Arngrim’s night was enough to smash part of the wall down. Debris and cracked hands tumbled out. Some of the hands retreated further into the wall while others made rude and angry gestures. There were old small weapons and scraps of patterned cloth. The only thing of note was a curled up sheaf of parchment.
Lig could tell the font was magical, though to figure out the effects, someone would have to drink or submerge themselves in it.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
The water was sweet, cool, and refreshing as Arngrim drank of it. Once he finished, his insides churned and tightened. The world began to expand, the statue and font growing larger and larger until the font was a lake and the statue a mighty graven waterfall, it’s contents roaring into the lake. Whirling around, Arngrim could see his companions had become giants, and the pyramid case a great mesa to surmount.
***
Arngrim’s companions watched as the Black Swordsman shrunk (along with all of his things) to the size of one of the models in the case. He otherwise appeared unharmed as he took in his surroundings from a mouse’s level of view.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
The elven jester hides his widening gyre in a feigned shielding with the forearm in consideration of the star's fall. "A safe path vanishes for each of our rival fellowships," he cooes to the unseen forces.
He'll unstop the vial then and prance to the basin. "Stalwart band! I've found a crystal vial and a tortoise shell bowl. Think me fill the vial with acid water and pour it on in?"
Durgon takes the scroll from Arngrim and stores it away with his free hand, still holding the coins and key in his other. He watches in amazement as the warrior drinks the water and proceeds to shrink down. "Oh Ye sly bastard...."
The dwarf picks up the warrior carefully, resting him in the cradle of his open palm. "What now warrior? " The Cleric looks around the room, over at the pyramid. "Fancy a go in that thing?" Crossing the room, the dwarf holds Arngrim towards an opening to allow him entrance. "Oh, have these." He moves his other palm over, offering the gold and key. "Maybe they have a use in that thing."
His companion setting off into the pyramid, Durgon takes a moment to study the horn that he took from the Dwarven paladin who had been trapped in the first room.
Arngrim weaved through the models to what appeared to be the entrance. It was closed, with 5 hand-shaped indentations in it’s surface.
Durgon could make out markings on horn. While he could not tell what they were, his keen eyes could tell that the horn was not carved from gold, but transformed into it.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Hail Hydra
0
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
The Argent Specter shouts across the room to Vermilion, while attempting to cover anyone he can from threats he barely understands. "Whatever you do, finish quickly. Our presence is clearly undesired here longer."
Team Ramrod
Lig | L3 | Human - Druid | HP 20/21 | DMG D6 | AR 2 on land
"It may be dangerous in there to go alone.
I have some friends that I'm looking for, so I'll be taking a swig if you don't mind. Not sure if we all want to join in, or if you figure we want to split up"
Lig takes a drink, and with companions help, enters the pyramid with Arngrin.
What can I discern after going into the entrance of the pyramid?
(feel free to slow things down or let me know if something isn't possible, but I figure I'd give you a roll for the action I intend to do)
Team Ramrod | Krolax | L3 | Human Barbarian | HP 21/24 | AC 1 | XP 0 | DMG D10 | 22 Gold
"I knew there was something off about this water. Looks to be a more entertaining detour. Out of the way!"
Krolax kneels down, next to Durgon and cups the water into his mouth. Shrinking down to the size of an insect, he peers up at the giant dwarf.
"HA-HAA!" He shouts, in his, normally, booming voice, but to Durgon, Krolax sounds like a chipmunk who got into some helium. "A giant dwarf, how ironic! Quickly, place me in the glass case."
“Your foes will pass safe as they ever have, Vermilion Catamount, you have not the gift for foresight.” The voice receded from him.
Rat saw the falling star and scampered away. Another roar of sound and light. The Specter darted away at last second, his armor painfully scorched by the celestial heat.
Geth, roll 6d6 Scorching Heat
The final tip of the Trident roared to earth soon after, blocking the Company’s point of entry in another flash of fire and light. The room was obscured by thick dust, but they knew the passage to the southeast was the only way out.
The Ramrods
Arngrim examined the door. The indentations did not appear to have a mechanism, nor were they pressure plates. Likely further testing would be needed.
