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D'oh! Sorry...I'll fix that now.

Darrick's stride falters a little. "It's...it's a way of remembering, Sepoto. Remembering Cyre, and all those we lost when...on that...that day. It's the reason that I dress in those colors myself." He shakes his head, grimacing. "I'm just as glad we didn't come to blows with them. There...

Olaf, his eyes alight with curiousity, raises his hand into the air and whsipers something in a harsh tone. A nimbus of grey light gathers about his fingers, and with a flick of his wrist he casts the luminescence towards the nearest beetle. "Try not to entirely obliterate them, eh? I'd like...

How wide is the corridor here? At the sound of the pair's accents, Darrick's eyes widen fractionally. Remaining silent, he turns a little, holding his shield so that its blazon can be clearly seen by these strangers. We're countrymen, he thinks to himself, But if that makes no difference to...

I go with a pretty simple philosophy. I've never had to actually say this with my current players, but I suppose that if I was running for a new group of people I probably would. Just to be sure we're all on the same page, y'see. But anyway: "If a spell, class, feat, magic item, or any...

"Well, hellfire," Darrick groans, as he charges down the corridor in Catherine's wake.

Darrick clears his throat.... "Perhaps we should try tripping one of these traps. See what results. Our presence here is unlikely to be a secret at this point," he adds ruefully, indicating his own armor, "And if we can perhaps force their hand, we can exercise some control over our own...

"I really don't like this," Darrick whispers nervously. "Never knew what was meant by saying a place was 'too quiet' before, but it's all too plain now." His grips his sword tightly as he peers down the corridor, and then with a quiet sigh, makes an obvious effort to relax. "They're probably...

Darrick does his best to refrain from pacing, with limited success, and keep darting nervois glances at the temple. "No signs of movement," he observes, in a hopeful tone.

Even better, let's steal an idea from the Old West.... "Here Lies Ardith Decannon, Victim of the Plague, BORN XXXX, DIED XXXX. Even less likely to be disturbed!

"We've two options, as I see it. The first is to hit hard and fast, try to overwhelm whatever defenses that they've prepared as we push forward. This...may not be the wisest course of action," Darrick adds ruefully. "Alternatively, our scouts might try inflitrating, scouting out those...

"Please, remind me," Darrick comments to Catherine, breaking into a jog, "To see what I can do to lighten this armor up. I'd rather not be without it...I doubt that I would still be standing now if I wasn't...but I'm not enjoying running in it." He offers a strained smile, and then quickly...

Only other thing I could thnnk of was a cord tied to the door; open the door, it pulls a weight down on to one end of a tetter-totter sort of affair, which catapaults a flask of alchemical fire at whatever is standing in the doorway. Rube Goldberg I ain't. As far as things to take, the weapons...

"My thanks, Catherine," Darrick says absently, flexing his much-abused arm. "I hate retreating," he says quietly, "Especially with the lives of prisoners in the balance...but I fear we've no real choice. But we should at least give them something to think about, beyond relieving them of their...

The last trace of panic is suddenly gone, as Darrick sees his companions scattered upon the ground. His sword stroke is smooth, sure, and devastating.... Well, that's better. Natural 20 to hit, 6 damage. Confirmation roll is just 15, for 8 damage. If Sepotot took him down, Cure Light...

"Hell and damn!" Darrick groans, pressing his attack. His swings have lost their practiced edge, and have become frantic and sloppy...he's almost flailing at his foe now. "We're not losing anyone," he mutters to himself, "Not today, not on my watch!" So much for grace under pressure...

There's a flash of panic briefly visible in Darrick's eyes as he sees the severity of Catherine's wounds, but only for the briefest of moments. "That will be enough of that," he snarls, driving his shield into his foe's chest.... This is all very conditional, but I want to cover as many...

"This is an odd place indeed," Olaf comments as he moves to look through the window. "You never know what you might find." He shrugs, grinning a little, as he turns back to his companions. "Nothing for but to continue, eh? Let's kick in the next door, and get out of thse dreary cells...

Half-deafened by the clatter of stones upon his helmet, an obviously rattled Darrick slashes wildly at his foe, missing him cleanly. "Close quarters indeed," he grunts, stepping away, "Barely room enough to cut you bastards down." Swing at Bandit7 with a 2 point power attack, and miss with an...

Sword flashing in the torchlight, Darrick darts forward into the room. "Quick and simple," he calls to his companions, "Let's take them down!" Initiative is 10. Move to D6, take a swing at Bandit7: 23 to hit, 4 damage.