Smoldering Wizard's Old-School Gaming Forums

Van slowly follows Dahl, arms folded across his chest. He cocks his head and looks at the smoldering body and cleric, frown upon his face.

Startled, the man holding the torch raises it up high to illuminate the faces of the adventures that carefully shuffle into the room while the cleric continues his prayers unperturbed. With a confused look on his face, the torch bearing man blinks at Lisglen's question: "He just... He just touched the door and... A big flash... Like lightning... Before we new it, he was down on the floor like that, smoking and all...".

In the meanwhile one of the other men, a robed figure with a floppy, wide-brimmed hat, walks up to the cleric and puts a hand on his shoulder: "That's enough, Leonid. He's no more..." The cleric bows his head and slowly gets to his feet. Looking defeated he wipes his eyes: "That greedy idiot should have waited like I told him to..."

The man still standing next to the torch bearer slowly moves his hand to the hilt of his sword, his dark eyes flashing back and forth between the faces of all entering the room, looking particularly suspicious at Van: "Are you servants of... him?" he asks in a deep voice.

Lisglen shows a face of great grief and compassion at the death of the other party's companion, even though he did not know him. Hearing the question he raises his chin and answers, unperturbed: "And who might be... him?"

The fighter gives a quick nod at the glowing glyph: "Him! Whatever sadist who put these... death traps into this rotten place!" Tears well up in his eyes and he rubs the back of his hand along them, tightly gripping the hilt of his sword once more. "You know who is behind this..?" he asks belligerently.

Van continues to stand, arms folded and says "Yes I know who's behind this. Damned dirt cultists! They dabble in black magic and treachery. And false promises. Typical."
Van spits on the ground.

Dahl listens to the conversation intently, all the while studying the strangers. How are they armed? Has the one in the wide-brimmed hat anything on him that might mark him as a spell caster? Do these strangers look familiar in any way?

"Well, I'm afraid we don't know precisely who 'him' is then -- maybe aside from our mate here, who was taken prisoner by the cultists running the place. But what are you doing here exactly?" asks Lisglen, a bit more inquisitive.

The fighter releases his grip on the hilt of his sword, squinting at Van's words. "Cultists, eh?" He shrugs and his expression softens: "I wouldn't know about that..."

Turning to Lisglen, he sighs: "It was supposed to be easy money... A quick in-and-out, they said. Treasure lying around just for the taking!" He laughs cynically: "I should have known better than that! Back in the village of Jodcar we heard about this old wizard - I can't remember his name - who built a lair underneath his tower to perform all kinds of dark magic experiments. It was said that one of his summoning experiments went horribly wrong and he fled in terror, leaving all of his valuables behind."

He turns around, looking at his fallen comrade who is picked up by the robed man and Leonid, the cleric. "All we did find so far is this sealed door and our avarice has already taken its toll... It's best we leave our cursed search at this, make our way back to the village and never return..." he says while the robed man and Leonid start dragging the body towards the east exit of the room.

Dahl takes a good look at the adventurers: the torch bearer looks fit and strong: he also carries a sword. The robed figure strikes as a magic-user by his appearance indeed, but there is no clear way Dahl can tell for sure. He is not visibly armed. Leonid, the cleric, carries a medium sized mace. None of them look familiar to him in any way.

"It might be the best course of action, indeed, as this place is more treacherous than it seems. Can I ask, though, how this tragic incident happened exactly?" replies Lisglen, now a bit more curious. He will motion a quick prayer to the True Light when the body is carried nearby him, while also taking a look at the body.

The fighter shakes his head: "It happened so fast... We had barely entered the room when Emil shouted he could already smell the gold in the room behind the door with the magic seal..." He bites his lip and looks towards the door that took his friend's life: "The rookie... He hardly took any notice of the sigil: before we knew it he had walked up to the door and pushed against it with both hands. The glyph flared up brightly and it was like lightning struck him through his hands: his body convulsed heavily and he fell to the floor, stone-dead..."

Lisglen glances over the body as it is being carried past him. It's a young fellow with a friendly, beardless face. His hands are severely burnt, even scorched to the bone at some points. Small trickles of dried blood can be seen running from the eyes, ears and nose. From the sharp smell he can tell that in his last moments among the living, Emil probably lost control over his bladder.

The magic-user and the cleric leave the room, carrying the body of Emil, and the fighter and the torch bearer follow suit, wishing you the best of luck.