Drogomar grumbles at the failure of his mage hand. "I have some pick tools though it has been an age since I last used them."
He rummages about in one of his pouches and brings out a small leather bundle that looks like a wallet of some sort.
"Keep your eyes open and weapons ready. No telling what might spring out once I wrestle the lock open." So saying, he will slowly move forward to the shed door.
Squinting at the door knob, Drogomar opened the leather wallet and selected two metal probes. Inserting them into the lock, he leaned forward to hear and feel what was going on.
Click! With a quick tinkering of the lock on Drogomar's part, the shed door swings open, revealing a massive wooden chest, next to which are several candles. The chest's metal welding is silver, ornate, and rusted over.
The candles have clearly been lit for some time... the candles take the form of a small stub of wax. Even so, the candles are still lit... whoever used them couldn't have been here more than several hours ago.
The singing stops. Complete and total silence falls upon the five of you all.
Cobalt stares at the chest for a few seconds . . . this really felt eery and dangerous. He would try and concentrate on the candles, was this some kind of ritual? was magic involved someway?
Cobalt notices the position of the candles - they're placed rather haphazardly, with no apparent pattern to their positions or heights. Without closer inspection, though, it's hard to say.
Zerel takes inventory of the small room that is the shed. Aside from the old chest and candles, there really isn't that much to the space. The chest, however, seems old... very old. Dust covers the floors and chest in a thick, undisturbed layer. No one's been here in a very long time. Why have the candles remained lit, then?
Amory notices the strong presence of transmutation magic emanating from the chest. Yet, the magic isn't coming from the chest - it's coming from what's inside of it.
As Drogomar lifts the latch of the chest and opens it up, it's almost entirely empty. That is, except for a small, black stone in the shape of a four-pointed star. It begins to hum softly, the vibrations causing the chest to rattle, just a little. The candles, meanwhile, flicker, their faint glow growing softer by the second. When the humming reaches its gentle crescendo, the candles go out.
Drogomar speaks out in the darkness, "This is fine. We are all fine. Let me just ..." there is the sound of some grunting and a few choice words in common and goblin as he attempts to use Prestidigitation to light the candles again.
Once Drogomar casts the spell, the candles flicker to life, re-illuminating the dim and decaying shed. Its roof creaks, and for those of you outside of the shed, you feel a gust of wind rush past.
Just as the candles grow in luminosity, so too does the stone's humming grow softer. So soft, in fact, that after a moment, it is all but inaudible.
The sun is now setting. A few pale, white beams reach out from the horizon, as if trying to break through the bleak atmosphere of the Void. Before long, it'll be dark.
Drogomar nods to himself as the darkness is defeated by the candle light. "Someone should wrap that star stone up and pack it snug in a pack."
He gives an involuntary shiver as he stands back up. "Best we get somewhere secure before true night falls. Being caught out in this weather would not do well for us."
Turning and looking at his companions, "Who feels lucky?"
"I will do it." Cobalt said, as he took a small piece of cloth, carefully wrapping the stone in it without allowing the stone get in direct contact with his skin. He then puts it on his pouch, "Is it a good idea to spend the night on that cabin?"
“I would rather we go up there than squeeze into the shed,” says Amory. “Moreover, with the cabin being built on stilts, I can’t help but wonder if it was built that way for a reason. Perhaps this area is prone to flooding.”
". . . A mysterious cabin in a mysterious land, where we found a mysterious shed with a mysterious artefact. . ." Cobalt murmurs outloud, but shrugs. "Well, guess we have no other options. But we must stand guard, it's prudent."
The small stone, roughly the size of the palm of your hand, is light in weight and fits nicely in Cobalt's pouch. It emits a brief hum when Cobalt wraps it in the cloth, and stops when it ceases to be handled.
You make your way to the cabin. Stepping up the creaking wooden staircase, you reach a large, pine door. The door itself is featureless, save for a small metal knob at the center of the door. The wood itself is peeling and discolored, and its dark metal hinges are rusted over.
There are no windows on this side of the house. Pine paneling similar in appearance to the door's material make up the walls, their decaying texture a clear sign of their lengthy exposure to the elements.
"Lively now!" hisses Osmund in a low voice. "When we get out of this wind, Cobalt, we should take a look at these stones, think back on what the goblin said."
"Agreed. the humming this stone produces is . . . unnatural." Cobalt comments, remembering how it was apparently extinguishing the fire of the candles.
