We started back where we left off: In a dilapidated ruin filled with the now dead tentacle monsters of the week before. John and Jake are taking turns throwing various objects down the giant pit taking up part of the room, from sunrods to urine, waiting for something to jump out and latch onto their faces.
When that fails to entertain them past five minutes we finally begin tackling our greatest quandary: Which door do we check first? With four to chose from and five of us to argue over it little progress is made, until John takes the initiative and runs face first into one of the doors.
Stepping over John's dazed form we discover the door in fact has a handle, though this information helped us little since the damn thing was locked.
Jake, our resident thief, our thief, decides that, like the walls around us, surely the door must also be magical. One failed arcana check later and Jake is convinced that not only is the door magical, but there appears to be a strange symbol upon the door exactly in the shape of John's face. Surely this can mean but one thing.
The prophecies have spoken. John is a god. PRAISE BE TO KAMPO!!!!!
I...I don't even....
It is at this point my character, Mara Ironfist, sulks off to meditate on the level of stupid she just witnessed.
Meanwhile it is agreed upon by the more able-minded among us that perhaps the door's lock and the strange platform over the pit might be related in some way. Maybe. We weren't sure. Mat solved the issue by picking up one of the dead tentacle guys and chucking on top of the platform. A loud kerchunck, or perhaps more of a sheeeeeeeck (many arguments were had over exactly what sound was made) announced the opening of the doors.
Marissa, our Druid, and I barged through the first door, ready to kick ass and chew bubble gum. Sadly we were all out of gum, and sadder still we were blasted by a fire rune for our trouble. Curiosity may not of killed these cats, but it certainly singed our whiskers.
That door sucked, so we tried a different one. This one proved to be far more promising, housing a couple of goblins discussing their baby-dinner plans. Things to kill? Check. Morally sound reason for said killing? Check. Time to party.
And by party I mean watch Mat kill everything. Oh well, at least my maul didn't get dirty.
Hey now, I only killed half the goblins, and two were already weakened. That one I killed on my own, though... my god, there was nothing left of him but a smear on the wall. When Karash plays tag, he plays for keeps.
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