Francis:  "Er... I don't suppose you brought a flashlight, Mr. Riker?" He takes off his glasses and wipes them meticulously with his tie.

Riker leans the .45 forward, hammer cocking back.  In his other hand, the jerrycan of gasoline.  "Aim for the brain, right?  Goddamn, it stinks in there...in my back pocket, Francis.  Maglite.  Police spec, so you can smack someone with it, if you need to."

Francis gingerly removes the maglite from Riker's back pocket.

Benny checks his pistol and grimaces. "I've got a flash too."

Riker:  "Sweet deal.  We can see the living dead before they get here.  Benny, you got the scattergun, too?" Riker mutters, "Man, I am so tired of this voodoo bullshit..."

Benny:  "Yeah, I've got it."

Francis:  "We haven't any other choice, have we?

Riker:  "Cool, gimme. Time is the essence here, we've gotta press the advantage. Hey, Smiley...take point.

Benny passes the Shotgun to Riker.

Riker takes the pump 12. Does that action movie thing -- CLACKCLAK! -- and aims it down the darkened hallway.  "Thanks, Benny . Okay, Smiley.  I promise I won't shoot you in the back with this.  Probably. Hey, Francis?"

Francis:  "Er, yes?"

Riker:  "You know how to use this salt on zombies? I mean, do we lay down a line, throw it, what?"

Private message from CM to Francis:  Legend/Lore roll
Private die roll from Francis:  1d100Total 7 [7]
Private message from Francis to CM:  Damned straight I know!
Private message from CM to Francis:  Traditionally, you pour it into their mouths. That's if they're zombies in the Haitian tradition of course. Possibly a line may stop them, but there are no documented records of this working.

Riker:  "Super.  I thought they ate it in cookies or somethin'...anyways...let's jack this cheap punk up. Smiley?"

Francis:  "We can try a line of salt - there isn't any documentation of it working - though it will work quite effectively with Carpathians, as long as there is no break in the salt. Too bad they're zombies and not . Or.. perhaps... it's just as well."

Riker: "Smiley?"

Smile:  "Yeah?"

Riker:  "Lead th' way, man.  I can't sniff out black magic voodoo bullshit good as you can."

Smile looks incredulous. "You're not serious? I can sniff perfectly well from the back, thanks."

Francis:  "You are a demon - surely you're not afraid of something that mere mortals are willing to take on?"

Smile:  "Damn right I am. That's because I'm 15 billion years old and I'm smarter than you."

Riker grins, crazily.  Dangerously unstable?  Riker?  Perish the thought.  "Francis, that's why I like you; always full'a good cheer and sparkly bits."  The smile gets turned on Smiley.  "What, the hordes of hell afraid of a few dead bodies?"  He laughs, statement echoing Francis nicely.

Francis:  "And he's armed - to the front, Mr. Smiley."

Smile mutters, "I'm hardly a 'horde'," but complies anyway. Drawing a deep breath, he steps into the darkness...

Francis flicks on the mag lite, shining it at their feet.

Riker:  "Benny, I wantcha to cover our rear.  Things get squirrelly...an' they will...we're gonna haveta make it outta here doubletime.  Francis, think you can take one can of gas?"

CM:  After a few long moments, his voice wafts out of the doorway. "It's safe. Ish."

Francis takes a can from Riker.

CM:  The room beyond the door appears to have been an old kitchen at one time, though in later years it seems to have served as a dumping ground. The walls are dark and soft with damp, and the rich scent of mold fills the moist air.

Smile stands in the center of the room, his dark brow creased in concentration.

Francis watches Smile warily, shining the light cautiously around the room.

CM:  The only door out of this small room is firmly closed, the lock rusted shut. There's some give in the door though, and the creeping damp has softened the door frame considerably.

Smile frowns and shakes his head.

Francis:  "Problem, Mr. Smile?" Francis whispers.

