PBEM - Episode 194, Caverns, Jails, Jailers.

ONE HUNDRED NINETY FOUR

(I/C)

“Privy, Brendon?” Lannis asked, wrinkling his nose. "I doubt they'd put a privy, if they even built one, elves don't have buttholes anyway.”

“Monsieur, I kin assure you dat you are mistaken,” Wyn asserted.

“Whatever,” the wizard shrugged. “Might have had chamber maids for guests though. Unless this runs along a naturally occurring vein of shit ore I think something quite unpleasant might be creating that smell.”

Kovid sighed, “And in that, you are ALSO mistaken, Big Brain.”

“Over thinking the situation there, Lugnut,” Lannis continued. “I say we follow south, maybe the orc was smart enough to avoid whatever is causing the smell, and we can too by staying on his trail."

The dwarf frowned, beard bristling. “Clearing out the jails before moving forward toward the stairs and our eventual goal seems to makes sense to me…” he sighed, “but, if the group feels otherwise, then maybe we should track that Orc while we can, before they set up defenses. I guess I’ll go south to catch the pig if that’s what the party prefers.”

Lyra pointed north. “Nope, the Jailer is my vote. Maybe there’s something or another someone there who can help us take on the rest of the orcs.”

The elf countered by pointing south, "Dat tusked boar trouncer ain't gonna get away iffin I cen help it... at de very least, we need ta know at least where de stairs be before we approach de troglodyte jailer.... mayhaps set some alarm traps like dey did to us so we know dey be comin in case we need ta prepare ourselves,” his voice dropped to a hiss as Brendon was waving his hand downward and frowning. “But we cen't know nothin till we know sometin bout where de stairs be. South is where Wyn be wantin ta go."

The Scout waggled his finger. “Wyn you’re letting the orcs cloud your better judgment. Kovid has a point we should deal with the jailer before we are forced to deal with the jailer. It didn’t sound like Lannis was keen on going south yet.”

“Um, I just said we should go south,” Lannis interrupted.

The Fighter pointed north. "I agree with Señor Kovlids, Senorita Linda and Ironon. I think the Yailer and his wards could be dangerous if they're able to attack us from behind. We already know the orkfors are setting traps and scheming up defenses. They know we have to come from this hall, correcto? So maybe there is another way around through the Yail, that no one would expect us to go through?”

“We’ve left nothing behind us if given a chance,” Brendon added.

Abraxas continued, “And if, BIGLY IF, we are able to talk to and reason with the Yailer, we may secure a safer passage without conflict or, if he hates Corgbat that much, maybe he and his wards may want to rise up against Corflarg, or just leave altogether. Convincing him to give us the Silver Flail would be the hardest part. Or maybe if he hates Corglin enough, he will give it to us in exchange for letting him live.”

“Dats a lot of ifs,” Wyn scowled.

“Who knows,” the fighter continued, “talking has worked for us in the past, in cases even better than fighting. He may or may not speak Common. Does anyone speak what Troglodytes speakses?"

"I believe they communicate through a delicate web of bad smells and rude gestures," Lannis said.

“Great, then you can communicate with them easily,” Lyra smiled, getting a rude gesture in return.

“Come on,” Brendon gently tried to steer Wyn away from the south passage, “this way. I had to walk away from the crate and lock. You can do this, big guy.”

The elf was quivering with indecision (<Cha check, -2 penalty racial hatred, Orange 3) until finally throwing his hands up and turning away, finger pointing north. “Fine. We go dis way den. And DEN we go back DIS WAY,” he pointed south, “when we dun.”

“That’s the spirit,” Brendon smiled. 

“Again, I was FINE going south,” Lannis noted. “Hello?” As the party lined up to head north he opened and closed his mouth silently. “Seriously, it’s like I don’t even count.”

“Let’s go, Big Brain,” Kovid gave him a nudge into line. “Can’t forget you.”

The party walked north, quiet as they could be, Abraxas constantly looking behind them to make sure nothing snuck up on them. The passage was crude, barely worked stone, and indeed turned more west the more north they travelled. Just up ahead the group could see the passage became finished castle stones again and a stout oaken door reinforced with steel bands and a set of iron bars in the middle of the portal. A stout lock was right over the knob and just before it was a sign scratched into the stone wall in both Goblin and Orcish. It read:

“No canduls or lantuns beyond this point unless wearing a huud. Jailer”

(<Hear Noise, +20 bonus, Red 24) As for the voices, being closer we could make out two of them distinct, sounded like a male and a female, and they were talking a language that seemed guttural and abrupt; nothing anyone in the party could understand. Their voices echoed oddly and every so often there was a strange deep animal sounding grunt or rumble from beyond the closed door. (>Scenting party, Black 12 – no)

“That looks like a challenging lock,” Brendon frowned.

Time now is Day 5, 3:15 PM

(OOC)

What’s the plan?