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Ciar keeps an eye on the hallway behind them, in case their activity attracts any sort of trouble.

Sparrow feels a sudden shock to his system. It's as if he has just been trampled by a large animal or something. He shakes off the feeling of great loss and snaps out of his recent silence.

He stands with his sword at the ready on the other side of Sylvan as he pushes the door open.

Careful now. Don't strain yourself with this sticky door.

He will help push if the Druid seems to be outmatched.

Sparrow watches as Sylvan continues to struggle with the door before stepping up to provide an assist. The pair effort the sturdy wooden door open. Sylvan scampers to recover his lantern and he and Sparrow lead the way in.

There can be little doubt what purpose this 30' by 40' rectangular chamber once served. The dank room stores an ancient rack, a fanciful brazen bull, an iron maiden, a cauldron, iron chairs with sharp edges and cruel protuberances, and a wooden table upon which sit various implements of torture. A bronze plaque affixed to the western wall depicts a crowing rooster above crossed spears. Underneath the spear, a short phrase is inscribed.


A map will be provided later as I'm updating from phone without it being pre-drawn and saved as an image. It's a pretty simple layout, though, so hopefully the descriptions should give you enough to start with.

Once the others have filed in, Ciar does the same. Once in the room, the first thing he does is look for exits besides the one they came in. Then he approaches the table to examine the implements more closely.

Alethan wrote:Once the others have filed in, Ciar does the same. Once in the room, the first thing he does is look for exits besides the one they came in. Then he approaches the table to examine the implements more closely.

Noting the trouble the dwarf is having with carrying the human, he offers, "Here, lay him down on the table..." Then he quietly chuckles to himself.

As Ciar and the rest carefully begin to file into the room, Sparrow calmly strolls over to one of the cruel iron chairs of torture and takes a seat. He instantly jumps back to his feet and yelps in pain as he rubs his pierced hindquarters.

Suddenly, the form of a raven appears perched atop the rooster plaque. It speaks to the party in a shrill female voice:

"Greetings, fine citizens of our glorious empire! So good to have visitors, though I fear I have no refreshments to offer. I assume you are here for the treasure. Well, I’d be happy to assist, provided that you give me what I require! It has been so long since I was able to ply my trade."

"I require only that each of you shed your life’s blood in this room—simply take a seat in one of my lovely chairs."

Sparrow looks around at the others.

Well? What are you guys waiting for? You heard the......lady? My bloods already been collected so.....get sittin!

Sparrow walks towards the plaque a little trying to get a closer look at the inscription.

Sparrow, encouraging the others to do as he did and take a seat in the chairs of pain, wanders over and, upon a closer inspection, reads aloud the phrase emblazoned on the plaque:

"Confession Cleanses the Soul— Pain Clarifies the Mind."

Trying not to look too gobsmacked, Sylvan replies to the raven form. "What will you use this blood for?"

As the group contemplates the black birds' demand, Ciar and the rest have an opportunity to notice that there are no other visible exits in the room. The sudden appearance of the mysterious bird prevents a thorough inspection of the contents atop the wooden table, but an impressive - and intimidating - collection of metal rods, skewers, blades and other implements of torture are in plain sight.

Sylvan's inquiry results in a shrill cackling response: "Is not for you to worry about. But is required for my information, yes."

Ciar gives Sparrow a look of confusion edged with a hint of anger, "Whatareyadoin sittin in one of them chairs in the first place? Are ye daft??"

He then turns to the raven and tries to ascertain if it is real or... Illusion? "Kassel, can you tell if that Raven is real or an illusion or a creature of magic or... sommit else?"

The raven, seemingly perturbed by the Ciar's questioning of its existence, launches itself from its perched position and takes flight; a couple of its black feathers shake loose from its frame and fall gently to the ground in a swaying motion. The bird slowly circles the room and, as it approaches the halfling, attempts to prove its existence by depositing some bird droppings on him. While its aim is slightly off, the deposit is near enough that Ciar can easily see it's the real thing.

"You still doubt me?!" it shrieks as it circles back and lands in its original perch. "Next time, I might not miss."



Rolls:

Sylvan speaks to the bird. "I believe we study the same craft. Who are you, and how do you have the gift of speech?" He moves over to the chair and sits on it, making sure not to sit on the same spike Sparrow did.

Festus takes his axe and moves the instruments of torture out of the way and then gently lays Fulp on the table. Ignoring the raven, he walks over to the plaque on the wall...and smashes it with his axe.

"Come and try to take a shit on me, ya filthy crow! Been needing a few bones to pick me teeth with!"

As Festus goes about splintering the plaque on the wall with his axe, the crow disappears from sight.

A moment later, a diminutive humanoid creature, approximately two feet tall, with leathery, bat-like wings, a barbed tail, and sharp, twisted horns appears on its place. The creature's skin is a dark red, and its horns and jagged teeth are a gleaming white.

"Careful, dwarf." it speaks in an evil voice. "Careful, all of you. Sit in the chair, and maybe I'll forgive this indiscretion."

"You do not want to cross me...


Now sit!"

Can Kassal recognise the creature from his studies?

"We don't wish to cross you, creature, but you ask much. My blood is my own to give! Why do you ask for it? Name yourself and perhaps we may grant your wish!"

onlyme wrote:Fulp silently debates whether the open darkness of the previous room or his current use as a shoulder pad is more fearful.

Fulp silently decides he knows the answer, now, awaiting himself becoming bird food.

Ciar stares at the dark daemon for a moment in silence. Then he shrugs, says, "What the hells," walks to the nearest chair (maybe one that is smaller) and sits on it, just enough to draw the requested blood, before standing again.

Kassal, witnessing the beasts' behaviors and abilities, immediately recognizes the truly evil creature as being an imp; a creature from another plane of existence, typically only in this world to serve as a familiar for an evil wizard or priest.

The devilish creature responds to Kassal and seems to grow impatient. "You have much blood. I only ask but a little." it snaps. "And is not blood I want... is pain!"

"Be wary of its tail," the gnome warns, and the statement definitely catches the creature's attention "You know of me?" it asks. "You know of Harzogopas?"


When Ciar takes a seat, and the imp witnesses the distressed look on his face as the pain of the instrument of torture is felt, it perks up. "Yes. Yes! You all sit. All of you now." it says excitedly.

"No more talk."


Rolls:

Sylvan follows Ciar in taking a seat on thechair of pain. Harzogopas, the imp, smiles gleefully as Sylvan returns to his feet holding his aching posterior.

"Next. Who's next?" Harzogopas chirps cheerfully.