Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

The boxes are old and fragile, but with some caution they can probably be moved without incident. The boxes are about 4 feet square, large enough to provide light cover but awkward for a normal person to lift alone.

Filth fever attacking his immune system and the exertion of lifting and throwing two tables has left Argumentus panting and sweating profusely.

With a broad stroke Argumentus clears a table and lies down atop it, gaining some well-earned rest.

Motsognir used the rest period to use his Heal Skill on himself, because it just seemed like the thing to do, and because his narrator did not have the time just now to say that he was doing anything else.

Day 2

The party settles into an uneasy sleep, the bodies of many enemies still cooling all around them. While no further conflict arises in the night, the quiet is occasionally punctuated by the scraping of stone against stone.

Hours later, the group gradually awakens in total darkness, as both the rogue's sunrod and the wizard's spell has long expired. The chance to rest has done much for both Argumentus and Motsognir; the signs of fever have disappeared from their bodies. The paladin still suffers, but for the time it seems the disease is held in check.

While a new day holds a new hope of escape, the party's waterskins present a much more pressing problem. After a full day of fighting and a cold breakfast, little water is left. Without a source of clean water, you won't be going very far.

Everyone's HP/surges/daily powers restored to full. Gabriel begins the day with only 11 surges as a consequence of his continued infection. Also, I'm going to try to keep better track of who does and doesn't have light near them, so if you start whiffing over and over, you know why.

With a sigh and a grunt, the dwarf woke up with a start. Sitting bolt upright he immediately grabbed for his head, muttering: "How's my hair?" before remembering he was a Paladin of Kord locked in a labyrinth of death, and frankly his coiffure didn't matter. He blinked, even his dwarven vision didn't allow him to see much in this TOTAL DARKNESS. Attempting not to wake up anyone else, he reached into his pack and withdrew a sunrod, striking it to life and tying it into one of the many braids in his beard. He took a long pull off his waterskin and was dismayed to find it largely empty. With a grunt he stood up and moved towards the orkish ale, looking to fill his skin and knowing he, as a dwarf, could drink diluted orkish ale all day long without so much as feeling a buzz. So long as he didn't slip and kill himself in the pool of booze, he'd move towards the southern room, from whence yonder jellies doth ooze, in order to get a better look at it. Those damnable Goblins had to get their water from somewhere, right?

Fescue had not slept much, and had spent what time he had left on his sunrod pacing and investigating the boxes for some help to approach the ominous iron door at the end of the hallway.

Did I find anything sweet?

Eating a few bites of his rations as the sunrod faded, he also went to sleep.
When he awoke, the room was dark and empty, but the dwarf with the hammer suddenly bumbled about and lit a sunrod. Feeling more inclined to be wherever there was light, he followed.


"Aye, morning, mate," I said from behind, slightly startling the undersized beast. When his attention was caught, I introduced myself. "Since we're likely to die here together, we might well know each other's names. I am Fescue."

After a short exchange of words, I began to tell the dwarf of the hallways I had found earlier, and the man behind it in the fullest detail I could afford, and my plan to approach it with cover of some kind so that I could pick the lock to open it up.

The gruff dwarf motioned the rogue towards the ale after he'd introduced himself.

"Gabriel Sledgehammer" was the short reply he offered, listening as the human gave him the run down of their current predicament. He couldn't help but smirk as the man spoke of the long hallway with the iron door. "Might want to top up your water skin with some ale. Don't much trust the wells in this place."

He took a deep breath and swung his warhammer up to rest on his shoulder. He seemed to think on something for a while and then nodded, resolute. "Oh, what I wouldn't give for a holocaust cloak..." he muttered under his breath.

"Ah well," he exclaimed, "all I've got is what I've got, and there's no use crying over what we ain't got, I suppose." He slapped the human on the upper arm and smirked behind his still-singed beard. "Tell you what. Let me try my own brand of reasoning on him while you set up your wall. Maybe we can get him to open the door with the proper..." he paused, and then grinned, letting the hammer fall from his shoulder to crack the stone at his feet... "motivation."

Originally Posted by Zephyrin

Did I find anything sweet?

Searching with the practiced eye of a brigand, you rifle through the crates in the hope that the the fighter overlooked something. Folded beneath a heap of oily rags you find a gray linen cloak. When you unfold it, it begins to billow dramatically in the absence of any wind.

