Act 1. I've got your back

The southern door is unlocked. You descend into a large chamber with vaulted ceilings.

The walls here are lined with rusted brackets and shattered glassware—tubing, coils, flasks, and jars all coated in a thin film of crystalline residue.

Two large worktables dominate the space, each strewn with collapsed alchemical rigs and notes scorched beyond recognition.

Metal pipes run along the ceiling, some cracked open with jagged edges. A lingering scent—sharp, bitter, and strangely sweet—still clings to the air.

In the far corner, a lot of rubble has spilled from what looks like a partial cave-in, burying what may have once been a third workstation. Among the debris, the glint of shattered crystal and twisted brass tubing suggests something volatile was crushed beneath. Occasionally, a faint hiss escapes the rubble, followed by a brief flicker of pale blue light that dances like a dying flame before vanishing.

To your left, a rusted cabinet hangs partially ajar, its contents spilled across the floor—shattered vials, dried reagents, and a scorched leather satchel bearing an unfamiliar sigil. Dust motes drift lazily in the filtered light from a grated vent above, casting shifting shadows that almost seem to move with purpose.

A faded symbol has been chalked onto the floor near the center of the room, barely visible beneath a layer of grime.

There is also a heavy door set into the eastern wall, partially obscured by hanging pipes and a collapsed length of ductwork.

Grusk, I won't speak for the others but I'd be happy with some repair work from time to time and maybe a custom weapon down the road.

"My request is longer term. If we secure this place. Take me on as an apprentice. I'll help ye fulfill commissions. Learn what I can from the work, an' if we turn a profit, I'd appreciate a reasonable cut of it."

Orryn steps around the various shattered implements towards the scorched leather satchel, taking a few sniffs of the acrid air to determine if the gases in the room were familiar and more importantly, dangerous.

"If the clickin' thing is some sort of construct. There could be a control mechanism. A phrase, or perhaps some physical item. Heck, might be that unexplored room holds what we need. This is mostly gatherin' information. If the thing attacks us. We just unleash our best at it an' hope it can't withstand for long. I'm confident we will sort this out one way or another."

He stops infront of the satchel, looking about the room's ceiling.

"Mind if I have a look clickin' thing?"

He reaches for the bag, listening for any sudden metallic objection.

Orryn paused, wrinkling his nose as he carefully inhaled the lingering fumes. Bitter. Sweet. There seemed to be nothing dangerous on the worktables, but he hadn’t touched or examined anything yet.

Ignoring those for now, he moved forward, boots crunching softly over bits of shattered vials and powdered glass, and crouched beside the scorched leather satchel. The sigil on its flap—worn and unfamiliar—was marked with a half-moon over a bubbling cauldron, singed at the edges but intact. His fingers hovered over the strap.

All around, silence. No hiss. No click. No whisper of metal limbs in motion.

Legolas takes time to glance over the worktables and fixates on rubble as he tries to illustrate the cave-in process.

It may seem like elf ignored Grusk, but he didn't. Once certain of no immediate dangers Legolas turns to Grusk and explain What's your terms of telling the job is done? What if clearing the place cause the release of that Barundal Hornrock and he claims the place still belongs to him? What's Orryn's reward?

Elf pause to wait for Grusk to process the message he is trying to deliver and then comes closer and whispers: I'm from The Emerald Enclave. If you respect our goals and wouldn't mind to cooperate my cooperation is a free will of mine.
Alternatively I would accept half of the amount you paid last one in advance. 25 that is. he adds in voice.

"Fine by me. Now let's figure this mess out."

Orryn picks up the satchel, running a thumb over the embroidery before opening the flap to check for any discernable contents.

"Something definitely went wrong here. I wonder if this is why Hornrock went missing."

Zyra will explore the heavy door in the easter wall checking to see if it is locked or if there are any traps.

Done and Done Grusk. I'll have a look at this door, while Orryn looks around.

Legolas approaches the partial cave-in. Listening to the occasional hiss he asks Grusk, have you got a shovel and some buckets? There must be something beneath. after some consideration he corrects himself there may be

Zyra approached the eastern door. She crouched beside the corroded iron lock, eyes narrowing as her fingers traced the seams around it. Just to the right, half-hidden beneath grime and rust, she found it—a recessed mechanism built flush into the stone. Unlike the brutal simplicity of most locks, this was subtle, with tiny interlocking panels that clicked faintly when touched. No trap, no wires, just a clever switch that likely controlled the locking mechanism.She could force it open, if she wanted.

Across the chamber, Orryn hunched over the blackened satchel, its charred edges still warm. His thumb traced the scorched crest—half-moon over a bubbling cauldron—then slid the flap open. Inside, fragile vials clinked like ghostly bells, glowing with unstable light. The air shimmered. Energy coiled. Then—

A blue spark snapped from the satchel—lightning made curious—and leapt to a jagged shard of metal on the ruined workbench and then to a pile of red dust.Volatile dust.

---

BOOM.

The chamber detonated.

The workbench vanished in a cyclone of fire and shrapnel. Alchemical flame surged outward in a blinding wave of white-blue heat, rolling like a tidal force across the stone floor. Residual chemicals ignited in a vicious chain reaction—powders, glass, essence—all erupting in a perfect storm.

A second, deeper explosion ripped through the ceiling, bursting ancient pipework apart. Shards of stone and molten iron rained from above.

The room vanished in a choking storm of fire and dust. Everything went white.

End of Act 1