D&D 5E CB's Stonefast IC -- COMPLETE

Fulgrim's eyes went wide as the rambunctious halfling charged toward the beer trough. While he could appreciate the barbarian's apparent appreciation for the, literally in this case, magical beverage, the dwarf mage was appalled with the thought that the halfling sought to claim what was surely an artifact of his people. He struggled to return the full containers to the bag of holding in order to deal with the upstart. "Surely there's enough for everyone?!?" he called out as a prelude.

OOC: LOL, this should be entertaining.
 

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Roscoe darted forward toward the font, the fourth individual to crowd around it. He, too, cupped his hands together for a drink, but to perilous results. Even in one's grasp, the beer had the beginning of a fine white head, small bubbles at the lip of his hand creamy against the stygian brew. He slurped from his hands. The beer was smooth, and left a lingering aftertaste--not unpleasant--of tobacco and chocolate. Leather, maybe.

Then the trouble started. Roscoe's stomach lurched violently. For half a moment, he felt as if something alive was clawing at his innards, desperate for escape.

OOC: Make a Constitution saving throw DC 13.
 


Colden shakes his head in disbelief.
"Are you guys kidding me?" he asks incredulously. "We have foes around every corner and you think now is a good time to have a party?
 

"What better time?" Fulgrim asked. Waving his hand, he said, "Forget I asked. I've collected samples. I'm ready to move on for now."

Fulgrim vigorously marked the map of Stonefast he was keeping with a big circle around the location of the fountain.
 

Father Spec has not tasted the beverage, and in the end he decides not to. He is uncertain, and the risks are too high. he leaves the unpleasant-smelling room, preparing to travel (over the armoire-covered gap?) in their journey south.
 

Roscoe's stomach quiets; however, all is not well on the southern front. Shortly after experiencing the wonder of dwarven ale, the Halfling belches twice and breaks wind once. The resulting smell is enough to peel paint.

OOC: Roscoe does not vomit, but he receives no healing from the brew.


Looking around the room, there appears to be nothing noteworthy other than the fountains and the vomit. Exiting the fountain room, you have the option of attempting to cross the mawing open pit to the south, or returning to the hallway to the north.

OOC: Where to? And if you're chosing to cross the pit, how to you want to go about it (jump, climb down and then climb up, armoire, whatevah?
 


Roscoe got out a length of rope, tied it off on his waist, left the opposing end dangling, and leapt over the pit. The small Halfling--hazy with his first beer in weeks--sprang through the open air like a bounding deer. His feet lit with ease on the opposite site of the pit. Roscoe stuck his head around the corner and had a look down the new hallway stretching to the west, but it was dark and he saw nothing.
 

Father spec holds onto the rope and attempts to jump himself across the small pit.

He is anxious, as if he hasn't doe this in thirty years. He feels heroic.

[roll0]
 

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