The fortress shuddered violently twice more, tossing the adventurers about.
***
Fox’s exploration in the gallery located a door in the small east corridor. He could proceed alone should he wish, but first more paintings! As he reentered the gallery proper, two more jolts unsteadied him.
Along the west wall, he found an blank spot with an iron spike. A painting was obviously supposed to hang there. Time for that later. The next painting in the east wall was slashed and burned beyond recognition, ashes and blood at it’s base. Whatever secrets it held were long gone. The next painting along the west wall was of a simple wooden door in a dank moss covered dungeon. He could hear water flowing to the north now.
Scorching Heat:
6d629 [6d6=5, 5, 6, 5, 6, 2]
Matev on
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Hail Hydra
0
joshgotroDeviled EggThe Land of REAL CHILIRegistered Userregular
Fox notes the sound of water to the north and moves back to the east corridor.
Geth roll 2d6+3 for TRAP EXPERT with CAUTIOUS
TRAP EXPERT with CAUTIOUS:
2d6+315 [2d6=6, 6]
0
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
So, 29 minus my 4 armor leaves 25 damage. I have 25 hit points. I believe the Argent Specter is dead. Ouch. That was the most meaty of meteors.
Roll a new character?
So, 29 minus my 4 armor leaves 25 damage. I have 25 hit points. I believe the Argent Specter is dead. Ouch. That was the most meaty of meteors.
Roll a new character?
Actually, since you’re the first to hit 0 hp without a special effect rider, you get to roll Last Breath. Perhaps Death will have a use for you...
The Ramrods
Fox found no traps in the corridor or on the door, nor anything else of note in that area.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Hail Hydra
0
joshgotroDeviled EggThe Land of REAL CHILIRegistered Userregular
Team Ramrod
Fox slowly opens the door to the corridor but does not go in.
"What do I see?"
0
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
As the Specter sat up, they saw they were not in the Fortress, but instead in a cavern if muted color. He saw a set of Black Gates and a robed figure, face shrouded in shadow.
“The Argent Specter, a slayer of some renown. Thou have danced between mine world and thine for some time. I wouldst be pleased to welcome thee to mine kingdom. However, thou may be of use to me in the realm of mortals.
Provide me with blood of a foe at the Altar of the Black Gates before thou claim the Wand of Death, and thou may continue thine crusades. Fail this, and your life will be forfeit. Do we have an accord?” Death spreads their hands invitingly, awaiting a reply.
"Go down, kick ass, and set yourselves up as gods, that's our Prime Directive!"
Hail Hydra
0
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
In the haze of his mortal pain, in a state of minor delirium, the Argent Specter sees in the form of Death the multitude visages of his beloved Wraiths.
"Thy will be done by my hand, that I may bring doom to the enemies of your sovereignty."
He shoots a look toward the ether, mumbles angrily to himself, and wanders back out the southeastern door. He'll step over the prone form of the Specter as he does so. "Come along... we have failed to unlock the secrets of this grove..."
He hates to lose. That said, just before he crosses the threshold, his easy smile returns. [Using Bardic Lore if anything related to Legendary Heroes might have helped during all of this... whoops!]
Perhaps distracted by the falling star, Rat couldn't figure out the lock in time. She scampered and rolled away, then was quick to dart after their new Jester friend towards the southeastern door. "Let's go..." She risked a look back at the Specter.
0
NipsHe/HimLuxuriating in existential crisis.Registered Userregular
And her glance was met with the harsh, glowing red gaze from the eyeslit of the paladin's helm.
The knight strode through the wreckage of the room toward the door, but even in his swift approach Rat could see a thin trickle of blood leaking from beneath the Argent Specter's helmet.
Vermilion wracked his brain, vaguely remembering something about a noble knight who was able to see their future in a beautiful pool of silver, and being tempted by the Queen Thricefold, but that would have to wait for later, the others were moving on...
As you stepped into this room, you were assaulted with the incessant ticking of a score of brass clocks set into the walls. In the center of the room, fine sand poured from an aperture in the ceiling, coating the in a large pile like the lower chamber of an hourglass. A great wind swirled the sand. You could make out chunks of ruddy stone buried in the sand. Three colossal mask-like faces were set into the walls, their gaping mouths held globes of white fog.
