While in the room of Books, Weaver grabbed a book also. No trickery, no magic, no looking through the minds eye to be guided. While the room was busy with this and that Weaver simply looked upon the shelf and choose the one his hand fell upon. He quickly and quietly slipped it off the shelf and into his pack. Perhaps it will make a good read and then dry kindling for a few fires.

Weaver stood toward the back of the group. They were moving once more, ‘south I think,’ Weaver lipped softly to himself. As the party moved Weaver noticed that all seemed quiet almost too quiet for a castle under siege.

As quickly as they started they group stopped. Weaver glanced over his shoulder and saw an iron door. Weaver smiled as he saw Ulthok, Master of shadows slips his hand into his pouch and produces the tools of his art. ‘A locked door is like candy to a baby.’ Weaver whispered to any who could hear him. He then turned and watched the hall behind.

If time was moving slow, it seemed to come to an abrupt halt now. Weaver felt something must be wrong. He looked back over his shoulder and watched in bewilderment as the Master of Shadows looked at the door and scratched his head. I do believe you could have heard a pin drop as Ulthok turned to the group and simply shrugged his shoulders.

Weaver tapped the next person in line and handed off his bow and arrow and then pointed back over his shoulder down the hallway. He then tapped and excused himself all the way through the line to the Iron Gate and Uthlok, Dweller of shadows. When Weaver stood before his friend he simple held out a hand and asked, ‘May I?’

Ulthlok looks at Cor and holds out a hand. Cor clutches his might axe and wide eyed simply shakes his head no. Ulthok then produces an old rusty pick (yes single pick) and a thin bit of very hard wire. With a raised brow, ‘You can use these my friend.’

Weaver takes the tools and steppes to the Iron Gate. He touches the door with a single finger. He then sniffs it. He then leans in close and licks the door, ‘Hum.’ Weaver then takes a knee and starts to mimic Ulthok.

Ulthok leans in over Weaver’s shoulder and watches, ‘A little to the left… now flip that one, yes that will be a good burger.’

Weaver looks back at Ulthok, ‘What?’ the two exchange a smile.

It is then a soft female voice is heard from the group, ‘Men.’

Weaver stands and turns to the group he then looks at Uthlok and simply says, ‘We should knock.’ Uthlok pauses and then agrees. Weaver then turns to the door and raises his hand. Uthlok clears his throat. Weaver looks down and Uthlok shakes his head no.

‘OK,’ Weaver then moves back through the group, takes his bow back, ‘Thank you.’ He then again watches the hall behind.

The party left the library and continued along the hall finally coming to an iron door, a locked iron door. It seemed to the thief that there must be something important in that room if it required the door to be locked. Although the mechanism look different than any he had seen before, a lock was a lock and it needed to be picked. The tumblers and actions did not respond to his experienced touch. So in a bit he turned to the party to shrug.

That was when Weaver came forward to try. Ulthok had not remember the bard being skilled with locks but lent him his tool and watch as the storyteller fumbled along.

Ulthok leans in over Weaver’s shoulder to watch and heard,”A little to the left… now flip that one, yes that will be a good burger.” Weaver looks back at Ulthok, ‘What?” the two exchange a smile.

It is then a soft female voice is heard from the group, "Men."
The bard stands and turns to the group, he then looks at Uthlok and simply says, “We should knock.”
Uthlok pauses and then agrees. "Of course!"

Knock,the mage hadn’t thought of that . The spell would open the door, but he had not prepared the spell. Weaver then turns to the door and raises his hand. Uthlok clears his throat. Weaver looks down and Uthlok shakes his head no.

Turning the party the Mage asked, “Has any of you prepared Knock?

Roan watched silently as the halfling and the half-elf worked on the lock, as they shared a joke and a smile regardless of their failure to open the lock. They worked well together. Not just these two but the whole group.

One of the girls said something under her breath. Roan couldn't tell what she had said, but it sounded more of a jest than a curse.

Right now he felt more like that old lockpick than a key - not a particularly good fit; he hadn't yet had a chance to find his place. That was why, when Siréne's witch sight found a handful of magical books, he had volunteered to carry them, and why he now spoke up.

"I have a spell that might be of assistance," he said. "I can shape stone. It's a bit like killing a fly with a greatsword but perhaps I could create an auxiliary door? Sort of... gets around the whole problem."

‘You mean to tell me I licked that door for nothing?’ Weaver looked at Roan with a big grin. Weaver then looked to the rest of his party, ‘We do like the easy way.’ He then rolled his eyes, ‘Well kinda.’

