“Mage, you say worry only of myself unless you open door or chest". (Another laugh) “Then what do you call going through the portal that led us here but a door. A door not all of us wanted to enter in the first place. However disregarding any careful thought on your part, you went through it first nonetheless. I’d say I have right to worry, Mage.”
Alôndas's time to chuckle, “While I respect the Cidal's ability with locks and traps, I don't think he is very skilled at determining a trap on a Magical portal. Besides, we have already used one portal to enter the first room, and I had already touched this portal and determined it didn't 'explode' or anything. The only danger would be in where the portal might have taken us; which I felt that any of us would be adequate to test that out by stepping thorough it, so I volunteered. Now, as for not wanting to enter, I did not see anyone push you through the portal. If you had another way out of the room rather than one of the portals, I suggest you should have taken it.”

"As for 'careful thought'," the Mage said to the Ranger as he walked away, "I don't do anything without weighing the possibilities, sometimes the only way to determine the outcome is to take a chance."

Alôndas then grinned slightly and added, “Though, if I do make a mistake that costs me my life, I give you permission to say 'I told you so'.”

(OOC: not trying to be difficult here, but my character is a confident one and since these portals deal with magic, his bailiwick, he sees it as he would know more about it than any other of the party. He feels he is being singled out for doing something that someone would have had to do in the end, enter the portal. Saying that he is being reckless by going where we were all going to have to go anyway, is not going to make any sense to him.)

Dudley passed though the portal just in time to hear the Syls bickering. “I guess we’re lucky to have two such learned Elfs. “ The cleric then looked around the chamber and seeing the stairs, “Well, oh wise ones, shall we go up to where the owner of this place most likely will be or go down to where he most likely hides his evil creations?”

Crow said nothing in return only smiling at the mage when he spoke of dying. The Ranger did not need to say anything for clearly with the mage’s long winded explanation Crow had made his point and won this petty war of words.

However for now until Alôndas learned to better ‘express’ himself he was not worth Crow’s respect or friendship. Good or bad, Crow was what he was, like him, hate him, the Ranger would beg no one for friendship..........

Wembley followed the others in through the portal which deposited the group into what seemed to be the wine cellar.

"Someone likes their drink." Wembley muttered to himself as he searched the room for something interesting.

OOC: Search the room for secret doors or items overlooked first a first glance.
When Dudley wondered out loud which way the group should proceed, the cidal mage piped up, "Well, I'd prefer to greet the master of the house. I'd say let's go up. Though, maybe we should look around this cellar first."

He continued his search, while telling his story, "It reminds me of this ol' dank hole under the Tavern at the Edge of Bayris. That place has such a fine selection of drinks from the five nations and even a few from the Sylvarii kingdoms. Had a serving girl there, Anya, a beautiful loaven from Goodhome... sweet lass with honey brown hair and a delightful apple bottom.

"It was a quick affair... that how she liked her lads. Not fond of long relationships, that one. But what she lacked in faithfulness, she more than made up for in passion."

Wembley grinned with the fond memory, before coming back to the story. "What was I saying? Oh, yes. The Tavern at the Edge of Bayris... it had a cellar like this, stocked full. Anya took me down there one night. The owner had a secret stash, though. A little hidey-hole where he kept the finest bottles. Maybe our host has a little hidey-hole too..."

After searching the room and as the group prepares to move on, Wembley pipes up, "Hey! Do you think we should try going back though the portal we just came through? Just to see if it brings us back the way we came?"


OOC: I'm searching, but if there is nothing of interest beyond the bottles, I'm good to move on. I vote going up, but will be fine with either option.

Although there being no real other avenue to go than the portals, the party was perplexed as to which one to take until one of them decided to make a leap of faith and go through. Even once the party did make it through intact, words were spoken in anger and derision as men of action are prone to do when faced with no foe and nowhere to go.

Alôndas looked at the bottle in his hand. It had a silver and orange label with a foreign writing on it.

Stolichnaya Premium Vodka 100 Proof
Looking over the shelves, it appeared that all the bottles were vodka of many different brands and varieties. Some bottles were extremely dusty while others were not.

Wembley searched the room, looking for secret doors or a mechanism to open a wall but found nothing of interest. In the course of examining the shelves he realizes the shelves are organized by brand alphabetically, the by proof He also noted however that some of the bottles had been removed, there were signs of recent removal of bottles in the dust. The ones missing were of the highest proof.

