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[Goonalan]

Dungeon Crawl Classics #0 Legends are Made, not Born
An Adventure for 0 Level Characters

Turn 4: The Smelly Back Passage.

The rain has eased up, a waxing moon illuminates the way through the woods, shadows everywhere, the torch lit procession soon finds its way through however. The eagle eyes of Newt, and in particular, Mischa, who knows the route, have not led them astray; the pair’s low light vision, even with the flaring torches, can pick out detail at a hundred paces.

Two miserable hours later the six sit, crouch, and stand in the lea of a copse of trees observing what Mischa says is the rear of the Ogre’s den.

“Where is it?” Cas scans the hillock again.
“Wait.” Mischa counsels.

They wait, in silence, except for Anya who awkwardly scrapes mud from her Dire Rat skin boots. “These are ruined.” She states to no-one.

“I can’t see anything.” Newt moans.
“Wait.” Mischa simply states.

Dusk approaches, and with its approach signals feeding time for the bats. A dark spiral of the creatures erupts from a crag forty feet up the side of the hillock, no more than two hundred feet from where the adventurers watch.

“See.” Mischa scans her compatriot’s faces, and then quickly and quietly, sets off for the crag.

Two minutes later they have reached the hillock, gathered in silence.

“Wait.” Mischa tags Jim’s arm, he spasms at the touch- then relaxes a little, the two crouch down and shuffle forward.

“I’m beginning to see who’s in charge.” Newt states staring hard at young Lord Casimir. The would-be paladin smiles back, feigning indifference; there’s nothing else for him to do.

At the base of the hillock Mischa and Jim circle.

“See. Here.”

The Elf falls to her knees, strikes a pose like some four-legged beast. She gingerly places her feet and hands into hollow depressions in the dirt.

“It’s five feet long, quadruped, big- heavy, look how deep the tracks are.”

Jim grins, all he can see is the young Elf’s twitching rear silhouetted in the moonlight.
“Mmmm… I… I, ah… I see.”

“The tracks head up, their fresh, the creature has fed today perhaps. Nevertheless we should warn the others.” Mischa looks up. “It’s an easy climb. I shall lead the way.”

Two minutes later the group are gathered forty feet up at an opening in the hillocks side, a tear in the rock.

“I’ll take over.”

Newt scrambles forward to the head of the queue, braces himself against the sides of the crevasse and heads on in. In a moment he’s gone from sight.

Inside the dark cave, Newt cautiously, quietly, creeps- tight to the cavern wall, his eyes adjust to the dark, the shaft of light from the crevasse emphasises the shadows that surround him.

A minute passes. He heads back.

“There’s a cave, it smells- not good. There’s an opening on the far side, it smells worse - there’s something down there, I swear I could hear something moving- sounds big. Also the ground is soft- funny.” Newt reports back, confirming Mischa’s warning.

“Onwards.” Cas whispers.

“Can I have a sand…” Bec starts up, Anya reaches up and clamps her hand across his mouth, she shakes his head- no.

They head in.

A minute more and they’re assembled inside, it’s too dark for those not blessed with low light vision, a torch flares, the group take in their surroundings. They’re standing in the centre of a natural cave, a passage heads off into darkness, and lastly, and for Anya most importantly, their standing in six inches of collected bat guano.

“OH MY GOD. Oh my god. Oh my god.”

Anya breaks her cool looking for some way to extricate her boots from the mire. She gloops and slops forward, pulling her ruined boots from the wretched slop.

“Shhhh.” A collective offering.

“OH MY GOD- d’you know how much these cost me?”

“Shhhh.” It comes again.

Bec bends low to sniff at the bats offerings, staggers upright.

“POO POO.”

He half-dances into the thickest part. Slips- catches himself, then slips again and is down; hands, hair, face in the slop.

“POO POO.”
“Will you keep it down.” Cas hisses.

Slowly order returns.

They head over to the exit.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” A litany under her breath from Anya.

The cavern ahead splits two ways, Mischa sniffs, Jim follows suit.

“The creature’s lair lies to the left.” She simply states.

Newt struggles to the front again, “I’ll check it out. If I call…”
“We’ll come running.” Cas finishes off his remark.

Newt shuffles-squats forward, down the left-hand passage. All is silent for a good while.

