Dungeon Master Forum

There were always odd noises in a dungeon. For one thing, living things were around. For another thing, even the bodyheat of four people in this smaller place would raise the temperature slightly, making some small part of the doorframe pop, causing shifts in the air which would make a metal sconce already stressed shift. Not having sight to see these was not fun.

Westian might have thought he could hear a voice at one point, but then nothing came to his ears consciously.

Lack of a timer made it difficult to gauge the passage of time. Certainly, it seemed to weight heavily on the group if they felt this tired this quickly. Using gentle orc snores, and the slow thump of one's own pulse in one's own ears as a subconscious method of tracking minutes were certainly unreliable alternatives.

Haynuus's watch similarly drew on. Even with the draughty crack of the doors being slightly ajar, the room build up a slight heat against the chill of the dungeon. Light was not an issue to one with darksight. Things could be worse.

However, thinking one could hear a voice, very faintly coming from outside the door, can be enough to alter such a feeling.


Ameena, you can use some artistic licence and wake up during the noise hearing, just after, or already be awake.

Haynuus, the voice is not anything definite, but it does seem different to the spirit earlier if it is a real sound - is seems to be something physical coming from outside, and far away.

One of Ameena's ears twitches, followed by her nose and whiskers. She remains still, however, having woken up and remembered where she is. Not wanting to risk accidentally waking Falkor, she instead swivels her ears round in the direction of the door after first using them, and her nose, to check things in the immediate vicinity. Though Falkor's body is so close to her own, she can tune out his smell to focus on other things. Half-orc and half-elf, very close by - good, the others are still here, then. She can hear the slow sleep-breathing of Westian and the slightly louder shufflings of Haynuus, evidently now on watch.
Though she keeps her senses alert for anything which she might need to take note of, her mind wanders over the things that have occured during her sleep. She feels better now, that's true - she must have had a sleep of a suitable length, though she knows from experience that it will probably be a long while yet before the others awake - other species live slower than hers, so they take more time over things like sleeping and eating.
Meanwhile, her thoughts wander over her sleep-time. She knows she experienced sleep-visions on this occasion, the strange events that can happen in the mind during sleep, but have no real bearing on life itself. Dreems, that's what others call them. Having dreems. She puzzles over these things as she remains curled up against Falkor, wondering whether she sould try talking to him, or to either of the others, about this when they're all awake.


OOC - One little thing from your last post, Wuffy - your mention of the "draughty crack of the door being ajar" - they're in a closed environment, aren't they? Where is the draught coming from, all the way down here? Or was that just a sort of atmospherically-inclined typo?

So Haynuus heard a sound... A voice.

What to do? He looks around and sees no movement on the part of his companions. Not wishing to wake them up yet, he stands and walks to the door left ajar. "A voice" he whispers to himself.

He pushes, takes two steps out and cautiously takes a look right, then left. He could go off on his own, but does not wish to make the mistake the legendary adventurer Aeofel took which was to leave your party in pursuit of prey... Or friend. He would continue to the source of the noise, up to either the closed RA door, the rubble or to the bottom of the stairs. He would progress no further, the limit of his safe domain - in his mind at least. He lights a torch when he gets to the edge of the big chamber, and tries to listen once more.

The noise appears to eminate from behind the RA door. Haynuus starts to rustle in his backpack for a torch and flint then realises that it'd make a fair amount of noise and profanity (well YOU try and light a flire with a flint stone, it takes ages, you end up cutting your fingers, and then some smart-assed wizard comes along and snaps his fingers to ignite the thing). So, he carefully presses his bitten ear against the door instead.

I should have woken up Ameena, he thinks.