Suddenly, there was movement from the stairs leading down into this room. A figure leaps into the room, clad in black from head to toes and landing with the grace and poise of a cat. He says nothing but raises a sword made of wood over his head and charges at Alôndas, moving at incredible speed. As soon as he starts to move, the candles in the room all extinguish themselves and you are plunged into darkness.

Mal continued to watch the little spat between the Syls, keeping his racist comments to himself. He understood where both were coming from, he supposed, and thinking back, he was glad Alan had done what he had done. Had it been left to the Swashbuckler, they would have been standing in that room back through the portal for a very long time.
But, what was done was done, and Mal was just happy that there were no portals that he could see on the stair cases.

"Seems we mostly be agreein' then. Up them stairs we-" He cut off as, quite suddenly, a figure appeared from the staircase they were planning on acsending, clothed in black, and holding a.... wooden sword? The swashbuckler grinned as he raised his Saber, though his mirth was short lived as the candles all blew out, leaving him in utter darkness.

Growling, knowing this changed things, he simply threw himself forward towards the last place he had seen the Syl mage, hoping to take the strike before it hit Alan. He didn't know what this black-clad man was capable of, but he guessed that he had more chance of surviving the blow than the frail magic-weaver....

((Actions: Attempt to cover Alan, and take the strike to myself. 50% hoping to block Alan, 50% hoping to make myself the prime target, carrying a sword an all, and make the ninja dude decide to purposely hit me instead.))

Alôndas acted instinctively seeing the man dressed in black with a … was that a wooden sword? ... bearing down on him quickly; as the room was plunged into darkness he threw the bottle in his hands in the direction of his attacker. He grasped his staff in both hands as he took a single step backwards and lowered his long stave parallel with the floor pointed towards where he had last seen his attacker. He was surprised that the ‘man’ didn’t register with his infravision; that meant he also was possibly an undead.

(OOC: Ok, his Armor spell is still in effect from when he cast it back with the rats. He is basically moving back and jabbing his staff out like a lance hoping the attacker will run into it. The staff being wood, it doesn’t have a heat signature either, so I wouldn’t think he could see it.)

Let There Be Light
Gamard the Grim was alert for anything out of the ordinary, as the Knight of Holy Anger surveyed the room, then focused upon the portal, ready to dispel any dark force that would follow the survivors with intent to harm!

Suddenly, the wine cellar went pitch black, as a smothering darkness engulfed the group!

Gamard swiftly turned in a half circle to his left, gripping his staff in his left hand, as he stretched forth his right arm in a sweeping gesture, in an effort to cast a 'Light' spell to reveal any hidden danger!

"Darkness Be Gone!"
(((Gamard then assumes an offensive stance with his quarterstaff in both hands, ready to strike any revealed foe!)))

"Vodka," Wembley said, as he finished examining another shelf of bottles. "Vodka, vodka, vodka... someone has got a lot of love for the drink. Whoever set this up even arranged the bottles by their proof content. That's a bit much, if you ask me."

The cidal sighed. Not much of a story here, he thought to himself. Maybe I could make up a song... Oh! Yes! Something like... ninety-nine bottles of vodka on the shelves, ninety-nine bottles of vodka... nah... that will never catch...
The sudden appearance of the man in black brightened up cidal's face.
"Hullo there, good fellow!" But the man in black seemed more intent on Alan the mage. Perhaps I should have checked for traps... The lights in the room sudden went out. Ugh... the syl's not gonna let me hear the end of this.
Wembley moved towards the wall, trying to make his way over to the portal they had entered through. Perhaps there's something there that can help us. And maybe the man in black won't follow. And at least there's light back there and a warm fire...
OOC:Wembley is trying to move silently back towards the portal we came through.

The words between the Syls had barely faded when a black clad figure leapt in to the room. It raised a wood sword.

There must have been some magic in that old wooden sword he bore, because when he placed it over his head the candles were lit no more.

Dudley noted to it seemed hidden it the dark, his vision did not reveal a heat image as if it were not a living creature. As he prepared to cast little light on the subject he heard Gamard,"Darkness Be Gone!".
Lucky he didn't cast, there was no need for two spells of light.

Pulling out his little club he stepped to his right just in case they needed to dash down the stairs to get out of the room.

