Mal regaurded Alan's theory, that this room was nothing more than what it seemed. A Bath and Sauna house for the Wizard's own luxury.... But Mal couldn't let go of the idea that there was something more. Why have youe steam room set with an illusion about one's god? Why did it connect to the weapon room? These things made no sense. No, there was something evil here, in this room of relaxation.....

Following close behind Crow, saber raised and ready to strike, Mal stands at the ready as Crow disturbes a curtain, ready for any beast to lunge forward with murderous intent....

...Wembley attempts to pet Ivan as the humidity puffs him to new dimension. He only gets a couple of strokes in before the feline jumps up and away - hissing wildly. Then Ivan regains his composure and says, "Whoa dude - major uncool. I don't run that way - not there is anything wrong with it but still. Don't be getting frisky with me."
The cidal mage was obviously wounded by the cat’s words. “Aw, come on, cat,” Wembley sniff. “There ain’t no harm in a little petting between friends.”

But the cat would have none of it. Ivan looked around, "I need to get out of here before I go up another shirt size."
The little rogue hopped up and followed after the talking feline. “I think fluffy looks good on you,” he offered encouragingly.

Moving on through the curtain after Alan, Crow, and Mal, Wembley enjoyed the sensation of the curtain as he passed through. “Wow! Did you guys feel that? I wonder how he made that...”

The coolness in the next room was welcomed after the humidity of the last. The pool looked very inviting to Wembley. He stirred the waters a bit with his staff. “No one wants to take a little dip?” He looked around hopefully at his companions. Everyone’s always in such a rush... he thought to himself with a sigh.

Crow pulls back the curtain of the west side and it reveals a room of the same dimensions as the Sauna you were just in. There, stands a woman with red hair and green eyes beside a table with padding on top. The woman is dressed all in white leather ... or something that resembles leather but is glossy and thin – not suitable for armour at all. In fact, the white outfit only goes to midway between her knees and thighs and from there she has white garters and white silk hose going down to white shoes with an exaggerated heel – at least 6 inches. She bears no weapons and certainly could not be hiding anything in her outfit.

The woman moves a step away from the table and gestures towards it. “Welcome sir.” She says, “Would you like a nice relaxing massage?”

Looking at her as she moves and talks, it is quite obvious that she is not a “real” person but some sort of creation, much like the man in black you met previously. Her skin looks unreal, her eyes do not move and her mouth and speech do not sync together.

Dudley watch as Crow regarded the lady in white. The Cleric smiled and winked saying,"Careful there fella, you may be planning to get into a little mischief...but this one could very easily rub you the wrong way."

Alôndas looked around the pool room and seeing nothing else of interest turned his attention to the blue curtains. He couldn’t see through them; seeing Crow walking over to the West curtain, the Mage walked to the opposite one (East, I guess) and reached out with his stave and used it to draw aside the curtain. He thought it safer to use the stave, it gave him a little more reach and if anything dangerous was beyond it would give him a bit more time to react; the curtain pulled back he peered beyond.

Alôndas pulls back the curtain of the east side and it reveals a room of the same dimensions as the Sauna you were just in. There, stands a woman with Blonde hair and blue eyes beside a table with padding on top. The woman is dressed all in red leather ... or something that resembles leather but is glossy and thin – not suitable for armour at all. In fact, the red outfit only goes to midway between her knees and thighs and from there she has red garters and red silk hose going down to red shoes with an exaggerated heel – at least 6 inches. She bears no weapons and certainly could not be hiding anything in her outfit.

The woman moves a step away from the table and gestures towards it. “Welcome sir.” She says, “Would you like a nice relaxing massage?”

Looking at her as she moves and talks, it is quite obvious that she is not a “real” person but some sort of creation, much like the man in black you met previously. Her skin looks unreal, her eyes do not move and her mouth and speech do not sync together.

“Welcome sir.” She says, “Would you like a nice relaxing massage?”
The mage raised an eyebrow as he slowly stepped into the room checking the sides of the doorway first to make sure no one was there to jump him when he stepped in.

“Thank you,” he said wearily, “but not right now.”

He looked around the room as he stepped in a couple more steps; observing closely the rest of the room yet keeping the woman in his peripheral vision.

“Can you tell me what is this place?” he asked turning back to her, “Who’s place is this?”

“Can you tell me what is this place?” he asked turning back to her, “Who’s place is this?”

The Lady turns her head slightly as if thinking and then replies, "I am sorry. I do not understand you question. Would you like a nice relaxing massage?"

NOTE: there is a portal across from the curtain in this room and the one on the west.

The Lady turns her head slightly as if thinking and then replies, "I am sorry. I do not understand you question. Would you like a nice relaxing massage?"
“Maybe later!” he said with a polite smile as he stepped back to the curtain and parting it returned to the room where the others waited. Once there he told them what he had found in the East Room and the fact that there was only a portal as an exit. He waited to hear what the others had found and to discuss their options.

“So,” he said with a faint smile, “anyone for relaxing for a time before pushing on?” It was hard to tell, from his tone, if he was joking or serious.

Wembley watched as Crow and Dudley explored the west room and Alan wandered into the east. I want to discover something! he thought.