Make a hearing check against the RA door. (1d20=15)

Ameena hears Haynuus moving around. He walks toward the door and she hears him whisper the words "A voice...". Then she hears him move off out into the room in which they fought the undead creature. So, he's heard it too. She wonders whether the sound was anything to do with what she detected before...a scent of familiarity coming from that other door. But it could be anything. This place is so strange, a few background noises could be anything from a mararuding army of ruthless killers to a simple rustling of cloth caused by a breeze in another room.
Meanwhile she decides not to move just yet. With senses less sharp than hers and a different type of mind, Haynuus probably just wants to poke around and see what it is that's making the noise. Not that she knows, but she figures that if something big and scary was going to come and kill them all, it probably would have done so already - something seems to be trying to scare them, but she has no idea why. Maybe it's messing around in her head, whatever it is. Maybe there's more than one of them. Or maybe there isn't. Maybe there's no-one, and they've all managed to somehow accidentally wander into a strange region of magic in which very little makes sense, and they each only think they're stuck in some kind of underground place. Or maybe not even the others are real, and this is all some kind of very peculiar sleep-vision. She's certainly had plenty enough on that score, she realises - strange memories and so on...nothing really making sense. She wonders when the others will wake up and when they can continue on. Not that any of them seem to have any clue what they're doing here. How can they get out? How did they get in? And why?
Ameena can't help but wonder, once again, why she of all murafu, of all possible creatures, ended up here.

Haynuus cannot hear anything at first. Then there it is - something. Or more like two somethings. A low mumble that sounds like a short comment. A higher mumble that sounds like a clipped response. Haynuus can maybe think he hears something clank - like a weapon or armour - but cannot be sure.

All he can be sure of is that there is a dull thumping sound, and suddenly the door shudders.

The door Haynuus is putting his head against starts to move upwards. Haynuus has a fraction of a moment to do something, and already he can see light spill from the other side of the door.


Yup, that's right, you guys are in trouble again. Maybe. Or maybe it's something else that's good and fun. Join me in the OOC thread for what you'll need to do next

There was this bizarre moment as Haynuus had his ear carefully positioned against the door, and found himself gliding upwards for a heart stopping second. Curious... Oh Goblins Gonads it's opening!

He bolted back from the door and as fast and silently as he could he headed straight back towards the temple. As he reaches the door he left open, if he gets there, it'll be a hissing...

"Wake up you slouchers, the door's opening!" And with that he'll poke half his head around the side of the door to take a look at what's coming.

Fortunately it appears that the soles of our half-orc's sandals are of a softer more padded leather, instead of the flippy-floppy ones he wears for the beach.

OOC - Can you roll me a d20 for stealth aswell then please? (1d20=19)

Ameena hears the sound of what can only be the distant door opening. Haynuus?
She swivels her ears in that direction and listens intently. At the same time, she starts to notice the faint whiff of a scent, growing stronger as the clanking of the opening door continues. The scent of human. And of metal. Maybe the same people she scented before, when they were upstairs. She's about to sniff further, lifting her head slightly, when Haynuus pokes his head around the door.
"Yes...I was awake, and I can hear it." she replies, shifting over carefully from Falkor and stretching.
She wonders how many creatures are behind the opening door, and whether or not they're hostile. If they are hostile, and if they survive, she realises it's probably only a matter of time before something worse comes along to do them in. She isn't being pessimistic as such, but in such an unknown place as this, and considering what they've encountered so far, it doesn't seem unreasonable to suggest that they've simply been placed here by an unknown entity to be toyed with before being killed. Or maybe some kind of spell just went wrong and for some reason plucked the four of them from whatever their previous business was and dropped them here.
She shakes off the thought and stands upright, looking around at the others to see them waking.
"What do we do?"

Perception roll = 6 + 3 = 9

Waking up suddenly and still very tired Westian was less than his usual eloquent self. "Hhuuuuhhh?" he asked in confusion. Upon hearing voices his first reaction was to get into a minor hissy fit. "Gods, could you be more considerate and keep it down, please? When I was on watch I was as quiet as a church mouse to let you all sleep, the least you could do is repay the favour." But on hearing Haynuus's warning he realised something was wrong. At first he was not sure if the door was opening of its own volition or if someone was entering. When he heard sounds coming from the other room though his head cleared very quickly. He quietly jumped to his feet and picked up his club and shield. Hoping that they would not be aware specifically of his presence he moved to the corner of the room near the door. "Falkor, light!" he hissed, giving him a gentle kick as he moved in the hope of spurring him into action.