With the appearance of the ninja looking warrior with his wooden sword Crow at once brought up his bow but with only 5 arrows he held his fire. Though complete darkness had fallen in the room he was unaffected thanks to his infrarvision. As he looked for the best shot he noticed Wembly move towards the portal they had entered by. Deciding with his limited ammo that retreat was possibly a better choice he moved to cover the Cidal thief as he inched his way to the portal. If Wembly was able to enter it safely Crow would not be far behind.

The room was plunged into darkness. Alôndas threw the bottle at the attacker and took a step back while lower his staff. There was jarring against his arm as his staff was hit, but from the side instead of the front, and there was a sound like wood striking the stone floor.

Mal leaped forward to defend the mage from certain...wooden sword thrashing. He took a blow to his face but hit nothing but air with his sabre.

Gamard the Grim called forth to his God and was rewarded with a light spell illuminating the room from the end of his staff. But just as he did though, the candles relit themselves again as they had when you entered the room.

The man in back lies on his back, unmoving. He is no longer holding his wooden sword (it lies on the ground beside him) but is clutching the bottle of vodka that Alôndas threw in both hands, tight to his chest. It appears that he dropped his sword in order to save the bottle from smashing.

The blow to Mal was actually from the mage’s staff that he ran into as he jumped forward. Luckily, his pride is hurt more than he is, except a bit of redness around the face. Somehow his hat remained on his head though.

The Man in black lies still. He is not moving. He is not breathing as far as you can see (no chest movement).

Wembley stop himself before going out the portal now that light had returned. Crow wisely decided to hold the fire of his bow instead of firing arrows blind into a crowd. Dudley stands by the stairs down, with club in hand.

Alôndas held onto his staff when it was struck; he was surprised when the blow came from the side, but he saw someone in his infravision lunge in-front of him and realized someone had come to his aid and ran into his staff.

Suddenly the lights all came back on; light from Gamard's staff and all the candles in the room. He blinked and looked down at the figure of the man in black clutching the bottle tightly in his hands.

“Fascinating!” he exclaimed.

Looking at Mal standing close to him, the Mage looked at the mark on his face which didn't appear too bad.

“Are you alright?” he asked, “I appreciate the thought of coming to my aid but you shouldn't rush forward into danger when you can't see where you are going.”

“Seems our 'friend' here,” he said glancing back down at the still form of the Man in black, “has a mission to protect this stash of spirits. Maybe we should refrain from removing any more bottles for now.”

Examining the still form of the man he reaches up and absently strokes his chin in thought.

“I am not sure this thing is alive,” he says after a few moments, “probably some sort of magical construct or servant assigned to this cellar. Fascinating!”

If the man doesn't move or attack them, Alôndas turns to the others after looking at the other two exits from the room.

“Up might be a more interesting and safer choice,” he said finally, “the lower levels of a Necromancer's abode are usually reserved for more 'unsavory' things.”

He waited for the decision and then fell in line behind the more heavily armored fellows where he could assist if necessary.

As the light filled the room Dudley was revealed grasping his hard firm belaying pin. His hand felt the smooth round end that he would use to drive home the force of his passionate attack.

There on the floor lay the black clad minion was motionless as it held the bottle the mage had been fondling. Dudley listened to Alônda as he spoke of leaving the room. Then carefully stepping around the creature on the floor he walked the stairs that led up. "Well Wembley, do you care to lead the way?"

Mal rubs his face tenderly as the light comes back on to reveal the man in black laying on the floor, cradling a bottle.

“Are you alright?” the mage asked, “I appreciate the thought of coming to my aid but you shouldn't rush forward into danger when you can't see where you are going.”

The Swashbuckler nods, moving his hand from his face. "I be fine..." He answers simply.

“Seems our 'friend' here,” Alan continued, glancing back down at the still form of the Man in black, “has a mission to protect this stash of spirits. Maybe we should refrain from removing any more bottles for now.”

“I am not sure this thing is alive,” he says after a few moments, “probably some sort of magical construct or servant assigned to this cellar. Fascinating!”

“Up might be a more interesting and safer choice,” he said finally, “the lower levels of a Necromancer's abode are usually reserved for more 'unsavory' things.”

Mal nods. "I agree. Besides, I be havin' no interest in droppin' deeper into the bowels of this damnable hell pit." He growls, and looks down at the dark being. "But how're we knowin' this thing'll not be followin' us?" He adds, raising his sword threateningly, but not advancing on the fallen warrior.