The Ramrods
Fox saw something of a shrine with scorched and pitted walls, signs of miscast spells.
When you entered, there were eight pillars of prismatic stones supporting a ceiling that consisted of storm clouds. Peeling murals on the walls depicted humans bearing offerings to a bronze idol of a gigantic eye being struck by lightning. A towering cyclops stood in the center of the chamber, constrained by tendrils of lightning that coursed over it. It’s eye had been gouged out and it held a large stone basin in one hand as well as a golden key the length of a human arm in the other. The cyclops was encircled by magical sigils.
Shaken from the events she'd witnessed, Kestrel steps almost too quickly into the next room. It was all too easy to imagine that falling star hitting herself...though Specter had seemed to weather it well enough.
She's brought up short by the bizarre apparition before her though. Three faces. Falling sand. Ticking. Time, yes, but faces as well?
Was this familiar? Had she read something of this?
(Spout Lore: Spout Lore: 2d6+311 (Apologies, couldn't remember how to do the dice rolling here and if I stopped to look it up I was concerned I'd lose the thread of the post))
Grim Company: @Nips@LaserFowl@saber_of_black@SalmonMax
Nimue follows along with the rest, and she eyed the clocks with a shake of the head. "this place is... varied in it's appearances"
Posts
“This Ur-Mage underestimates us! Let his deceptions be laid bare thusly!”
Hefting his massive slab of iron, too big and rough to be called sword, Arngrim attempts to smash through the cloven wall!
Geth, roll 2d6+3 to smash the cracked wall
-It doesn’t take a very long time
-Nothing of value is damaged
-It doesn’t make an inordinate amount of noise
Lig | L3 | Human - Druid | HP 20/21 | DMG D6 | AR 2 on land
Lig immediately closes the door. Looks like things lead back to the throne room, and it's looking dicey in there.
Oh dang, Arngrin!
What did you find?
Geth, roll 2d6+0 to recall any information on what's going on with this sweet smelling fountain
Arngrim’s night was enough to smash part of the wall down. Debris and cracked hands tumbled out. Some of the hands retreated further into the wall while others made rude and angry gestures. There were old small weapons and scraps of patterned cloth. The only thing of note was a curled up sheaf of parchment.
Lig could tell the font was magical, though to figure out the effects, someone would have to drink or submerge themselves in it.
“I grow tired of this..” as he snatches the coil of parchment. What secrets does it unveil?
With a snarl, he commands the pyramid miniature “Reveal thy secrets! I demand passage to thine inner sanctum!”
“I’m not sure if I have one! Right, get us out of here then, let’s go!”
We’re moving far too slow without a full party. I feel like I can’t prat about as much now really.
Spurred into a giggling fit during the streaking meteor, Vermilion shakes the dice and throws them into the centaur's bowl. Worth a try...
If nothing happens, he'll see about inspecting the crystal vial. Was it full or empty?
A voice whispered in Vermilion’s ear, audible even above the falling star.
“Speak Vermilion Catamount, Tell what will come to pass in this fortress.”
The crystal vial was empty, a receptacle waiting to be filled.
The Ramrods
Arngrim was able to read the writing on the scroll. It was a spell to reverse 1 transformation. The pyramid sat impassively in it’s glass case.
The Jolly Rogers
Clutching his new spell in hand, Arngrim clenches his grim jaw.
“What is might without valor? I shall drink of this bewitched font!”
Handing the parchment to Durgon, the grim figure dips a tin cup and drinks deeply and grimly.
The water was sweet, cool, and refreshing as Arngrim drank of it. Once he finished, his insides churned and tightened. The world began to expand, the statue and font growing larger and larger until the font was a lake and the statue a mighty graven waterfall, it’s contents roaring into the lake. Whirling around, Arngrim could see his companions had become giants, and the pyramid case a great mesa to surmount.
***
Arngrim’s companions watched as the Black Swordsman shrunk (along with all of his things) to the size of one of the models in the case. He otherwise appeared unharmed as he took in his surroundings from a mouse’s level of view.