Coming around and seeing all the commotion, all that seemed clear was that Westian wanted light... with this he climed up to his feet, picked up the nearest torch and cast a spell... a blinding flash of light and the torch was alight..

Turning to Westian - "Now whats all the fuss about?"

OOC: I assumed the torch i dropped when i put on the cloak was still available?

His eyes took a second to adjust to the sudden light, though he was glad that he would be able to see whatever was approaching. He peered out the side of the door carefully in the hope of being able to make something out while he answered Falkor's question "someone is coming. I don't know who, but get ready." It was true that Westian did not know who was coming, but based on the people they had encountered so far he was resigned to an unpleasant experience.

Haynuus tried to act fast, and his feet were silent as the spirits they had encountered recently Unfortunately, his breastplate was an annoying clunky thing and Haynuus needed to pause to keep it from rattling.

Still, by the sounds of it those revealed had been on a high alert, and were irritatingly perceptive to book.

"Feet!" hissed one voice, oddly echoing.
"Trolins! Weapons ready!" said another voice, a metallic tinge to it.

The door rattled open spilling torchlight into the hall to the retreating back of Haynuus. However, the torchlight moved quickly - the torch had apparently been thrown into the room the moment the door was high enough.

"One figure. I think the half-orc. Open tombs!" said one of the first voices.
"Half orc?" said a new deeper voice, its metallic ring oddly menacing and eager.
"Contact! We need another torch!" said the other voice from earlier.

"Small fan! Arbrut, take point - watch yourself." The fourth voice was equally as metallically tinged, but was more clipped and nasal than the rest.

The torch had landed close to the tomb, illuminating Haynuus and the temple door. In the dim light it cast back to the now opened RA-keyed door four dark shadows moved. To Haynuus and Westian however, the figures were clear. Four well armoured and armed figures stood. Blackened platemail with subtle skulls, and a skull-like faceplate. However, living eyes twinkled from the eyesockets of the helm.

The four figures were then illuminated by torchlight from behind them, and there was a brief whispered conversation.

The figures had spread out, one bulker figure taking a few steps into the hall, two others spread out from the door, the fourth wielding a torch by the door.

"Halt, in the name of Gholst Norsamdar!" yelled the figure furthest into the room, pointing a sword towards Haynuus and the Westian revealed by the torchlight in the temple. The warrior's deeper voice still sounded menacing and eager.


See, nothing to worry about, just some friendly NPCs. Ok, technically you are 'in combat' so I need initiative rolls from everyone except for Haynuus. Though that doens't mean anyone is instantly going to attack you, nor that combat will infact happen.

Unless someone rolls a brilliant initiative, then you guys will be on the back foot as these guys rolled better than their perception score, and their perception score was darn good. Hence why they'd done so much so quickly. That, and they might well be kick ass soldiers.

Five square grid will be up tonight. Way back the hall map should still be valid, assume all the useful items like clubs are at the back of the hall around where the fiery rags were. The remaining rags are all still where they were.

If your movements are still general, feel free to post. Let me know in the OOC if you have any tactics that require precise knowledge of either your or your enemy's position. Remember, being in combat you only get a standard action and your basic movement rate now.

Anyway, didn't expect this to happen, but hey, I'm rolling with your actions here. I may allow you to 'blow' one update co-ordinating your resources and tactics OOC, but after that its game on and one day = one round. And I'm really hoping you guys will just shoot from the hip and act right away

Good luck!

