[Game Thread] Could a draygon drive a waygon?

[serek000]

Geb's search revealed some dried flowers laid atop the graves, as well as two incense censors, one in each of the back corners of the room. The censors were empty, but a quick sniff made it clear that they had been used regularly at some point in their history - given the designs and their states, it appeared that the pair was about two or three hundred years old, but possibly more. One might imagine that they once sat in the chapel itself, but were moved down to the catacombs at some point. Besides for that, however, the room was bare.

The half-orc's ears picked up what sounded like a distant whistling, perhaps the wind. It seemed to be coming from the north, although it was hard to say given that it was in tunnels prone to echoing.

[TheLetter3]

Æthelræd turned his ears to the sound of the whistling to see if he couldn't make out what it was...

Listen check Dice Roll: d20+4 (19)+4 Total = 23

He also made his way over to the grave adorned with flowers, trying to see if he could tell what type of flowers they were, whether they were native to the area, and how long they had been sitting atop the grave.

Knowledge (Nature) check Dice Roll: d20+13 (5)+13 Total = 18

[serek000]

While unsure of the specifics of the flower, Aethelred knew that it was commonly cultivated in window boxes, gardens, and flowerbeds throughout the mountains. It could manage to grow in the short window between the thaw and first frost of the season, and as such was important in the religious rituals of this region and was commonly offered as tribute to the dead.

The druid also heard the gentle whistling sound. It sounded nearly identical to the sound heard in the caretaker's room, although it was louder now. He could ascertain that it was coming from the corridor to the north.

[Cearnacht]

Adunakhor fought back a sneeze from all of the dust in these rooms. "Well, 're we gonna find whatever's causin' tha' wheesin' soun'? Nort, isn' it?" Adunakhor begins to tramp toward the northern hallway, his acute dwarven senses detecting nothing that he couldn't kill. Of course, there wasn't much that Adunakhor Steeltoes couldn't kill with a little help from Angus and Ella Marie. Oh, and the poncy elf, crazy human, and damn orc as well, he supposed.

[The accent is the most fun part. at least until the killing. That is the best by far.]

[serek000]

The hallway to the north [ooc: the purple one on the map] was narrow, maybe five feet wide, and perhaps five feet tall as well. The floor was well-worn and had been used far more heavily than either of the two rooms previously entered. The source of the sound could be seen in the distance - a hatch on the ceiling, above a ladder, was partially ajar, letting in a slight draft that could be felt more readily with each step taken. It appeared to be the main entrance to the catacombs.

Suddenly, the sound stopped - although the perceptive party members could notice that the hatch was still ajar and the draft still noticeable.

[milkshake]

Geb grunted nearly inaudibly, and approached the hatch with caution. Although not clausterphonic, the half orc was feeling somewhat nervous about the catacombs and narrow hallway- he couldn't say why.

[Cearnacht]

"Watch yer ass, Orc." Adunakhor dwarf-whispered. "I dinnae be likin' nae hatches. 'Member them thar winged hoors in that thar tree back when we wer in th' r'sistance? Ugly bitches they was, and clever wit' them hatches."

[TheLetter3]

"I don't like the feeling of this place... Can anyone see anything?"

[Cearnacht]

"Bunch a stone and the hallowed bones a good dwarves. Don' worry, elf, ahm sure Frithioth will protect ya from anny pookie ghosts."

[TheLetter3]

"May their souls rest in peace. As for the ghosts, I don't need anyone to fight my battles, thank you very much. I'm just wondering if there are any unseemly creatures that need to be... how should I say... put to rest?" Æthelræd flashed a smile and stroked the bone club at his hip, obviously ready for a battle.

[Cearnacht]

"If'n thar wer, be sure I'd be tellin' ye, wat wit me yellin' and choppin' at things and yer pointy ears. I suppose I'd be happy fer yer help as well. Such as it is."

"Ye got that hatch open yet, Orc?"

He whispers to the elf:
"daft orcs, allus fergettin' how tae use ther hands."

And bellows at the Orc:
"Th' thumb's fer grippin'!"

[serek000]

The hatch opened after a bit of pushing and prodding, and a brightness flooded into the passage. The sudden transition from pitch dark, except for the bit of light produced by Frithioth's now-enchanted spoon, was almost blinding. After their eyes adjusted, the party saw that they were staring up and out at the sun.

Geb, being himself a true half-orc of the frozen north, knew that nights were short in this part of the world, and that even though it had only been a few hours since turning in for the night, it was not terribly unsual to have a night of only four or five hours before the next rising of the sun.

With the opening of the hatch came a blast of wind, much greater than the small draft that had come through the crack. The air was colder than the day before, and the wind had a real bite to it.

It appeared that the hatch was an entrance to the Catacombs, and given that the passage leading up to it was more heavily worn than the others, perhaps it was the primary entrance. A quick mental survey placed the hatch somewhere behind the Chapel of Moradin, which would also point towards it being a primary entrance.