Teryn’s gaze sweeps the tunnel, taking in the wooden support beams, the scattered barrels, and the rough-hewn crates stacked along the passageway. His silver eyes gleam faintly in the dim light as he leans in, voice barely above a whisper.

“If we can get just ten feet closer, I can make it sound like the tunnel is unstable,” He gestures subtly toward the barrels and crates ahead. “We can use those for cover as we move in. If they think the tunnel’s coming down, they’ll either bolt or at least be too distracted to notice us slipping past.”

His lips curve into a faint smirk. “Of course, if they’re braver than they look, we might have a different problem. But let’s hope they value their lives more than their cargo.” His fingers twitch slightly, already preparing the spell. “What do you think?”

Rowan shakes his head at the mention of lords and ladies. “Never met a noble in my life—short of the stray merchant who liked to act like one,” he mutters under his breath. Shifting his grip on the shortsword, he allows a small, mischievous grin to flicker across his face. “But a fake cave-in, huh? That I can help with. I’ve got a neat trick that can rattle the walls just enough to spook anyone who thinks the ground’s givin’ out.”

He angles his gaze at Teryn, giving a quick nod. “You stir up some creepy noises, I’ll add a little rumble under their feet. No one wants to stay in a tunnel that’s about to bury ’em alive.” Then he takes a half-step forward, bracing for the subtle surge of power he’s come to associate with that hidden giant’s spark—just enough to make the earth tremble and feed their bluff, but not enough to tear the place apart (using Thaumaturgy). “Just say the word, and I’ll shake things up.”

Teryn mirrors Rowan’s smirk, appreciating the chance to blend their talents for a bit of well-crafted mischief. With a slow breath, he lowers his posture and begins creeping forward, slipping from cover to cover. Once he reaches the right distance, he raises a hand ever so slightly, fingers curling with the whisper of arcane intent. Catching Rowan’s eye, he gives the smallest of nods—now.

As he releases the spell (minor illusion), the sound of groaning wood and the ominous crack of splintering beams fills the tunnel just ahead of their targets, the illusion settling like a whispered warning in the stagnant air.

Rowan slips along behind Teryn, keeping his stride light. As the warlock’s illusion of splintering wood resonates through the cramped passage, Rowan focuses on that subtle, jittery magic roiling under his skin. He taps into it—just enough to coax a low tremor that ripples through the floor, more a stuttering vibration than a true quake (Thaumaturgy). Hope that’s convincing enough, he thinks wryly while the tremors continue for their duration, picturing the startled expressions of anyone who suddenly feels the ground grating beneath them. His heart pounds, and he flicks a quick look at Teryn, silently urging the plan along. 

Ellanise follows behind Teryn and Rowan, not moving as far as they do, but enough to try to get a look at the individuals identified by Byldeth. As the elf and halfling work together to simulate the effects of a cave-in, she nods in approval. It feels real enough to her. Do the unknown individuals ahead appear to be taking it seriously?

The low, eerie groan of shifting earth fills the narrow tunnel, followed by the ominous creaking of wood beams straining under an invisible weight. A low rumble vibrates through the stone walls, sending tiny pebbles skittering across the ground. Dust unsettles, swirling lazily in the dim torchlight. Panic takes root.

Ahead, the three figures freeze—then bolt. Their fear overrides any thoughts of standing their ground, instincts screaming at them to get out before the tunnel comes down around them. One of them shouts something unintelligible, barely audible over the illusionary groans of the earth shifting around them.

A hatch slams open, and the figures scramble through it in a desperate rush, leaving behind scattered footprints in the dust. Then—silence.

The tunnel remains intact. The only sign of life is the faintly swinging hatch ahead, left slightly ajar in their hasty retreat.

Rowan breaks into a quiet, triumphant grin. “Spooked ’em worse than a barn cat in a chicken coop,” he mutters under his breath, brushing a bit of dust from his sleeve. He waits a heartbeat, scanning the passage to confirm no one’s rushing back, then points toward the discarded footprints and the ajar hatch. “Looks like they dropped whatever they were cartin’—let’s poke around. Might be we’ll find out what had ’em in such a hurry... you know... before they bolted.”

Teryn exhales softly, the hint of a satisfied smirk curling at the corner of his lips. A simple trick, perfectly executed. He brushes nonexistent dust from his sleeves and nods toward Rowan. “Nicely done. Always good to know that a little well-placed fear still works wonders.”

“A quick look can’t hurt,” he agrees, moving toward the crate(?) the movers abandoned to examine it for a lock or traps. “If it’s something important, we may not be the only ones looking for it. Let’s not waste the opportunity.”

