Yesterday was no posting as we were actually playing RPGs. Using OSRIC our intrepid adventurers started on their quest in 'Shadowvale, Labyrinth of Despair'. Providing an escort for a sage and Father representing their employers, the Holy Church, the four players made it from Nova Venita to the ill-omened Shadowvale and the mysterious underground maze. The vale is a known haunt of werewolves, various undead, and treasure hunters both authorized and unauthorized.
Puzzled by a small altar possibly containing either a Christian offering of Bread and Wine and a single golden rose, (or perhaps it was a mockery?) The party elected to check the cracks and openings near the entry for a way to bypass the whole problem. The mage's familiar (a nice little toad), was raised to the level of the cracks where he was immediately struck by the strong pervasive smell of carnivorous bats, lots of them. Stephen the toad also noted that the holes were too small for anyone to transverse, so back to the mage's pouch went the toad and back to the altar went our adventurers.
Our Paladin, who might as well have been named 'Pretty Stupid' (INT 6) obediently grasped the rose when asked to by the sage (who assured him it was perfectly safe). BTW our Paladin is a long time roleplayer who knows better than to make INT his 'dump stat'. With no obvious effects from the rose, the party elected to move on again. Our 'expert treasure hunters' and 'scouts' found and disarmed a trap then missed the trap triggered by the first trap's disarming. Our paladin got singed but nobody was majorly hurt.
After exploring a few seemingly innocuous rooms, the party stood on a narrow ledge with a short drop to the room below and opened a door. The room was full of bats, thousands of bats. The paladin (again!) and the lantern bearing, gear carrying hireling, Luke went over the edge to stone carved steps below. The lantern was shattered, nobody was hurt but before the party could regroup the noise attracted orcs, lots of orcs. Through fortuitous series of roles, and some bad luck on the part of the orcs a whole passel of them got fried in a nasty webby, oily, barbeque with 'Burning Hands' ignition. Burning, squealing, flammable orcs provided the only light for our humans until the dwarven thief got the back up lantern going.
That's where we ended for the day, fleeing orcs, a scorched and bruised party. We'll see where they go from here next week.