Mal's grip on his saber tightened as, all of the sudden, he and his group found themselves in a very nice, very cozy room, complete with a fireplace and a..... metal pug? Or some sort of golem Rat?
"Alright boys, I...." He cuts off as the Cleric, Dudley, scurries past him, and to the fireplace before he can protest.
As soon as Dudley had moved in, the metallic being instantly turned on him and charged.... kinda.
Raising his sword, he watched as Dudley was cloaked in a green flash, and he knew the Cidal was dead.
But he wasn't.... He was just... clean.

"Bolts and bubbles!" Wembley shouted. "Did you see that? Probably some Brathunspar tinker's invention... I bet, if the professor were here, he could tell us how it worked."


Turning towards the strange and magical device, Wembley moved closer, filled with wonder. "Oh! oh! Do me next! Do me!"

Mel grins, letting out the breathe he was holding in. Taking a seat in the arm chair for a brief rest, he leans the sword on the arm and waits for the Golem to get to him.

"Alright boys, I Aint really sure how I be feelin' about this lucky chance. Obviously magic is involved, and I doubt it was built just for us. I be figurin' it either be A Wizard's house, or worse. So dun you be gettin' too comfortable. Be keepin' yer guard up."

Alôndas took up a position midway of the group as they made their way down the stairs towards the doorway. Holding his staff in his left hand he stood ready to cast a spell if needed. When Mel walked up to the strange doorway, the Sylvari mage was about to ask if perhaps Wembley should check the doors for traps when the warrior reached out and touched the door.

He blinked at the sudden change in location; they had been transported, all of them, beyond the door. At least they thought it was beyond the door, it could be anywhere really. The mage studied the room and thought the designer of the room's decor needed some help. But before he could finish his investigation, Dudley stepped forward and the strange rolling item zapped him with some kind of light. Before any of them could react, the Cleric as suddenly Dry and clean.

“Fascinating,” Alôndas said appraisingly, “some kind of magical cleaning device.” His tone said that he found the magic behind this device to be astounding.

Taking a step forward as Wembley ran up and cried out to be next, he moved slowly around the room studying everything closely but touching nothing.

Unexpected Hospitality
Gamard had preferred a more cautious approach when examining the door, but not all plans follow according to their original design!

Finding himself in an unexpected room, the Khord Cleric of Solanis chose to position himself in the center, a bit closer to the fire than anywhere else, as it would be fortuitous for at least one of the newcomers, preferably himself, to be in a position of defense, from which he would be able to launch an offensive attack if need be.

Warily observing the 'gizmo' that had begun cleaning and drying the survivors, Gamard was still thankful that that he had taken the time on the beach to strip off his wet clothes, all the while communing with Solanis as his clothes had dried in the chill wind.

Gamard stands alert, ready to sound an alarm, should anyone or anything suddenly appear to be hostile!

He ponders whether or not to use a 'Detect Magic' spell, but decides he can ill afford to waste a precious spell in this unknown environment.

Instead, the Knight of Holy Anger chose to lean comfortably, but alertly, upon his five foot quarterstaff, shod with steel on both ends to make his blunt weapon more deadly against any dark forces, confident that the density of the shaft of his white oak weapon would prove effective against any unknown foes!

Thoroughly surveying their new surroundings, ever mindful of where each of his comrades were positioned, the Knight of Holy Anger broke his silence by vocalizing his yearning thoughts:

"All that is missing is a table loaded with good food and drink for a proper feast now!"

The Cleaning Golem goes after the party members and the wet floor like .... a cleaning tornado. Soon you are all dry as well as your clothing, armour and what little equipment you have. Once you are clean, the device goes back to wandering the room in search for a speck of dust or dirt. No amount of talking or touching it seems to distract it from its path.

The fireplace gives of warmth and light but does not seem to burn fuel – the logs within are decorative only.

Gamard stood alert, thoroughly surveying their new surroundings, the Knight of Holy Anger broke his silence by vocalizing his yearning thoughts:

"All that is missing is a table loaded with good food and drink for a proper feast now!"
Dudley nodded to the Dwarve, “Well that sounds like a good idea. We should take a meal before we proceed. We are clean and dry, why not fed too?”

Crossing the room to the table Dudley pushed the broken cage aside and began setting out the food items he’d found on the beach. Of course he tried the wine to be sure it was good…and by golly…just their luck…..it was!

