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Grumm: "Why don't you all step away from the door, and I'll throw a torch at it?"

Brother Arven, I appreciate Master Shybolt's sense of caution as deeply as yourself, but surely you've read the passage in The Canon of Medicine where the Physician informs us that sarcasm is an infectious malady transmitted through foul airs from one person to the next.

Timorel continues to himself: I wish the eyes did see what the mind wanted. Then, instead of a fetid hall full of trog corpses, mine would be seeing chests of precious gems with a fine-featured elven princess deeply and personally in my debt on top ... Timorel pauses to look around, oh, never mind.

Edit: Sorry, jstater posted while I was posting and I didn't see it. Allow me to change my suggestion:

(OOC: No one is near the door, are they? Shybolt came back and we're all still around the corner, I thought.)

Timorel walks over beside the trapped door (to the east of it) so he is out of the way and can see what happens when Grumm throws the torch. He sheaths his sword and prepares bow and arrow.

Grumm, go ahead.

Shybolt readies his bow in case, well, in case of anything. "If this doesn't work, we'll try the trog arm next."

(OOC: Solomoriah, yes I know you said it was wet not made of wet, but its a wet that doesn't run or drip or make a puddle beneath it. Sounds like a pretty cohesive wet to me. You got to remember this is a guy that wanted to be 50' away from a door when it opened just because there were black teeth in front of it )

Brother Arven, looks down at the dead, smelly Trogs and sighs in gratefulness that he does not have a sharp edged weapon that will be required to cut any part of them off. I think that old shoulder injury from the inter-monastery league will be a good excuse for not having to pick it up and toss it at the door as well.

jstater wrote:Grumm: "Why don't you all step away from the door, and I'll throw a torch at it?"

To be clear: A lit torch?

Yes, a lit torch.

(OOC: For a moment there, I thought Brother Arven's internal monologue was going to be:

Nekron99 wrote:Brother Arven, looks down at the dead, smelly Trogs and sighs in gratefulness that he does not have a sharp edged weapon to cut out the elf's tongue ...

)

As we wait for the torch to be thrown - Brother Arven quietly slips next to Timorel and asks, "This book you speak of, Timorel, do you perhaps have a copy I could read? Most of the secular texts were kept in the restricted rooms and as a mere acolyte I was not allowed access to them, but I would love to read it." He glances at Grumm preparing to throw the torch "But perhaps after we deal with the door."

(OOC: I really had not considered the Elf's tongue due to the fact that it wouldn't have the aerodynamic properties needed to clear the distance to the door, I mean even if you were to fling the thing with a overhand curve it's still gonna fall short.)

Nekron99 wrote:As we wait for the torch to be thrown - Brother Arven quietly slips next to Timorel and asks, "This book you speak of, Timorel, do you perhaps have a copy I could read? Most of the secular texts were kept in the restricted rooms and as a mere acolyte I was not allowed access to them, but I would love to read it." He glances at Grumm preparing to throw the torch "But perhaps after we deal with the door."

Timorel arches an eyebrow at the cleric for a moment, then looks forward again and says, "I read it in my old master's library. Alas, there was no time during my studies for copying such works."

Nekron99 wrote:(OOC: I really had not considered the Elf's tongue due to the fact that it wouldn't have the aerodynamic properties needed to clear the distance to the door, I mean even if you were to fling the thing with a overhand curve it's still gonna fall short.)

When everyone else had stepped aside, Grumm threw his torch at the door.

It bounced off the door and fell to the floor, where it began to gutter out.