Map (round 1, soldiers have moved):

Ameena takes a slightly startled step to one side as Falkor leaps to his feet, apparently none the worse for wear after whatever it was that had affected him, and lights a torch for Westian, who has also woken up. Well, at least it seems like everyone is awake enough. But what's coming? The scent is definitely the same one she's smelt before, she's sure of it. She hears them talking, and notes their refernce to "the" half-orc. So they know of Haynuus already, then? Could it be that these people are the ones who imprisoned the four of them inside this place, and that's why it smelt of them already? But why, then, would they do such a thing? Their mention of the name "Gholst" doesn't pass her by, either.
She slips between Falkor and Westian and pokes her head around both the door and Haynuus to look at the figures. Tall, of course, as most creatures are compared to her. Covered in the metal-clothing that is usually worn by those who like to smash or kill things, or at least look imposing. And of course, one of them is waving a sword around. Well, less waving it around and more pointing it in the direction of herself and the others.
She steps forward some more and puts her head on one side. Belatedly, for some reason, she remembers she's left her cloak behind her in the room - with her attention taken by the voices and such, she forgot to pick it up and didn't notice what Falkor did with it when he woke up with it on top of him.
"Umm...hello." she says to the one with the sword. "We can't halt. We're not moving. But...who is Gholst? And who are you? And why are you pointing that sword at us?"
Then she has another thought.
"Or are you Gholst?" she asks.


OOC - Ameena's now standing in front of Haynuus, square K8. At least since the armour-wearing dude is several steps away (he's S1, I'm gessing?), she doesn't yet have to crane her neck up too high to look at him. And the remembering of the cloak was an actual OOC remembering at the same time, but I couldn't be arsed to edit the earlier bit and have her remember to pick it up. Umm...if this guy decides to try and squish her, I'm sure Ameena won't take it personally if Haynuus or someone yoinks her from behind and shoves her out of harm's way .

Thinking quickly, yet doing nothing, it was Haynuus' best plan at the moment. When it comes to diplomacy, don't let our half-orc open his mouth.

Judging from the previous comments, Haynuus thought, these guys must have seen him before. It had to be when he was asleep, but did they bring him here, or did they once just pass through the room where they all started? One thing was for sure, they didn't like Trolins either. Maybe diplomacy was the best action after all?

Either way, in case of combat Haynuus estimated that their chances were better if the wizard could let off a fireball first, then they retreat one step to I7/8 denying any numerical advantage to the soldiers. Hey! Closing the door and counting worked last time didn't it?

Great, just bloomin great Falkor thought.. woken up from his sleep and now cornered in a room by whatever creatures were round the corner. As the others got into position Falkor waited by the door - he could make out a few shapes, and from the talking is seemed there were perhaps 4 or 5 of these creatures and who knows how many more were on the way. Suddenly, when they mentioned "Gholst" Falkor realised this was not to be the best of encounters - or at least, they were not going to be the friendliest of monsters they had come across.

Falkor wispered to the others - "Gholst is one evil s.o.a.b, We cannot just let ourselves be captured, from the sounds of it these creatures are working on his behalf - we must tread very carefully. Ameena, see if they tell you what they want, however if they are to take us to him - then prepare for battle!"

OOC: IC down so "Falkor rolls 1d20 = 16" (Here's hoping!)

Darn it!, Haynuus thought, Gholst wasn't a beer after all.

OOC - Are wizards allowed to cast fireballs between legs?

Once again feigning more confidence than he felt Westian smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of the soldiers order.

“We know of Gholst, and you need not worry, I have a great deal of respect for his abilities. We are not here to cause you or him any problems. In fact we may be on the same side. I heard you mention Trolins just a second ago. We have been fighting them too...see, even the club I am holding I picked up from one of them. And might I add they seemed to be remarkably scared of you. Some Trolins we defeated had spoken of running away from “Blackskulls”; I would imagine that would be you? In fact they were so scared that they physically smashed down a door upstairs just to escape!” he laughed. “You can inspect the fruit of their desperation if you wish - a solid wooden door smashed into a million tiny shards. Now that is true terror! Though as I said their attempts to escape were ultimately unsuccessful, and we dealt with them as they deserved.”

Hoping that the soldiers had no real interest in the group, Westian finished the conversation with another smile and a nod. Please now go on your way, please....

... You knew there would be consequences...

