Tomb of No Return Doom Crew

@Cyrus Darsel | @Bridget Collins | @Johannes Sauer

Sweet! The most recent job that had come across his desk did not require travel far and abroad. Not that Howard really minded having to go different places for work. It kept things fresh. His worse nightmare was a desk job that would keep him cooped in a office for the rest of his working days, but considering pest removal wasn’t really his profession, maybe this could just be an easy stack of galleons his way. Howard had been operating his own tracking service out of London for a while now and while the work was steady he was in no place to pass up an easy gig.

Famous last words…

When he entered the makeshift tavern, Howard felt at ease. His work had brought him to many a seedy places as he tracked down this person or that, so large spools for tables and milk crates for seats presented no problem. However, as the crusty old man waved him down his eyes would be drawn to the elder’s dinner plate. Perhaps a proper supper was out of the question as the piece of bread looked older than he. No problem though. The blood vial in his satchel would sustain him just fine.

Howard listened as their employer laid out a few details. His crimson eyes drifted to the other guy present. Duck embroidered jumper? Not his choice of style, but Howard did enjoy those bold enough to properly represent themselves. Hopefully this guy was a proper adventurer. “Sup?” A wordsmith the Dhampir was not. “I’ll just have a whiskey.” A little liquid courage to help face whatever creature needed removing. Howard would engage in a bit of conversation if any was provided, but he kept his head on a swivel to keep an eye out for Bridget. She should be meeting him here soon enough.

Potion Inventory:

1. Wit Shapening Potion
2. Vitamix Potion
3. Exstimulo Potion

@Cyrus Darsel | @Howard White | @Johannes Sauer

The job drawing Bridget back to London was a rather odd one, in her opinion. She wasn't exactly in the business of filling odd jobs like side quests -- she had just the one job as a duellist based in Cork, and occassionally tagged along if Howard needed a hand with his much more adventurous line of work -- and she wouldn't normally find herself in this sort of tavern, more a thrown-together setting than any sort of establishment. But Howard was here, too, and she was off her day job, so she might as well make some easy, if odd, galleons.

(She was more suspicious than she was letting on, really. Carelessly brushing things off as odd was a good way to stumble right into a mess, but she also knew she was predisposed to being a bit paranoid and she'd rather not overreact to what very well might be an honest request. She settled for an extra healthy dose of minding her surroundings.)

It was a good night for staying in, the rain catching the streetlights on its steady downpour. Bridget had compensated for the weather with a black raincoat over her favorite forest green cargo jacket, hood drawn up until she stepped inside. Water rolled down her boots to track in on the soles, potions clinked lightly in the small bag she was wearing under her coat, and her wand was secured in its normal holster at her belt. She was ready for... a rat infestation? Bridget was a good person for the job if the man wanted humane removal, decidedly less so if he had anything else in mind; cemetery rats were quite different from her rats, warm and soft and probably sleeping contently in their enclosure right now, but she still had a bit of a soft spot for them. Nevertheless, it sounded pretty straightforward, and the old man's lack of rush eased her worry that this was anything sinister.

Bridget smiled at Cyrus, briefly. He was familiar from the broom race, but only in passing, and evidently the sort of person to wear a duck-spotted jumper. Maybe they'd get to know each other better while on rodent removal; for now, she stuck to her flatmate. "Hey. Sounds simple enough?" If anyone knew whether they were in for a weird night, it was Howard. This was his scene more than it was hers, at least after his last chunk of the year 0n his tracking job, though she doubted any of them qualified as skilled pest control. "I'll have a cider." Might as well get something from the bar while she was here, she just hoped it was as cheap as this place looked like it should be.

Potions: Erumpent Potion, Bruise Removal Paste, Weakness Potion

Banner Credit: Prat Pass

threading as Johannes Sauer

outfit reference

speaking in english unless specified

To answer, or not to answer wizarding scam mail? Previously so attached to a physical network of passed messages and still now somewhat used to pre-sorted mail, Johannes hadn’t realised the horrors of junk mail until he’d left Durmstrang. Paperwork he could at least understand—it was the backbone of Germany’s everything—but what was the point of a mailbox if half its contents pre-destined themselves to the shredder? He hadn’t even thought about coming back to London before Cyrus contacted him about it, all nice and excited to revisit the city that haunted Johannes in flashes of rare summer sun and spilt syrup. If he were any more reasonable, he would have blacklisted the whole British Isles (good job, Wales, for being comparatively unproblematic wizarding-wise) as soon as he’d been handed the reins of international travel.

But it’d been a while since he’d spoken to his friend, longer still since they’d really hung out. Things were busy, so much worse now post-graduation, and he missed the simplicity of a little side-quest. The polite professional talk of colleague-conversation just wasn’t the same.