Do you always lick before you pick, Weaver?" Roan grinned at him, then began rifling through his duffel for something.

A moment later, the man produced a lump of clay. "Anything I can make with this clay, I can make with this stone wall." He began rolling it in his hands to produce a cylinder, then twisted the cylinder into a spiral. He then formed a horseshoe shape it of the whole thing. It was a rather fancy arch, but it felt good wto show off a little.

Roan held it up to the blank wall and began uttering the spell.

"Wait," he said before he had gone too far. "Ukthok is right. I should let someone try a knock spell first. We could need this later."

The party quickly searched the room, looking for anything of use. Sirene used Wizard's sight to help search the room, making finding the books much easier. Cor was glad, as it allowed them to avoid being in the room too long.

After they searched the room, they had found a few magical tomes. Luckily, nothing attacked them when they searched. Within a few moments,the party continued South. Cor stood ready to fight, but no fight came. In fact, nothing came. This was concerning. Shouldn't a magical flying castle, have some sort of defences or traps? Ulthok did not find anything, nor did any traps trigger. The castle seemed far to ordinary. Had it been a normal castle before?

As they continued south, Cor kept scanning the hallways. After a quick walk, they reached a large door. Unlike all the other times, Ulthok was unable to open the door. This was new. If this door was more difficult than the others to open, did that mean something more important was on the other side.

Ulthlok looks at Cor and holds out a hand. Cor clutches his might axe and wide eyed simply shakes his head no. Ulthok then produces an old rusty pick (yes single pick) and a thin bit of very hard wire. With a raised brow, ‘You can use these my friend.’
Cor watched as Weaver moved beside Ulthok, and both of them tried to open the door. It seemed not to be avail. After a few moments, one of the party members said, "Men". Cor glanced at the speaker.

Almost immediatly, Weaver understood. "We should knock". Ulthok very quickly agreed. Ulthok turned to the group, and asked, "Have any of you prepared knock. Looking around, Cor knew he was not capable of casting the spell.

"I have a spell that might be of assistance," he said. "I can shape stone. It's a bit like killing a fly with a greatsword but perhaps I could create an auxiliary door? Sort of... gets around the whole problem."
Cor was unsure of what Roan meant for a moment, as Roan walked towards the large door. Cor smiled momentarily at Weaver's jest. It had been by far too dry and sombre; they all could use a good joke. Roan put some clay on he door, rhan began his work to cast the spell. Part way through the spell, he stopped.

"Wait," he said before he had gone too far. "Ukthok is right. I should let someone try a knock spell first. We could need this later."
"If you could make anything with it, that is probably a good idea. It could be an escape route, in an even more dire situation." Cor agreed. He waited for someone to cast the knock spell on the door. If the door opened, Cor would be ready to fight whatever was on the other side...

Siréne made her way to the front of the group as Ulthok and Weaver worked at the locked door to no avail. A number of suggestions on how to circumvent the door were brought forward, but in the end the group decided to follow the path of least resistance. There were spells to open blocked doorways, such magic would be a far easier path. Conveniently, the decision was made just as the elf reached the door.

Without uttering a word, Siréne reached out and laid a hand on the cool surface of the door. This was a supplication, a plea to the door itself. Residues of the gods of old lingered in pathways and doorways, to honor them was only wise. It was up to their will to let them pass.

There she stood for three heartbeats, letting the magic rise within her. It coursed through her body, shooting through her arms to crackle at her fingertips. Abruptly she withdrew her hand from the door and then quickly rapt on it three time.

knock knock knock
Turning to the others she spoke, "It should open now."

((OOC: Casts Knock))

Once again, it was Sirene who came to the parties rescue as Ulthok then Kyle failed to find a way around the strange non-magical lock. With a few words spoken, the spell of Knock was cast and a click from the door was heard. At once Ulthok was back and having found no traps before he found none now.

The door pushed open the party found themselves looking into 40x50 room containing a number of jail type cells, three clearly occupied. In the first occupied cell were three orcs naked and cowering their bodies covered in numerous lash marks across their bodies. The next cell to have a tenant was cell four. Here the party found a large human dressed in tattered and ripped clothing. His eyes full of madness and hate who spits at you and mumbles in a language never heard by any of you before.

The last of the occupied cells holds a battered and beaten dwarf semi-conscious wearing the remnants of a leather under armor piece and not much else. At your approach he looks up dazed but says nothing. The rest of the cells are empty, however on a closer look by Ulthok two other cells appear to have recently held captives. The bars of the first of the two cages, cell seven, Ulthok could tell had once held some type of magical spell though for the moment he was unsure of the type. Within the cage, it was clear someone had spent a good deal of time here, as the cell appeared well used. Lying on the small cot the Halfling Thief/Mage found a shawl of pure white silk sized roughly for that of a human, and shoes made of a white lace neatly folded as if left behind to be recovered later.