Then, one day, the order called upon him to guard a cleric of theirs, who happened to be venturing to Mount Anaias himself... the only major problem being that he'd already left. He wasn't told this cleric's name, not even his mission. The only information he could piece together from the order was that the mission was "very important", and the names Librasulus and Chaos.

Now Aurek finds himself bound back to that evil mountain...

'...What awaits me?' said a voice in Aurek's head. It sounded like his own, and he could swear it overlapped with another voice saying something about...

Aurek realises he is not in his room. Is he somewhere else? Wait, what was the dream again...

There is a confusion of images. Images that seem like memories, not dreams, try to flood through his mind. A meeting. And a mission. And a name. Why couldn't he remember the name in the dream, it was told to him, it was...

No, but that memory is the dream. He had no meeting with the order elders. No mission. He had gone to bed this evening as many nights passed after his devotions to the order and High Lords were done.

Again, a swirl of confusing contradictory images. A feeling of sickness. The face of the elder so clear in his mind. Aurek felt like he would faint, as his mind tried to avoid reading the lips and hearing the voice say a name...

'Accompany Brother Westian Dallomain, keep him safe and aid him in his important mission...'

Why was Aurek so dizzy? Surely the blessings of the High Lords should protect their tool from such mundane distractions of the body. Some fever snapped as Aurek let the vision fade but accepted its words. He had travelled to Mount anaias with...or seeking?...this Westian. He had been at the mouth of Anaias again. And then something had happened.

Aurek could see, as his surroundings came to focus, that he was ina cell. Grey stone walls riddled with green slime and mold surrounded him on two sides, looking barely any better than the dark ceiling or broken stone floor. The cell was only 10 to 15 foot wide, a sorry square. Aside from manacles on the far wall that thankfully seemed broken and so not used to restrain Aurek, and a bucket in the corner that was thankfully unused, the room was empty.

Aurek had no armaments, nor armour nor possessions, merely the clothing he had worn during his usual evenings.

There were two possible exits from this gaol he had found himself in. The first infront of him was a solid wooden door, toughened oak. It had only a small barred window near the top to see out of.

The second exit looked less pleasing still. It was a grate that dominated the whole wall, apparnently separating this room for its mirror image beyond.

However, instead of Aurek, there appeared to be a figure lying across the floor, lying on its side with its back turned to the paladin.

Where was he? Mount Anaias? How mad he been captured so easily, in a way that he could not remember? Who had trapped both himself and this figure here? And more importantly, why?

No, most importantly, how could he get out?

Aurek comes to in a ghastly looking cell... struggling to remember even the major details of his capture, and his reasons for being here (will save, 1d20 = 17).

Aurek decides to carefully examine the seemingly unmoving body on the floor, making sure not to disturb them, should they only be asleep (perception, 1d20 = 16, careful).

After examining the person on the floor, Aurek gives the door a once over (perception, 1d20 = 12)... and the grate a once over (perception, 1d20 = 13). Then settles with the idea of waiting to see if this person wakes up... whoever they are.

Note - you are semi in semi out of combat here. I will post a long narrative that will lead to a greater decision. However, please feel free to suggest any actions that would happen after Westian's efforts illicit a response that might break this narrative, or simply be occuring during the narrative. That way if you want to be passive, we can power through this part, and if you want to do something else, no harm no foul I will alter the post below in light of the actions.


The soldier closest sucks in a metallic breath as Ameena moves forward and starts to speak. Aside from a quiver in his sword arm he does not seem taken aback, although something in his posture or uplift of his head speaks of displeasure at the stream of comments. "Rat," he says in a tone of voice that gives unpleasant harmonics to the word as , "Gholst is-"

"A name we should not have mentioned," said the torch bearer from further back. The closest soldier turns his head to the other walking forward. The two other soldiers subtly spread out a step at either side. "Gholst is merely our commander," says the nasl-voiced soldier behind his helm. "We are here under Theron. You trespass."

Westian moves into the pregnant silence that follows, filling it with his reasonable - if truth stretching - dialogue.

The soldier standing furthest forward takes a stronger grip on his sword, squeezing the hilt impatiently.

