"Where did we see some crystals like this before. Something's tickling the back of my brain." He puts the devices back in their cases (but not back in the chest yet) since they are obviously designed to protect them.

He checks the ring for inscriptions etc. without actually putting it on.

"We need our magician back. Fashioned Rune Metal almost always means that the thingy has some magic to it."

He will also see if he can figure out what kind of trap it is. (what would have happened if he hadn't pressed the button)


[ Is it like large like choker large or large like thumb ring large or wagon wheel or what?

Also, what was the count on the coinage so we can distribute?]

As Pogar watches his cousin walk away, after discussing the wall with him, Pogar looks across the room at everyone. Dirty, blood crusted armor, with the crimson blood still wet on Madragars tunic, Pogar sighs.

Having no fears of throwing himself face first into battle and shrugging as best he can, the piercings and slashing injuries he has endured from his time on the roads, it pains him to see his friends injured. Madragar, breathing and appearing to be at complete peace, his screams still echo in his mind.

Ulwe, also seemingly sleeping peacefully, still pale from the evil magic of the scribe. Still, the scenes do not play out in his mind. All he remembers is waking up, as though he went out on a week long bender. Still feeling the pains in his head, Pogar walks up to the two companions who are laying on the ground.

"Yer no takin' 'em today" Pogar says while looking up to the ceiling. Standing, Pogar moves off. As Draxim hands out the equal share of loot, Pogars eyes light a little. Seeing the shiny gold and silver pieces, Pogar adds them to the rest of his wealth.

"Prolly the dirtiest n smelliest rich dwarf in th realm" Pogar thinks to himself cheerfully.