JollyDoc's Shackled City

THE MYSTERIOUS INFORMANT

“What were you thinking?” Jenya railed at Pez through the bars of his cell. “You are an officer of the Church, sworn to uphold the law and justice, and here you are brawling in the street like a common thug. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Pez stood with his eyes downcast, not from shame, but in an effort to control his temper. He knew that he was duty bound to serve this local temple, and Jenya in particular, but it galled him to no end to be chastised by a mere mortal. With a titanic effort of will, he swallowed his pride and met the high priestess’ gaze. “It was a misunderstanding, my lady. We tried to resolve it peacefully, but the Stormblades persisted.”
“Do you know who those people are?” Jenya asked, “Do you know their parents? Lord Taskerhill, Annah’s father, is a close, personal friend of the Lord Mayor. Cora Lathenmire’s parents are the leading weapon traders in the city. They have very close ties to all of the local smiths. And Zachary Aslaxin’s family owns the Coy Nixie, one of the finest inns in town. These are not people who would appreciate having their children beaten in front of a large crowd outside of some seedy bar. You are fortunate none of them were badly hurt.”
“They badly hurt?” Pez asked incredulously, “What of Wathros? They nearly killed him.”
“Yes,” Jenya nodded, “and they are pleading self-defense. I know that you say otherwise, and I have no cause to distrust you, but many witnesses, credible ones, have come forward to speak against you and your friends.”
“Paid witnesses, I’m sure.” Pez said flatly.
“Be that as it may,” Jenya continued, “the Magistrate has seen fit to believe them. Fortunately, I also have some pull with him, and have arranged to have you and Gardrid released under my supervision.”
“What of Wathros?” Pez asked.
“He was charged with aggravated assault, and given a choice: one year of hard labor, or a one-thousand gold galleon fine. He chose the latter. Now, on to more important matters. Have you managed to discover any further information regarding the wands?”
“No,” Pez admitted, “but I was hoping that we may find some leads by entreating you to use the Star of Justice again to seek divine inspiration.”
Jenya looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, “That actually sounds promising. I will meet you back at the temple this evening.”
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Jenya held the glowing, silver mace before her, her eyes closed in prayer. Pez, Gardrid, Tilly and Wathros stood around her in the private chapel. “Lord Tyr,” Jenya intoned, “Wise and Just, tell us, your humble petitioners, how might we recover that which we seek, and bring to justice she who has slain one of your children.” Her eyes remained closed, and her breathing became slower and deeper. Then she spoke again, but this time in a flat monotone that sounded nothing like her own voice, “One who provides sustenance where ale is spilled can lead you to the unholy triad, where justice and salvation may be found.”
After a brief moment, Jenya shuddered, gasped, and opened her eyes. “Did you hear?” she asked, “Does it make sense to you?”
“Well, at least part of it does,” Gardrid said, “The Tipped Tankerd…that’ll be where ale is spilled, unless I miss me guess.”
“One who provides sustenance…” Pez said thoughtfully, “Who is the cook at the tavern, Gardrid?”
“A feller by the name o’ Artus Shemwick,” Gardrid replied, “Quiet sort, kind of shifty. Never done me no wrong though.”
“Perhaps we should pay this cook a visit,” Pez said.
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Artus was counting the minutes until his shift was done. He had more pressing, and far more profitable, work to do down by the docks later. He despised this slave labor, but he had to admit, the clientele that he dealt with at the Tankerd were a valuable source of information, and in his profession, information was more valuable than gold. He was just turning to hang up his apron for the night, when he saw the bouncer, Gardrid walk into the kitchen. He was followed by that winged Tyrite freak, as well as the little thief, Tilly, and some elf dressed in animal hides. Artus was momentarily taken aback, but he’d had enough run-ins with law enforcement to know that this didn’t look good, and to make matters worse, they were already moving to block the back door.
“What’s this?” the cook asked, hands raised innocently, “I ain’t done nothin’. Anyone who told you different is a damn liar!”
Pez stepped forward, imposing, but not quite threatening, “Artus Shemwick. We have reason to believe that you have information regarding the recent death of Sarcem Delasharn and the theft of several important items that he carried. Understand, you are not accused, but if you refuse to help us, you will be seen as having complicity in this matter.”
So, Artus thought to himself, that’s what this was about. Funny, he had actually planned on approaching the church of Tyr with the information that he had, but he hadn’t been able to set a fair price yet. Now, here they were. This could work out very well for him indeed. “I might know something,” he said, folding his arms casually, “but I’m sure not going to discuss it with you here. I’ll meet you…one of you…at the docks at midnight.” He then pointed to Tilly, “You…come alone. If I see anybody with you, the deal is off.” Tilly looked questioningly at Pez. The archon nodded, and then said, “Agreed, but if you do not show, know that we will find you, and you will be prosecuted for aiding and abetting a known murderer.”
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Tilly paced around the gazebo in the small park at the edge of the city’s central lake. It was just past midnight, and the moon was down. A light fog had also rolled in, making the docks more gloomy than normal.
“Glad you’re a man of your word, Tilly” a voice quietly spoke from behind him. He turned quickly and saw Artus standing leaning against the gazebo as if he’d been waiting there for hours. The man was good, Tilly had to give him that.
“Always,” Tilly replied, “So, what can you tell me?”
“Nothing,” Artus chuckled, “if we can’t agree on a price.”
Tilly nodded. He’d expected this. “How much?”
“Five hundred,” Artus answered without hesitation.
“Agreed,” Tilly said. Ordinarily, he would have haggled over the cost, but Pez had made it clear that time was of the essence, and this opportunity was not to be jeopardized. He handed the money over.
“You’re looking for a woman named Triel Eldurast,” Artus began, “She was a member of the town guard about ten years ago, but then one night she murdered several of her own men while on duty. No one remembers the details. She hasn’t been heard of since her escape, so everyone just assumed she had died. Apparently that rumor was exaggerated. She’s very much alive, and she’s hooked up with two accomplices. I can’t tell you much about them, only that the three of them have those wands you’re looking for, and they plan to ransom them back to the town after it’s become desperate enough from the flooding. They’ve set up operations in some old ruins under the volcano. You can get there through a dry lava tube about two hundred feet down the northeast slope of the mountain. I’ve drawn you a map.”
Artus handed over the drawing, then turned and disappeared into the shadows as quickly as he’d appeared.
Tilly returned to his friends and relayed the information. They weren’t sure whether they could trust Shemwick completely, but since this was the only lead they had, they decided to pursue it first thing in the morning.

