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Rocket your D&D 5E and Level Up: Advanced 5E games into space! Alpha Star Magazine Is Launching... Right Now!

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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Uriel" data-source="post: 651896" data-attributes="member: 8222">Gorthon nods vigorously and takes the prooffered 50GP. Turning, the small creature reaches out and gingerly touches the Stone Door. For a second, nothing happens, then a faint trace of spidery runes appears, glows red for a second, then fades.The Door begins sliding into the wall,making almost no sound. Taklinn, ever-curious about such things (as all Dwarfs are) takes a closer look and sees a well-oiled track and what seems to be an elaborate hydrolic system powering the door's movement. Any greater study is impossible, as a large figure moves into view.The Being stands nearly 9 feet tall, stooping to look through the Doorway.What race it belongs to is a hard question to answer in your minds. Humanoid, definately, though none any of you has ever seen. Dark blue skin, black hair (though only a few strands remain on it's aged head) and a single pale green eyes show. The Being's mouth seems overly wide for it's face, and sharp teeth can be seen behind it's lips. What startles you most, however is the Helmet it wears, or is it a half-mask?The right side of it's upper face and cranium is covered by a metal headpiece, including it's right eye. A Baleful Red Eye pokes forward from a housing of metal, going over each of you in turn (moving independantly of the Being's "Real" eye...He (for it is obviously a He) wears grey coveralls, though perhaps they were once a different color, now covered with all manner of oils, stains and smoky residue.Gorthon speaks up    'Great Vertiss, these...' the Being interrupts 'I KNOW WHY THEY HAVE COME,GOTHON.PLEASE, COME IN.' Gorthon nods and stands aside, gesturing for the group to proceed.The interior of the place is a rather bare affair, clean of dust or other debris. A long table lines the right hand wall (with a long stronbox upon it), and a smaller table sits on the left wall with a pitcher and a half-dozen mismatched cups. Vertiss moves to the box, turning so that none can see what he does, he activates the lock, some technology? Perhaps magic? Perhaps merely a simple combination. Turning once more to the group, he gestures at the now open box 'PLEASE PLACE YOUR WEAPONS WITHIN. I DO NOT DO BUSINESS WITH ARMED FOLK IN MY HOME.'</blockquote>

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