Smile grunts. "There's something wrong here. The wards outside, the smell of this place, the whole place reeks of old magic. This is a full-fledged sanctum, way beyond Rivera's level. He's no sorcerer, or he wasn't last time I saw him. He's been taking lessons."

Riker keeps the scattergun at the ready.  About head-height, say.

Francis:  "Or he's moved into someone else's sanctum..."

Smile:  "Nuh-uh. This is new."

Riker blinks. The Weird-Shitometer just went up a notch. "Then we're gonna open up a malt-liquor-sized can of whup-ass on him, Smiley. We figgered this punk was working for the other side...this just confirms it. What's the odds he's tapped the Grail?  And let's keep movin', huh?"

Smile:  "The Grail? Unlikely, but possible I suppose."

Francis looks to Riker.

Riker:  "Then he's been takin' lessons."  Riker pulls the pinchbar out of his belt.  "Ten bucks says the hordes of the living dead are on the other side'a this."  The shotgun goes over one shoulder, by its sling.  "I'm gonna pop the frame, since Smiley prolly don't wanna get his hands all ucky."

Smile grins, his teeth almost glowing in the dark. "Mighty generous of you Mr Riker."

Private message from Riker to CM:  Going to just pop the lock out of the frame with the prybar. Also gives him a nice weapon that won't hit his pals.
Private message from CM to Riker: Str roll
Private die roll from Riker:  1d100Total 94 [94]
Private message from Riker to CM:  Good god.  Riker's such a feeb.

Riker:  "Close quarters, Francis.  I don't wanna end up shootin' you.  Anybody comes through, I'll hit 'em with the bar." He struggles heroically with the door, to no avail.

Riker:  "Okay, Francis...you try it."

Francis shakes his head firmly, setting down the gas can and holding out a hand for the prybar.

Private die roll from Francis:  1d100Total 72 [72]

Francis takes the prybar, inserts it into the doorframe and heaves mightily.  Nothing happens.

Riker:  "Another triumph for democracy.  Smiley, your turn."

Francis grunts, sets his feet and puts his entire (meager) weight into it.  Still, nothing happens...

Benny takes the bar. "I'll do it."

Riker:  "O-kaaaay.  You're covered, big as shit."

Benny rolled 1d100 for a total of 58 [58]

Riker:  "Right!  Smiley, you're up."

Smile sighs, takes the bar and practically wrenches the door off it's hinges.

Riker:  "See, right tool for the job.  In we go."

Francis takes out his hankerchief and carefully wipes his hands. "I wish you had done that in the first place."

CM:  Behind the door is the reason for your failure; the doorway has been plastered over.

Francis picks up the gas can and flashlight.

Riker:  "Well, shit."  He taps the wall with one booted foot.  "If this's as waterlogged as the rest of this place, should be fairly rotten." Gimme that bar.  I'm gonna poke a hole."

Smile looks at the plaster. "This is old. Must be why he didn't ward that door. He didn't know about it." Smile hands Riker the prybar.

Private message from Riker to CM: Gonna make a hole in the plaster with the bit end of the bar.
Private message from CM to Riker:  There's an almost inaudible hiss as you push the bar through the plaster.

CM rolled 1d100 for a total of 40 [40]
CM rolled 1d100 for a total of 15 [15]
CM rolled 1d100 for a total of 10 [10]
Private message from CM to Francis:  You get a sudden chill, and the hairs stir on the back of your neck.

CM:  The floorboards behind Riker shatter as a rotting figure erupts through them, spraying you with gobbets of putrescent flesh and grabbing at Riker's legs. Fear rolls please

CM rolled 1d100 for a total of 11 [11]
Private die roll from Francis:  1d100Total 66 [66]
Private die roll from Benny:  1d100Total 45 [45]
Private die roll from Riker: 1d100Total of 58 [58]

Riker screams, "I FUCKIN' KNEW IT!"  The prybar swings down...

Private message from Riker to CM:  Argh!  Beat the deadboy senseless with the prybar.