Unexpected Response
Gamard stood alert, thoroughly surveying their new surroundings, the Knight of Holy Anger broke his silence by vocalizing his yearning thoughts:

"All that is missing is a table loaded with good food and drink for a proper feast now!"

Dudley nodded to the Dwarve, “Well that sounds like a good idea. We should take a meal before we proceed. We are clean and dry, why not fed too?”

Crossing the room to the table Dudley pushed the broken cage aside and began setting out the food items he’d found on the beach. Of course he tried the wine to be sure it was good…and by golly…just their luck…..it was!
Gamard the Grim just blinked his eyes at the response and action that his statement produced from Dudley, as the Cidal prepared to share his sparse supply of food with his fellow survivors.

He had hoped that his statement would have stirred some unknown gizmo to mysteriously produce a great banquet table and feast of fine food and beverage from out of nowhere, but the Khord Cleric of Solanis set aside any disappointment for the moment, grateful for the opportunity to ease the growing growling of his hungry stomach for some kind of proper sustenance, with what supplies were now freely offered.

Stepping forward with a grateful nod to Dudley, the Knight of Holy Anger waited patiently to see just what type of portion would be extended to the survivors from the sparse table.

At least it was better than nothing!

Crow steps forward to be cleaning by the silver thing and appreciates the drying effect of both bow and arrows. At least he had a functional weapon again.

He decided to do a perimeter check of the room. The Closet door was large, oak and bound in steel. The door had no lock on it and when Crow listened closely to it, he heard nothing that sounded like movement or mage. As Dudley was putting out the food, the ranger glanced at the cage but could only figure it was for a small animal like a cat or rodent - and probably for travel. Whatever destroyed it, broke out from within judging by the wreckage.

The cabinet in the corner was a solid construction of metal and was locked. Crow could see through the frosted glass that within were decanters and bottles - perhaps even a few glasses. "If you are looking for spirits for the feast." he said aloud, "I think there are some in here, though the door is locked. I can force it but that may break whatever is inside."

The black openings in the room were a caution to Crow. He picked up a piece of the cage and gently poked the blackness. The piece was swallowed up and the blackness seemed to draw it in - magic portal no doubt.

The final wooden door down the hallway was without a lock and Crow listened carefully. He heard something faint. Could be the wind, or the animal that escaped the cage or something making a low faint moaning.

Mal watched as Dudley the Cidal began his portioning of the food he carried, seemingly happy to share at the Khord's indirect request. The sight of the ham even making the Swashbuckler's mouth water. But his eye was mostly trained on Crow as the Syl searched the various areas of the room, most notably the black entryways and door.

"I'll not be knowin' how your feelin', but personally, I say we take the wooden door when we be ready to leave. Can't be sayin' I be confident the next portal be takin us somewhere as nice as this." He calls, still seated. He had no intention of leaving before everyone was good and ready. Last thing he wanted was them having to fight whatever might be waiting in the shadows AND fighting hunger, thirst, and lack of sleep.
He says nothing to Dudley concerning the food, figuring he would grab some if there was any left after everyone else had their share. Mal had gone without food many times before, and figured he could continue on for another 2 days if he absolutely had to... though he truly hoped he didn't....

The cidal, Wembley, was all ready to help himself to Dudley's offer of food. The fact that many of the others seemed disinterested in the offering seemed all the better to the Pick. But Wembley's ears perked up when Crow spoke up about the lock on the cabinet, his own hunger suddenly on hold.

"A lock?" he questioned in his shrill voice. His hands were already working out his tools. "My great gran always used to say, 'A lock insults the purpose of a door.' And we can't have that."

Turning his attention to the lock, Wembley spoke tenderly to the door, "Don't worry, little door. I'm about to set you free!"

OOC:Wembley attempts to pick the lock.

While others were intent on feeding themselves and picking locks on wine cabinets, Alôndas was excited about the magic that this place exhibited. He walked around studying everything closely, he even studied the little cleaning machine after it had cleaned and dried his robe.

“Fascinating!” He replied again.

He closely examined the magical black portal; he was sure that it went someplace else and was curious to see where it went. He doubted he could talk the others into going through this one. They would no doubt wish to try the more mundane passage of the normal looking door.

“I think,” he said as he looked over at the rest as he stood before the black portal, “we should go this way. The normal door is the obvious choice and therefore most likely the more dangerous one.”

Alôndas turned back to studying the portal and slowly reached out a finger and gently touched the black surface.