Looks like you've made a useful contact. I'd keep him alive and ready to flow out information if I were you.

I do hope, though, that we haven't seen the end of the whole trouble with the skumbuckets thing. I'd hate for such a plot thread to end without their deaths (slow and painful if possible).

Next time, try to press for clerical magic (zone of truth, etc.) to be present during your trials. That's one of the few resources available to the lawful good. Try to think of a neutral priest beforehand, though, otherwise they could use a corrupt priest.

And I don't think Pez will disappoint us. In the end, justice shall be served.

Lela said:

Looks like you've made a useful contact. I'd keep him alive and ready to flow out information if I were you.

I do hope, though, that we haven't seen the end of the whole trouble with the skumbuckets thing. I'd hate for such a plot thread to end without their deaths (slow and painful if possible).

Click to expand...

Don't worry, the Stormblades will be around for quite awhile, and will play even greater roles in the future.

Neverwinter Knight said:

Next time, try to press for clerical magic (zone of truth, etc.) to be present during your trials. That's one of the few resources available to the lawful good. Try to think of a neutral priest beforehand, though, otherwise they could use a corrupt priest.

And I don't think Pez will disappoint us. In the end, justice shall be served.

Click to expand...

The Magistrate doesn't care to use priests in his inquisitions, as he has found that they often have their own agendas, and can make the truth whatever suits them best. He, on the other hand, can only be bought.

Well, how much can a magistrate cost ?

You know, I'd think Jenya would be a little more concerned with the level of Injustice inherent in this city. Gfunk, I'd have Pez look a bit deeper into her. It's also a convienent excuss to see what she knows about your "Condition."

Lela said:

You know, I'd think Jenya would be a little more concerned with the level of Injustice inherent in this city. Gfunk, I'd have Pez look a bit deeper into her. It's also a convienent excuss to see what she knows about your "Condition."

Click to expand...

In all fairness to Jenya, she has her hands full at the moment. She has just become the new high priestess, and she has to worry about the city flooding. She needs whatever allies she can get, and doesn't want to rock any political boats at this point.

DESCENT INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE EARTH, REDUX

The next day dawned gray and chill, with a steady rain falling upon the city. The four companions had followed Artus’ map to the spot indicated, and now stood at the mouth of a narrow lava tube. Its internal diameter was no more than five feet, so they had to enter single-file, with Pez and Wathros bending low. The druid brought with him another lupine friend, this one black, with one white sock. Wathros merely referred to him as Onesock, and the others just shook their heads, but kept their opinions to themselves.