In the second of the now empty cells, Ulthok could tell that this cell had not held a prisoner long and that prisoner was smaller then human. Then as he looked closer, he cried out as hidden within the cots bedding was a small leather strap, a strap that he had given to a certain female companion. Turning to the rest of the party a hopeful smile on his face he announced.

“Valene was kept here”......................

(OOC: ok this weeks post, guess some questions need to be answered huh. Next post Next Sunday the 20th.)

The party made its way into the room behind the metal door. There in the room were cages, cages holding people and the ugly things. One cage had a small person like Ulthok’s friend Cor. One held a big angry person that jabbered and yelled and did mean things toward them.

The human had rage in his eyes and would surely harm the party if he were to escape that cage, but Peri could see the pain there too. She fluttered to bars of the human’s cell, stay just far enough away that he could not reach her.

“You need your sadness eased.” With that the Faerie Dragon blew a puff into the tortured humans face. (Peri blows euphoria gas at the human.)

As the cloud settles over the man Peri turns to Weaver, “Maybe if he is calmer you can ask him for help.”

Roan stepped through the open doorway and into the prison block. It seemed people were kept here, and tortured. What was the reason for this? A madman babbled away in one of the cells, while another held a dwarf, barely conscious. The final occupied chamber held Roan's attention above the others though, for in it was a trio of Orcs, apparently tortured and lashed for their as-yet-unknown crime.

It seemed immediately obvious to Roan that treatment of this type was not typical for petty crime, even among orcs. Perhaps, then, they were interred here for reasons that could work to the benefit of the party. He marked the thought in mind before beginning a thorough search of the room. Although he didn't know what he might find, he found the idea of missing traps and clues to be without merit.

Ulthok gave a shout - it seemed he had found signs that Valene had been here. This seemed to raise his hope a bit; Roan spent a moment in quiet discussion with him before returning to the Orcs.

Afterward, Roan walked up to the orcs' gate, as he approached revealing the silver valknut worked into the leather straps of his bracer. Hail, friends he said to them in a coarse whisper, I am a cleric of the temple of Odin. My companions and I can give you succor if you can give us aid. He paused for a moment, waiting for an answer.

"There was another prisoner here. A girl, perhaps more than one. What can you tell me about them? The cell with the white lace, who occupied that, and where did she go? What of the smaller one? A heal spell to the first Orc with an honest answer."
[[OOC: Searches the room. Prepares to cast Cure Light Wounds, and will do so if the information is useful]]

Sirene’s spell of Knock had worked to get the party past the iron doors that the thief could not open. Quickly checking for traps on the other side Ulthok found none, but he did discover that this was a prison room. Bared cells lined the room, some occupied. Here a human that seemed driven to insanity, a beaten Dwarv and three Orcs that had been severely lashed.
There were empty cells too. One have a white shawl and shoes and one with just a bed that disheveled. Searching there the open cell he found hidden within the cots bedding was a small leather strap, a strap that he had given to a certain female companion. Turning to the rest of the party a hopeful smile on his face he announced.

“Valene was kept here”......................
The mage brought it out to the group, Cor examined the strap and white clothing. It was determined they must question these prisoners to find out more. Dividing the group they went to the cells to ask the prisoners what the knew of the small Halfling and the prisoner that had left the shawl.

Ulthok and Roan went to the Orcs, being Ulthok spoke Orcish if needed. Aliya and Weaver to the madman and Cor and Sirene to the last that held the Dwarv.
Lothor stood with Rayne, as the party knew she sworn against them and he helped to persuade her from harming them before they could gather information.
Roan offer the Orcs curing in hopes of getting them to speak more freely.
Ulthok did his best to hold back, his hoped raised that Valene might be found, but he couldn’t show that to the Ocrs.

“You three “, he said in Orc, “Tell me of girl that was held here, was she harmed? Where was she taken? How long ago was she taken? Who was in the other cell? Were they taken with the girl? Is there a passage to where they taken? “ Ulthok realized he was blasting forth many questions and slowed himself. He hoped the other would gather information and that maybe the Enchantress might be to help with the Orc too.

(OOC: We are about leave so I got this up. Hope I find some WIFI to keep up.)

Weaver is looking at the folk in the cages and listening to all the talk going on about them. The Orcs were where they should be if not dead in Weaver’s mind. He moved on, paying them little mind.