Ian, can you roll me a perception check, please?

The other three soldiers are turned fully to Westian. As Westian finishes, there is a cold silence. Only the sounds of the breathing of all those facing off, and the quiet occasional crackle of a torch is head.

"Blasted gnome," says the nasal-voiced soldier. While neither he nor the others sheathed their weapons, at least he lowered it.

"The door, Thinpas" says the aggressive solder called Arbrut.

The torch wielder called Thinpas turns his head to the other, and then nods in apparent understanding. He gestures to one of the other two soldiers, and gestures across the hall to where the stairs would be. That soldiers moves forward swiftly, picking up the discarded torch. "The corridor too," says the nasal-voiced soldier. Thinpas then looks to the final soldier, and gestures to beyond the RA-keyed door. "Get the Captain."

There is another moment of silence. Arbrut has gone back to looking at the party.

"Arbrut?" says Thinpas. Thinpas lifts his head slightly in the direction of the departed soldier, and Arbrut seems to reluctantly get the message, still staring at the party before breaking off. The two can be seen at the caved in wall, and the hall is illuminated as they check the surroundings, including the impressive collection of clubs the party amassed earlier.

"Caved in!" confirms the soldier originally tasked to check things out. Arbrut takes the torch while that soldiers goes up the stairs. A moment later, that soldiers returns.

"Confirmed! The door is breached!" yells Arbrut, storming forwards with the torch, forcing the reporting soldier to move swiftly with him.

"So much for 'magically protected' doors," says Thinpas, his nasal-voice particularly whining in mockery. Thinpas then turns his Westian. "Those aberrant brutes can be strong. They caused the cave in to block pursuit earlier. We left them locking in here. We should have known brute would kill ancient. Still, real people kill the aberrations. The balance is corrected, is it not?"

There is another rattle behind the soldiers, and more come through the door. Two more, one with a torchenter and fan to the edges of the door. And impressive looking soldier with a red splash on his shoulder and silver edging on his armour walks forward.

Thinpas turns and removes his helm, revealing greasy black hair cut to his neck. He walks forward quickly, stopping the man who must be the captain from entering further. There is some brief exchange, and the captain takes off his own helm.

The torchlight highlights a human male, probably in his early thirties. His hair is cropped short, and his eyes are dark pools.

Arbrut sees the huddled conversation, and giving an unfriendly turn to the party then moves swiftly forward, removing his own helm. The man is a bald and has a fat neck, and when he turns his gaze quickly back to the party he reveals a permanent sneer and an angrily crinkled forehead.

Eventually the captain restores his helm, as do the two other soldiers.

"Men, guard the entrance above," the captain says as he strides forward to the four soldiers that had spread out to keep track of the party. As one they peel off and move towards the stairs. "Sergeants, with me," he says to Arbrut and Thinpas still beside him. Thinpas nods. Arbrut is back to staring across at the party.

The captain moves forward, planting one hand on his sheathed sword pommel and the other on his hip. His head moves as if he scans the four, apparently landing on Westia. "I am Captain Drommal. My orders were to ... accompany... a halfling to an acquaintance of my commander, to the mage Soorec. The...invitation...was extended to your half orc." The Captain spins the word 'your half-orc' in unpleasant ways, reminiscent of Arbrut earlier. "I would advise you all accept the invitation, for this place is dangerous. The High Lord has disappeared, and his creations move."

The captain pauses for a moment. "Your thief friend was already apprehended as he did not identify himself. We can release him to your care, if you wish to vouch for him?"


Ok, so assuming you want to let all that happen, that's where we are at for the weekend. If you have any checks you wish to do, roll away. We're not tracking initiative right now nor limiting actions, feel free to check for each major development.

If there are any actions you wish to do amongst yourselves, go ahead, but be sure to be clear on exactly how you will conduct them while under a watchful gaze. If you wish to interrupt a particular part of the above, please be specific to the comment or action you are interrupting.

