It was as if Time itself hiccuped, needing a few seconds to catch her breathe before returning to her normal rhythm. In these moments, when time held her breath everyone froze. Well almost everyone. Except for the completely logical grouping of an Orc, Gnome, a couple of Elves and a Human.
They cobbled together that something happened, and the Fire Elf knew that something about it felt, different. It was definitely magic, but different.
Psionic’s. Just great.
Well, if this town has an expert on Psionic’s it is clearly the drunken Dwarf who sits a top a keg for a chair.
Xander and Falk ply the Dwarf with 3 rounds of Ale to jog his memory and discover that the soggy dwarf has a distaste for Regan, the owner of the yet to be opened museum. Bas also pointed out that Regan has not been noticed in about six kegs.
With this newly liberated information and under the cover of the bright afternoon sky the party made their way across the street to the museum. Well, some of the party. The Fire Elf found a quiet spot to meditate, Ulfg hid in plain sight, and the Gnome found a shady spot to piece together an altar.
Meanwhile, Falk and Xander attempted to take the museum from behind, but where thwarted by the cheaply made locks. Fortunately, the Gnome was able to encourage the lock to retreat and sure enough they advanced inside.
They party crept as quiet as a drunken Ocrish bar fight through the museum only to discover that the only thing to be seen in this area was dust. 10 years, and not a single thing lay on any of the shelves. In the back, a simple bedroll and living area, along with stairs descending into the basement.
In a party of that consisted of two elves, a gnome and a human, clearly the lightfooted orc was best to lead the party to parts unknown. After a few dozen precarious steps, the part found themselves in a small basement. Filled with junk and discarded furniture. A keen eye from the Fire Elf noticed something suspicious about the furniture piled against the wall. A small rope was attached to the furniture, which the Gnome promptly severed in a well intentioned disarm trap attempt, barely escaping from the ensuing down pour of broken jagged pieces of desks, tables and chairs, oh my!
After delving below the surface the party explored a few rooms and while they were discussing their strategy to a locked door, Xander, informed the party that “they be bitches” , which the orc misheard and thought he said “Please pass the door to my face.” Naturally the orc obliged.
Eventually the Fire Elf walked into the room and was ensnared in webbing that coated the floor. Gross.
The Orc attempted to save her but was unable to pull her free. He did however, attract the giant spiders attention long enough to receive a small nibble on the neck. Several burning hands later and some mysteriously broken limbs the spider came crashing to the floor in front of them.
The Bard’s songs echoed down the halls (one of which was a rather memorable tune) and despite the countless innuendo’s the party seemed to like him after his melodies. The gnome was building furniture and managed to piece together a hook from 3 parts door (Thanks Ulfg!) and two parts thin air.
The party thought it best to rest for awhile, perhaps to be regaled by the bards melodic tunes, while the gnome builds small homestead out of the scraps of door left behind by the orc.