Cas looks at Jim, then Mischa, skips Bec, then Anya- who shrugs and gets back to pushing back an offending cuticle.

Time passes.

Then bursting from the tunnel ahead comes the Gnome, at speed, with something large in hot pursuit.

“AAAAAhhhh. Big skunk- angry, big skunk.”

The Gnome bowls through the cavern as emerging, hissing into the light comes the enraged Dire Skunk, all teeth and fur, the group quickly fall back as the creature approaches- snarling and spitting as it surges forward.

All except for Lord Casimir who stumbles and puts one hand down in the mire, he’s left stranded his back to the giant creature.

At the other side of the cavern Newt finishes his tactical retreat by tripping and plunging head first into the bat guano. That leaves four of the adventurers in play.

And yet the creature hesitates, content to defend its lair.

Jim staggers forward hands up. He has no idea what he’s doing, or why, and yet…

“There, there. Nice skunky. Shhhh.”

Mischa nudges Bec, who shuffles forward and grabs Cas dragging him up and back to safety. Newt recovers in the background, wipes guano from his face and hands.

Jim takes a step closer, his eyes locked on the twinkling eyes of the enormous beast, he glances back at Mischa, and then quickly forward, locked onto the beast. Time slows.

“There, there. We come in…”

The beast quickly turns, raises its tail, and a geyser of hot skunk piss sprays out, it shakes its flanks and then turns again to see what it has wrought.

“POOOOOOO POOOOOO.”

Bec screams like a frightened child, the scent fills his nostrils, his brain- he hurtles forward, away, anywhere; trips, stumbles and thumps into a cavern wall- out cold.

For Jim the effect is less dramatic, he slowly sags, slumps and then falls flat-out into the mire, bubbles in the guano mark his mouth submerged in the miasma.

“Kill it.” Cas screams.

Anya is however first to react, a wand appears, as if by magic, in her hands.

“LOOK AT MY BOOTS. SMIDGIN”

A bolt of energy rips from the end of the wooden shaft and thumps into the enraged creature’s face- that’s torn it.

Mischa is unsure, she grasps her sickle and stands ready lest the creature launch an attack; it was only defending its lair after all.

Newt quick-draws a dagger and flings it at the creature it misses by a country mile, sinks into the dark, and the gloop, never to be found again- good start.

The Dire Skunk has had enough; it launches itself at Lord Cas, over Jim- pressing him further down into the stinky gloop. Mischa steps in- swings but merely cuts the air. The beast sinks its teeth into Cas’ arm, blood spurts then cascades, his shield falls into the dirt. Off-balance he swings hard with his longsword but the creature is too close, the blow is ineffective, it bounces off the Dire Skunk’s matted fur.

Anya backs away, this is not going well and yet…

“YOU RUINED MY BLOODY BOOTS. SMIDGIN”

Another bolt of energy streaks forward and scores a hit. The creature staggers and yet is now certain where its enemy lies- it charges forward. Mischa is slow to react, the creature bowls past her and rushes at the Model Wizard.

Thwang.

Newt’s crossbow speaks, however the bolt, like his dagger, is lost to the dark.

The Dire Skunk arrives, at pace, smashes into Anya and snaps its jaws shut slicing through leather, skin and bone.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

The creature rears back salivating, makes ready for another strike.

“NOT THE DRESS AS WELL.”

Behind the creature Lord Cas swings wildly, misses badly- still staggered from the creature’s initial attack.

Further behind the melee, Jim lifts his face from the mire, voids his stomach and hearing the screams behind him attempts to gain his feet.

Anya staggers backwards as the great creature sways before her, in desperation fumbles the wand, reaches into a pocket and gulps down her goodberry.

Mischa backs away, weaves magic with her hands, a sudden burst of light before the creature as her Flare spell ignites the air. The creature rears up blinded, leaving Newt and the others with a clear shot.

Thwong.

Newt’s crossbow bolt buries itself deep inside the creature’s throat, it chokes on its own blood, thrashes wildly- Anya dives again for cover.

Then Cas connects, his longsword slicing open the creatures flank, it deflates in an instant, slowly sinks further into the filth.

“Can I have sandwich?”

Bec awakens.

Next Turn Beetlemania.