Once again, Westian has managed some good talking here. A nice choice of tactic, some luck or good management in choosing to reference the destruction above has gotten rid of some soldiers, and now...

Well, let's face it, now you are still in a world of potential trouble. Keep walking on those eggshells, for now it seems to be working

Aurek used the mental fortitude gifted to him by his devotions to the High Lords and his intense training to push through the mental block. However, as he did so something became very clear. The more he pushed through the block to recall memories beyond the cave entrance, the more unclean he felt.

Why had he been subject to visions and sick feelings? These new memories - certainly false memories - seemed to be the answer. He felt on the edge of a black precipice, and already looking into it made the comforting feeling of his divine powers instead alien to his existence.

Will one final effort, Aurek drew his iron will tightly to himself and looked into the odd darkness of the image of Mount Anaias.

Darcow Deephold.

The name of another cleric, Aurek seemed to recall. A fellow brother of the order. Aurek sensed the man - dwarf, infact - was supposed to be in Anaias aswell. Aurek dared one last intrusion into the void.

"Fex knows..."

The voices sounded like his own, anguished. Before a flood of memories could well up and pull Aurek down, the paladin used his will to cut off the thoughts and memory as he had smote real life evil in the past.

He had reached some form of equilibrium. While he did not truly feel as if he should recall such things, he had recalled three names now - Westian, Darcow and whoever Fex was - and he had recalled the mission he was under.

Unburdened by the distraction of the false memories - as useful as they may have been - Aurek could work on the mystery of his surroundings efficiently.

The figure on the floor seemed to be male by the clothing, and good quality clothing at that. It was hard to tell how old he was nor much of his form for the moment. The man certainly seemed medium in height and build. He was not emaciated by any means, so he had not been here long, but his clothes were ripped in places and there was dirt evident, so he had been here long enough.

The main door had no lock nor handle nor anything to open it. Aurek had studied such dwarf - or imitation dwarf - doors and their mechanisms extensively in the past. Such a door was immovable while the locking mechanism was in place, and yet once the mechanism was released - by a button or key - the whole door was so elegantly counter-weighted that one could simply push up or down the door no matter your strength.

Such doors were also built in with a rocking mechanism, such that if they were blocked or jammed the mechanism would raise and lower itself to break or loosen the obstruction. To keep one of these doors open or closed despite the activation of the opening mechanism, you usually had to catch it at one of its rocker points. By jamming something into the recesses of the doorframe before it could latch, you would denying it movement. Sadly, such rich knowledge meant little when the door was locked shut.

Aurek looked around and saw that this cell was deliberately build for no other purpose than to keep things in. This was not a converted area for any other purpose. However, why allow two cellmates to see and relate to one another, when the doors outwards were so solid?

The grate separating the two seemed strange too. In such a filthy room, the grate should have been as deteriorated with rust spots as the bucket in the corner was. Instead the bars of the grate seemed as new as they would have been when forged. The bars jammed into the wall still seemed solid, without any movement in them nor crumbling of the brick in the wall. Infact, the small amounts of mold growing on the grate flaked off easily unable to gain purchase into any imperfections.

Something rang a bell in Aurek's mind. He looked to the walls, and door. Indeed, the door seemed clean and solid with no imperfections. The mold and slime on the walls was not tarnishing nor finding ingress into the spaces between the bricks. The bricks, once could see past the surface tarnish, looked new too.

Magically protected and enhanced areas in dungeons were said to exhibit such behaviour. It was usually impossible to damage such things unless you could disenchant the magic first. Infact, Aurek remembered such magically protected areas could even project their own light, and indeed there seemed to be no other source of light than the walls themselves.

It was certainly a prestigious cell to be in, yet why had he been placed in it? Dispiritingly, how was one to get out of it?

Still, the powerful magic needed to produce such a cell, the look of the walls and floor, and the dwarf-style doors at least seemed to verify one thing to Aurek. He was certainly in Mount Anaias.

"I wondered when you would wake up, sir," said a voice. The figure from the other cell rolled onto his other side to face Aurek. The man had shortish sandy-coloured hair, and a styled moustache that was not yet becoming as scruffy as his other facial hair, and so still seemed becoming.

