remove these," he says, "So please try not to tear my head from my shoulders."

Landau stands up straight, having used his scholarly pursuits to avert conflict for the time being,"Oh shit." he says, unpleasant surprise sprung onto them and he is just realising it now,"Out, OUT! I dont have any more light." reaching swiftly for the box he takes his own advice and begins scrambling inelegantly toward the antechamber.

"I make no promises," says Thistle, and grabs onto Fazahd's pauldrons.

GAME: Fazahd rolls heal: (5)+10: 15

GAME: Fazahd rolls heal: (12)+10: 22

Alik attempts to re-establish light.

Fazahd plucks them out with expert care. Doho. Assuming he's not murdered, he will also heal her. Doot doot.

And so the good adventurers returned to their patron and handed over the heirloom for their just rewards.