Investigation: 15

Käinen didn’t know much about magic or nobles so he watched in silence as the others tricked the bandits out of the passageway and pondered how to get entrance into the Gilded Iris. Part of him could not help but imagine in what terms Teryn had parted ways with Vareth. Could the elf had stolen something from the man? Save for Byleth everyone else seemed to have criminal experience on the group. Maybe they were lovers or maybe Teryn robbed the lord’s love.

“Couldn’t we get inside using the professor’s letter?” He asked joining the warlock in looking around. It was a den of criminals, smugglers or worse. As far as he was concerned, there was no reason to feel guilty for taking anything there. Besides, who would tell what they did? The guards that would need to assume not only complete defeat but could be implied to have leaked information about a dangerous crime lord?  “Also, who’s the better on tracking? We should have keen eyes on the latch to make sure we don’t leave it just find more sentinels.”

They should have a few minutes to pass there stealthily. I would like a second chain, Käinen though casually. It was rather satisfying to see enemies outsmarted, even if he didn’t actually do the outsmarting.

Notes: Investigation check for looking around the hideout (rolled on the campaign log) - 12

The tunnel remains eerily quiet, save for the muffled echoes of hurried footsteps fading into the distance. Dust still hangs lightly in the air from the magical deception, settling over the rough stone floor as the group gathers around the abandoned crate—a modest wooden box, reinforced with iron bands. Its lid is slightly ajar, disturbed in the panicked retreat of its previous handlers.

Teryn inspects the exterior, fingers tracing along the wood, but no traps or locks are visible. This wasn’t meant to be hidden—at least, not from those expecting it. Whatever’s inside, someone considered it valuable enough to transport, but not dangerous enough to guard heavily.

With a small push, the lid creaks open, revealing a mix of seemingly unrelated objects nestled within. The largest item sits snugly at the center—a plain, iron-reinforced strongbox, unmarked and unassuming, its weight suggesting something of importance within. Surrounding it, however, is what appears to be the remnants of a deal struck in haste:

- Half of a floor plan for an unknown structure—a temple, castle, or something else entirely.
- An old, worn key with a worn with the shape of a wolf's head as the bow. What the key goes to remains unknown.
- A glass orb filled with water, within which a tiny, clockwork goldfish swims in an endless loop.
- A dead sprite suspended in a sealed glass bottle, its wings delicate and shimmering, its face frozen in an expression of silent defiance.
- A small wooden statuette of a smug-looking halfling, its craftsmanship strangely lifelike. There is a symbol burnt into the bottom if it, most likely of its crafter.
- A metal pole with a leather handle. Upon further inspection is revealed to be a Pole of Collapsing (in the collapsed position).
- An assortment of leather pouches totaling 40 gold pieces between them—not a fortune, but enough to suggest a modest transaction.

The true prize, however, is the strongbox resting in the center. The metal is cool to the touch, colder than one would expect. There’s no obvious opening or lock on it; There is only a very thin seam running across its face, as if opened by some other means than the mundane. Its weight and sturdiness hint at something more than gold or gems inside.

More than just loot, this was a deal in progress. The ones who ran will realize soon enough that they left it behind. Käinen’s earlier words ring true: How long before someone comes looking?

Teryn’s fingers brush over the glass, his silver eyes reflecting the dim torchlight as he lifts the bottle. The tiny sprite within remains still, its delicate wings forever frozen in shimmering defiance. A ripple of sorrow—not his own, but his patron’s—whispers through his thoughts like wind through ancient trees. His grip tightens slightly before he exhales, voice barely above a murmur.

“Poor thing.” He hadn't even realized he’d reached for it, only that something about the sprite’s stillness calls to him. A life stolen. A fragment of magic lost. He turns the bottle slightly, watching the way the faint light catches in the iridescent dust clinging to the glass. Then, slowly, he tucks it away into the folds of his cloak.

Rowan crosses his arms, letting out a half-exasperated sigh as he eyes the loot. “I dunno, folks,” he says quietly, nudging a fallen pouch of gold with the toe of his boot. “We’re already steppin’ on a lotta toes pokin’ into this business. I don’t fancy skulkin’ around with every last shiny bit tucked under our belts. One scarecrow was enough—rattle too many fields, and you’ll find the crows comin’ right back.” His glance flicks to the half blueprint and the odd trinkets. “These definitely ain’t your run-of-the-mill contraband... but I can’t say how they tie into any cosmic craziness. Dragging out that box, though, might open a door—or just paint a target on our backs. I can’t say which. So, how about we stop for a moment and figure whether we want to tote that thing out of here. Thoughts?”