Pez took the lead, moving several dozen feet ahead of the main group. The tube twisted and turned for the better part of a half-mile before suddenly ending at a small ledge overlooking a vast cavern. Nearly a hundred feet below the ledge, the waters of a lake filled with dimly glowing algae lapped against walls encrusted with pallid fungi. A small stone building was built into the side of the ledge wall nearby, and a pair of heavy ropes descended from a winch on the side of the building, across the lake to a similar winch attached to a wooden structure on the far shore. Suspended from the ropes was a rickety looking wood and iron gondola mounted on a system of pullies.
The phosphorescence of the lake just barely illuminated the cavern, and Pez could see what appeared to be the partially melted ruins of several buildings protruding from a sparkling wall of volcanic rock along the far wall. Several of these buildings had small doorways at ground level, but no windows were visible in the ominous, dark facades. The air was thick, warm and excessively humid.

Pez leaned back into the tunnel, and motioned for the others to wait, calling only Tilly to come ahead. There was a single, stone door in the small winch building, and Tilly crept silently up to it, pressing his ear against the slab and listening for any sound of occupation. When he was certain that he’d heard nothing, he tried the portal. It opened easily enough, but rotated on a central pivot, allowing just three feet on either side to squeeze through. A second, large winch dominated the room beyond. A small window near it looked out over the lake, while a closed door stood at the opposite side. Quiet as a mouse, Tilly moved to the door, again listening intently. This time, however, he heard low voices talking. He turned and signaled to Pez, who now stood in the open door. The archon nodded, and the halfling quietly pushed open the door, and then ducked back into the shadows of the winch.
“What’s that?” a voice said from the interior room, “Who’s there?”
Tilly heard chairs scraping across the floor, and then footsteps and the sound of clinking mail approaching. Two men appeared in the doorway, both wearing chain shirts, with the red sash of the Alleybashers tied about their waists. Their swords were drawn, and they peered cautiously into the room.

Just then, Pez exploded into motion. These people, directly or indirectly, were responsible for Sarcem’s death, and the danger that now threatened the city. He was in no mood to parley or offer quarter. Judgment had already been passed. In one swift movement, he closed the distance with the pair, and dropped the first with a clean strike across the neck. The second man was momentarily taken aback, but he recovered quickly, and ducked beneath the warrior’s next strike. He darted across the chamber, heading for the window on the far side, and a small stone block inset in the wall next to it. Pez wasn’t sure what the man was up to, but he wasn’t going to wait to find out. Leaping into the air, he flew like an arrow, sword held out like a spear before him, and impaled the fleeing brigand moments before he reached his goal.

Gardrid and Wathros came quickly when they heard the sounds of battle, only to find the fight over before it had really begun. “Just flunkies,” Pez stated flatly, “though I think they were trying warn the compound below somehow. That gondola appears to be the only way down. I suggest you four board it, and I’ll operate the winch from here. I’ll join you at the bottom.”
_____________________________________________________

Gardrid stepped aboard the flimsy looking contraption first. The boards creaked ominously beneath him, but held. Wathros came next, followed by Onesock and then Tilly. Pez made sure they were all safely aboard, and then released the locking mechanism on the winch, and began slowly turning it. The gondola lurched into motion, high above the murky waters below, and began making its slow descent. It had only traveled twenty or so feet from the ledge, when a shudder ran through the guide ropes. “Uh oh,” Gardrid said, looking up towards the roof of the contraption, “this don’t look good.” No sooner had the words left his mouth, than a loud snap sounded from above, and the gondola listed sharply to one side. Immediately, a second snap came, and then the heroes found themselves in free fall.

Tilly was nearest the door of the gondola, and he managed to wrench it open. He leaped out into space, tucking himself into a roll, and then opening up into an expert dive as he struck the glowing lake water. His friends weren’t so lucky. The gondola hit the water heavily, and began to sink like a stone. Wathros was able to swim through the door just before it went under, and Onesock was right behind him. Gardrid wasn’t a good swimmer…

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T’krick lay upon his dark beach gnawing absently on a picked over bone. He was hungry. Those three wretched mortals that his masters had forced him to serve were getting lax in their tributes. The last morsel had been days ago, and the old human had been half-starved as it was, with barely enough flesh on him to make a decent meal. If they didn’t start showing him more respect, the water demon thought that he might have to pay a little visit to their compound, and take what he wanted from their own forces. Just then he heard a loud splash out in the middle of the lake, and heard voices shouting. Well, well, what fortune was this? His hunger might be satisfied today after all…
_______________________________________________________

Tilly breached the surface, and quickly looked around him. He could make out several other shapes not far away that must be his companions. “Swim for the far shore!” he shouted, and then he began stroking in that direction, making for the beach which appeared to be some sixty or more feet away.

