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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1178068" data-attributes="member: 143">Indeed, when I first saw this class on the WotC website, I shook my head in amazement.  I was one of those who posted in the early review threads here that the class was clearly and significantly overpowered.  I've since given it some deliberation, and concluded that the only way to be certain is a playtest (as it were) in the course of writing my 3.5 tale.  Given that Zenna is an ECL+1 race (and the only one in the group, this time out), it should be particularly interesting to see how her progression develops.Not so!  I happened to bring my disk home with me before my trip, and this post required only a few quick edits to prepare:* * * * * Chapter 59After Arun related what he’d seen to the others, none of them were particularly interested in going outside, so they barricaded the door with the heavy table and continued their search.  It appeared that the bandits had gathered their collected loot here after the attack, and posted the head of the fallen cleric as a trophy of their victory.  True to his name, they found that the bandit leader had torn the tongue of the priest from his head.  Illewyn was barely functioning, still consumed by her grief, so Dannel wrapped the head in a blanket and placed it in an out-of-the-way spot for them to return later for burial.  They left the remaining treasure for now, aside from a few small items that found their way into Mole’s new magical backpack, and resumed their search.  They didn’t find any sign of the bandit woman that had fled from them earlier, but they did come across a window that had been forced open, its shutters clattering against the frame from the force of the wind.  “I hope for her sake that those... things weren’t still out there,” Mole said. “She earned her fate when she chose to join in the assault upon this place,” Arun said grimly, and they pressed on.  The rest of the roadhouse was quiet and dark.  The storm outside continued unabated, and the wind picked up as the night drew on, crashing insistently against the shuttered windows.  They found several lamps that had not been broken by the bandits, which they used to aid in their search.  Other than Sarcem’s head, they had not as yet found any other sign of the inn’s staff and patrons.  “This storm doesn’t bode well for Cauldron,” Illewyn commented idly, the first words she’d said since they had found Sarcem’s head.  The cleric’s eyes were red, and she moved with the listless steps of one who had not slept in days.  “We have to find those wands...”There was a brief scare when Dannel opened a door that led onto a central courtyard in the interior of the inn.  Dark forms were visible in the landscaped garden, and they quickly turned toward the door, deep growls indicating their intent, white teeth flashing in the light of their lamps.  The elf was quicker, though, slamming the door an instant before the first heavy body collided into it. “Looks like Tongueater left a few of his friends behind,” the elf noted.  Looking through a nearby window, Zenna was unable to see anything remarkable in the small garden except for the five hill baboons, so they left the creatures to their rage and continued their search. An hour later, they finally found the rest of Sarcem, in the cellar under the kitchen.  The decapitated cleric’s body lay in a bloody heap, surrounded by signs of battle.  Apparently a last stand of sorts had occurred here.  The cleric was still clad in his banded mail, the shiny metal plates now marked with blood and dirt, and his mace was lying on the floor, half-covered by his fallen frame.  Mole checked the corpse, and shook her head, confirming what the others already knew they would find. The wands were gone. Illewyn slumped to her knees beside the body.  She had no more tears left to cry, but her body sagged with the force of her grief.  She reached out and touched the cleric’s bloody hand, while Dannel covered the body with a spare cloak.   “Goodbye, my friend.”Mole was already searching the rest of the chamber, and had gravitated toward a narrow corridor that led off from the main cellar.  “Look here,” she said, holding up her lamp as she started down the corridor. “Careful,” Zenna said, moving to join her friend.  “Stay together.”The hall progressed for some twenty feet or so.  Two doors stood open on their left, with a third ahead at the end of the passage.  Even before they drew near they could see what had drawn Mole’s attention, for before the final door lay the bodies of three humans, dressed in similar fashion to the rogues that they’d faced earlier. “It’s cold,” Mole said, with a shiver. Zenna nodded.  Warily, they continued down the corridor.  Arun had joined them, while Dannel, half-supporting Illewyn, brought up the rear.  As they drew closer to the door, they could see that its construction was... strange.  It looked almost as though the heavy planks had somehow melted, flowing outward from the center of the door to overlap the edges of the threshold into which the portal was set.  “That’s not going to be easy to get open,” Mole said. “Why do we even care?” Dannel’s voice came, from further back down the corridor. “They obviously wanted to know what was behind it,” Zenna said, gesturing at the three bodies lying on the floor.  “This is strange... I cannot imagine that the owners of the roadhouse would have put a trap here, where anyone from above could wander down into it.”“What makes you think it was a trap?” the elf asked. “Look at the bodies,” Zenna said.  And indeed, while a few minor cuts and scrapes could be seen on the corpses, there were no apparent injuries serious enough to have killed them.  Their faces were pale, almost white, frozen in expressions of surprise and fear. “I’ll get it open,” Arun said, starting forward. “Wait,” Mole said, quickly stepping in front of him.  “This is my job, remember?  As I recall, you don’t really have much of a way with traps.”The dwarf grumbled, but didn’t challenge her.  Mole fixed him with a raised eyebrow until she was sure that he wasn’t going to stop her, then she turned and started for the door. “Be careful, Mole,” Zenna said. Mole shot her a glance back that was dismissive, but as she turned back to the portal her face took on a look of intense concentration.  Her breath formed a cloud before her as she neared the bodies.  As she passed the open door to her left, she paused, holding up the lantern. “There’s writing here,” she told them.  “It says, ‘No open flames beyond this point.’” “Maybe a gas trap,” Dannel suggested. “They don’t look like they were burned,” Zenna replied.  “Frozen, perhaps.”“Maybe you’d better leave the lamp, Mole,” Dannel suggested.  The gnome nodded, placing the lamp on the floor, before continuing to the door. “There’s some sort of brownish gunk on the door and the walls near it,” she reported.  “It... ahhh!”“Mole!”</blockquote>

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