Immersive Ink

tonneau wrote:
Noting Olaf's sprited recovery, Gustave focuses on himself for a moment and, noting no major wounds (though that bloodstain on the vest will take some serious coin and the cleaners), decides it might be an appropriate time to investigate the unexpectedly open portal at his back.
Eyebrow raised, he peers inside...

danhem wrote:
Ulric curses as the Ogre vanishes around the bend in the corridor and out of range of is magic. His concentration broken, Ulric notices Gustave move to investigate the open double doors.

"Be careful," he says warily. As Gustave opens the door, Ulric positions himself a few paces behind him ready to unleash sorcerous fire into the space beyond.

eris wrote:
With the fire and smoke ahead, Olaf says, "We aren't going this way, let's try to circle around. Back therough those doors behind us, what do you say?"

coffee wrote:

eris wrote:With the fire and smoke ahead, Olaf says, "We aren't going this way, let's try to circle around. Back therough those doors behind us, what do you say?"

"Oh, hell," Dieter says irritably. "Fine, we'll go back the other way."

He pauses briefly on his way past the previous two ogres to casually chop their heads off.

"Say, did somebody mention healing?" he asks suddenly.

eris wrote:
Olaf stops by the Ogres and says, "And did anyone search these two?"

Olaf will stop and do the nasty deed if no one else has.

heartless wrote:

waysoftheearth wrote:Padrig pitches his burning flask at the Ogre in a low, flat arc that barely clears the heads of Olaf, Dieter and Pelenwin as they hustle into the narrow passage.

The flask and its rippling tail of flame (1d20=8) clips the low ceiling halfway down the passage, and falls three quarters of the way down the passage, bursting into a long sheet of orange yellow fire that smothers Michele's arbelast and fills the way ahead of the fighting Men with swirling fire and choking oil-smoke.

"Bummer! [img]images/smiley/shocked.png[/img] Sorry that's not what I wanted to happen", says Padrig.

"Say lets regroup, set guards and do some natural healing on those who are hurt before moving on", offers Padrig.

waysoftheearth wrote:

heartless wrote:Sorry that's not what I wanted to happen", says Padrig.

Imagine what might have happened on a 1...

waysoftheearth wrote:
The trumped fighting-Men return to the ante chamber, wherein Dieter proceeds to decapitate the corpses of the foul pair of slain Ogres.

It is a grisly task by any measure, but by means of a broadsword it even more so. With no axe to lop off the ghastly, over-sized heads in a single, clean blow, Dieter hacks and saws furiously with his notched and bloody sword until the horrible butchery is done.

Olaf stands well clear of all this and curtails his searches of the bodies to a minimum, lest he be splattered by gore. But despite this, his sharp eyes easily spring to the heavy coin purses that the monsters wore at their thick belts.

These he procures and examines, finding them to each be filled with a hefty weight of silver and copper coins. One also contains a grubby handkerchief that wraps two severed Man-like fingers, and the other a whole but rather unclean rabbit's head.

The Ogres also wore rusted ringmail shirts over soiled gambesons, and carried great wooden clubs and shields -- these now split and pierced by their fatal wounds.

waysoftheearth wrote:
Meanwhile...

Gustave pushes the heavy door inward with no small effort until he is able to peer inside, Ulric looking over his shoulder.

Within is a great steamy and soiled chamber whose powerful pong surely indicates a prolonged occupation by Ogres. There are four large, shoddy piles of branches, brambles and furs arranged roughly about a huge black cauldron which simmers over a low camp fire, producing a veil of awful smelling steam that half chokes the room.

Whatever lies beyond cannot be discerned in the gloom, but there is no immediately visible threat...

tonneau wrote:
Gustave wrinkles his nose in disgust at the cloud of steaming ogre stench billowing from the room, wishing he had another dash of that old number 7 snuff from the cache of Lord Munbury. And that crazy elf was smiling at this? he ponders.
Lifting his collar to cover nose and mouth, he pushes open the door cautiously and ventures in, drawing his sword with his free hand.