Moving around the around edge of the pool, Wembley made his way to the southern curtain. "Let's see what's behind curtain number three," he said cheerfully as he stepped into the room.

As the curtain slipped back to, Mal knowing in his heart that it would be some beastly demon, or blood thirsty monster, He was in fact, simply left stunned at the woman before them. Quickly though, his saber lowered, and he took on a slight smirk. He had been among ship crews a long time, and through all the ports he had visited, a prostitute usually looked similar.
But as the beautiful consort spoke, Mal's smirk became an expression of disgust. Ignoring the offer of a massage, the disappointed, and already angry Swashbuckler moved back away from the side room, muttering about foul wizard magics and dirty old men.

His despair only grew as Alan mentioned that only portals would get them out of this place.

"Seems one be as good as th'other. So, Blonde or Red Head?" He asks, little mirth in his small joke. It would just be another game. Perhaps it was all games... Perhaps, without knowledge of where the portals go, one could simply make random jumps into evil rooms forever...
And for that matter, what if only the Wizard knew the way out? They didn't even know if the geezer was still alive. And last of all, even if they DID get out, the island above was impossible to survive apon, and they had nothing to build a boat.

All of this ran through Mal's head over and over again, but he says nothing. Why bother killing the group's possible hopes?

The Swashbuckler looked to Wembley, peeking excitedly through the last curtain. The little rogue always seemed to smile, and enjoy everything he came across. Mal briefly considered that perhaps the Cidal didn't comprehend the danger they were in, but disregarded that. He believed Wembley knew full well, and simply hoped for the best.

"Optimist..." The Swashbuckler mumbles to himself with a smirk, lost in thought. And, he supposed, they should all be that way.... What could it hurt?

As he pulled back the curtain Crow found himself looking into another small room. There, before him stood a human woman with red hair, green eyes and quite beautiful even to Sylvan eyes. Standing next to some type of padded table she was dressed all in white leather. The outfit only going to midway between the women’s knees and thighs. From this point Crow could see she wore white garters and white silk hose going down to white shoes with an exaggerated heel.

As the woman moved a step away from the table, Crow at once brought out his swords not sure just what the women was doing here. With a gesture towards the table.

“Welcome sir. “Would you like a nice relaxing massage?”

The Sylvan Ranger finally realized the room was similar to a massage parlor as that found in the higher Elf houses and the women a magical masseuse.

Though intrigued by the women’s sexy beauty, Crow had no time for constructs or magical massage parlors. Closing the curtains he returned to the rest of the party to inform them what he had found and that another portal stood within the room.................

Wembley draws back the third curtain, "Let's see what's behind curtain number three," he said cheerfully as he stepped into the room. But when he did a billow of hot steam poured out causing him to flinch back from the blinding vapours.

Which may have saved his life.

A huge spiked ball on a chain flails out of the steam cloud and missed Wembley’s head by less than an inch. As the Cidal dove back to get out of the way, four heavily armoured humanoid creatures with dark brown skin and hair, about 7 and a half feet tall, stepped out of the fog. Two have long swords and shields; one has a heavy crossbow in hand with two quarrels (Over/Under like in Ladyhawke) but a sword at his side. The third is a head taller than the others and wields the flail.

The Flail Ugly says something loud in a guttural tongue but the meaning is obvious as he raising his weapon intent on pounding Wembley into ground meat. They intend on killing you all. They move as one like a military unit. The one with a crossbow is shouldering it to draw his sword.

Each one of them his a symbol on their armour on the right shoulder. It is of a red Rose wreathed in flames. A Sendrian symbol of Amer'loc.

See illustrations in QnA.

Alôndas smiled as he heard Wembley remark and peer into the Southern room and then flinched as the Cidal dove away as four large ugly creatures came through the curtain; all armed to the teeth.

“Bugbears,” the Mage hissed between his teeth as he stepped towards the South and began to mumble the words of a spell; he reached out his arms and taking care to aim above the Cidal on the floor he touched the thumbs of both hands together and spread the fingers out and spoke the final word of the spell.

(OOC: Casting Burning hands at the gathering of Bugbears, taking aim chest high on him so that he should clear Wembley who is a lot lower than the 7’tall creatures especially if he dove to the floor. A side note: the Mage’s Armor spell should still be in place since it lasts until he is attacked, which will probably be shortly. )

Mal's smile was short lived, for even as his eyes slipped away from the curious little Cidal, and begins commenting on a route, the loud crash, and vibrations it triggered brought the Swashbuckler back into a combat stance, a snarl forming on his lips. He was NOT pleased...

“Bugbears,” the Mage hissed between his teeth, to which Mal agreed. They seemed to fit the bill, but they were much larger than the warrior had ever imagined them. Growling, he starts forward, but noticed the mage in the middle of Casting. Mal understood little of magic, but staying out of it's way was an easy lesson to have learned.
Cursing, Mal could only hope that Alan was accounting for Wembley, and promptly dropped into a roll, staying as low as possible to get to the fallen Cidal's side.

((From here, it is up to Wembley, as Mal will either begin dragging Wembley back to safety, or if he moves before Mal arrives, the swashbuckler shall hold his attack until the fire dies, then strike out at the ball-and-chain wielder.))