Wathros saw that Onesock was having no difficulty treading water. The wolf paddled briskly through the water, soon overtaking the swimming form of Tilly. Wathros himself, however, was having trouble. His hide armor was becoming waterlogged, and was starting to weigh him down. Even now he could barely keep his head above water. He knew that he would never be able to remove his armor in time before it dragged him under completely. Concentrating, he pictured in his mind a form that would have no problems overcoming his present situation. He could feel his body changing, transforming, and becoming that which he willed it to. In the space of a few heartbeats, the druid was gone. In his place was a large crocodile, and it cut through the water effortlessly, making for the far shore.
__________________________________________________________

Blackness surrounded Gardrid. He had managed to take in a deep breath before the gondola had sunk, but he didn’t know how long he could hold it. He was able to extricate himself from the cage, but there was no way he was going to be able to swim for the surface. His armor and his gear weighed him down like stones, and dwarves were not known for their swimming ability in any case. His only hope, he thought, was to allow himself to sink to the bottom, and then try and walk along it. With any luck, he would make the shore before his breath ran out.
____________________________________________________

Pez heard the snap of the ropes, and felt the winch grow slack in his grip. He knew immediately what had happened, and he rushed from the building to the ledge outside. Below he could make out several swimming shapes, but he couldn’t be sure how many. Directly below him, was a narrow beach. He decided to make for it, and from there determine how best to assist his friends.

He dropped off the ledge, spreading his wings to catch an updraft, and then glided effortlessly to the sand below. As soon as he landed, he knew that he had made a mistake. The beach was horrifying. Thick carpets of pale fungus intermingled with sheets of clotted blood and partially eaten entrails and body parts. It reeked of decay. He was not alone here either. A dozen or so feet away lay a creature like he had never seen before, and yet something about it seemed familiar. It was large, at least ten feet in length, and it appeared reptilian, with a gleaming, yellow hide and a decidedly draconic snout. Its four feet were webbed, with wicked claws, and it sported not one tail, but four, each barbed with foot long spikes. It gazed at him with its cold eyes as he alighted, and began slithering towards him. It was then that Pez realized why this beast struck a cord with him…it was an Outsider, like him, but whereas he was celestial, this creature was decidedly demonic…
_____________________________________________________

Tilly made it to the rocky shore, dragging himself out of the water just ahead of Onesock, who walked nonchalantly onto the beach, and then began shaking himself vigorously. Suddenly, something else came ashore, something huge, with a maw full of sharp fangs. Tilly gasped in shock at the sight of the crocodile, and he began scrabbling for his weapons, and backpedaling away from the brute. His shock was doubled when the croc began to shimmer and melt, its form altering until Wathros stood where it once was. “Nice trick,” the halfling gulped, “but next time, warn a fella. Um…you didn’t see Gardrid, did you?”
Wathros looked around. He had assumed the dwarf had swum ashore as well, but now he realized he was mistaken. He turned back towards the lake, but saw no sign of movement. He cursed himself for a fool, for he could not wild shape again this day, and therefore had no way to return to the water and search for the missing battlerager. Just then, the distinctive sound of a sword ringing drew his attention, and he tried to strain his vision to see the source of the sound. He could just make out a shadowy, winged form standing on a small beach across the lake. It seemed to be involved in a vicious struggle with some sort of behemoth. Pez…!
___________________________________________________

The demon lunged for Pez, trying to seize him with its front claws, or wrap its tails around him. The archon dodged nimbly to the side time and again, managing to deliver several swipes with his blade as he moved. The wounds that his sword opened in the creature's hide were deep…deeper than Pez would have expected for such glancing blows, but then he realized, his blade was forged in Celestia. It was imbued with the innate Goodness of that plane, and that property was inimical to an Abyssal fiend such as this. Pez redoubled his efforts, hacking and slashing at the demon as he deflected its blows, and circled around it. The beast was slow and clumsy on land. Pez was sure it would have been different had his friends encountered it in its natural habitat, but for now he had the advantage, and he continued to press it. Before long, the demon’s attacks became more and more sluggish, until finally Pez was able to move directly next to it. He raised his blade high, and buried it in the monster’s skull, ceasing any further movement.
___________________________________________________

Wathros watched the battle helplessly, knowing there was nothing he could do to aid Pez. His heart leaped as he saw the winged warrior fly into the air and begin heading for their position.

