Chapter 1, Day 2: Into the Witchwood

Pawetha leaves the stables and goes to retrieve her pack, left on the side of the path. On her return to the keep, she checks on the body of the minotaur.

"More magical goodies, the staff's holy and the chain shirt and gloves are also glowin'. Anythin' interesting in the books Zaris?"

Pawetha returns to the tower where the rest of the party is. Satisfied that everyone is still alive and that the trap door is open, she decides to investigate the floor above.

OOC: That's perfect. I didn't want to bog down the action in the vault, but I also didn't want to assume that the rest of the keep was secure.

Pawetha draws her short sword and approaches the wooden framework, wary of the scent and cautious for the possibility of undead. Her eyes flit over to the source of the glow as she tries to determine what purpose this... thing... has here.

"Just personal journals by the namesake of the Keep," he says putting the book back down on the table. "I don't think there is anything useful to us though. He mentions needing to take out some giants in the Wood but I can't seem to tell when that was." He frowns and turns back towards the others in the room. "Looks like Xara found a good lot for us."

Zaris looks over the items but doesn't make a move over anything. He's content to use what he already has. "Where should we stash the coins? We could all put our share to good use back in the city."

"I'm going to need a bigger bag if I keep finding things this easily!" I rummage through the shinies. "Hey Kaiakas, that sword's got your name on it!" I divvy out anything else that seems to catch the eyes of my fellow travelor companions.

"Do we want to bring the gold back to the city though? It seems we might have ourselves a base of operations what with the deed ya found." I gesture to the ruins around us "A little masonry, a good cleaning, and we can start really cleaning up the area. Say....where's that gnome gone to? Y'don't think she's found herself some trouble, do ya?"

Slowly, carefully, I grasp the sword's handle and hold it close to my silver eyes, inspecting the blade. After a moment, I snap out of it and excuse myself. "I'll be ... back." I make my way back up through the trap door and gaze upon the oil painting. "Tiamat." I growl the name as I consider this painting and the holy symbol we already found. This doesn't bode well at all. Righteous anger wells up within me. A slow exhale prevents me from screaming.
I find a secluded spot that's hopefully as out of sight as possible, and I begin to pray. Seeking guidance, I commune with Tyr. The hobgoblins, this place, the holy symbol and painting... it all seems to be pointing to something.
There is a growing darkness. It must be stopped.
Realizing my path, I vow to Tyr to vanquish this evil. No matter what.
Suddenly, I'm blinded by a new light coming from my holy symbol. Even closing my eyes, the light bore into my mind. Overwhelmingly bright golden yellow streaked with crimson, the light finally subsided. My holy symbol had changed. Symbols were now etched with perfect precision all around the symbol.
[OOC: The script is Celestial, but Kaiakas doesn't know that language.]

"Hey Corban, check out this magic stick I found on the bugbear. Don't say I never gave you nothing." I hand it over ceremoniously with much bowing. "What do you think, Zaris?"

"I graciously accept your gift, peasant." Corban grabs the want to look it over. "What did he cast on us, anyway?"

"Couldn't tell ya, but it stung. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Pawetha spits. The various pieces of information are starting to fit together in a crude drawing, and she doesn't like how it's starting to turn out.

The ranger decides that the poor sod lashed to the frame deserves better than this, and moves to free the deceased. At the very least, the man deserves to lie down for his rest. She places the corpse as best she can in a respectable position, ignoring the smell and deterioration in her hands.

Pawetha inspects the source of the Continual Flame and ponders the decision of whether or not to take possession. It's a practical and useful item, but the general setup of this keep indicates a greater organization than just a rudimentary band of hobgoblin marauders, and perhaps the absence of the flame may signal to others that something is amiss.

In the end, she decides to leave it where it is, and descends the staircase to the first floor. Pawetha sits cross-legged by the trap door and listens casually, twiddling the end of her fox-fur cloak.

"Zaris, before I forget... these papers may be of interest to you. I'm not much of a reader, and the quality of this drawing won't fetch me much, I'm afraid." I hand him the deed, map, and whatever other loose papers I may have collected.

I begin moving toward Zaris and Xara to see if there's anything I can do to help. I make it two steps before an awful wracking cough overtakes my body, dropping me first to my knees and then again till I fall forward to my hands. Despite it being hostlered, my maul slides off my back shattering on the rough ground before me. In a moment between throat-scraping coughs, I weakly hold up a hand to forestall my companions from offering aid.
A few coughs from deep in my stomach bring up thick black ooze that looks much like the soul stuff that leapt from the foes I slew imbuing me with their temporary strength. The coughing subsides as I spit up the last of the ooze, which greasily coats the remnants of my maul. Green energy coruscates around the ooze and shards growing brighter and brighter in intensity until those looking upon it have to look away or shut their eyes.
When the glare finally dims, I'm sitting weakly holding a large obsidian-black book that seems to emanate malevolence. I wipe a tendril of ooze from my lips and chin throwing it to the ground and shakily get to my feet once more

After the spots from my eyes fade away, I look at Rurik with a mix of confusion and perhaps a little bit of fear. "Rurik, um... did you eat or drink something that you shouldn't have? And what is with that?" I stride over to him and reach out my hand as if to poke the book, but change my mind at the last moment. "Looks ominous. I mean, more ominous than usual. Are you... ok?"

After my moment alone in prayer, I make my way back to the group. I notice a strange green light fading just before I make the last corner. Worried, I raise my new blade ready for whatever I find.
Surprised to see the last bit of light fade from where Rurik sits, I hesitate. "Rurik. What ... what was that?" I have to ask. I have to say those words. Deep inside me, I know it had something to do with the foul power the dwarf wields. One day, my friend, you will be free of your dark master. One way or the other. The uncomfortable thoughts don't sit well with me as I finally lower my blade.