Francis rolled 2d10 for a total of 12 [4,8]
Riker rolled 1d10 for a total of 6 [6]

CM:  Riker, melee roll...

Private die roll from Riker:  1d100Total 29 [29]

Francis pours salt into the general area where its mouth may have been

Riker dances about, trying to shake the sticky bits away.  "Ngyahhh!  God damn!  Why can't the bad guys be clean, just once?"

Smile: "Hey, we didn't make the rules, you know..." He sounds hurt.

Riker hefts the prybar.  "Fuggit, he's gotta know we're here by now..."  Riker starts chipping at the rotting plaster with the bit of the prybar.  "I'm gonna break through this wall...anybody else got a better idea, say it quick."

CM:  Suddenly the plaster gives, spilling you out into the dimness beyond. Judging from the mess you've made of the wall, the doorway was plastered over several decades ago and the room beyond forgotten.

Riker mutters, "Dead crawling in the damn walls... Goddamned zombie landmine. Laid the smack down on his ass, though."

CM:  The passage way is predictably dank and chill. Curiously, no vermin seem to be present - no roaches skittering underfoot, no rats rustling among the garbage bags. There are no lights either, the only illumination coming from a stairwell at the end of the passage.

Francis whispers, "Apparently the other vermin share Mr. Smile's dislike of this place."

Riker whispers, "Let's go.  You can see in the dark, right, Smiley?"

Smile:  "Yeah. Some. Which way you want to go?"

Riker:  "Let's move it, then."  The prybar is tucked in his belt.  "Up th' stairs."

Smile steps warily out into the passage. "C'mon."

Riker follows, shotgun at the ready.

Francis follows, holding the gas can in front of him like a shield.

Benny brings up the rear.

Smile takes about five paces down the passage when something bursts out of the ceiling in a shower of rot and plasterboard. Landing on his shoulders the things shoves him to the ground.

Francis drops the gas can (again) and scrabbles in his pocket for more salt.

Riker:  "Raise it up, raise the fucker UP!"  Riker lets the shotgun dangle by its strap, and pulls the pistol, ruby eye stabbing out in the slowly downdrifting plaster...a split second before he, too, gets attacked.

CM:  A figure explodes through the plaster wall, body-slamming Riker backwards. At the same time something dead punches up through the floor boards and grabs Benny. Dex roll to keep hold of your weapons.

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 4 [4]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 56 [56]
Benny rolled 1d100 for a total of 22 [22]

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 96 [96]

Smile screams in rage as the thing on him slashes at his throat.

CM:  Riker, the thing forces you back, clawing at you, snapping at your throat, tearing at your eyes like a wild dog. One eye dangles obscenely from a thread as it snarls in your face.

Riker:  "SHIIIIT!"  He tries to get his feet under him, and an arm under the thing's chin, intent on slamming its head into the wall.

Private die roll from Riker:  1d100Total 76 [76]

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 50 [50]

Benny screams as the thing grapples with him, and kicks out at it...

Private die roll from Benny:  1d100Total 20 [20]

CM:  Riker, the thing is inhumanly strong...inch by inch it's foul face moves closer to biting a chunk out of you. It starts to drool.

CM:  Francis, the creature sinks it's teeth into your shoulder, just below the neck. It begins to shake it's head like a terrier.

Francis:  "Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!!!!"

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 16 [16]

CM:  Francis, the creature shrieks as the salt seems to eat through it's flesh like acid.

Riker slams his feet against the floor, hard, pushing.  Not to get it off, but to squash the snapping jaws like bugs against a wall.

Private die roll from Riker:  1d100Total 71 [71]

Francis:  "Aaaggrrrrrurk!"

Benny moves up beside Riker, jams the shotgun under the things chin, and pulls the trigger...

CM:  *BOOOOM!*  The things eyes erupt from its face as the top of its head explodes, smashing its brains against the ceiling...

Riker:  "GODDAMN!  I'M FUCKIN' DEAF!"  He scrambles for the pistol, laying against some of the baseboards.