(OOC: Hey Cidal's arent the only impulsive ones. )

Wembley works on the lock to the metal cabinet and is able to turn the tumblers with ease. Inside the cabinet are four shelves of decanters of various sizes and shape. There are six that are clear, 4 that are brownish, two blues, a bright green and a dark brown with a lot of green sediment at the bottom. There is one very small bottle as well, a blue glass that is very small, even to a Cidal’s hand. It is wax sealed and has a rubber tear drop on the top suggesting a dropper within.

Alôndas examination of the portal reveals that the darkness does not draw him in for merely touching. The is cool to the touch but other than that, nothing of note. The mage suspects that you have to put yourself through the portal at least halfway before it will activate.

Alôndas sighed, a bit disappointed that the portal didn't take him someplace; he assumed that one needed to insert a bit more of one's body before the portal would pull you in to complete the transference.

Hearing a sound he turned and saw that Wembley opening the cabinet. Walking over the mage looked into the cabinet and examined the bottles.

“You should be careful,” he told the Cidal, “this place has some powerful magic and these potions just might be a bit more powerful than you might think. They could have extreme consequences if consumed.”

Turning away he started to walk away then turned back (A Columbo moment), “Then again, they just might be very beneficial.” He grinned slightly and then continued to examine the rest of the room looking for anything 'unusual'.”

BACKPOST
Crow was happily learning more about Ginger and Mary-Ann’s ‘fascination’ with elves in his cabin on the ship Minnow when things took a turn for the worst. Though it had been rocky sailing for the better part of the day it seemed as if suddenly the ship was being tossed as if a piece of paper in a high wind. As Crow tried to get dressed and gather his gear, he only managed to get his armor on before the ship was torn in two and into the water he and the two very undressed ladies went.

After floating and swimming in the water trying to stay afloat he finally found himself on this island along with five others from the Minnow, unfortunately none of them Ginger or Mary-Ann. After greetings and thanks to the gods for sparing their lives the next few hours the six searched and took what they could from among the wreckage. Crow earning himself a wet bow and five lowly wet arrows. Not very much to survive with but that was for another day as the Elf was thank full to be just alive. Though none of the other survivors found much more then he, they had found within a shallow depression at the center of the island a stone door.

During the course of the next few minutes the discussion of exploring this door and who would be leader was brought up and continued without Crow. The Elf Ranger had no desire to be leader other then scouting and as such could not care less who the leader would be. In the end Crow would listen mostly to himself his instincts and training and whoever the leader became as long as it matched his own thing. So he remained quiet as the rest of this new group discussed things he had no interest in. Only when he was directly approached did he responded.

"I be willin' to take point, if'n you be willin' to guard the rear, Syl You bein' the best armed to help any position, 'specially bein' most o' the others are short enough to shoot over."

“Crow, just Crow and I shall call you Mal, but not Captain. My bow is useless until we can get it dry so you may lead for now. I am used to working on my own so don’t be expecting me to wait for orders though.”

THE PRESENT
The black door after a cautious inspection was deemed unlocked, yet with no handle or way to hold. However as soon as the Fighter Mal touched it they found themselves drawn through the darkness no longer in a stairway but a room.

The room was dark green. The walls covered in gold fabric wall hangings and paintings of wilderness landscapes. A watermelon shaped metal object moving back and forth across the floor in a regular pattern with two stubby legs and feet but no head or arms. Against one wall a simple oak table next to a large corner cabinet of dull metal was placed. On the oak table a wooden cage smashed to pieces. In the other corner the six could see was a wooden closet door. A mirror on the opposite wall could be seen with a very heavy filigreed frame of unfamiliar metals. Two comfortable sofas and two chairs were arranged in front of a fireplace which glows with a fire and gives off a lovely warmth. Across from the fireplace is what looks like a pitch-black doorway, and to the right a sort of hallway leading to yet another black opening. In the hallway as before stood another wooden door.
As Crow thought this Dudley moved towards the fire and warmth as Crow himself had meant to do However as soon as the Cidal cleric moved towards the fire, the silver oval shaped thing spun and turns towards him, moving at speed, or as much speed as its stubby legs could move. But, suddenly, a bright light flashed from the top of the thing and engulfs Dudley in its ray.

*BZZZZZZZZSHHHHH*

The light engulfed him then disappeared leaving Dudley very clean and dry. His clothes, his hair, even the makeshift club he carried is now spotlessly clean. With Dudley dry the silver oval turned and started to move toward the party and the puddle that were forming underneath each. Within moments all six were dry, cleaned, and what small manner of gear they had also very dry. Crow could not help see the usefulness of this cleaning as he was much happier in dry clothing rather then wet. Now nice and dry the Syl Ranger decided to do what he did best… Scout.

