Ragnar joined Theryn, Varien and Xylon as
they fled into the light forest northeast of Phandalin.
The Redbrands left their dead in the street
and retreated to the ruined manor on the hill at the eastern edge of town.
The four adventurers found shelter in a
copse of trees and tended to their injuries. They set a watch and rested until
sunrise.
Of Erwen there was no sign.
The cicadas were buzzing and the birds were
singing as Robert, a traveler and acolyte of Sune who was considering taking
holy orders to become a full-blown cleric, set out for another day of travel
along the uncertain Triboar Trail heading westward towards what he hoped was
civilization.
He had passed through the unsettling ruins
of Conyberry, feeling the need not to tarry there, where wanton destruction had
sullied the beauty of the landscape and where evil seemed to lurk behind every
fallen stone.
He had a vague notion that Neverwinter was
somewhere further west. He kept clear of the foothills of the Stone Mountain to
the south, and took note of the dark woods to the north.
He very nearly stumbled into the adventurers’
encampment as he scrounged for some nuts and berries to quell the hungry
protests from his belly.
“Good morning,” a voice said from the
trees. Robert felt a tap on his shoulder, but when he whirled around to
confront the stranger, there was nobody there.
“Who did that?” Robert demanded.
From his perch in a nearby tree, Xylon
chuckled to himself as his mage hand flipped
the stranger off.
Theryn appeared from behind a tree. “What
are you doing out this way?”
“Foraging for food,” Robert said. “I’m just
passing through.”
“Well, we were just sitting down to
breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”
Robert stepped into the copse of trees and
took a seat amid the bedrolls and tents the party had haphazardly set up.
Varien was soon roused from his slumber and strapped on on his armour.
“I see you’re a fellow follower of Lady
Firehair,” Robert said, noting the crest that adorned Varien’s shield.
“That’s right,” Varien smiled a comradely
smile. “Always nice to meet a fellow believer.”
“So am I,” Ragnar said, producing an amulet
with Sune’s red-haired visage emblazoned on it out of thin air. He made it
disappear with a similar flourish.
“Ragnar, I was wrong about you!” Varien
said, arching an eyebrow in surprise.
Robert told the adventurers about his
journey from parts further west. In turn, they told him about their journey
from Neverwinter and their dealings in Phandalin.
Suddenly they realized they were being
watched.
Ragnar noticed a small humanoid form hiding
beneath a bush. So small, in fact, that he hardly needed to crouch to avoid the
branches of the prickly vegetation. If Ragnar had to guess, he’d say it was a
Halfling child. The boy was holding two apples and his eyes were as big as
saucers, taking the scene in.
“Hello!” shouted the boy.
“Uh, hello!” they replied.
“What’s your name?” Xylon asked the boy.
“I’m Carp. Carp Alderleaf,” said the child.
Ragnar recognized the name, having
overheard it in Phandalin.
“Ah, so your dad runs Alderleaf Farm? We
just delivered some goods at the trading post for you.”
Carp’s face fell. “Actually, it’s just me
and my mum, Qelline.”
“Where’s your dad, then?”
“Well, mum said that he had to go on a
trip. That was seven years ago.”
“And how old are you?”
“I’m ten years old!” Carp said, biting into an apple.
“Do you know your way around these parts?”
Theryn asked.
Carp nodded, shaking his blond moptop
vigorously. “I play in these woods all the time! I know them like the back of
my hand.”
“What can you tell us about the woods,
Carp?”
The boy gave them a sly look. “I found a
secret tunnel near the ruins of Tresendar Manor.”
“Did you now?” Theryn said.
“Yeah, I say a couple of really big, scary
looking bandits come out and talk to some other scary-looking guys.”
“Are these the guys causing trouble in
town?” Xylon asked.
“Oh, you mean the Redbrands!” Carp said. “I
think they live in the basement underneath the ruins, but nobody believes me.”
“We believe you, Carp!” Ragnar said.
The little Halfling stood straighter,
beaming at all the attention. “I can show you the tunnel if you want, but watch
out for those big scary bandits. They did not look nice!”
“Lead on, Carp.” Varien said.