Drogomar'smage hand grabs the knob, gives it a twist, and the massive pine door swings open with a soft creak.
Inside of the cabin lies an empty and dusty desk, a small bed with rotting and discolored sheets, and a bookshelf with a few moth-eaten volumes sitting on its shelves. It appears like the room hasn't been used in years, maybe decades.
In the southwest corner of the room lies a section of shadow... a shadow that almost seems to suck the light from your light cantrip towards it. The shadow is, for those of you who lack darkvision, difficult to see into. For those of you with darkvision, you're able to make out the outline of a small instrument - a flute. It lies in the corner, grimy and dusty.
Outside, it's now dark. The pitch-black of the night is almost suffocating.
"Okay . . . this is . . . really a . . . welcoming sight." Zumfir comments, looking around. He walks towards the middle of the room, closing his eyes as he slowly moved his staff horizontalli from left to right; then, on the ground, grasping vines sprouted from the ground, totally enveloping 20ft around. (Entangle, to make a bed of vines)
However, he kneeled on the ground, gently caressing the vines, whispering soothing words to them; the vines started to bloom flowers, in which Cobalt gently laid on it, making a comfy flowerbed. "So . . . Who's in for the first watch?"
"Any chance of some of those vines securing that door we came through?" Drogomar spoke over his shoulder to Zumfir as he peered into the shadowy corner.
"Amory, if your drapes are still mostly intact, perhaps we can tack them up to help with the drafts in the walls... I fear I have no nails or tacks to aid in that regard."
Drogomar poked at the flute with the butt of his staff, "Why in the Nine Hells would someone turn a flute into a void-cursed eater of Light?" He chuckled softly, "Osmund. Cobalt. You might as well add this 'dark flute' to your examination of those stone."
Drogomar grumbles at the failure of his mage hand. "I have some pick tools though it has been an age since I last used them."
He rummages about in one of his pouches and brings out a small leather bundle that looks like a wallet of some sort.
"Keep your eyes open and weapons ready. No telling what might spring out once I wrestle the lock open." So saying, he will slowly move forward to the shed door.
Squinting at the door knob, Drogomar opened the leather wallet and selected two metal probes. Inserting them into the lock, he leaned forward to hear and feel what was going on.
{game log} Sleight-of-Hand: 16
Click! With a quick tinkering of the lock on Drogomar's part, the shed door swings open, revealing a massive wooden chest, next to which are several candles. The chest's metal welding is silver, ornate, and rusted over.
The candles have clearly been lit for some time... the candles take the form of a small stub of wax. Even so, the candles are still lit... whoever used them couldn't have been here more than several hours ago.
The singing stops. Complete and total silence falls upon the five of you all.
DM - Adrift in the Void Sea
Cobalt stares at the chest for a few seconds . . . this really felt eery and dangerous. He would try and concentrate on the candles, was this some kind of ritual? was magic involved someway?
Zerel examines the room and chest, trying to determine if there are any traps or anything else to find.
Investigation: 14
Perception: 12
Drogo looks to Cobalt and Zerel. "Want me to crack this nut too?" ** jerks a thumb toward the chest **
If the chest shows signs of magic other than conjuration or transmutation, Amory will mention so. Otherwise, she will hang back.
From a short distance away, she calls out to Drogomar, "I think you should open it!"
Cobalt notices the position of the candles - they're placed rather haphazardly, with no apparent pattern to their positions or heights. Without closer inspection, though, it's hard to say.
Zerel takes inventory of the small room that is the shed. Aside from the old chest and candles, there really isn't that much to the space. The chest, however, seems old... very old. Dust covers the floors and chest in a thick, undisturbed layer. No one's been here in a very long time. Why have the candles remained lit, then?
Amory notices the strong presence of transmutation magic emanating from the chest. Yet, the magic isn't coming from the chest - it's coming from what's inside of it.
As Drogomar lifts the latch of the chest and opens it up, it's almost entirely empty. That is, except for a small, black stone in the shape of a four-pointed star. It begins to hum softly, the vibrations causing the chest to rattle, just a little. The candles, meanwhile, flicker, their faint glow growing softer by the second. When the humming reaches its gentle crescendo, the candles go out.
The shed is bathed in total, complete darkness.
