(I'm out of high speed data on my phone, so my character sheet just won't load no matter how long I wait this time of day - so I have no clue what my Wisdom save modifier is. I posted a link to the sheet I'm using for this a page or two back if someone wants to check and tell me, but guessing wildly I'm going to do a d20+1 here)

20

Edit - wow crit fail, it doesn't matter what my modifier is. Yikes.

Throm’s legs turn to jelly as he forces himself into a controlled fall and a seated position, a way mainly to keep himself from fleeing. He then shakingly draws his hand crossbow and knocks a bolt. He is a bit of a one-trick pony, but he wants to be able to defend his compatriots should this banshee persist in attacking. He will not fire but is trying to find a way to target the banshee without having to look on that face again. Perhaps by focusing on the bottom of her garments.

Ready attacks to trigger if he perceives it would be in defense of himself or friendlies.

Wis: 6

(Once again, with the saving rolls...)

Lia manages to get out "Gonna... go check on..." and starts walking slowly back towards the marid's room, trying to move away before she upsets the banshee.

Karawara's countenance is truly terrifying, with both Lia and Throm overcome with a sense of horror. Hatch seems to take it worst of all, perhaps due to being called an ugly fool at the same time. Lok however remains stalwart, not only resisting the fearful sight, but also gaining additional insight into the banshee's desires. She requests things of beauty - presumably meaning quality items of artwork, perhaps somewhat like those mentioned by Rivervale that reportedly exist in the collection of Booragoon the genie.

Lok raises an eyebrow at his friends reactions. 

"We shall see what we can do." Lok tells the Banshee as he backs out of the room

"Well...perhaps the Troglodytes will be more successful?" Lok states aloud while he waits for his friends to calm down and regain themselves 

Lia nods silently and vigorously. "Yes, yes. The troglodytes."

Hatch stops the knocking of his knees after a minute has passed, the tiefling afraid that image may give him nightmares till his dying days. He was shocked he had taken it so poorly, but maybe it was a learning experience.

"Y-yes! To-t-to the troglodytes!" He stuttered in agreement.

Throm rises off the floor and prepares to follow.

By the time the group reaches the ground floor the terror of the banshee has left, and indeed Hatch, Lok and Throm wondered what they could have been so afraid of in the first place. A small placard on the wall indicates the direction to the pool, and the group pass through a set of transparent doors.

The sight - and smell - that greets them next is perhaps more horrific than the face of the banshee. A large mosaic-lined bathhouse with benches on the sides and a central pool looks like it might under normal circumstances be a relaxing diversion. However, the entire surface of the floor and much of the walls is covered in a putrid brown slime, floating in which are all manner of debris - barely-recognisable scraps of food that appears semi-consumed or regurgitated, excrement in various states of decay, and some kind of moss or fungus growing in patches. The central pool appears to still contain water, but it is greenish-brown and completely opaque, and covered with a film of oily scum, with just a hint of something moving under the surface. About twenty troglodytes lounge around amongst the filth, dangling their limbs in the pool, wallowing in the slime, and sometimes lifting something from the sludge and stuffing it into their mouths with sickening slurps.

Everyone make a DC 12 CON save or become poisoned for one hour.

Constitution Saving Throw: 16

(Hatch has Aura of Protection, so everyone within 10 feet [and I assume that's everyone] gets a +3 on their saving throws)

Con save 23

Constitution Saving Throw:  26

(Thanks for the +3!)

Con: 13

Lia rubs the bridge of her nose and lets out a sigh as she looks around at the filth.

All managed to hold the contents of your stomachs (not that I can recall the last time anyone ate - except Hatch's steak)

OOC: There’s a chance Throm is still chewing on that bit of “carrot”. Ha!

That carrot (if that's what it was) is looking pretty good in comparison to what these trogs are munching on...

"So...hey, what would it take to get you guys to leave the pool area? A bigger room, some juicy spiders, anything?" Hatch asked, cutting right to the chase.

Three troglodytes lift their heads from the filth and look at Hatch as he delivers his question. Extracting themselves from the muck with a wet shlup, they amble slowly over toward the group. One of the foul creatures comes close to Hatch, wipes the slop from his mouth and then extends his dripping claw as if expecting to shake hands...

Greetings and salutations, friend. My name is Rossmoyne, and these are my associates, Og and Ogg. I have been nominated to represent the interests of my compatriots, and would be glad to discuss terms.

Taking the stunned silence as the cue to proceed, Rossmoyne lowers his unshaken hand and continues:

Between us, I confess that our general upkeep of the facilities has deteriorated of late, although this would undoubtedly improve if only we had the discipline that comes from authoritative leadership. We would prefer to remain here, but certainly would benefit from a strict and willing benefactor, whose strong hand could motivate us to lift our standards of hygiene, and to whom in return we would offer our unfailing devotion. Failing this, we might be prevailed upon to vacate.

What we desire most of all however, is some fresh comestibles. Our current provender has grown somewhat stale, and we require new nourishment. If you have any jurisdiction or leverage with the establishment, perhaps they could be persuaded to institute a twenty-four-hour all-you-can-eat buffet...

The front door of the Hotel Opens.

A stout dwarf with black dread locks, one of which is grey, and weathered skin enters. He wears a long black wolf fur cloak that drags on the ground behind him and his right eye has a patch over it. His clothes are mainly black though any metal that can be seen is blindingly silver including that of his breastplate and Warhammer. His fingers are covered in various rings of gold and there are gold bands around some of his dread locks. He lowers his hood.

A grizzled but kind voice says to the nearest person "N'ver been to dis part of de world, lodging n' ale here? Been travelin' many day, my feet dem did sore and my mouth be dry." The door closes behind him, shutting him in.

Welcome to the Hotel Corona, good dwarf, says Bentley the halfling, who still stands in the lobby. With a smile almost as wide as his face, he says cheerily: Please allow me to take your things while you make your way to the refreshments. Willagee is your host, and he will be happy to arrange a beverage to your taste as well as accommodation.