Pez landed, sheathing his sword, and moving to make sure the others were unharmed. Then he noticed who was missing. Just as he turned to the lake again, he saw a large amount of bubbles a few yards from shore. This was followed by a tremendous thrashing and splashing, and Gardrid’s head popped, sputtering to the surface. The battlerager trudged angrily out of the water, algae dripping from his hair and beard. Pez had to suppress a smile, fearing that the dwarf was looking for any excuse to bash a few heads.
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The four companions regrouped on the beach, tending their respective wounds, and then surveyed the ruins before them. The architecture was decidedly alien. Even Gardrid could not identify it. There were no visible windows, but two doors stood nearby. Further down the beach, more doors were visible, as well as a small wooden building at which the gondola would have arrived had it completed its journey.

Pez led the way towards the nearest door, seeing no compelling reason to choose one entrance over another. With any luck, they would be able to enter the ruins undetected and retain the element of surprise.
The stone door again pivoted in its center, like the previous ones they had encountered. The chamber beyond was totally bare, save for an interior door on the far side. The ceiling of the room reached forty feet, and a balcony ran around the perimeter of the room about halfway up. Cautiously, the group began making their way across. Pez, having learned to become suspicious of concealed balconies after his run-in with the grell, decided to investigate this one. He took flight, and soared up to the level of the walkway…and was momentarily surprised to find four archers concealed there, all of their bows trained on him. They were human, and wore glossy leather armor. Each also wore the now-familiar red sash of the Alleybashers. At once, they unleashed a volley of arrows at the archon. Diving and twisting he managed to avoid being hit, and then he looped upwards, rising above the level of the rogues. As they hurried to reknock their bows, Pez hurled a burst of concussive sound at two of them. Both of them instantly dropped their bows from their nerveless fingers and stood transfixed and open-mouthed. The archon then dove upon them, drawing his sword as he came, and impaled one man, who slumped over the rail and dropped to the floor below.

Tilly quickly ducked under the far balcony, out of sight of the archers. He was now before the interior door, and he thought to secure an escape for his comrades should the need arise. Noting that the portal was unlocked, he shoved it open. Instantly, he realized his mistake. The entire floor of the chamber suddenly dropped six inches, allowing a forest of razor-sharp spikes to protrude through a myriad of hidden holes. He felt one of the spikes gouge right through is boot and into his foot. From across the room he heard Gardrid bellow, and Onesock yelp in pain. Only Wathros seemed to have avoided the trap, the nimble elf standing with his feet positioned precariously between two spikes.

Pez swung his sword again, dispatching the second stunned rogue. As he turned to gauge the actions of the remaining two archers, he felt a sharp pain in his left shoulder, and saw a feathered shaft protruding from it. He leaped into the air once more, alighting right next to the man who had just shot him. With a mighty blow from his sword, he severed the man’s bow in half, and when the rogue attempted to draw his rapier, the archon sundered it as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a fiery ball appear on the balcony next to the other Alleybasher. The man tried to leap aside, but too late. The flaming sphere ignited his cloak, and soon he was engulfed in fire. Pinwheeling madly, he lost his balance and stumbled over the side, meeting a quick, merciful death on the iron prongs below.

While Pez’ attention was diverted, his disarmed quarry quickly vaulted over the railing. He attempted to somersault in midair and avoid the spikes, but his timing was off, and his right foot landed squarely upon one, impaling it. Cursing in pain, he wrenched his foot free and hobbled through the door to the beach outside. Shaking his head at the man’s foolishness, Pez flew from his perch and out the door, landing directly in front of the rogue. “You can surrender now, or you can join your friends,” he said coldly.
“Surrender?” the man asked incredulously, “Why should I surrender to you? What can you possibly do to me that would equal Triel’s wrath?”
“Tell me where to find her, and I’ll spare your life,” Pez said.
“Yes, I believe you would,” the rogue laughed, “but she would not, and I have no doubt that she would hunt me down. If you want her, you’ll have to find her yourself, more’s the fool you are.”
Having heard quite enough, Pez slammed the pommel of his sword into the side of the man’s skull. He then lifted his unconscious form, and deposited him back atop the balcony.
“Why didn’t yer just finish’im off?” Gardrid asked.
“Because we are still within Cauldron’s jurisdiction, and summary execution is illegal…unfortunately. Come, let’s press on lest our presence is detected.”
___________________________________________________

They made their way a short distance down a corridor, and then through a door to a second hallway. This one ended at another door, and Tilly moved up to listen. Faintly, he heard the sounds of voices, several of them. He was almost able to make out what they were saying, when suddenly Gardrid shifted, and his mail scraped against the wall. The voices ceased.
“Oops,” the battlerager said, and then he shoved open the door.

