Immersive Ink

Running. Dark. A Crash behind you. Screaming. What that you? Dang! you've hit something; or someone. That hurt. Ooff! Now someone's run into you. Thud! You hit the ground, cursing. Dammit; it's dark!

"Giv'us light!" someone snorts. Calm down. Think a moment. Is it safe? Where's that dragon at? It's certainly dark...

Boggs, Anton, Morin, and Walfried are here. It's dark. Who has a light source?

Brother Walfried can be heard muttering to himself in the dark, and -- laughing? or sobbing?

"You fool, you greedy faithless fool," he murmurs, his voice cracking, as he roots through the contents of his pack, feeling naught but an unknown amount of coins, and a single something: his now useless loot from the dragon's hoard.

Walfried dumped his pack (including any torches he might have had), and spent a turn carefully selecting a valuable looking item, then possibly some portion of another turn shoveling coins into his pack, before fleeing.

I suspect the something is a gem or other item not particularly helpful in our current circumstances, since Walfried was following "Boggs' Looting Protocol" during that one turn of careful selection.

"Maybe we should hide here in the dark until the dragon leaves again," whispers Boggs.

Boggs, whose eyes are sharper than most, thinks there might be a doorway to the left of the main passage, just a few paces further down the passage... otherwise, the passage continues right ahead.

There's no reason to think it won't pursue....

"Do you all still have those candles I gave you? I might have a few torches." whispers Boggs. "I see a doorway shortly ahead of us on the left. Maybe we could hide from the dragon in there." He listens carefully for the pitter patter of dragon feet.

Boggs distributed 6 candles among his friends and would have scooped up all the light sources he could carry. I'm happy to let the DM randomly determine how many torches Boggs was able to grab in the confusion?

Thuul's Beard! The rat-catcher is as wise as he is short! He alone had wit to recall the worth of plain flint and tallow when others were besotted by treasure. Of a sudden, a low but disturbing sound emanates from some distance back in the passage, encouraging everyone to heed Boggs' proven wisdom and hurry along despite the darkness; seeking the supposed door.

"Here," utters Boggs in the blackness, and by the movement of air, the portal is sensed and everyone blunders hurriedly within. With a quiet thunk the door is shut firmly, and then there is true dark until Boggs manages to strike up a tiny flame upon a wax candle to illuminate the closed chamber...

Door check.

I shall cast a die to determine how many torches Boggs picked up: 1d6=4. Four is the number of precious torches he kept. Plus this one candle.

Now for each of Anton, Walfried, and Morin I shall cast another die. Should it show 5 or 6 they held onto Boggs' candle; otherwise they have discarded or dropped it along the way... 3d6=6, 5, 1. So Anton and Walfried each have a candle. Morin must have lost his somewhere along the way...

"St. Wilmod be praised!" exclaims Brother Walfried under his breath as he remembers the candle shoved in his pocket, "and you, my friend!" he says, in reference to Boggs.

He follows the mouser through the door and eagerly squints in the feeble light to discern what place they've found themselves in.

"Hmmm, Walfried is alive. Where are the others?" asks Boggs. He uses the light of his candle to have a look around.

Roll call!

Morin offers to illuminate their immediate surroundings with his lantern, if only someone will relight it from their taper.