Besides, what was the harm in going if Cy was? His friend was chronically distracted, but a good, often reliable man. Knowing him, Cyrus would probably go anyway just to make sure things were alright, and there was nothing worse than regret when it came to wizarding affairs. They were adults now. ZBMed wasn’t even open on weekends. They were sort-of not-really getting the gang back together (or at least the two with valid government ID and real responsibility), and the last time they were in London was probably the most ‘fine’ time he’d had ever had in the city, period. There was literally nothing stopping him other than his own prejudices against the city. If Cyrus wanted help for a job, no matter how minor or strange it seemed, Johannes would take the bait as he would for any of his own and offer some without question.

They’d done some minor stakeouts of the city several hours ago, not long enough to really do much but sightsee, but Cyrus had already split off. All Johannes had to do now was find him again in this pouring rain and hopefully not get run over. Growing closer to the designated location, he shook out his magical umbrella, tucking his wand back in its holster and ducked into the makeshift tavern.

And maybe, perhaps, he shouldn’t have come by so late if he didn’t want to get swept up in the chaos. This was the kind of establishment Johannes would have warned other people against passing by the alleyway, let alone entering the building itself. People probably went exclusively for cheap beer—except literally anywhere else in Central Europe could do better—and saltwater-logged bar fries. The first time he’d read Moby Dick, he’d imagined the Spouter Inn something like this, though it seemed that inflation had forced even harpoons to be traded out for milk crates. Had a friend not been expecting him, Johannes would have probably jumped ship immediately, but a concerning number of wizards didn’t know about horror movie tropes, and he wasn’t about to abandon Cy before things got weird.

Ah, there he was. Waved over to a quieter corner, Johannes nodded first in greeting to the other two gathered (they both seemed vaguely familiar, though he couldn’t put his finger on it) before knocking elbows with his friend. An old man sat in front of them, wrung out as anything, as they listened in on the absolutely riveting details (read: ominous soliciting) on their current job.

Rodent problems, really? Johannes cast a dubious look over the old man’s terrible dinner of stale bread, Cyrus’s cutely embroidered sweater and everyone’s slick raincoats. Right, because the rain was going to bring all of the little rats out of hiding, and their ragtag group were definitely competent “outside help” that could traipse into a poorly-maintained (no offence, but full offence if it was infested) cemetery. This wasn’t Silent Hill: Downpour.

There was a terrible chill in the air that he didn’t like, one that likely caught in the old man’s throat like sandpaper, but, fuck, he wasn’t so mean as to ignore such direct desperation. Fine, sure, they’d probably do as good a job as any.

In truth, he had already eaten, and he’d been late finishing a coffee right before he arrived, but Johannes didn’t want to stand around watching the old man’s dinner while everyone else took the offer. Newly attached at the hip amid a crowd of strangers, he gamely followed Cyrus as the other went to order. If they had anything better than sliced bread or expired peanuts, he’d be surprised.

Loitering, Johannes moved to lean up against the wall, or perhaps steal a stool, but another look at the foamy, overflowing mugs and rowdy patrons almost made him feel bad for dissing the place so much. As scary as the tin roof sounded in keeping out the rain, the place was probably some people’s favourite fucking place. The old waitress looked, relatably, like she was trying to get through the day without a drink in the face or a twisted ankle. Yeah, they were there to take care of some rodents in the rain like the Scooby Crew, but it wasn’t as if they’d get nothing out of it. If they didn’t leave pursued by feral London rats, they’d at least have a story to tell these people.

Fortunately for his good leather jacket, “almost” remained the key word here, and that wariness didn’t run the risk of sticky residues or food and drink poisoning. Cyrus and co. could order anything they wanted, but Johannes preferred to put his money where his mouth was, and neither seemed very trustworthy in their current establishment. This close to the bar, maybe it was better if he didn’t sit down… The old man expected them soon, anyway, and he was just here to see his friend out safe and the job done.

Action: Entering and Listening in, Being Judgemental (free)

Potions: Revive Potion | Calming Draught | Jawbind Potion

Their “employer” who was already a little too eager to get the party moving after the last person arrived raised his eyebrows and looked around, these kids really expected to get actual service here, huh? He had thought he’d done a bang up job constructing this place in such a short notice and in the rain no less, however, he did say they could actually order. He sat back down making a show of how obviously old and broken he was. Just so very old. Very well, the children want their snackies.

The duck boy was rather conflicted looking with his blue raincoat, duck jacket, and combat boots. He obviously didn’t know who he was yet but it was apparent that no one would miss him. Not sure why you would come to London and order a hamburger but he seemed to nod absently and the waitress came over with the moldiest, soggiest looking slop of meat cheese and bread that the whippersnapper might have ever seen. It was definitely not something anyone should ingest! The old man gave this guy a look as if to say “be careful what you wish for.” He wasn’t even sure if he got close to the approximation of a burger whatever that was.