CM:  Suddenly the passageway behind you is alive - if that's the word - with a mass of rotting figures, sprinting towards you with terrifying speed. Smile yanks the head off the creature grappling with him, and it expires.

Francis drags the bag of salt out of his pocket and begins to lay down a thick line of salt across the hall with shaking hands.

Riker snatches the pistol up, and starts firing at about head level.

CM:  Combat rolls...

Riker:  Thankfully, Francis be behind me...

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 65 [65]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 70 [70]

CM:  Riker's shots hit the lead creature. Smacking into the chest and body of the thing, tearing chunks of flesh away and slamming it into the opposite wall. Horrifically, it stirs as soon as the fusillade ceases.

Smile yells, "Riker! We need to MOVE!"

Riker's legs piston against the floor, sending him up backwards towards one wall.  "NO FUCKIN SHIT!"  Ruby eye zeroes in on a head.

CM:  The dead tide reaches the line of salt...and surges over it...

Smile is heading for the stairs, dragging Benny with him.

Riker snaps off a shot.

Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 10 [10]

Riker:  The red eye shifts, even as Riker pushes himself up a wall.  Five shots left.  Riker's running, making damn sure Francis gets pulled along.  "Can or not, Francis!  Call it!"

Francis stops and stares at Riker, incomprehension on his face. "What?"

Riker:  "Move!  Shoot the can or not!"

CM:  More dead things spill into the passage. A dozen, two dozen. Rivera's been busy, it seems....

Francis:  "Shoot it and hope we can get out of the fire. Fire should at least inconvenience them."

Riker's arm propels Francis along.  "Fuck it."  BOOMBOOMBOOM  Bullets rip out of the autoloader, speeding towards the gas can...

CM:  Roll it..

Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 25 [25]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 89 [89]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 80 [80]

Riker:  "Move move MOVE!"

Francis stumbles ahead of Riker, trying not to fall over his own feet.

Riker pounds up the hallway behind Francis, popping his nearly empty magazine and slamming a fresh nine shots in.

CM:  In the confined space the flames have nowhere to go, but up and down the passage. The fireball roars towards you like the Hades Express...

Smile:  "Get in!" yells Smile from the stairwell.

Francis:  Fear lends Francis speed - he is a card carrying coward, after all.

Riker:  "GOOOOO!"  Riker moves as fast as he can, pulling leather jacket, still damp with God knows what, as far up as he can....

CM:  The pair of you tear through the door to the stairwell, the flames snapping at your heels like a junkyard dog. Smile slams the door shut, jamming his bulk against it. It shudders...

Riker:  "Lean on it!  Lean on it!"  He puts his back to the door as well.  Stupid, heroic gesture.  Have to keep up the tough-guy image...

Francis collapses on the steps, gasping.  "Dear God."

Smile winces at the Name, then grins. "Care to make it a little closer next time, boys?"

Riker looks up from the shuddering door.  "Hey, I only got ten years scared off my fuckin' life, Smiley...sound off, folks...who's hurt, who ain't?"

CM:  The door stills. Beyond it, you can hear the shrieks of the dead as the fire claims them for its own.

Francis raises his hand, shakily, and indicates his torn shoulder.  "I hope it isn't contagious."

Riker:  "Thank God for hydrocarbons.  Francis, c'mere."

CM:  There's a few teeth stuck in the wound, some with fragments of gum still attached.

Francis edges over to Riker.  There's quite a bit of salt in the wound as well.

Riker:  "Awwww, shit.  That is fuckin' nasty..."  He pulls out a medium-sized jack-knife, and a small hip flask.  "I want you t'know this's damn good Irish whiskey.  And it's gonna hurt like hell."

Benny stares at the wound, then leans over and casually vomits on the floor.

Riker is pale, grinning like a lunatic.  He digs the bits out with the knife.  "Smiley, hold him down, man.
Francis, I am so goddamn sorry 'bout this..."

