Xylon got his first good look at the creature as it hunched
over its meal. He had reason to believe this was a nothic, a twisted caricature
of a wizard who had unlocked dark secrets too intense for him or her to fathom.
The forbidden knowledge would have driven the wizard insane, warping it into a
freakish monster with no memory of its former self.
All Ragnar knew was that this was a creature with whom he
could likely deal.
As if he heard the rogue’s thoughts, the nothic looked up at
Ragnar once again. Help me get these
morsels into the chasm. Take what you want from them. I’ve got what I need, yes….food…yes.
Ragnar noticed that the first bugbear, who looked somewhat
tougher and meaner than the other two, was wearing a gem-studded leather
eyepatch. The rogue nicked it, and in the process noticed that there didn’t seem
to be anything wrong with the dead bugbear’s eye. He patted down the thug’s
pockets and came up with some coin and a heavy iron key.
The adventurers looted the other two bugbears and helped
drag them to the edge of the crevasse, rolling them in, where they disappeared
into inky blackness. They could hear the wet thuds of the bodies coming to
rest.
Xylon felt something warm and wet splashing against his
expensive boots. He looked down, expecting to see some of the bugbear’s blood
pooling. Instead, he saw a small cat discreetly urinating on his foot.
“What the hell?” he shouted, giving the stray a kick.
As the cat sailed through the air with a meow, its body
blurred and grew into a humanoid form that landed feet-first on the cavern
floor. It was Erwen the Druid.
Well, that’s certainly
a thing , Ragnar thought.
“Erwen, where the heck have you been?” they asked.
Erwen shrugged and turned to find the nothic staring at him
with one overlarge yellow eye.
Here, kitty kitty,
yes, my purring pal…wait, it looks like someone got laid last night! Erwen
heard a voice inside his head cackle.
“It’s a long story,” said the druid.
“So, where can we find Glasstaff?” Ragnar asked the nothic.
Glasstaff…he’s here,
he’s there, yes, he’s everywhere. The nothic said. He stalks these halls…he walks through walls…
The nothic waved his clawed hand in a vaguely northwest
direction as he continued to dine.
Ragnar nodded and both he and Theryn moved northward, intent
on finding a secret passageway.
“All right, let’s keep this moving,” Varien said, drawing
his sword and starting back down the stairs. Instead of turning south, he
turned north and examined the door as Xylon, Robert and Erwen followed close
behind.
Varien pushed the door open and for his trouble was rewarded
by a couple of quick stabs from a sword that pierced his armor and opened a
nasty wound. He shouted in alarm and heard nothing but rough laughter in return
from the far side of the door.
Xylon surged forward and cast burning hands into the chamber beyond. He could see at least three
Redbrand thugs with their swords out, and soon their laughs turned to screams
of agony as he lit them up like pieces of dry kindling. For that matter, he lit
up everything combustible in a cone-shaped arc, igniting barrels, furniture and
tapestries.
In the northern section of the cavern, Theryn’s torch
illuminated a narrow passageway heading west, and a section of a chamber that
opened into the cavern to the north. He crept carefully down the hall to the
west, taking the stairs that appeared. Ragnar followed behind.
The corridor ended in a t-junction with doors to the north
and to the south. Listening at the door, Theryn heard the sounds of angry
shouting and swordplay, and he quietly pushed the door open.
He took in the scene – three Redbrand thugs, each one
smoldering and stamping out fires on their clocks while they thrust their
swords at Xylon and Varien to the south. Theryn silently spun his quarterstaff
and readied an attack.
Ragnar barged past the monk and let fly with his eldritch
blast. Unfortunately, the rogue was still coming to grips with his new warlock
powers, and he succeeded only in scorching himself with a web of purple barb
wire.
Theryn sighed heavily at the rogue’s cacophonous entry.
Wounded, Varien held fast to the door frame as he stabbed
out with his halberd in an attempt to drop one of his targets.
Erwen nimbly rushed into the room through a sea of legs.
One of the Redbrands looked down and opened a cut on Erwen’s
back with his shortsword. “It’s going to take more than little children to cut
us down to size!”
Erwen, his face contorted in pain and righteous indignation,
spun and cast ice knife at the bigoted
brute. The spectral dagger stabbed home and then exploded, showering Redbrand
and companion alike in magical shards of ice. Fortunately, Xylon and Varien
were able to use the door as cover.
