The TARDIS Shows Its Stripes...

Surprises await...

The dawn bursts forth and the industrious Ages of Heroes grab their breakfasts of thin, sweetened gruel, some cheese, and fresh whole grain bread still steaming from its time in the brick ovens, before rushing off, their eager faces hopeful that, today, today! they will locate the FireStone and end the curse placed on My Lady.

By the time our final three adventurers drag themselves from their pallets, the room is silent, save for the mantle clock striking seven. The Lady hides a yawn behind her hand as she wearily weaves the fabrics of thought, time and space, welcoming the sleepy-heads with a fresh breakfast unaware her form is so pale.

Asking where the others, who filled the sleeping quarters the evening before, were, “They’ve left to their chores and daily activities,” they are told.

“So we can leave?” Ooma, surprised, questions, her brows drawn together.

“You ...can,” the Lady says, underlining the word “can” indicating they probably could not. “Eat, be comfortable.” The Lady feels quite badly that their stay will already be extended – the Stone must be found.

Encouraged, the three begin to question and the Lady honestly, although tiredly, answers their questions as they indulge in the repast before them.

“Upstairs? I don’t want people going upstairs because I fear for their safety, so I quote exorbitant prices to dissuade them.”

“I am under a spell; cursed and doomed to remain halfway between the Ethereal Plane and this one. An inept attempt to free the original victims placed them in the Necro world.” - ‘Well, it is mostly true,’ My Lady reasons with herself.

She repeats her plea to these three: a sturdy, beardless Dwarf Princess Fighter named Ooma. A curious, cheeky likeable Half-Elf Druid named Jahlo Quin, a Cockney fellow, or he’s been in the Cockney areas before and picked up the accent, and Wik, a sullen, selfish Elf Rogue who sees the Tavern as a wonderful place to lay low for awhile, avoiding the authorities who would like to speak to him about some questionable activities he is suspected of being involved with.

Accepting My Lady’s Quest, they begin exploration while Wik remains seated at the long, polished mahogany bar, enjoying the food and drink before him, watching the other two as they wander to the ornately carpeted hallway off the Main room and pause before the door at the end asking My Lady to peer inside and tell what she sees.

She spies a beautiful Grecian garden, overflowing with pleasant aromas and warm sunshine while vines creep along whitewashed walls. The plants are in full flower and the colours are like a rainbow on steroids. My Lady reports this to the two, but they are unable to enter.

They retreat and stop before another door. Easily opening the thick access, Jalho walks into the room, luckily he is wearing a rope tied to his waist...

The door closes firmly. My Lady has entered with him. She is pushing her energies as she vacillates between vapour and mist.

Jahlo, glances around the fairly well-lighted space. The room resembles a organised library with books and papers purposefully placed, and, curiously, no dust or cobwebs. A desk with many drawers and a chair, waiting, behind the desk. The room has bookcases climbing every wall. A high ceiling with trusses supporting the overhead rooms is dark. Jahlo chats with My Lady before he picks up some tomes and, after a few checks, settles to reading, unaware...

As the door slams behind him, Ooma uses her knuckles to knock and places her ear against the door. She faintly hears grinding, whirring and clanking but can’t place if she’s heard them before.

Pounding on the door does not elicit a response, holding the other end of the rope, Ooma proceeds back to the main room, (the glow of candlelight from the two large candle-liers hanging from the trusses about twenty feet above her, faintly illuminating the centre of the maybe 25x25 foot room), to obtain Wik’s assistance, (which he staunchly refuses to offer) while there she feels a sudden tug on the rope that hauls her off balance!

Falling and rising, before she crashes into one of five tall pillars holding the second floor up, and attempts to wrap the rough rope around the polished-smooth-through-the-ages-timber pole, instead entangles herself and tumbles to the floor watching in dismay as the rope races noisily, like a tin-can snake over a rail track to the den, where the door opens slightly, the rope is drawn in, and the door SLAMS! shut. Jahlo fails to hear anything amiss.

The party divided...

Ooma races to the door and bangs on it, shouting and trying to hear anything beyond the two-inch thick wooden obstruction. Wik steadfastly refuses his help. “What is in it for me?”

Much effort to open the door ensues and Ooma manages to beat the door open an inch – before Jahlo tugs and flings the door fully open...

Expecting to see Ooma and the hall, Jahlo is shocked as it is a sparkling kitchen he views...?

Ooma, the door, still closed, shouts, expecting to hear Jahlo, which she does, but the sound is coming from an opening behind the bar in the Main Hall?

Wik, his curiosity finally stirred, arises and goes to the eight-foot low arched opening. Standing in the arched five-foot wide doorway he peers in, surprised to see Jahlo. He relays this to a fairly shocked Ooma, who pushes passed him and enters the spotless kitchen.

As they stand there staring at each other, questions clearly pondering their faces, heavy footsteps are heard coming towards them through the Main Hall. Skill checks fail to reveal the owner of the steps, and, as they draw closer, Wik is rudely shoved against the door-frame, the steps continue up to the large harvest table and pause.

Our surprised visitors see the bottom of a barrel begin to appear, and a burly arm is visible for a brief moment, before disappearing and the footsteps retreat along their original route, shoving Wik against the carved wood frame again.

Wik, thinking quickly, follows the sound and notices a door opening, to the side of the fireplace, and, before it can close, he leaps swiftly to the door, his fingers nearly pinched and props it open using one of the chairs scattered around the main hall.

A discussion ensues and the sullen, mistrustful Rogue is hit with a Persuasion Nudge, so strong it encourages him to be less resistant to suggestions that benefit the entire group as opposed to selfisness. (Not mindless following, just less argumentatively.) With this, and suggestion that the Rogue could have 75% of the Druid’s take of the ‘incalculable wealth’, the Rogue is convinced that cooperation may be to his benefit.

Deciding they’d rather wait for a morning before entering the cellar stairs, they instead make sandwiches, fill their pockets with dried fruit, nuts, dried cheese bits and hard tack biscuits, and tap the new barrel of Meade in the kitchen.

Ooma and Jahlo settled by the fire, cosy on low cushions, drinking the new Meade, while Wik remains at the bar, drinking the old Meade.

Wik is occasionally seeing glittery-light flashes resembling a sudden shifting of silver through the air – there one fraction-of-a-second and gone the next. He keeps this information to himself. Ooma uses the WC and while washing her hands, she discovers a rather innocuous note which, when Jahlo reveals an odd note he found in the study, she shows hers to the group. They don’t seem to mean anything specific, so the notes are placed away again.

The Heroes proceed to be lulled by the crackling fire, the yeasty aroma and the sweet brew; their eyes grow heavy and they sink into a restful slumber; Jahlo’s head slips until his ear resides against Ooma’s ample and cushiony breasts, the brass studs of her armour pressing into his cheek; Ooma is curled slightly toward Jahlo, her head back, her snoring barely audible – for a dwarf – the mug hangs from her fingertips, just above the floor.

Wik’s head sinks to the bar-top, his arms folding to pillow his cranium, his balance precarious, his bottom resting on the bar stool, his feet curled round the rungs.

A silence settles around the Tavern.

Too silent...

0o0

Shhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Fledgling Dungeon Master,

khrys...

*~*~*~*~*