Staying close the the only light source, I finished my water, and filled it with the ancient ale. Something was better than nothing, but I would have to take care not to indulge too quickly.

Waiting for the dwarf to fill his sack also, I recalled the cloak I had found just as my light had extinguished the other night. Being one who's likened to camouflage, I draped it over my shoulders and adorned the hood, if for nothing else than to soak in some self-pity for the moment.

Argumentus's meaty palm smacks his face, barely missing a fly. The smell of rotting flesh and goblin excrement fills his nostrils as he comes fully awake.

"Stinky."

Argumentus lights a sunrod and moves into the Northern room, granting mercy on his senses. Argumentus finds Fescue displaying his sweet new duds.

"Somethin more import than fight oozies shifty man?"

The dwarf shuffled past both of them, grumbling under his breath as he hauled the hammer off his shoulder, dragging it behind him and letting it screech against the stones like the cry of some ungodly creature. He stopped short of the long path, to avoid being a target, took a deep breath and cleared his throat before starting in with a deep, booming voice.

"Oi there, doorman. At moment you are between where I am and where I want to be. That's unfortunate. Really. See, everything that's been in my way down here so far is long dead. Handful of skeletons, some goblins, and even a couple insects that breathe fire. They may have been dragons. Frankly, they didn't live long enough for me to keep track. Hell, I just got through sending some oozing horror from the depths of some conjurer's wet dream to the depths." He let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "See, one way or the other me and my friends..." he paused "and an elf--are coming down that hallway. What happens when we get there, well... that's up to you, innit?"

He tapped his hammer rhythmically against the stone wall, like a metronome.

"If you do not open this door, you and I are going to have it out. To the pain. I'll explain and I'll use small words so that you'll be sure to understand, you warthog faced buffoon." He increased the rhythm and volume of the tapping. "To the pain means the first thing you will lose will be your feet below the ankles. Then your hands at the wrists. Next your nose." He paused as the man went to reply, but cut him off. "I wasn't finished. The next thing you will lose will be your left eye followed by your right."

Again the man interrupted, something about the next body part he would no doubt lose in this little game.

". Your ears you keep and I'll tell you why. So that every shriek of every child at seeing your hideousness will be yours to cherish. Every babe that weeps at your approach, every woman who cries out, "Dear God! What is that thing," will echo in your perfect ears. That is what to the pain means. It means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever." He grinned, all but slamming the hammer against the wall now. "It's possible, Pig, that I might be bluffing. It's conceivable, you miserable, vomitous mass, that I'm only talking here because I lack the strength to fight. But, then again... perhaps I have the strength after all...." He growled low in his throat, finishing with a flourish. "OPEN. THAT. DOOR."

Intimidate on random man behind big locked door with a crossbow.

There is a long silence, and then:

"You lot do love to flap your jaws, don't you? No wonder you're down here, somebody got tired of hearing you talk to yourselves all day.

Well, that's just fine. I'm tired of listening to your lips flap as well. Come and give it your best try, squawk-box. Soon nobody will have to listen to you anymore."

"Right, well. I tried." He glanced over at the two gathered in the northern room and swung the hammer up onto his shoulder and shrugged. "I vote we kill them all." The broad grin on his features hints that maybe this was not a huge problem for him.

Seeing as the man behind the door was too ballsy to be inattentive, and the boxes were too feeble to cover me, I treated the large man to the remaining jerky in my pack, to boost his overly zealous morale.

I spoke to the dwarf, then. "Gabriel. Trade shields with him. Have him charge the door, and use the shield to cover the slot, while we approach it. Then either he or I will open the door, and then we brain him, I say.

"Fine by me, lad. So long as I get my shield back when we're done, yeah?" He glanced over his shoulder and went trudging back towards Argumentus.

"Oi there, Thickness." He waved him over and canted his head to the side as he looked up, up, WAAAAAAAY UP at the gargantuan human. "There's a man at the end of that hallway with a crossbow who doesn't want to let us through. Now I don't think that's fair." He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Now, I've no problem charging down that door, but I think your thick frame is more likely to break it down than mine, savvy? Now, I'm willing to let you borrow my shield, since it looks a wee bit sturdier than yours, but I don't know if you want it or not. It might slow you down a touch. Up to you, lad. Of course I'll be wanting it back when the fight is over."