Satisfied, Erwen drew upon his druidic power and began to
wildshape, increasing in size and ferocity. He took the form of an angry brown
bear.
The Redbrands gulped.
Xylon wound up and cast acid
splash , sending a magical bulb of frothing fluid into the Redbrands’ midst.
The acid turned the men’s scabbing burn wounds into ulcerating sores that oozed
horribly. One of the Redbrands fell to his knees, half-blinded by the acid,
screaming at the top of his lungs. The wounded thugs still had the strength to
use the paladin as a pincushion for their blades.
Seeing that his friend was staggering under the hacks and
slashes of the Redbrands, Xylon shouldered forward and cast mage armor, absorbing a number of blows.
The wizard gasped as a sword blade stabbed through his mage armor , catching him in the side.
One of the Redbrands broke and ran, giving Varien the
opening he needed. With his last strength, he sliced open the ruffian’s belly
as he tried to dodge out of the way, spilling his entrails out onto the floor.
The man screamed and staggered away from the fight, trying to hold his
shattered stomach in, and walked straight into the waiting paws of the Erwen-Bear.
With one swipe of his claw, the druid opened the thug up from thorax to groin,
splashing so much blood that much of Xylon’s fires were snuffed out.
“Hell with this!” the second Redbrand shouted, ducking Erwen’s
shaggy attack as he rushed for the northern exit. He ran straight into Theryn’s
quarterstaff. The monk knocked out all the man’s teeth with a well-placed
strike, and followed through with a chop that sent the man sprawling.
The third Redbrand tried to struggle to his feet but fell
under Erwen’s roaring maw.
A fourth ruffian, who had been hidden behind the open door
for most of the fight, ran away at full tilt, screaming for help as he jumped
over a chair and pushed past Theryn from behind. Ragnar struck at the thug with
his crowbar, dizzying him as he rushed out of the room into the hallway, intent
on opening the door to the north. Theryn stepped forward and swung his
quarterstaff like a cricket bat, catching the back of the Redbrand thug’s head
and sending him skull-first into the heavy wooden door. The thug left a smear
of blood as he slid to the floor of the hallway, dead.
From the collection of coins and trinkets on the table in
the middle of the chamber, it looked like the thugs had been playing
knucklebones or some other game of chance before they were rudely interrupted. The
group divvied up the winnings on the table.
In the hallway outside the charnel house, Bob sat on the
steps with his head in his hands. Oh
Sune, where is the beauty in all this slaughter? He thought.
Theryn turned to the unexplored room to the south. Opening
the door, he saw that the room was full of bunk beds and smelled of unwashed
bodies and rotting food. A pile of dirty dishes on a nearby table accounted for
some of the latter, while the prone form of a gangly goblin accounted for much
of the former.
The pathetic green-skinned humanoid looked like he had been
worked over by experts – his skin was covered in bruises and both his eyes were
blacked. The creature cringed as Theryn squatted down beside him and placed a
hand on his head.
“Those monsters won’t be bothering you any more,” the monk
said gently. “What’s your name?”
“Droop’s name is Droop,” the goblin whispered. He looked up
at Theryn with wide eyes. “Mosk and his friends… they is dead?”
Theryn nodded.
Droop attempted a smile and succeeding only in baring his
teeth, which looked to have been filed down to points.
“Where are you from?” Theryn asked.
“Droop part of Cragmaw tribe!” Droop said.
“Do the Cragmaw live around here?” Theryn asked.
Droop shook his head. “Droop came here with Mosk and Mosk’s
friends.”
“How long have you been here?”
Droop eyes unfocused as he stared off into the distance. “How
does one mark time between beatings? Droop been down here at least tenday after
leaving Cragmaw Castle. Then Droop run out of fingers and toes to count on.” He
wiggled his hands and feet, revealing a number of missing pigglies.
“Can you show us the way to Cragmaw Castle?”
Droop nodded his head vigorously, but then the nod turned
into a shake. “Droop not quite sure. Mosk knew the way for certain.” He
brightened up. “But Droop know where Cragmaw bushwhackers hide out near the
trail! They can show you the way!”
“Speaking of showing us the way, does this goblin friend of
yours know the layout of this dungeon?” Varien asked as he entered the room.
Theryn cocked an eye at Droop. “Droop knows things!” Droop said. “Droop want to be useful
to his new buddies and pals. Only,” he lowered his eyes. “Don’t beat Droop as
hard as Mosk did. Droop can’t take much more.”