The room was obviously some sort of mess hall, and it was currently occupied. Six armored Alleybashers stood with swords drawn. As soon as the door opened, one of them darted across the room to a second door, and went through, shouting, “Intruders!” as he went. One of his cohorts ran to the door as well, shutting it, and then placing himself in front of it to give his partner a chance to escape. The remaining four warriors bunched around the first door, barring Gardrid’s path.
Growling low in his chest, the battlerager put his head and shoulder down, pawing at the floor with his foot. Then, with a roar, he charged ahead, bull-rushing one of the thugs back into the room. As he did so, Tilly scampered in behind him, circling around back of the off-balance man, and scoring a quick hit with his dagger as he did so.

With the door now unblocked, Pez, Wathros and Onesock quickly moved in, taking up defensive positions as the Alleybashers maneuvered to flank them. Two of them managed to back Tilly into a corner, and began making rapid feints at him, pricking him several times and leaving trickles of blood running from his arms and legs.

Pez, meanwhile, was able to corner two of the thugs himself. With the reach from his greatsword, he was able to fend off most of their attacks, while at the same time landing several glancing blows. One of the men, seeing the huge advantage the archon’s reach gave him, recklessly lowered his guard and rushed Pez, trying to wrest his sword from his hand. Pez immediately shortened his grip and chopped down at the brigand, cleaving his skull. However, the man’s partner saw an opportunity. He stepped to Pez’ flank and laid open the archon’s back with a wicked thrust.

Tilly was definitely in trouble. The Alleybasher guarding the far door decided to take advantage of the position his comrades had the halfling in. He joined them in hemming the little rogue into the corner, and laughed as his blade also scored a hit. His laughter faded though, as he saw the man next to him go up in flames.
“Keep laughing, human,” Wathros sneered as he conjured another flame-ball into the palm of his hand and lobbed it at the warrior who had just struck Pez.

Gardrid clutched the neck of the brigand that he had slammed into. Tightening his grip, he felt the man’s bones snap, and then he threw the limp form to the side. He then turned and slapped Onesock on the rump, “Come on, yer mangy mutt. Sic’em!”
The wolf snapped at him, but then crouched low, and stalked across the floor towards Tilly, coming in under the legs of one of the menacing Alleybashers, and biting him solidly on the groin. As the man shrieked and began beating at the wolf, Gardrid was upon him, ending his struggles with one swipe of his axe.

Pez stalked over to his comrades, having finished off his last, flame-charred opposition. “Well, our covert efforts are at an end. They know we are here. There is no point in stealth or delay. Come!”
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Hastily, they threw open the far door, moved determinedly down the corridor. Halfway down, a door stood closed to their left. Tilly pushed at it, but found it locked. Quickly, he pulled a set of intricate lock picks from his pouch, and set to work. He was rewarded after a few moments by a sharp snap of the latch giving way, “Amateurs,” he muttered.

Gardrid drew back, and kicked the pivoting door open. The chamber was elegantly appointed and, if anything, was even more humid and cloying than the other chambers. This was probably due to the large pool of bubbling water in the southern end. The northern portion of the room seemed to have been converted into a small combat training ground, complete with thick mats and combat dummies. Standing at the far side was the lone Alleybasher who had run from the mess hall, and a darkly, lovely woman with short, red hair, dressed in spiked, plate armor. A silver, shining flail dangled loosely in one hand.
“Please, do come in,” Triel chuckled softly, “You’ve already made yourselves at home here, you may as well take the entire tour.”
“It’s you who’ll be takin’ a tour, witch!” Gardrid shouted, “A tour of the inside of Cauldron’s gaol!” The dwarf then headed into the chamber, but he had only just stepped into the doorway, when the pivoted portal suddenly sprouted metal spikes, and rotated violently towards him. The battlerager dove forward, narrowly avoiding being crushed by the deadly trap. He rolled to his feet, axe in hand…and then realized he was alone. The door had closed again, putting him on this side with Triel…and his friend on the outside…

Yes indeed, Pez was at his peak when we entered the lava pits. But as you will soon see, even Archons can roll a "1" on their saves.