Smile grips Francis firmly by the shoulders.

Francis howls like a lost soul, tears streaming down his face.

Riker:  Once the bits are out, the flask is uncapped, and some nice 130 proof whiskey gets poured into the wound.

Francis fortunately isn't very strong, so holding him in place is easy.

Smile looks down into Francis's eyes. "Francis? Look at me. There is no pain. You understand? There is no pain."

Private die roll from Francis:  1d100Total 33 [33]

Francis stops struggling

Smile lets Francis go. "Wish I could do something about the wound, but healing's not really my thing."

Riker:  The jackknife gets applied to the inside of Riker's jacket...not the cleanest thing in the world, but cleaner than the outside.  "How much of a hold's that give you on him, Smiley?"

Smile:  "Hold? Man, you're paranoid, you know that? It's simple suggestion, nothing more. Even a neanderthal like you could do it. I can't do anything to his head unless he lets me in."

CM:  Smoke is starting to seep in under the door...

Francis:  "Mr. Riker, perhaps this should wait until we're safe from immolation."

Riker ties up the wound with the lining of his jacket.  "Can't have you bleedin' to death, Francis.  Done now, anyways.  Let's go."  He stands, folding the knife and sticking it in a back pocket.

Francis:  "That would be inconvenient."

Benny peers up the stairwell. "We got two ways to go. Up or down. What's it goin' to be fellas?"

Francis:  "I would think that down is somewhat limited by the fire."

Riker:  "Up, then."  The pistol reappears.  "Let's go."

Smile straightens his cuffs, his suits still somehow immaculate. "Up it is."

Francis follows Riker.

Benny brings up the rear, still clutching the shotgun.

CM:  The stairwell goes up a flight before being blocked by another firedoor. Smile pauses, and gestures at the door. Nothing happens.

Riker:  "Lemme guess.  Warded."

Smile:  "Nope, it's clear. Do we go through?"

Francis:  "If I had killer zombies in my basement I suppose I would want to discourage them from stopping by for tea."

Smile:  "Maybe they're well trained killer zombies?"

Riker:  "Well, open the motherfucker, then.  I got no need to roast, y'know."

Smile:  "Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

Riker:  "One of me's been there, done that, told me the story.  Not interested."

Francis:  "From what I understand, we disliked it sufficiently that we left."

CM:  Smile opens the door. The blur that slams into him and knocks him down the stairs is barely recognisable as a body. Two more follow it...Init rolls...

Francis rolled 1d10 for a total of 10 [10]
Riker rolled 1d10 for a total of 8 [8]
Benny rolled 1d10 for a total of 6 [6]
CM rolled 1d10 for a total of 2 [2]
CM rolled 1d10 for a total of 4 [4]

Smile yells with rage as he and his attacker bounce down the stairs...

Francis flattens against the wall in hopes his attacker will miss him and fall down the stairs.

CM:  Two dead things charging towards you with un-nerving speed...

Francis sticks out a foot to trip them.

CM:  Riker?

Riker dives for their legs.  No time to pull a gun, unfortunately, and maybe they'll bust their rotten skulls on the stairs.

CM:  Unskilled melee roll please

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 96 [96]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 17 [17]
CM rolled 1d100 for a total of 68 [68]

Francis:  "Oh, shit."

CM:  Dodging, Francis?

Francis:  Yup.

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 11 [11]

Benny: "Shit!" Benny brings up the shotgun and fires...

CM:  Point blank range - don't bother rolling. Francis, luck roll

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 49 [49]

Francis:  "Thanks, Benny."

CM:  Riker, you're grappling with the undead...

Riker struggles for the jackknife, conveniently left in a pocket.  Get the arm up under the chin, stick the blade in its forehead, twist.

CM:  Riker, the thing is horrifyingly strong and it's slippery with its own putresence. It's trying to push its hand into your stomach...

Riker yells, bringing his knees upwards to shove the beast's probing hands away.  Fuck the knife.  Bash head into stairs, caveman style.