The next man, he was happy to see, was a serious bloke, perhaps a little pale like he didn’t know what the sun was but that was most of the English anyway. There was a brief moment where he thought he might have been had but this young man also seemed none-the-wiser. Poor simpletons. A whiskey, however, was something that could be arranged. With another spasmed gesture that could have been mistaken for a nod, the woman came back, this time with growing impatience. A whiskey half materialized, and half slid from the woman’s hand in a facsimile of service. It smelled off as if it was aged in a barrel used to store paint thinner. What else could one expect from a place that looked like this. He could only do so much!

The old man looked around and saw a weary stranger come in. It was odd to see a woman out alone in an establishment like this. It wasn’t safe for these two let alone a girl by her lonesome. He made a gesture that half resembled a gentleman as he attempted to get up to move the chair for her but his “age” kept him seated. He waved his hand as if helping her wasn’t worth his time after all. “Quite simple,” he agreed with her, at least it will be simple to get them once they are out of this mess. She wanted a cider. Interestingly it was something they actually had that wasn’t made in a hurry out of sludge from a nearby drain. The woman barely acknowledged them as an actual honest to goodness cider sloshed when it hit the table. The things he did to get a group of young blood all in one spot.

Finally, the last of the group arrived. At this point the old man was visibly sweating as if he was exerting himself beyond his capacity. Luckily for him, this newcomer didn’t actually order anything and just sat around waiting. Someone with sense enough not to order from this piss poor excuse for a room. When everyone had their fill of god-he-hoped-no-one-ate-anything-here, he finally got up and addressed everyone. “Well, now that that is out of the way. Come come come. It is going to be a long night if we don’t get going.”

He hastily, cane in hand, beckoned them to follow him out into the storm. He was looking a grip on this whole charade and needed to get them moving or else they wouldn’t get what they needed from these sad sacks.

Crossing the street would prove a difficult feat in it’s own right. The road bisecting their destination was flooded to the ankles. Good thing at least one was wearing combat boots after all! If the gang were to follow him, they would need to make their own way across the street and as they approached the dilapidated gate of the graveyard lightning struck in the sky conspicuously as each crossed its threshold.

Once inside the graves on all sides were overgrown with vines and various vegetation. The weather and the dark of night made it almost impossible to decipher any of the gravestones as they passed down a rather hastily cleared walkway, more dirt than cobbles. There was an eeriness that was palpable. They took a turn down a tight corridor of tombs that crammed together on either side and fog inexplicably started to roll under their feet. One instance, if they were paying attention, there seemed to be a tomb with a sleeping angel on it, in a flash of lightning, it made it seem like a demon instead. Under a covered archway and past a grave that had a stone dog laid sadly over the cover later, they arrived at a central mausoleum. It was the only building not covered with moss and weeds and lit up with torches on each column.

“Right this way!” He said, almost excitedly as he motioned for them to enter first.’’

You enter the tomb and are greeted with four torches, one on each wall, illuminating the rather small, what looks like a foyer. On all the walls hang chains spaced just perfectly to hang a body on, yet none are occupied…yet. If you look closer you will see that there are just enough spaces to accommodate our adventurers!

North

Beside the torch there is a gated doorway that, by the torches low light, you could make out an adjoining hallway. On the other side of the door, there is a message scrawled on the wall, seemingly etched with some sort of knife in the stonework of the tomb.

South

This is where you entered, as soon as all of our fearless members enter, it swiftly collapses into rubble and then, as if you dreamed entering, the rubble clears and you are left with your backs to a smooth wall as if there was never any entrance at all.

East

There is an orb on this wall, made of crystal. What you do with it? You don’t yet know. There must be a hint around here somewhere?

West

A suspicious looking moth flutters around the torch on this wall and makes laps around the chains. Aside from this moth, there is not a single animate thing moving.

DUNGEON RULES
(will add or subtract as rooms require - please read carefully at the beginning of each round)

1. In each room you are granted two actions per person per round.
2. You may perform a room action: search, open, talk (to any non-party member), door (interact).
3. You may perform a casting action of any spell that is in your trunk.
4. Some puzzles and enemies will need you to perform certain room actions and others will need you to cast before you can progress.
5. There is more than one way to explore this tomb. You may follow room instructions, if provided, or you may find your own way to cast your way through the tomb. The choice is yours and yours alone.
6. Unless noted in instructions, the walls cannot be messed with. If you could blast your way out of a dungeon then it wouldn’t be much of a dungeon.
7. You will have your chance to escape throughout this journey if you are coward enough to run.
8. The next round will be posted April 8th or after everyone has submitted their actions.