The boy took the adventurers on a
roundabout route edging south of the hill where the ruins stood. Like most
Halflings, Carp seemed preternaturally stealthy and nimble, walking across beds
of fallen pine needles without disturbing a single one, and passing between two
ferns without rustling a leaf.
After a few minutes, Carp proudly revealed
the shadowy tunnel in the hillside. “I bet this goes straight under Tresendar
Manor,” he whispered, indicating the tracks and drag marks near the tunnel’s
mouth. “Those Redbrands are always sneaking in and out of here, up to no good.
Mum says I shouldn’t play around here, but I’m too small for those bandits to
notice me.”
“Good job, Carp,” Xylon tousled the boy’s
head, partly out of a paternal instinct, and partly to make sure the boy wasn’t
a dwarf wearing a wig. “Want to see a magic trick?”
“Yeah!” Carp said.
Xylon cast firebolt into the air, where it
popped like a holiday firecracker.
Carp jumped up and down with glee. “Good
show!”
“Run along now, Carp,” Varien said. “We
don’t want to you getting into trouble on our account.”
“Will do. Gotta go home and do some chores
for Mum,” Carp said. “Bye now.” He scampered off.
The adventurers eyed the tunnel and planned
their next move.
Xylon and Varien decided to take point,
using Xylon’s darkvision and Clockdrive’s nightvision goggles for the paladin.
Varien fitted the goggles over his eyes,
and miraculously they worked.
Ragnar frowned.
Xylon cast detect magic and moved into the tunnel alongside Varien.
Ragnar, Theryn and Robert broke out torches
and fell in several feet behind the other two, so as not to give away their
numbers.
The tunnel was about ten feet in diameter,
a natural formation in the rock, and snaked about a hundred feet north under
the hill.
Xylon and Varien felt a cold breeze with a
faint scent of decaying flesh wafting over them as they approached what looked
like a cavern in front of them. It was a natural cave, its twenty-foot high
ceiling supported by two rough stone columns. A deep crevasse divided the
cavern, with two arched wooden bridges spanning the chasm.
Xylon detected a faint aura of magic
emanating from the crevasse.
“Careful,” he whispered to his adventuring
partner.
As the two edged into the cavern, they both
heard a voice inside their head, accompanied by hysterical gibbering that was
like pins being stuck into the backs of their eyes.
Come
in, yes, come in. Food, I need food. Yes. Yes.
Varien turned to Xylon. “Do you hear that
too?”
The voice continued in a dissonant singsong.
Two
little minions; questing for a lie; two little minions, sent in here to die.
Food…flesh…
Behind the pair, Theryn, Ragnar and Robert
entered the cavern. Soon, they too heard the voice in their heads.
Five
little minions, scratching in the dust; wondering in whom they should have put
their trust; five little minions, their treasure turned to
rust…Foodfoodfoodyesfood.
Varien felt a stinging headache as the
voice spoke to him directly.
You,
paladin, you are pious and pray. But you will backslide and you will fall away.
“Anyone else hear that?” he asked.
Theryn winced as the voice rang in his
head.
You
worry that your quest is a false one, monk. But you should be worried that is
true.
Xylon heard it too.
Poor
little elf with a secret tucked away. A scandal on the homestead, o what would
dear mother say?
“Who’s there?” Ragnar asked the darkness.
I
have no name. Wait, I had a name, I think. So hungry….so hungry…
bringmefoodyesfood.
“Does Glasstaff know your name?” Ragnar
asked.
Glasstaff…Glasstaff
only cares about making deals. He brings me food. Yes, food.
“Do you work for Glasstaff?” Ragnar asked.
I am
the Guardian of this cavern.
As he spoke, Ragnar walked out onto the
southernmost bridge over the crevasse. It disintegrated beneath his feet, and
he only just managed to steal enough distance by blinking through the air and
landing unharmed on the other side of the chasm. The bridgework joined the pile
of debris that choked the bottom of the crevasse some twenty feet down.
Heheheheheheheh,
watch your step.
Robert thought he saw something peeking out
from behind one of the stone pillars. It was a glowing yellow-green eye that
blinked unsettlingly.
“Guys,” Robert said, indicating the
creature.