CM:  Str roll, Riker

Francis swings the maglite at the creature on Riker.

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 5 [5]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 3 [3]

Francis:  "Dear God..."

CM:  Riker grabs the thing and suddenly rolls, smacking the head against the wall. There's a crunch, and his hand sinks into the skull as it suddenly flattens.

Riker howls, feral and pissed, stepping back from the foul creature, raising a booted foot for the denoument...

CM:  Maggoty brain tissue squirts from the things eye sockets as Riker's boot crushes its head. It twitches once and is still.

Francis looks around to see if there are more.

CM:  At the foot of the stairs, there's a ghastly tearing sound, then silence.

Francis:  "Oh, dear..."

Smile sits up, shoving the torn remains of the dead thing off him. His suit jacket has been shredded by it's talons. His face is a mask of quiet fury. "Now I'm pissed. I liked that jacket."

Riker:  "Fuck!  I am so sick'a this shit!"  He marches down the stairs, shaking, then stops.  "I am gonna jack this punk up so bad, Smiley..."  He turns, going back up.  "C'mon, guys."

Francis:  "Lead on... Anyone have more salt?"

Riker:  "Check my pockets."

CM:  Benny tries to wipe some rotting stomach contents off Francis, but it's a futile task. "Sorry man."

Francis:  "Not at all - you saved my life.  I have other suits. At least you didn't shoot me."

CM:  The stairwell door leads int a wide passageway. The decor here is markedly different. Rich  flock wallpaper, thick pile carpeting, recessed lighting.

Riker:  "I am so glad this place is gonna burn down."

Francis:  "Indeed."

CM:  There are eight doors off the passageway, four on each side.

Riker:  "I mean, look at this shit!  The guy decorates like a pimp! Smiley...any ideas?

Smile:  "Never been here before, can't say." He considers. "Getting some vibes from this one." He points.

Riker pulls his pistol out.  "Full load, one spare.  Runnin' low.  Three'a us, eight doors.  That leaves one shot in the .45."  He walks up to the indicated door.  Pulls the prybar from his belt, sticks it in the doorframe, stands off to one side.  "This one?"

Smile nods.

Riker:  "Then stand aside, man."  He yanks on the prybar from the side.  That way, nasty things only take off one of his arms.

CM:  The door springs open, revealing darkness within. Nothing stirs.

Riker:  "Flashlight."

Francis shines the light in

CM:  The room is an abbattoir. Thick rolls of pvc line the walls, floor and ceiling, muffling the sound and cloying the air with a warm, tropical moisture. In the center of the room is an old heavy kitchen table, recently modified into a makeshift operating table and butchers block. The bloody mound on the table would be impossible to identify, save for the curiously pristine arm that dangles from it's side.

Riker:  "What the fuck...?"

Francis whirls away and drops to his kees, vomiting.

Smile whistles. "Nasty."

Riker simply stands there, stunned.  "Jesus...any idea who that is...?"

Smile:  "Rivera's definately looking for power. Eating people is the oldest trick in the book. It's probably some poor hooker."

CM:  At the far side of the room, a large chest freezer hums contentedly.

Riker turns slightly green.  "He's gonna eat lead when we find him."  Riker, like the git he is, marches in -- squish-squelch -- and opens the freezer.

CM:  Rivera's been busy. The freezer is full to the brim of the choicest cuts, carefully wrapped in plastic, labelled, and stacked neatly. Fear roll

Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 45 [45]

Riker rolled 1d5 for a total of 5 [5]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 54 [54]

Riker urps, one hand patting his stomach.  Lunch, or what's left of it, goes all over Riviera's larder...Riker braces himself on the edge of the freezer, one-handed, and gives the contents a long-lasting spray of bile, perfect for picnics.

Riker's face twists in disgust.  "From the feet up.  I'm gonna fuck his day, I swear to God."