The dwarf was dazed and confused, ‘Cor, one of your brethren?’ Weaver moved on for he knew all too well there are some dwarves that do not take to kindly to the half-elfen blood that flows in Weaver’s veins. He paused a moment, ‘Yes, there are elves that do not take to kindly to that.’ Weaver spoke to no one there. It seemed to calm him after seeing the live Orcs and the battered and beaten dwarf.

Weaver paused at the wild man. This held his gaze the longest. There were times when Weaver was at the brink of such an episode, but it was the sword that kept him in the here and now. His hand moved to were the sword once was. The longing for such a prize was still there; deep in the back of Weaver’s dark places next to the love he still kept for her. But unlike the cancer, the sword was gone from him now. The scares it left on his back removed by the Goddess when he was given new form and a new name. ‘Weaver’, that is what his friends call him now.

It was then Peri caught Weaver’s eye as she fluttered just out of reach of the wild man. She looked at the wild man for a moment her head tilted to the side just a bit. She then breathed out on him. Weaver thought he saw a light haze. Almost like pollen on the evening breeze. This cloud encircled the man. Peri then turns to Weaver and this is where the bottom begins to fall out of the day…

‘Maybe if he is calmer you can ask him for help.’ Weaver heard a voice. One he had never heard before. Peri heard it too she was looking toward him. Weaver’s eyes got big; he turned around to see what was behind him. Nothing was there. He turned back toward Peri and the cell of the wild man. Weaver spoke, ‘Who is there? Brother, who do you have with you?’ He always knew who his brother was with, but not this time.

Aliya watched as the party trickled into the celled room. she smiled awkwardly at Lothor and Rayne as she followed suit and slipped into the room.

Aliya had little experience with prison and the strange scent of refuse, fear and desperation made her stomach flutter with queasiness. Xin patter her shoulder reassuringly.

others had begun to search the room, and question the prisoners. Alyia had her hand a couple times before interrogating rival scouts, but looking at the already browbeaten captives here such methods and worse had already been applied to them.

Uthok's exclamation made her jump in start slightly, yet the good news only seemed to add to the forbearance of yet to come.

Alyia moved to the cell with the mad man in it. standing slightly behind weaver. She marvelled at the little dragon. Smirking slightly as she looked sidelong at Xin and caught him watching the petite dragon as well.


Alyia cocked her head in confusion as her ears buzzed slightly. Weaver momentarily turned around a startled look on his face. Alyia could help but turn to look behind herself as well.

Weaver spoke, ‘Who is there? Brother, who do you have with you?’
Aliya was unsure if it was the prisoner weaver spoke to or to himself.

(if the mad man is sitting Alyia would squat down to address him at his level, but be able to jump back quick enough if he lunged at her.)

Alyia pulled a piece of bread from her pack and tossed it to the mad man. "Answer as best you can , and i have more for you. answer well and their may be drink as well..." Alyia was unsure if this tactic would work but it was one they could use with out getting closer to the man. the man looked more then half starved, Alyia wondered if that was because of the captors treatment or the madness which gripped him. thought he seemed almost euphoricly placid since peri had "gassed" him.

Siréne turned to look out of the doorway of the room, moving out of the line of sight of the prisoners. Just at the threshold, the copper skinned elf began to draw forth power, letting it course through her. Graceful hands traced eldritch symbols in the air as she softly chanted words of power. The spell opened her mind, and she could feel the presence of those around her itching at her awareness and begging for closer inspection.

With unearthly grace, she moved back into the room and spent a few moments before each of the cells. As her companions questioned the beaten orcs and the mad human, she let her awareness drift into their minds, seeking answers to their questions. She drifted through their minds, piecing together who they were and what had come to pass in this wretched place.

After a few moments of seeking, Siréne glided over to the caged dwarf to join Cor in the questioning. Immediately she focused her probing on the bearded man. Was he friend or foe? With each question she listened not only to his words, but also his thoughts.

Questions of own floated from her lips, "Dear friend of the mountain, what can you tell us of this place. Who was here before? There were two women, the owner of the white shawl and another, perhaps a bit shorter? What can you tell us of them? How did they leave this place? Do you know where they were going?"

((OOC: Casts ESP - focuses on the minds of each of the orcs, the raving human, and the dwarf))

Having watched as first Ulthok then Weaver could not open the iron door she was not surprised that Sirene was able to do so magically. Inside was a prison room of mostly empty cells but three occupied. The inhabitants of one cell immediately caused her bow to rise and an arrow knocked and drawn. Sighting down the arrows length she let it fly.