After scouring most of the tiny hump of rock you've landed on and finding nothing but a few patches of barren grass, you begin to wonder how long you will survive here with no way to keep warm and no food. The fact that each of your lives may now be measured in hours is a real slap in the face from reality.
Just when you are about to give up any hope for survival, Finnigan notices a shallow depression in the rock at the very top of the island. The depression is circular, and there appears to be a door or hatch inside. Moving a few handfuls of dirt away, he finds some sort of handle mechanism in its center that appears to pull upwards.
Actions?
Actual art from the module.
I love this one by Jeff Easley. Really captures the intensity of the scene.
After nearly toppling over from the force of a single piece of paper, Grossphil removes the parchment from his face and holds it out so he can read it. He frowns and tells the party "Guys I think this came from the gnomes on the ship, it has grubby little gnome impressions on it. Er, no offense Sprig." Grossphil awkwardly clears his throat before reading what the parchment says, "The letter only has a heading and nothing else. It says 'The Life and Times of Castanamir the Mad!" Huh, sounds like someone our author or legend expert might know something about."
Regarding the hatch looking object that Finnigan found, Grossphil says "Well I'm not a fan of starving to death so we may as well explore what's down that hatch. Opening it sounds like a job fit for a strong, fighter who may or may not have orc-like attributes." Having little experience with half-orcs, Grossphil will additionally give Elitir an encouraging look to open the hatch.
"Do you want me to try it Finn? I can back you up or we can switch places, you found it, your call." Elitir says as she moves over to stand next to the dwarf.
Dripping water from everywhere, Pumfrey is indebted to Elitir.
"I owe you one Madam. If you need a hand, anything, just let me know and I'll be there."
He looks around at his companions. "I couldn't think of a finer bunch to be trapped with on a mysterious island. With certain death lurking round every corner, at least I know I'll kick the bucket in the company of friends."
He nudges Elitir in the knee. "Might want to check that hatch for traps first."
Sprig, a bit dazed, looks from one fellow strandee to the next as they speak. He stares back out to sea for a moment, beard whipping in the wind, before seeming to find a sudden "let's make the best of it" resolve. "Sir, perhaps you would like to add this to your page collection," He says to Grossphil, handing him the stray one from the boat to go with his most recent find. "...Or perhaps that is more Mac's purview. At any rate." With a nod to Pumffrey but without waiting to be asked, he approaches the trap door, circling gradually inwards and begins carefully searching for any trap-like mechanisms that may be guarding the entrance.
Zefarrel, says a brief prayer for the captain & crew. Then after briefly thinking: I'm sorry, but I don't recall knowledge of Castanamir the Mad. Lets get that hatch open! She looks at the handle to see if more than one person could pull on it (if necessary).
Mac ponders the name Castanamir, repeating it over and over again as the others mess with the hatch. They eventually wrench the heavy stone door up and open, allowing the freezing adventurers their first look inside. Most hope to see a warm fire and a full table.
What they find instead is a simple cold stone stairway leading down into the rocky island. At the bottom of the stairs is a small 5' X 5' stone landing. The side walls are solid stone and unremarkable. There is a standard size doorway in the wall straight ahead, though it does not contain a normal dungeon door. In its place is a sheer black curtain of absolute nothingness that fills the entire doorway opening. The strange black portal shimmers as you stare into its blank void. Nothing can be heard or seen beyond it.
Actions?
Dont let my pressing the action stop you from the great RP interaction so far. I just want to get you all out of the rain before you catch your deaths.
I will also need a marching order eventually as well. So you can start tossing suggestions around for that in your free time if you want.
"Castanamir, Castanamir...where have I heard that name before...unless, no that can't be right. I might...might...know who this guy is." Mac gets a gleam in his eye and begins:
"Years ago I heard tales of a wizard who had lived before my time and for many years longer than natural. He was supposedly a very powerful wizard, rumored to have created a few powerful spells of his own design.
I followed these tales to a village, in order to get a better account of his life, and found an unbelievable tale. Generations had passed, but the people of the village had an oral history that they passed down from one generation to the next.