Smile puts a hand on Riker's shoulder. "C'mon man, lets find this prick."

Riker rasps, "We are gonna fuck him up, man.  Black magic voodoo bullshit." Riker staggers out of the room.  "Seven to go, boys.  Next up on the hit parade?  Listen at 'em first."

Smile listens at a door, then shakes his head.

Benny does the same. "Maybe there's no-one home?"

Private message from CM to Benny:  You hear nothing.

Private message from CM to Riker:  You hear nothing.

Private message from CM to Riker:  This room, like the passageway outside, is opulently decorated in the style of some gaudy palace or Victorian bordello. Two ebony carved mastiff hounds guard the doorway, and expensive antique furniture lines the walls. The centerpiece of the room must however, be the bed, or rather the pyramidal silver framework in which it rests.

Smile looks up. "What?"

Riker:  "Big fuggin' bed, inside'a pyramid.  What's he think this is, Ceasar's Palace?  Lookit this, man!"

Smile wanders over to the room Riker is checking.

CM:  This room, like the passageway outside, is opulently decorated in the style of some gaudy palace or Victorian bordello. Two ebony carved mastiff hounds guard the doorway, and expensive antique furniture lines the walls. The centerpiece of the room must however, be the bed, or rather the pyramidal silver framework in which it rests.

Smile grins. "Paydirt. Wily son of a bitch. That's a Damascan Pyramid. Little shit must sleep there to boost his personal power levels. There's no way he figured that out by himself."

Riker:  "This shit?  You're kiddin' me.  Elucidate, man.  He sleeps in the Tower O' Power there to juice up?"

Smile:  "Oh yeah. Which means he got promoted somehow. We're dealing with a sorcerer now."

Riker steps all the way in, and pulls out the prybar.  "This thing gonna explode or anything, I fuck it up?"

Smile:  "Possibly. I wouldn't touch it, if I were you."

Private message from Francis to CM:   Do I know anything that might be of help?
Private message from CM to Francis:  Only that pyramids are supposed to focus cosmic powers, and that the pharoahs were buried in them to increase their standing in the afterworld.
Private message from Francis to CM:  What about a way to short circuit it?
Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 23 [23]
Private message from CM to Francis:  There is a way, by making inverse connections within the frame using silver wire, you could turn it into a spirit trap. But it would take a while.

Riker:  "Oh-kay, well...shit on that idea.  It'll break soon enough.  Anything else we need in here?"  He starts giving the room a nice once-over.  "Hey, Francis, man...c'mon an' help me out, huh?"

Francis rolled 1d100 for a total of 73 [73]
Riker rolled 1d100 for a total of 51 [51]
Private message from CM to Riker:  There seems to be a loose floorboard at the foot of the bed...

Riker:  "Check this out."  He pries a floorboard loose with the 'bar.

CM:  Beneath the floorboard is a small niche, containing a locked metal box.

Francis moves closer to the bed, studying the frame intently. "If I had some silver wire, I could make some inverse connections in the frame and turn it into a spirit trap.  But that would take a while."

Private message from Riker to CM:  Handle on the box?
Private message from CM to Riker:  Yeah, theres a handle.

Smile stares at Francis. "Nasty. It'd be unbreakable too, powered by the cosmos. You're a clever liitle mortal aren't you?"

Francis looks over the edge of his glasses at Smile. He's not smiling. "I've done a bit of reading."

Smile:  "You could trap and keep almost anything with a soul in there, indefinately."

Riker:  "We're fulla' surprises, Smiley." He hooks the box out, with the prybar, slooowly, waiting for the inevitable trap, bomb...whatever.  "You wouldn't happen t'have some silver wire on you, wouldja?"

CM:  As you reach into the niche with the prybar, a ringing chime sounds out, followed by a curious rippling or the air. Then, behind you, something growls...By the door, the two carved dogs are gone. In their place stand two massive bristling hounds, drool pooling on the floor below them, their muzzles curling with barely supressed rage...
 

Session ends