The Gaming Den

Gorman attempts to tilt the urn with the ten-foot pole, and finds it is very heavy, despite the small size. There is the shift and clink of metal-on-metal and metal-on-clay as the urn tilts. When the spider-shaped opening is finally tilted far enough for the light of the torch to shine inside, there is the white flash of metal reflecting back at Gorman and Urlik.

White flash? Poke the metal with the ten-foot pole to confirm our suspicion that it's electrum.

The lid falls off. A handful of coins fall out. One rolls in a long, lazy curve to spin flat at Gorman's feet. He picks it up, sniffs it, and licks it. His ears start to burn.

Platinum.

Loot it all and level up!

Gorman gets 100 platinum pieces [+1,000 XP]

So we're a swordsman now, right?

Try the south door.

Darth Rabbitt wrote:

Shrapnel wrote:Well, that's... urnexpected. AHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH I kill me.

Anywhy. I second Sly's approach.

You already did that one in this LP, and it was terrible then.

I did? Fuck.

I can't be expected to remember or keep track of all the stupid things I say.

The southern exit from Room 13 opens into a passage going East-West.

Try the other door from this room.

Room 15
The eastern exit from Room 13 leads to a square 30 foot by 30 foot room. There are three exits, two on the opposite (Eastern) wall, and one to the right (South).

In the center of the room is a throne of stone, with a lectern attached to it upon which is chained a book. You can see little of the man who sits in it, for his head is concealed by a smooth, rounded, open-faced helmet; and his lower face is covered by a large black beard shot through with silver. A jeweled dagger of Dwarvish make is thrust through the sash that binds his black silken robe, upon which is faintly embroided stars, moons, and other symbols. Upon his left hand is a weighty ring, in the shape of a thrice-coiled serpent,

"I have been waiting for you...Gorman," the voice rasps as though the throat had been cut at least once. "Serve me well, and the rewards will be great."

"Whoa, now... who the fuck are you?"

"Imanor," Urlik spat, flexing his claws. "The Enchanter!"

"Do not speak out of turn, troll," the seated figure raised one hand and made a wizardly gesture. "There are worse fates than the pit where last I bound you!"

Oh, forgot about this...um...fight the enchanter, but someone come up with something cool to say first?

I'm down for attacking, but can't think of anything suitable to say.

How about “No fate is worse than YOURS, Imanor!” while charging him.

"Imanor? More like 'I'm a bore', amirite?"

Not Gorman's Best Idea
Gorman charges, magic sword held ready to stab the seated enchanter, something crushingly clever on his lips...and then he trips and stumbles, suddenly having far too many legs.

The sword clatters to the floor. The armor suddenly does not fit, tangling about Gorman's chest. The enchanter looms above him, grinning evilly. Gorman opens his mouth to utter a curse...a battlecry...

...and all that comes out is a goat's bleat.

"Now, stout fellow." Imanor strokes his greasy beard. "Will you do as I command...or spend your days as a he-goat?"

Bleat "I'll spend your last days as a goat!" and try to kill him with our hooves and teeth regardless.

Half vote for waiting to see what our troll friend does.

FREE GOAT MILK FOR LIFE!

... What exactly does an enchanter who spends all his time shitting on a stone toilet in the middle of a rougelike dungeon want out of life, anyway?

I think he's made his point. Let's accept his generous terms and not spend the rest of our life as a goat.

A gnarled hand falls on Gorman's shoulder, stopping the he-goat from attempting to head-butt the magic-user to death.

"What do you want, Enchanter?" the troll growls.

"One of the other luckless fools who has come into my domain was a magic-user of some small ability. They perished - as will all fools seek the power that is mine! But they left behind their spellbook next to their rotting corpse. It likely holds no occult knowledge I do not have...but all magic in this place belongs to me! Your task, troll & goat, is to retrieve the book of Margo the Medium for me!"

Reaching into a pocket, the enchanter tosses a scroll that falls at Urlik's feet. "There is a map to where she fell. Now be gone about your task - and be quick about it!"

The troll did not move. "And if we do this, you will return the dwarf to his proper form?"

"Yes, yes. He can go back to bothering bearded women. Not that they would notice; I think my spell has improved his looks!"

Urlik reached down to retrieve the map. "If you think it best we fulfill this task, give some sign." He muttered quietly.

Bleat out the Dwarven Love Anthem to signify concurrence.

Gorman makes it through an entire verse and into the chorus before Urlik picks up him and his gear, tucks them under his arm, and exits the room, returning to Room 1

Head over to the entrance to Room 5, but look it over carefully before entering.