Let's Go Steal a Dungeon (MotBM IC/Campaign Log)

"Yeah, there's a door in here!"

Alabaster mutters an apology to no one in particular for indirectly defacing a work of art, then experimentally jumps up and hangs their weight on the ring in the ceiling.

 

"No shit, I can see that door!" says Lyriae irritably to the canvas. "Chanterelle said there were two—the one shown in the painting and the one you just went through by touching the painting. What does the one you just went through look like from your side? Stella," she adds over her shoulder, "give me an end of that rope, please. You might not hafta tie it, either—do you think you're heavy enough to anchor me and possibly Alabaster? And strong enough to pull us up?"

 

"Should be," She nodded, giving a testing flex to be sure. "Can you two pull yourselves back out? Or should I wait for a tug and then pull the lot of you out at the same time?" Stella tossed the end of the rope to Lyriae, before wrapping the other end around her arm to keep it from slipping right back out and causing the rope to get sucked in the painting too.

 

"No, don't --" Chanterelle is cut off by Alabaster's leap. As soon as the dragonborn puts their full weight on the ring, an extra length of chain rattles out. Alabaster goes down again as if hauling on a pulley. The north door of the room (the only one Alabaster's looked at so far, visible to those outside the painting) creaks open.

Chanterelle freezes. "She must have altered the enchantment. Or lied to me." What remains of her composure rapidly gives way to open fear. "She will make me tell her everything about you if she finds signs of intrusion and I am still here. For your own sake let me go!"

 

"Well I was planning on doing that already."

Alabaster pulls out a length of the chain until they can pin the chain just above the ring taught to the floor, and tells Chantrelle to step well back.

When Chantrelle is clear, Alabaster breathes frost on the chain, then wedges a piton into one of the links, pulls out their hammer, and starts pounding on it in the hopes of shattering the link.

 

Chanterelle calms down a bit, but flinches at the first blow of the hammer, which echoes off the stone walls.

((@Wiwaxia please roll a Strength check with advantage.

Regardless of results it'll take a short while, so I'll let other people react before the chain breaks.))

 

((15 and 15, and i don't believe I have any bonuses to add))

 

((sry, been unconscious for the last 20 hrs bc I ran out of spoons after brother's bday party and getting new holes in my ears the day before))

"Oh, a pocket dimension! That makes more sense, though much harder to set up than a portal. Whoever made this was good. I wonder if they'd be willing to answer some questions?"

 

Chanterelle laughs, a touch hysterically. "You might catch her in a pleasant mood. She is rumored to have those on occasion."

 

*CLANG* *CLANG* *CLING* in the background

 

"Only rumored...? But, surely someone like her would love to hear us gush about her incredible spellworking here. To be so flattered that she tells us about it, instead of..." Sanrai gestures at Chanterelle's entire situation, then bites her lip. "Sorry, I don't mean to remind you of your predicament."

 

Alabaster's efforts finally snap the cold-brittled metal. Chanterelle gets to her feet, broken chains dangling from the shackles on her wrists. She is still beautiful and dignified, though her nails are ragged from biting and her black hair looks like it hasn't been cut in decades.
She makes an archaic bow to Alabaster, then addresses the rest of the party, looking over the paladin's shoulder. "I cannot thank you as I should. I have no possessions but myself. If you desire wealth, the Maze is full of treasure. If you wish to know more of the Medusa's works, I warn you not to seek her, for her whims can be terrible. Flattery may get you somewhere, though." She pauses, thinking. "I would counsel you instead to seek the Three Sisters. They were kind to me, and asked for news of the world outside the Maze. I could tell them little, but if you tell them more..." Chanterelle smiles. "They are older than they seem, and perhaps know more of the Medusa than she would wish."

 

"Uh," says Lyriae, eyes locked on Chanterelle. "Do you maybe... want to get out of the painting before we start discussing whatever crazy shit got you in there in the first place? You know, get comfortable—" she looks her slowly up and down, making no effort to be subtle— "put on some clothes?"

 

Chanterelle meets Lyriae's gaze. She doesn't seem embarrassed by the attention. "I would be grateful. It looks cold out there."

She steps past Alabaster and reaches toward the doorway, her hand filling the canvas...

Spoiler: Alabaster

There is a painting hanging on the south wall of the prison, in the same style as the one that brought you here. A moonlit room with five figures standing in it. Chanterelle touches it and vanishes into it.

She reappears in the room and takes a deep breath of the salt air. Then she looks around, appraising her heavily armed liberators.

 

"Would everyone leaving the painting close the portal? How long is it going to stay open? I should have packed my notes from third year- there was an entire chapter on periodic spells and enchantment effects with discriminative stimuli."

((mixing math/physics and psychology references like a boss over here))

 

Alabaster lets the free end of the chain reel itself all the way back into the ceiling without the large ring to stop it.
"Should take some doing to lock someone else up in here, I think," they say, with satisfaction.

With Chantrelle freed, Alabaster turns their attention to investigating the rest of the room.

 

"Oh, but you don't have to put clothes on if you don't want to, of course!" Liron said once she finally looked up from her notes. "Really, it's entirely up to you, and your, you know, you..."

 

Spoiler: Alabaster

The room is clean and smells of nothing except dust, very faintly. The colors look less garish from the inside: the walls are built of a pale orange-red stone. A lantern in the corner burns with a clear white flame. With the broken ends of the chain almost fully retracted into the black iron socket in the ceiling, the only other features of the room are the painting on the south wall and the door (now ajar) to the north.

Chanterelle looks nonplussed. "To my knowledge, it lasts as long as the moonlight. I would like to dress, if you have garments to spare."

The party is well aware that dawn is around three hours away.

 

Lyriae reaches for the clasp of her cloak around her neck and swirls it off as dramatically as possible. "Take mine," she says, offering it over her arm to Chanterelle and copying her earlier archaic bow. "I'm afraid I personally don't have any other spare garments, and certainly not any fit for you to wear... I could offer my shirt, I suppose?" She grins.

 

"Oh wow- Yeah, you need clothes pretty bad huh?" Stella was very pointedly looking downwards, as she went for her pack. There was at least a blanket and a bedroll, and she might have had a spare shirt in here. She might have seen people naked before, but normally they were like her- roughshod, scarred up and muscular- instead of being... Well, very not that, and staring at the pretty naked woman was making her face go all reddish-green instead of normal-green.

Pulling out an oversized cloak, she held it out in Chanterelle's direction. "This should be good, right?"