Ellanise pauses. In one hand is the retracted pole of collapsing. She looks at Rowan, then back at the pole. She had seen this in use at the The Shrouded Spire and had coveted it. Now, here is one for the taking. Finally she looks back into the crate at the strongbox. Oh, of course he's talking about that. She smiles. "While I'm curious enough, it won't keep me up at night if I never know what that hides." She slides the pole into her belt. "I'll take this if no one minds." She puts a finger to her chin then points. "The only other thing that catches my particular eye is the strange goldfish." She grins again, looking around to see if anyone appears to disagree. She clearly holds no qualms about picking through these — assumed — stolen goods.

Teryn chuckles at Ellanise's eagerness. "Cute, isn't it? Be my guest." In truth, he's glad his isn't the only one partaking of their well-earned spoils. "I must admit...Not finding out what's in there would make it difficult for me to Trance for a while. I'm a...busybody, I suppose. But such knowledge could be dangerous to all of us, as Rowan says, so it should be a group decision." He nods but is unable to resist grabbing the floor plans to examine them curiously, trying to figure out what sort of structure they depict.

Investigation: nat 1 + 5

The dim tunnel hums with a tense stillness as the group takes stock of their finds, each member sifting through the remnants of a deal interrupted. Teryn turns the floor plan over in his hands, his keen silver eyes scanning the faded ink but to no avail—the markings are familiar, but only in the way a half-remembered dream might be. The paper might as well be a child’s scribbles for all it makes sense to him.

Ellanise, undeterred by Rowan’s caution, tucks the Pole of Collapsing into her belt and lifts the delicate clockwork goldfish, watching as it swims effortlessly within the sealed orb. A trinket of patience and precision—perhaps as much a testament to its maker as to the one who keeps it now.

Teryn’s grip lingers on the bottle, its tiny occupant forever suspended in its final moment of defiance. A cruel fate. He pockets it with a quiet resolve, the weight of unseen eyes lingering in the back of his mind.

Yet, the strongbox remains.

Rowan’s words linger in the air. The crate’s previous owners will realize their mistake soon enough—and when they do, they will come looking. If the group takes it, they claim more than just its contents.

”You’re right, Rowan. But only if we get caught and the two individuals to know we came by here would need to admit their failure on stopping us, risk being held accountable for the damage, if they want to speak.” Käinen answered moving directly to the key. Time and experience had taught him one always take a found unlocking device. “At the very least we should take this and the plans. One is easy enough to lose.” He waived the wolf’s head bow then tucked it on his right pocket. “The other, well, we made it sound there was an earth tremor. It wouldn’t be strange if some lanterns fell spreading fire.”

The paper being lost to the accident would be a foregone conclusion if they didn’t take anything of more note.

“Count my vote for stealing with a strong suggestion that we limit the loot. Rowan’s against. Everyone else?”

Tery and Ellanise’s position seemed clear enough. Three to at most two for the looting, provided no one changed their minds. If they did, Käinen only hoped they did it fast. The porters and the sentinel wouldn’t stay away for much longer and the possibility that they would return with help was not zero. The sooner the group left the better.

Teryn exhales through his nose, casting one last glance at the strongbox before nodding. “As much as it pains me to admit, you’re probably right. If we take that, we’ll likely be inviting more trouble than we’re prepared for.” He smooths out the folded floorplans before tucking them carefully into his pack, his silver eyes flicking to the scattered pouches of coin. With a small, vaguely self-conscious shrug, he crouches to collect fifteen gold pieces, slipping them into his belt pouch with a murmured, "I can’t rely on my family’s coffers anymore, and I do have my eye on a set of alchemist’s supplies—oh, which, of course, might prove useful to our investigation.”

Rowan lifts an eyebrow at talk of flames and widespread looting, giving the big iron-bound box a pointed look. “Now, hold up—I’m not sayin’ we leave everything here to burn. I just wanted to know if we were ready for the storm we might stir up,” he says, passing his gaze around the group. “I’m not above lettin’ this place get a little smoky, but that heavy box? A quick spark won’t fool anyone if it’s gone, and haulin’ it around would paint a target on us faster than a bull in a glassworks. Better to let ’em find it safe in the ashes so they don’t come chasin’ us down.” With a wry shrug, he scoops up the carved halfling statue. “Me, I’ll be keepin’ this little guy out of the fire. Seems too fine to let it go up in smoke.”

"I-i vote against theft. Even if those things are stolen, we should give them to their rightful owner. Of course- as long as everyone agrees. But i won't accept any stolen loot." Byldeth comments, scratching his beard as he looks around, uncomfortable.

Ellanise lowers her hand with the orb and smiles at Byldeth. "If we knew whose these belonged to, I would agree with you, good paladin." She gives a little nod. "My days of stealing from those who have taken possession of something legally are over." Looking down at the chest and then back at the orb. "Taking stolen items, however, is a different thing all together. And these are definitely stolen goods." She tucks the orb into a pocket.

"And, I still believe we should leave the chest. I have a feeling taking that will come to haunt us — and maybe even the professor."