DM - Adrift in the Void Sea
Drogomar speaks out in the darkness, "This is fine. We are all fine. Let me just ..." there is the sound of some grunting and a few choice words in common and goblin as he attempts to use Prestidigitation to light the candles again.
Once Drogomar casts the spell, the candles flicker to life, re-illuminating the dim and decaying shed. Its roof creaks, and for those of you outside of the shed, you feel a gust of wind rush past.
Just as the candles grow in luminosity, so too does the stone's humming grow softer. So soft, in fact, that after a moment, it is all but inaudible.
The sun is now setting. A few pale, white beams reach out from the horizon, as if trying to break through the bleak atmosphere of the Void. Before long, it'll be dark.
DM - Adrift in the Void Sea
Drogomar nods to himself as the darkness is defeated by the candle light. "Someone should wrap that star stone up and pack it snug in a pack."
He gives an involuntary shiver as he stands back up. "Best we get somewhere secure before true night falls. Being caught out in this weather would not do well for us."
Turning and looking at his companions, "Who feels lucky?"
"I will do it." Cobalt said, as he took a small piece of cloth, carefully wrapping the stone in it without allowing the stone get in direct contact with his skin. He then puts it on his pouch, "Is it a good idea to spend the night on that cabin?"
“I would rather we go up there than squeeze into the shed,” says Amory. “Moreover, with the cabin being built on stilts, I can’t help but wonder if it was built that way for a reason. Perhaps this area is prone to flooding.”
". . . A mysterious cabin in a mysterious land, where we found a mysterious shed with a mysterious artefact. . ." Cobalt murmurs outloud, but shrugs. "Well, guess we have no other options. But we must stand guard, it's prudent."
The small stone, roughly the size of the palm of your hand, is light in weight and fits nicely in Cobalt's pouch. It emits a brief hum when Cobalt wraps it in the cloth, and stops when it ceases to be handled.
You make your way to the cabin. Stepping up the creaking wooden staircase, you reach a large, pine door. The door itself is featureless, save for a small metal knob at the center of the door. The wood itself is peeling and discolored, and its dark metal hinges are rusted over.
There are no windows on this side of the house. Pine paneling similar in appearance to the door's material make up the walls, their decaying texture a clear sign of their lengthy exposure to the elements.
DM - Adrift in the Void Sea
Mage Hand by Drogomar to see if it is unlocked/open.
"Lively now!" hisses Osmund in a low voice. "When we get out of this wind, Cobalt, we should take a look at these stones, think back on what the goblin said."
"Agreed. the humming this stone produces is . . . unnatural." Cobalt comments, remembering how it was apparently extinguishing the fire of the candles.
Drogomar's mage hand grabs the knob, gives it a twist, and the massive pine door swings open with a soft creak.
Inside of the cabin lies an empty and dusty desk, a small bed with rotting and discolored sheets, and a bookshelf with a few moth-eaten volumes sitting on its shelves. It appears like the room hasn't been used in years, maybe decades.
In the southwest corner of the room lies a section of shadow... a shadow that almost seems to suck the light from your light cantrip towards it. The shadow is, for those of you who lack darkvision, difficult to see into. For those of you with darkvision, you're able to make out the outline of a small instrument - a flute. It lies in the corner, grimy and dusty.
Outside, it's now dark. The pitch-black of the night is almost suffocating.
What do you do?
DM - Adrift in the Void Sea
"Okay . . . this is . . . really a . . . welcoming sight." Zumfir comments, looking around. He walks towards the middle of the room, closing his eyes as he slowly moved his staff horizontalli from left to right; then, on the ground, grasping vines sprouted from the ground, totally enveloping 20ft around. (Entangle, to make a bed of vines)
However, he kneeled on the ground, gently caressing the vines, whispering soothing words to them; the vines started to bloom flowers, in which Cobalt gently laid on it, making a comfy flowerbed. "So . . . Who's in for the first watch?"
"Any chance of some of those vines securing that door we came through?" Drogomar spoke over his shoulder to Zumfir as he peered into the shadowy corner.
"Amory, if your drapes are still mostly intact, perhaps we can tack them up to help with the drafts in the walls... I fear I have no nails or tacks to aid in that regard."
Drogomar poked at the flute with the butt of his staff, "Why in the Nine Hells would someone turn a flute into a void-cursed eater of Light?" He chuckled softly, "Osmund. Cobalt. You might as well add this 'dark flute' to your examination of those stone."