The elven jester hides his widening gyre in a feigned shielding with the forearm in consideration of the star's fall. "A safe path vanishes for each of our rival fellowships," he cooes to the unseen forces.
He'll unstop the vial then and prance to the basin. "Stalwart band! I've found a crystal vial and a tortoise shell bowl. Think me fill the vial with acid water and pour it on in?"
Durgon takes the scroll from Arngrim and stores it away with his free hand, still holding the coins and key in his other. He watches in amazement as the warrior drinks the water and proceeds to shrink down. "Oh Ye sly bastard...."
The dwarf picks up the warrior carefully, resting him in the cradle of his open palm. "What now warrior? " The Cleric looks around the room, over at the pyramid. "Fancy a go in that thing?" Crossing the room, the dwarf holds Arngrim towards an opening to allow him entrance. "Oh, have these." He moves his other palm over, offering the gold and key. "Maybe they have a use in that thing."
Arngrim gestures thanks to his looming companion, Durgon.
https://goo.gl/images/dA587w
Unslinging his massive tiny sword and storing away the gold and key, theBlack Swordsman whirls and darts into the openning surrounding the pyramid.
His companion setting off into the pyramid, Durgon takes a moment to study the horn that he took from the Dwarven paladin who had been trapped in the first room.
Geth, roll 2d6+3 for Discern Realities
Arngrim weaved through the models to what appeared to be the entrance. It was closed, with 5 hand-shaped indentations in it’s surface.
Durgon could make out markings on horn. While he could not tell what they were, his keen eyes could tell that the horn was not carved from gold, but transformed into it.
The Argent Specter shouts across the room to Vermilion, while attempting to cover anyone he can from threats he barely understands.
"Whatever you do, finish quickly. Our presence is clearly undesired here longer."
Lig | L3 | Human - Druid | HP 20/21 | DMG D6 | AR 2 on land
"It may be dangerous in there to go alone.
I have some friends that I'm looking for, so I'll be taking a swig if you don't mind. Not sure if we all want to join in, or if you figure we want to split up"
Lig takes a drink, and with companions help, enters the pyramid with Arngrin.
What can I discern after going into the entrance of the pyramid?
(feel free to slow things down or let me know if something isn't possible, but I figure I'd give you a roll for the action I intend to do)
Geth roll 2d6+3 to Discern Realities.
"I knew there was something off about this water. Looks to be a more entertaining detour. Out of the way!"
Krolax kneels down, next to Durgon and cups the water into his mouth. Shrinking down to the size of an insect, he peers up at the giant dwarf.
"HA-HAA!" He shouts, in his, normally, booming voice, but to Durgon, Krolax sounds like a chipmunk who got into some helium. "A giant dwarf, how ironic! Quickly, place me in the glass case."
Geth, roll 2d6+3 for Defy Danger (Dex)
"Hrm" The Dwarf grunts as he picks up Krolax. "I don't remember offerin' to be the pack horse." He carries the barbarian over to the pyramid as well.
Arngrim eyes the hand indentations, his jaw grimly locked.
Is there any sign of a moving mechanism along the edges?
How deep are the indentations, and are they part of the door or separate, like pressure plates?
"Are we going to stay here Durgon? I'd rather not die any smaller than I already am.! I'll be right back. I've got a wraith to chat with."
Fox moves back to the room with the paintings. Moving along the east wall he ventures down the small hallway checking for anything suspicious.
After examining the small area, Fox moves to the west side of the long hallway and moves to the look at the third painting.
“Your foes will pass safe as they ever have, Vermilion Catamount, you have not the gift for foresight.” The voice receded from him.
Rat saw the falling star and scampered away. Another roar of sound and light. The Specter darted away at last second, his armor painfully scorched by the celestial heat.
The final tip of the Trident roared to earth soon after, blocking the Company’s point of entry in another flash of fire and light. The room was obscured by thick dust, but they knew the passage to the southeast was the only way out.
The Ramrods
Arngrim examined the door. The indentations did not appear to have a mechanism, nor were they pressure plates. Likely further testing would be needed.
The fortress shuddered violently twice more, tossing the adventurers about.
***
Fox’s exploration in the gallery located a door in the small east corridor. He could proceed alone should he wish, but first more paintings! As he reentered the gallery proper, two more jolts unsteadied him.