The Doom Crew

Reducio

@Cyrus Darsel, @Howard White, @Bridget Collins, @Johannes Sauer

@Cyrus Darsel | @Bridget Collins | @Johannes Sauer | @Makaio Kāne

Howard shot Bridget a quick smile and a nod of his head in greeting. They had become friendly with each other as flat mates, but the real bond between them had been forged as allies on some of his many adventures. When you're in the thick of it with someone and they've got your back, like 'em or not it brings you closer together. Fortunately for Howard, he liked Bridget just fine, so the journey from acquaintance to friend had been an easy transition. "Should be a piece of cake. If we can take down a couple poachers a few rats won't be a problem. We'll round 'em up and move them somewhere safe." He too had no interest in destroying these creatures. His training for becoming a tracker had covered the Care of Magical Creatures, so hopefully that would translate to some cemetery rats. Howard finished with a shrug, they'd figure something out.

Ordering food was definitely a mistake and Howard soon found out that the whiskey wasn't much better. "Yikes." He pulled a face as he downed the liquor, but at least it came with that familiar warming sensation in his belly. Loose and limber, just enough to take a little edge off, but without alluding the mind. "Let's get it done." Howard would follow the old man out into the storm.

It very much seemed like the scene of some cheap muggle horror movie. The rain lashed down on them with the lightning providing the perfect moments for a jump scare. Even a bit of fog swirled around their ankles as they made their way through to the central mausoleum. Howard didn't scare easy, but he was suddenly very happy to have back up this evening.

"What the..." A series of expletives left Howard's lips when the group entered the tomb and the entryway collapsed behind them. This pest removal was quickly beginning to seem rather dangerous! "Did that bastard knock the wall down!" He searched the way they came in for any sign of getting back through, but to no avail. "Completely blocked!" Howard took a deep breath and began to circle the room. Near the northern side of the room he could see it led to a hallway and his sharp eyes picked up on some writing scratched into the wall. "There is a way through here. Somethin' written on the wall here too."

Potion Inventory:

1. Wit Shapening Potion
2. Vitamix Potion
3. Exstimulo Potion

Actions:

1. Talk to group.
2. Attempt to read the writing on the wall.

Stats:
STA - 17 | EVA - 21 | STR - 17 | WIS - 1 | ARC - 0 | ACC - 21

Abilities:
Fangs, Claw & Bite | Martial Artist | Unsettling Aura | Blindvision | Keen Smell | Terrible Presence | Blood Resurrection

Howard reads the following letter to the group:

How many times are we going to have to reset this mechanism? What is the point of keeping people out if we have to keep this gate unlocked all the time? Seriously. I will not repeat myself. Post it up somewhere so the others won’t forget but don’t make it obvious so others can get in. I shouldn’t have to be writing instructions to a bunch of idiots…where did I find you guys. I will even underline it for you - DO NOT LOSE THIS PIECE OF PAPER!

To keep you bozos from turning the gate into sand again - seriously why have a door at all! - I have placed a dart somewhere in this area, you’ll just have to use your brains to figure out where it is hidden. Use it to hit the orb on the wall and it will unlock the door. Remember: hitting it with anything else will result in it producing a random spell as a countermeasure.

I don’t know how much easier I can make it for you. I shouldn’t have to say this but I will: please stop disappointing me or you all will be sacrificed next! Honestly…the things I put up with in the name of the pursuit of eternal longevity.

Yours,
Mastermind

banner by pericles dralt!

• Search the area near the moth.
• Cast the Spell-Detection Spell (Specialis Revelio) on the moth

Cyrus the Cautious Cackling Goose

After Howard, the fearless Dhampir, traipsed half-hazard across the room — could have been boobytrapped for all he knew — and read the very dangerous and threatening letter, the first to respond was Cyrus. When he had finished his attempt at a tight-5, he seemed quite suitably shocked about the prospect of being turned into sacrifices, even hinting the 19 year old wasn’t young enough…it’s a blood cult not cradle robbers, we they have morals!

At any rate, it didn’t take long for the duckman to find the first key to the puzzle. He had properly sussed out that there was something odd about the solitary moth hanging out on one of the walls. Even though anyone could feel the magical power come off him as if the air around him vibrated with energy, he was a cautious one and would not be done in so easily. Fearing that this was a well constructed trap (memo to self: next time make well constructed traps), he cast the spell detection…spell “Specialis Revelio” (WDC 10; 1d20+11 = 15; Pass). Instead of revealing some kind of barrier or curse, something that a true mastermind will surely think of next, Cyrus revealed telltale iotas fluttering about the butterfly.