Theryn smiled. “Droop, there will be no beatings from here
on in.”
Ragnar leaned against the wall. He wasn’t sure putting their
trust in a shifty goblin was the best plan, and certainly wasn’t ruling out any
future beatings just yet.
“Droop knows this place. Where you want go?”
Varien had used his healing powers on himself but still looked
a little shaky. “We need to find a place to hole up and rest outside this
cavern.”
“Why not here?” Theryn said. “Droop can stand guard.”
“Droop a great guard!” Droop said. “Mosk used to deprive
Droop of sleep in creative ways to test Droop’s stamina. All day, all night, no
problem!”
“Good enough,” Varien said. “We’re going to lock this door
and you’re going to bang on it if anyone comes down this way.”
“Droop here to help!” the goblin all but saluted.
The adventurers patched up their wounds and regained their
strength, while the hours passed. Their rest was not interrupted by wandering
Redbrands or other creatures. Xylon soon relieved Droop at the door, followed
later by Theryn.
When they were ready to head out, they dragged the bodies of
the Redbrands up to the nothic’s cavern and dumped them in the chasm.
Oh ho ho, Glasstaff
won’t like this, not one little bit, the nothic’s voice rang inside their
heads.
“This squares us, then?” Ragnar said to the nothic. “We’ve
given you plenty of food, so you’re going to give us passage through your
cavern?”
Yes, yes, food for
freedom. Sure. Yes. Hee hee.
Ragnar pointed at the eastern corridor that he had spied
when he jumped to the far side of the crevasse. “What’s that way?” he asked the
goblin.
Droop smiled. “Secret entrance!” He seemed proud of himself.
“And on the other side?”
Droop thought for a moment and then grinned a toothy grin. “Swimming
pool! Or at least that’s what Droop thought. Water so nice and clean, Droop
couldn’t help himself but swim around in it. Then Glasstaff found out and he
got mad. Real mad. Made Mosk beat Droop for ‘contaminating the water supply
with his filth,’ at least that’s what Droop thought Glasstaff said.” Droop
looked downcast. “Droop guesses the water is for drinking, not for swimming.”
“Show us,” Theryn prompted.
Droop led the adventurers over the remaining wooden bridge
and down the eastern passage, which led to a dead end. The goblin felt around
on the stone wall until he unlocked a hidden catch. A secret door slid open on
hidden hinges and Droop, a triumphant look on his face, ushered them in.
The room looked like a spacious cellar for the manor house,
which they assumed was above them. In the middle of the room was a deep cistern
fed by broken pipes in the ceiling. The eastern edge of the room was flanked by
double stairs, each a half-flight in height separated by a short walkway. The
stairs led upward and there was a hint of fresh air breezing in.
Droop looked longingly at the cistern, which was at least
ten feet deep, with a two-foot high lip around its edge. Xylon’s sharp eyes
picked out a rope tied off to one side that stretched down into the water.
The wizard began pulling the rope as the rest of the group
searched the room. Xylon pulled up an oilcloth satchel from the bottom of the
cistern. Opening it, he heard the jingle of coins, and saw two stoppered flasks
that looked like they contained potions of some kind. Folded up beneath the
flasks was a set of simple traveling clothes.
“Huh,” Xylon said, eyeing the flasks.
Ragnar quickly took stock of the supplies piled up in
alcoves along the walls. He broke open the seal on a barrel of salted pork and
began filling his pockets. There was a door behind Ragnar on the far side of the
cistern, but the rogue figured he would take one room at a time.
Theryn noticed a doorway beneath one of the stairways
leading north.
“Droop, where does this passage lead?”
“Oh, to the dungeon,” Droop said.
“Wait,” Varien said. “We’re in a dungeon, aren’t we? You mean
there’s another dungeon inside this one?”
Droop scratched his head. “Well, Droop think this an
argument over semantics. We are in dungeon, yes, but there is also dungeon
where Glasstaff puts prisoners. So, yes and no, depending on how define
dungeons in general versus specific dungeon location where prisoners go.”
Xylon discovered that he was now in possession of a potion
of healing and a potion of invisibility.
“Didn’t that barmaid say something about a family that’s
gone missing?” Varien asked.
“Maybe they’re here inside this dungeon inside a dungeon,”
Ragnar offered around a mouthful of salt pork.
“Dragon Man gets it,” Droop nodded sagely.
The adventurers opened the heavy doors towards parts
unknown.