Enter Richter - combat round 1

The old man scoffs at Baleon's retort.  "Your drow tricks may have helped you escape my prison Baleon Arzen, but they won't save you this time!"

Baleon starts at the sound of his name.  "That's right, don't think you paltry magical disguise can hide your guilt, or the brand on your arm."

Baleon reflexively grips the scar on his forarm; a runic "F"  burned into his skin when he arrived at Braderscar prison...  And then it all falls into place.  He remembers the old man.  Inspecting him like chattel when he arrived at the prison, then turning him over to his torturers with a dismissive wave...  Baron Richter, warden of Branderscar prison.

Trik ducks behind the other throne and turns to his companion.  "Friend of yours?"

"The warden of the prison I escaped from.  Richter."

"the warden of... but I heard he was executed for gross incompetent after you guys broke out.  What's he doing here?"  Trik poked his head over the throne and yelled across the room.  "Richter is it?  I thought they hung you.  On account of, you know, being an idiot," he added.

Richter screamed back with a hint of madness in his voice.  "I was betrayed by witchcraft and deviltry!  They stripped me of my title, and would have hung me.  But I told them I could find you Baleon Arzen!  I knew all the old places.  And I knew why you had come to the surface, and what you sought.  If I can bring you in, then the duke will pardon me.  So I have watched this place for months, waiting for you to skulk in to finish the job you started all those months ago.  And here you are at last, and so too my salvation!"

Trik ducks back down and starts to load his crossbow.  "You have the nicest friends, elf," he quips to Baleon sardonically.

Richter meanwhile, continues to rant.  "And now, Forsaken of Mitra, burn as you should have at Branderscar!"  This is followed by the unmistakable incantations of Richter casting a spell.

"Oh bollocks," Trik mutters.

Initiative order
Baleon:  17
Richter:  14
Trik:  13
Guards:  11

Baleon and Trik have full cover (+8 AC and 50% miss chance, +10 stealth) so long as they stay prone behind the thrones. If you choose to pop up, fire off a shot and duck back down, you maintain the +8 AC bonus but lose the 50% concealment bonus.   Likewise, Richter gains a +4 AC bonus while directly behind his burly guards.  The two guards are dressed in chain shirts and armed with crossbows, large shields and long swords.

The Vault rounds 4, 5, 6

"Well," Trik muses in response to Baleon's question.  "One throne represents Asmodeus, the other Mitra.  But their guises are meant to mislead - the one you think is Mitra is actually Asmodeus and the one you think is Asmodeus is actually Mitra.  And, we're here to recover artifacts sacred to both gods.  The Asmodean one as a bargaining chip with your mother, and the Mitran one for that half elf noble, so..." Trik scratches his chin in thought.  "I'd say, both thrones?"

Baleon scowls but does not bother replying as he bends down to examine the thrones.  It takes him some time, but he eventually finds a cleverly concealed drawer in the base of each throne.  Further inspection reveals no discernible traps or mechanisms.  Taking a deep breath  he slides them open.  And is surprised when when he is not suffocated by poison gas, disfigured by a jet of acid, or outright incinerated by a magical glyph.  Not for the first time this evening he wonders at these surface dwellers' inability to build a properly trapped treasure vault.  Not that he was complaining mind you.

A single item lies inside each drawer.  Inside the throne of Mitra, sitting upon crushed midnight blue velvet is a silver rod with a crook at one end.  Inside the throne of Asmodeus, nestled amongst blood red velvet, lies an ornately articulated metal gauntlet.

Before Baleon can admire his discovery further, a gravelly voice from the far end of the vault breaks his concentration.

"Step away from the artifacts, defilers!"

Flanked by two heavily armed city watchmen with crossbows levelled stands an grizzled old  aristocrat. Upon his tabard is blazoned the sign of the inquisition.

The Vault - end round 3

Trik mutters something under his breath as Baleon moves to secure his end of the rope to a nearby pillar. He can't make it out, but he's fairly certain its unflattering.

Trik takes a deep breath and skips across the pillars, again surprising Baleon with his fleetness.  He didn't have the grace of a drow, but definitely more nimble than he would have expected from a sun spoiled human.

Each time Trik lands on a new pillar, the rune on its surface begins to glow pale yellow.  As he sprints across the last pillar - the one that Baleon landed on after his jump - its already yellow glow is replaced by an angry red.  "Hmm," remarks Trik as he crosses to safe ground and detaches the rope from his waist.  "Well that can't be a good thing."

Trik examines the murals above each throne on the dais at the other end of the room and gives an appreciative laugh.  "I may have no idea what the glyphs on those columns mean, but I do know a good joke when I see one.  Looks like whoever decorated this vault had a laugh at our dear Divine Mitra's expense."

Seeing Baleon's puzzled expression, Trik continues, pleased to be the expert in their partnership for once.  "See the first picture.  Its of a king signing a document and addressing his people.  At first glance we are to believe this is a depiction of one of the Markadian kings of Talingarde, devout Mitrans every one.  But the Markadians are not a peaceful lot.  They came to power through civil war and eradicated every religion that opposed them.  They have never signed a treaty in their eighty years of power."  He pauses and indicates the second mural of a thief holding a man at knife point while picking the pockets of a woman.  "No, to the nobles and religions that opposed the Markadians, like the family who built this vault, this second picture is a far more accurate portrayal of how the kings of Talingarde have treated their people.  Which means," finishes Trik, moving his attention back to the first mural again, "that this fine contract signing fellow here could be seen as none other than our lord Asmodeus, offering law and order to the oppressed and faceless  masses."

Trik turns to Baleon with eyes that twinkle with mirth.  "Delicious, blasphemous allegory! A tribute to Asmodeus hidden within a tomb sacred to Mitra."

Turn summary:
round 1 - Baleon and Trik move into the vault, asses the situation and do a cursory check for traps
round 2 - Baleon secures a rope and leaps across the chasm.
round 3 - Baleon ties his end of the rope to pillar J2; Trik crosses the chasm by foot.
round 4 - ??