The Orc Dungeon and the Demise of Finneas

So there we were deep in the dungeon, the orc dungeon (and oh how we hated those orcs) searching for a way to destroy their outpost if not way of life. We surmised if we killed the leader, the lesser orcs would indeed be scattered to the wind. Spock would have loved the logic.

I was Finneas a magicker and thief, with a confident stride just short of swagger. I was slighty ahead of the party skulking as I was prone to do, accompanied by my meat headed, and meat-packing ( he insists) barbarian friend Rhodann. Adeptly played by the dubious Darin.

We came across a large door, not rough and rustic, but one ornately carved. Ornately carved could only mean .... yes the leader. He was most foul, and vile , and all the things evil people are suppossed to be about, at least by his reputation so our great journey could be at an end.

I scampered back to warn the party, as is customary, while I perform, not like a monkey, but a series of thievely precision in detecting traps magical and otherwise. On a roll of dice, and a bland, if not constipated look on Mike's face ( he was the GM) I offered to pick the lock, with of course, the barbarian at hand as the brawn to my highly evolved elf-brain in case some small to large size monster would fall on me, as was also prone to happen.

Kneeling with semi fingerless gloves and special tools, and another roll, and another bland and constipated look, I attempt the ORNATE door, certain the nefarious wizard/priest guy/gal would be waiting unawares...

Mike (the GM... remember from your reading), tells me (Finneas) that I hear an audible hissing noise. I quickly make the hand gestures/charades of a snake, which is comical if you can imagine, since I do not want to make a commotion, so we might surprize the leader, and or not attract a contigent of orcs to slaughter us. (yes Mike has some traps in Grimtooth's)

Anywho, I draw steel, gesticulating like a seal team leader that upon opening the door, the barbarian, (who always has something in his hands, his joke not mine) and I can kill the serpent with his help if need be, and enter. The party of course advances slowly.

Before I reach for the door, it explodes. I mean EXPLODES. Mike must have rolled 20d6 or something as dice chittered and came to rest. He informed me I had lit a fuse to a barrel of gunpowder, but was LUCKY enough to act as a shield (meat-shield) for the entire party. I think the barbarian walked away with a severe limp, but Finneas, poor Finneas was just as dead. My lock picking ignited the fuse.

The good news is I was not awake, or living for that matter, to hear the cries and alarms of the orc stronghold as they raced to find the intruders.