The man rose painfully to sitting, giving Aurek a deep look.

"And who, if I may inquire, are you, sir?"


Sorry for the writing (much of it confusing and not useful for now), it's your fault for rolling good knowledge(dungeoneering). Anyway, for now time to start making friends!

Ameena listens to the various exchanges that ensue. She notes the reference to her as a "rat" by the one called Arbrut and decides that she probably won't get on with him too well. She also decides that openly correcting him would probably be a bad idea. But surely he knows that rats don't speak Common, and therefore she can't possibly be one? Rats don't have the vocal capacity to speak Common, otherwise...well, they would, wouldn't they?
Then the one they call "Captain" enters, and she remembers that word as one describing someone in charge, as is the word "Commander". But she can't remember whether there's any difference between the two. As there are no hierarchies of any kind among the murafu, ranks and titles make little sense to her except as words people put before their names to make themselves sound important. Or to show that they are.
The Captain-person introduces himself as Drommal, and the odd emphasis on his words is obvious..."accompany", "invitation"...and his reference to the place being dangerous. It seems fairly obvious that the implication is "the small person and the stupid half-orc will come with us whether they like it or not", but Ameena doesn't see any way to really argue against it, considering the way things are at the moment.
But it's Drommal's last comments that make the least sense to her. Despite the obvious danger, murafu curiosity coupled with the murafu desire to socialise both butt in and immediately persuade her to start talking.
"We don't know anyone else." she begins. "We just woke up in a room upstairs. Just us. We don't know how we got here, to this place. I smelt you up there. I mean, your people. We were looking around and heard some banging, and then some blue troll-creatures came, but one of them ran away, one disappeared, and the other one we ended up sort of...well, fighting, but then he disappeared too. Then we went on and found some things, and then we came down to this room and there was all this mess and the undead...it was all wrapped up...mummy, that's what it was called, I remember. But it got caught on fire and got destroyed. Then we had a look around and we found this room with the umm...stone ledge...thing. And then we all went to sleep. Well, except for who was on watch. But then you came along, and now you're saying you want us to come with you. Well, not me and Westian, but the others. But what happens to us? And them? And if we say no, are you going to try and kill us? And we don't know any other person. But maybe you shouldn't just kill him too. It's not very nice. I mean...it wouldn't make much sense, would it? But none of us know why we're here or how we got here...or what all the strange noises and things are. I think the main reason this place is dangerous at the moment is because you've all got big swords and you could use them on us, and I think you probably will if we don't do what you want. And...I'm not a rat, but it's alright - lots of people call me that. What are you going to do to us now?"
This doesn't come out in a rush, as such, but her pace of speech does quicken slightly as she speaks longer, a natural and subconscious action due to the fact that murafu tend to speak faster when sharing a lot of information with each other in a short space of time.
She wonders what the people will do. Maybe the woman-shape will return and tell them to go away. Having decided she doesn't trust these people yet, she made sure she didn't mention things like that, or like Falkor's apparent foreknowledge of the name "Gholst". Maybe this mage person...Soorec...maybe he sent some kind of vision to Falkor, tried to look or speak inside his mind. Maybe that was some sending of Soorec's outside the door before. Maybe Soorec is the "He" that the woman-shape mentioned. Whatever the case, it's difficult to really see what these people are up to when their faces are hidden behind their helms. But she tries. Judging from their speech and actions, howver subtle, she tries to discern whether these people are as threatening as they seem, or whether they're simply tough and slightly condescending individuals who intend no real harm but are simply trying to learn what's what.

OOC - Woo, behold the murafu speech of doom . And the last few sentences of that post came about because I remembered once again that I have Sense Motive. I get +7 to rolls on it due to skill, but +11 against mammals. Since these people certainly appear to be mammalian, a roll gives me...bah, 6 + 11...so...17. If I can apply that to all of them, then I do so. If not then just on Drommal for now - I can check the others next post if necessary.