He glanced over into the other room, considering waking up the spellspit before they went charging in. "Well then, lunchbox, what say you?" The dwarf offered his heavy shield to the man, should he want it.

"Yeah, I savvy."

Argumentus bared a yellowed grin as he took Gabriel's shield and held it in front of his body with both hands.

Argumentus positioned himself in front of the doorway, legs spread and staring at the opposite end of the hall. The same stupid grin remaining a constant.

The dwarf suddenly found himself without a replacement shield, and the hulking monster had two. Ah well, for what he was about to do, it was probably for the best. With a resigned sigh he wandered into the southern room and yelled out: "OI! ELF LADY. We could use a hand here, yeah?"

He kicked the table Motsongir had passed out at and then headed back into the other room where the rogue and the battering ram were about to move on the door.

"We few, we happy few and all that." He ran a hand through his beard and hefted his hammer off his shoulder. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm half hoping for a dragon." He grinned wide and tested the weight of the weapon in his grip. "Never got to fight a dragon. I imagine it's a barrel of monkeys. You know, but with fire."

Following the demise of the jelly creatures, the horde had promptly all fallen asleep. It seemed as though twenty minutes exertion was their limit for a single day. I knew that humans and dwares had weak constitutions compared to us elves but this was, frankly, ridiculous. If we kept up this pace we had better hope that the way out of this place was no more than three rooms further away or else we would die of old age long before any beasts worthy of our battle prowess could find and kill us.

I remained awake for a while after the others had gone to sleep, reflecting on the events of the day (Well, the last half hour anyway, I had been unconcious on the floor of a dungeon before that). I realised that despite their universal hideousness and incomprihensible dialects, I had grown quite fond of my minions in the short time I had known them. The camp dwarf in particular seemed an enthusiastic and jolly fellow, even if he was all but incapable of hitting a sedated sloth with that hammer of his. At least he was trying hard and what more could a mighty necromancer ask of his underlings? The shifty looking human I was less than impressed with. His predaliction for sneaking off and magpie-esque obsession with collecting shiny things seemed to be distracting him somewhat and I decided I would have to have a quiet word with him at some point. Not in front og the others though, I did not want to create any division in the ranks as it were. Of the other two, the mighty human, though slow and a little rash was a capable fighter and the crown he was wearing was rather endearing. The other dwarf seemed to have a positive effect on the others and in fact I sensed some strong underlying leadership qualities in this one. Perhaps one day he might make a semi-decent captain in my army.

With these thoughts still flitting through my mind, I lay down on some sack cloth from the toilet and drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of a noisy conversation. Fearing that more goblins had come to find their friends, I quickly cast light from the end of my staff and surveyed the room, my keen elf senses alert for any potential danger. My fears were allayed however when I saw that the weird noises were coming form the horde who were having some kind of conference in the northern room. It looked as though they were comparing shields or something. Perhaps this was the begininngs of some rudimentary bartering skills amongst the zombies? I picked myself up and took a drink from my water skin. The skin felt dangerously empty and given our slow progress thus far, I made a mental note to keep an eye out for any sources of water.

Picking my way past the rat corpses littering the ground, I joined the group in the northern room.

The large man was now holding both his own and the dwarf's shield and appreared to be readying himself to charge down the corridor leading off this room. Peeking down the corridor from the cover of the doorway, I saw a sturdy door at the far end at surmised that the horde planned to break it down. Where this obsession with breaking down doors came from I did not know but it seemed to me a waste of a perfectly good door.

Suspecting that the first person through the door once it was opened would not necessarily be welcomed with tea and cake, and not wishing to fall victim to any sneak attacks by goblins, I conjured forth a Mage hand and sent it floting down the corridor to try the handle of the door. Just because these things are sturdy, does not always mean they are locked...

I decided while my ethereal hand was nearing the door that should the big chap need to charge down the corridor anyway, I would at least help him out by distracting anyone who might be waiting behind the door by using my mystical Ghost sound powers to produce a sound from behind the door, probably something along the lines of "Excuse me, do you mind awfully if I distract you for a minute". The classics were classics for a reason.