As far as I understood, and it was so ridiculous it could only be false, some adventures had gotten in their mind that he was evil and needed to be defeated. The group, composed of clerics, wizards, rogues, and a barbarian, descended on his tower and faced him in battle. Apparently, he had indeed devised some spells of his own. The barbarian up front had a spell cast upon him that defies explanation. He had an immediate horrible stomach pain and doubled over, only to be forced to...relieve himself...while facing away from his party. This noxious gas then, of course, ignited. In their haste to find relief, the group stumbled into a lab filled with potions of all types. Finding a few potions of healing, they quickly downed them only to realize that they were in fact, cleverly disguised oils of slipperiness. This concentrated oil had the unfortunate effect of quite literally blowing their pants off.
Pantsless and defeated, they returned to the village only to suffer another indignity when person after person they met slapped the barbarian for what they could only see as proof of violation of his fellow adventures in a rage."
Mac smiles. "But as they say, you can't believe everything you hear."
Turning to the issue at hand, Mac examines the doorway. "The Captian knew of this, of course. He mentioned a portal on the ship. Might there be some markings around to shed light on this? I remember this one story where a group was trying to open a door and all they had to do was speak a single word."
"Wow friend, you should make that story into a trilogy. Maybe make a few halflings the central characters. Call it something like 'Lord of the Winds'. Could be a winner."
Sprig stares into the void of the doorway, and, as accustomed as he is to magical darkness, doesn't really like the look of it.
He frowns worriedly at Mac's recounting of the Depantsing spell, knowing that many legends are based in reality. Who knows what this wizard got up to in his spare time? Living alone on an island must get boring. He supposed they were all about to find out first-hand.
"Ten foot pole!" he nods in agreement. Casually he makes his way towards the back of the group and watches to see what will happen...
Last edited by ChubbyPixie on Wed Mar 21, 2018 1:31 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Finnigan pulls his flask from off his belt, holds it up to the side of his head, and then shakes it slightly. He frowns at what he hears and mutters, "Not but a few sips left..." and, after thinking about it a moment, puts it back on his belt without opening it.
"Push the gnome through," he says in jest. Then waits in anticipation to see if someone actually does it.
Elitir grabs the section of hull and brings it over to the gateway. She then slides it in , leaving just enough to hold on to outside the darkness. If nothing seems to happen she will try pulling it out again. "Not the gnome, they are too magical I think. I always heard dwarves are good for that sort of thing." she says with a chuckle.
Zefarrel (to Elitir): Exactly what I was thinking. Be ready to let go in case something tries to pull you in.
Zefarrel makes ready to grab Elitir by belt or armor & pull backward if case something tries to pull on the plank from the other side of the blackness and the half-orc looses her balance.
Mac spins some incredible yarns about the loss of pants and about speaking friends entering doorways. He looks around the cold stone walls for markings of any kind. He finds none.
Finnigan hopes the doorway leads to a distillery. He suggests using Sprig as a test subject, possibly only half joking, while the diminutive gnome slowly makes his way to the rear of the group.
A long hunk of wood is retrieved from shore and used to probe the blackness. Elitir uses her great strength to suspend the broken plank out into the black void. It slides through as easily as it would a normal open doorway and she feels nothing but empty space beyond the black. She does feel the very slightest of tension on it once it enters the opening, as if it is very lightly trying to pull her in with it. But when she pulls it back out again, there is no indication as to why. It isn't burnt or chewed on, mangled, mauled or mussed in any way. In fact, there are no marks or discoloration of any kind present on the board whatsoever.
Actions?
Pumfrey 14/14
Elitir 22/22
Zefarrel 20/20 4/4 first 3/3 second
Grossphil 16/16 2/2 first 1/1 second
Mac 7/7 2/2 first 1/1 second
Sprig 10/10 2/2 first
Finnigan 25/25
Let me know if you ever want to change the order around or if you see any errors in this.
Tossing the plank away so that it doesn't interfere with anything, then turning to the others. "I am ready to go in. I don't have a light source so I will be relying on my excellent vision until someone with a light source follows. Once we are all through Pumfrey will move up to point. Everyone ready?" Elitir readies her shield and draws her sword.