He begin to do a perimeter check of the room. The Closet door was large, oak and bound in steel. The door had no lock on it and when Crow listened closely to it, he heard nothing that sounded like movement or mage. As Dudley was putting out the food, the ranger glanced at the cage but could only figure it was for a small animal like a cat or rodent - and probably for travel. Whatever destroyed it, broke out from within judging by the wreckage.

The cabinet in the corner was a solid construction of metal and was locked. Crow could see through the frosted glass that within were decanters and bottles - perhaps even a few glasses. "If you are looking for spirits for the feast." he said aloud, "I think there are some in here, though the door is locked. I can force it but that may break whatever is inside."

The black openings in the room were a caution to Crow. Seeing what had happened with the door that had brought them here he was not one to be careless. He picked up a piece of the cage and gently poked the blackness. The piece was swallowed up and the blackness seemed to draw it in - magic portal no doubt.

The final wooden door down the hallway was without a lock and Crow listened carefully. He heard something faint. Could be the wind, or the animal that escaped the cage or something making a low faint moaning. Not sure of its exact cause he at once brought it to the others attention. Then as the talk turned to more doors then food Crow spoke once more.

“I think before we go through any doors or portals we should eat. There be no telling what we will find behind them. So if there is danger let us not let hunger defeat us.”

With that Crow also waited to see what portion they each would receive.

As Alôndas continued to examine things in the room he spoke aloud, more to the room than to anyone directly, as if trying to figure out something that was trying to come to him.

“This place is brought about by Strong Magic,” he said glancing at the black portal, “very powerful magic. There aren’t many mages who could have done something like this here.”

“You know,” he said suddenly stopping as if something just hit him, “when I was at the academy, there was a story of a great Mage named Putnam who was a very powerful wizard and necromancer. He was obsessed with Amer’loc, the Witch Queen of Sendria, and he tried to challenge her but he was defeated. He escaped and the rumors were that he went into hiding far away from civilization. No one has heard from him sense that great duel.”

“I’ll bet,” he said turning back to the group, “this could be his place. Amer’loc ruled Sendria from an Island so it only makes sense that Putnam would have an affinity for Islands as well; his own island empire, per say.”

“This must be the Isle of Putnam,” he said, a faint tone of awe in his voice, “this could be wonderful, or … we could all die horribly from the traps and great magic which no doubt protect this place.”

He gave a lopsided grin and then turned back to examining the room again, but now he was trying to find any evidence that his assumptions were correct.

“I think before we go through any doors or portals we should eat. There be no telling what we will find behind them. So if there is danger let us not let hunger defeat us.”
Hearing talk of eating, he walked over to the table and grabbed a couple slices of the hard cheese and tore off a hunk of bread and continued his observations as he nibbled.

Possibly the Isle of Putnam?
As Alôndas continued to examine things in the room he spoke aloud, more to the room than to anyone directly, as if trying to figure out something that was trying to come to him.

“This place is brought about by Strong Magic,” he said glancing at the black portal, “very powerful magic. There aren’t many mages who could have done something like this here.”

“You know,” he said suddenly stopping as if something just hit him, “when I was at the academy, there was a story of a great Mage named Putnam who was a very powerful wizard and necromancer. He was obsessed with Amer’loc, the Witch Queen of Sendria, and he tried to challenge her but he was defeated. He escaped and the rumors were that he went into hiding far away from civilization. No one has heard from him sense that great duel.”

“I’ll bet,” he said turning back to the group, “this could be his place. Amer’loc ruled Sendria from an Island so it only makes sense that Putnam would have an affinity for Islands as well; his own island empire, per say.”

“This must be the Isle of Putnam,” he said, a faint tone of awe in his voice, “this could be wonderful, or … we could all die horribly from the traps and great magic which no doubt protect this place.”

He gave a lopsided grin and then turned back to examining the room again, but now he was trying to find any evidence that his assumptions were correct.
Gamard the Grim became even grimmer as his mind began processing the information put forth by Alondas, pondering the possibilities of what this mad mage Putnam may have prepared for any unwanted intrusions into his Sanctum Sanctorum, even if they had arrived here not by their own choice, but by the misfortunes of the storm and their seeking food and shelter!

All the more reason to eat a meal, no matter how meager, before facing the possible perplexing puzzle that may be presented by the mad mage of the Isle of Putnam!