“If we bring you food, will you let us pass
through your cavern?” Ragnar asked.
Food,
yes, food. So hungry.
The creature was vaguely humanoid, a
hunchback with knobby spikes protruding from its shoulders and back. Its face
was dominated by a cycloptic eye and ravenous jaw that clicked open and shut, revealing
sharp teeth. Its hands and feet were clawed and tapped the stone floor and it
shuffled its weight from one foot to the next.
Come
in. Yes, come in. Bring me food. Yes, food. Ha haha ahahahah.
“Where can we get you something to eat?”
Ragnar asked.
The twisted creature pointed a long claw at
a passageway that ran to the west.
There
is a room downstairs. Bring me a taste. A taste, yes.
Varien strode purposefully into the
passage. The corridor led to a stone staircase cut into the rock and ended in a
narrow passage with a door to the south and a door to the north. With Theryn on
his heels, Varien confidently pushed the door open.
Inside the room, which looked like a
barracks of some kind, three hulking brutes, their bodies covered in shaggy fur
and leather armor, were in the middle of brutalizing a small, rail-thin goblin
who cowered on the floor. Their harsh laughter echoed in the corridor.
One of them, his eye covered in a leather
patch, saw the paladin at the door. “Here’s a challenge!” he shouted to his two
companions.
The goblin fainted.
Before Varien could react, the
eyepatch-wearing bugbear scooped up a mace and charged, striking the paladin
with enough force to knock him off his feet and send him skidding back into the
hallway. One of the bugbear’s companions followed up with a smashing blow that
knocked the wind out of him.
At the top of the stairs, Xylon heard the
ruckus and prepared a spell.
Theryn stood over the fallen paladin and
struck at the lead bugbear with his quarterstaff.
A drop of blood fell from the bugbear’s
nose. He sniffed wetly, spat, and rubbed his hand on his face. His featured
contorted in rage as he saw the reddish smear on his hand.
“You made me bleed my own blood, human!”
the bugbear cried. “Now it’s personal!”
Theryn and Varien scrambled up the steps
and back into the corridor as Xylon cast burning
hands.
The trio of bugbears thundered into the
hallway just in time for them to be wreathed in a blast of arcane fire that
scorched their furry hides. They roared in anger and surprise.
Standing next to Xylon, Ragnar cast eldritch blast but succeeded only in
hurting himself.
“Mediocre!” shouted the lead bugbear.
“Oh no,” Ragnar shouted theatrically.
“We’re doomed!” To the creature hidden at the mouth of the corridor he hissed
“dinner’s coming!”
The creature’s talons elongated with a
disgusting stretching sound. It padded over to the edge of the corridor,
waiting to strike.
As the lead bugbear rushed into the cavern,
mace at the ready, the creature sprang, all claws and teeth as it buried its
jaws in the bugbear’s neck. The bugbear didn’t have time to scream as the
creature’s momentum carried them both into a heap on the stony floor, claws
raking gouts of blood that sprayed wall and floor liberally.
The other bugbears swung their clubs at
Varien and Theryn, who bore the brunt of the assault.
Robert backed away, hands on head, in
disbelief at the creature’s assault on the bugbear.
Varien cast thunderous smite and as his weapon hit home, a blast of divine
thunder echoed through the cavernous chamber, sending dust jumping from between
the stone tiles on floor and wall and making pebbles rain down from the cavern
ceiling. The thunder strike rattled the bugbears as they swung their weapons
wildly without connecting.
Xylon cast fire bolt but missed.
Varien ran one of the bugbears through with
his halberd. It fell back, dead.
Theryn knocked the last bugbear around with
a swing of his quarterstaff and then snapped its spine with a well-placed blow,
dropping it like a heavy sack of meat to the stone floor.
Silence descended upon the cavern, save for
the slavering slurps of the creature as it fed on the bugbear’s corpse.
The creature looked up from his meal, blood
and gore dripping from his jaws. His eye blinked horribly as Ragnar felt it
look into the darkest depths of his soul.
“I have so much to tell you,” the
creature’s voice echoed inside Ragnar’s head, even as its mouth continued to
chew on the bugbear’s remains.
And then it smiled.