Along the west wall, he found an blank spot with an iron spike. A painting was obviously supposed to hang there. Time for that later. The next painting in the east wall was slashed and burned beyond recognition, ashes and blood at it’s base. Whatever secrets it held were long gone. The next painting along the west wall was of a simple wooden door in a dank moss covered dungeon. He could hear water flowing to the north now.
Geth roll 2d6+3 for TRAP EXPERT with CAUTIOUS
Roll a new character?
The Ramrods
Fox found no traps in the corridor or on the door, nor anything else of note in that area.
Fox slowly opens the door to the corridor but does not go in.
"What do I see?"
As the Specter sat up, they saw they were not in the Fortress, but instead in a cavern if muted color. He saw a set of Black Gates and a robed figure, face shrouded in shadow.
“The Argent Specter, a slayer of some renown. Thou have danced between mine world and thine for some time. I wouldst be pleased to welcome thee to mine kingdom. However, thou may be of use to me in the realm of mortals.
Provide me with blood of a foe at the Altar of the Black Gates before thou claim the Wand of Death, and thou may continue thine crusades. Fail this, and your life will be forfeit. Do we have an accord?” Death spreads their hands invitingly, awaiting a reply.
"Thy will be done by my hand, that I may bring doom to the enemies of your sovereignty."
The paladin accepts the offer.
Death nodded, and the vision of them and the Black Gates faded. The Specter saw the wreckage of the room along with his companions.
Helter is heading through the western door, if it is locked he’ll pick it and take the consequences of any trap.
Geth roll 2d6+3 for Lockpicking
Should it be required.
He shoots a look toward the ether, mumbles angrily to himself, and wanders back out the southeastern door. He'll step over the prone form of the Specter as he does so. "Come along... we have failed to unlock the secrets of this grove..."
He hates to lose. That said, just before he crosses the threshold, his easy smile returns. [Using Bardic Lore if anything related to Legendary Heroes might have helped during all of this... whoops!]
Perhaps distracted by the falling star, Rat couldn't figure out the lock in time. She scampered and rolled away, then was quick to dart after their new Jester friend towards the southeastern door. "Let's go..." She risked a look back at the Specter.
And her glance was met with the harsh, glowing red gaze from the eyeslit of the paladin's helm.
The knight strode through the wreckage of the room toward the door, but even in his swift approach Rat could see a thin trickle of blood leaking from beneath the Argent Specter's helmet.
"Onward."
Vermilion wracked his brain, vaguely remembering something about a noble knight who was able to see their future in a beautiful pool of silver, and being tempted by the Queen Thricefold, but that would have to wait for later, the others were moving on...
As you stepped into this room, you were assaulted with the incessant ticking of a score of brass clocks set into the walls. In the center of the room, fine sand poured from an aperture in the ceiling, coating the in a large pile like the lower chamber of an hourglass. A great wind swirled the sand. You could make out chunks of ruddy stone buried in the sand. Three colossal mask-like faces were set into the walls, their gaping mouths held globes of white fog.
The Ramrods
Fox saw something of a shrine with scorched and pitted walls, signs of miscast spells.
The Jolly Rogers - The Tower of Storms
When you entered, there were eight pillars of prismatic stones supporting a ceiling that consisted of storm clouds. Peeling murals on the walls depicted humans bearing offerings to a bronze idol of a gigantic eye being struck by lightning. A towering cyclops stood in the center of the chamber, constrained by tendrils of lightning that coursed over it. It’s eye had been gouged out and it held a large stone basin in one hand as well as a golden key the length of a human arm in the other. The cyclops was encircled by magical sigils.
https://imgur.com/eSSNKWX
She's brought up short by the bizarre apparition before her though. Three faces. Falling sand. Ticking. Time, yes, but faces as well?
Was this familiar? Had she read something of this?
(Spout Lore: Spout Lore: 2d6+3 11 (Apologies, couldn't remember how to do the dice rolling here and if I stopped to look it up I was concerned I'd lose the thread of the post))
Nimue follows along with the rest, and she eyed the clocks with a shake of the head. "this place is... varied in it's appearances"