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[Goonalan]

Dungeon Crawl Classic #24
Legend of the Ripper
Level 1-3 (Scaled to level 4)

Turn 57: “Did Black Alley Clah send you?”

Cas nods at Newt, the Gnome grins and scurries in.

Slick iron rungs driven into the brick wall lead from the street onto a walkway flanking an open sewer channel. The stench is particularly foul here, inciting Newt’s lungs and stomach to rise in open rebellion, he throws up.

“Is it safe?” Cas shouts down.

Newt wipes his mouth, “yep.”

They Gang make their way down, Anya slips on the ladder but is caught in the nick of time by Cas.

“Thanks.” She winks at the Paladin, who grins back awkwardly.
Jim looks a little put out.

“Which way?” Ala breaks the deadlock.
“There’s no blood trail- this way.”

Jim heads off north.

They’ve gone twenty feet.

“Hey, there’s a door.” Newt points to the spot, and then crouches down to get to work, “It’s locked.”

And a minute later its not, the Gnome budges aside, Cas steps in, wrenches the door open.

A trio of filthy ragged ne’er-do-wells sit around a squat table playing cards and seeking comfort in a bottle of rotgut. All three look mean and ill-tempered, hardened by the harshness of life in The Nunny. A single barrel marked “grog” sits against a wall, but otherwise the room is empty.

The largest of the thugs, a menacing individual with a pock-marked face, rises from the chair and casually sweeps back his cloak to reveal a wicked blade hidden beneath. He walks slowly and unsteadily towards Casimir. Though his eyes are bloodshot, Cas can smell the spirits on him, his speech is clear.

“Did Back Alley Clah send you?” He asks with a sneer. “You can tell your boss that if he doesn’t like the way we do our trade, he can hire someone else to break bones for ‘im.”

Cas looks a little confused.

“Actually I’m Casimir La Frond, Paladin of the Church of Pelor, we’re…”

Newt nudges Cas in the ribs, the Paladin thinks about things a moment.

“Oh hang on, can we start again?” Cas tries.

The Thug shakes his head, also a little confused by the sudden turn of events.

“Oh, ok. In that case I’m arresting you in the name of the Church of Pelor.”

Thurlo, the big Thug, is lightning fast, grabs out his blade and stabs Cas in the gut.

“Oh bugger.” Cas pushes his way into the room, his momentum driving Thurlo back.

Ala hits the Bless spell as the two Thugs at the table leap up, back off, and fumble out throwing daggers, both the blades spiral towards the Paladin, clatter into his armour and bounce away.

“Pelor save me.” The Paladin squeaks.

Thurlo swings again, Cas’ shield blocks the blow, he pushes Thurlo further back into chamber.

“Surrender or die?” Cas offers.
“EXPLETIVE DELETED.” Thurlo considers Cas’ offer and politely declines.

Anya casts Mage Armour on herself, as Bec wades into the chamber swinging, burying his longsword into Thurlo’s shoulder, the Thug screams and staggers back. Jim dives into the chamber and grabs his bow, notches an arrow.

Ala waits in the doorway, grabs her bow out too, and readies a shot.

Meanwhile Vik and Sharktooth, the other two Thugs, charge into the melee, Sharktooth stabs Anya in the side with his shortsword, the Wizard struggles, fails to cast her spell, winces horribly and tries to back out of the fight, she really shouldn’t be here.

Newt sees it all.

“ANYAAAAAA.”

The Gnome lifts his little crossbow and, point blank range, fires it into Sharktooth’s head, it gets messy very quickly- think of melon’s exploding, Sharktooth is very, very, very dead.

Thurlo screams and charges back at Cas, who parries his blow but can’t get an attack in. Jim watches this, still scanning the arena looking for a clear shot.

“Feck this.”

The Ranger throws down his bow, grabs out his Battleaxe and goes over to help Anya.

Bec meanwhile wades into Thurlo, who’s still keeping Cas at bay, he slices again, rips into the Thug’s side.

Ala follows Jim’s lead, fumbles out her longsword, but stays put in the doorway. Vik swings towards her, she defends herself, keeps the Thug at bay.

“Smidgin.”

Anya fires a Magic Missile into Thurlo, the Thug roars his defiance.

Newt turns his sights on Vik, fires again, his crossbow bolt smashes into the Thugs leg, crippling him for life. Jim dives across as the Thug folds, smashes his battleaxe into Vik, the Thug flops to the floor- dead.

Thurlo stands alone, the fighting stops for a second.

“Ok, I surrender.”

POP

Too late, Bec takes Thurlo’s head off, it spirals across the room as the Thug’s body folds to the floor.

“BUFFET.” Bec seethes.

“Who are these guys?” Ala enquires.
“Were these guys?” Newt corrects Ala.
“Pelor knows, search them.”

Ten minutes later, none the wiser, and only a little bit richer the Goodman Gang, after a touch of healing courtesy of Ala head on.

There are two possible exits, both rotten wooden doors, one east, one south. Cas leads them on, east, down a stinking wet passage to another door, this one barred.

Cas stands aside, the Gnome dives in, the passage continues south to yet another door.

The Gnome gets to work, no traps, the bar off the door, there’s a rather complicated lock, “nice”, Newt rubs his hands with glee.

It takes two minutes and he’s in, Cas pushes past the Gnome, into a cell, there’s a skeleton on the floor. He stirs the bones with his longsword, nothing happens.

“Next.”

The Gnome skips ahead a little to the next door, checks it.

“Damn.”
“What is it Newt?” Jim asks.
“It’s open.”

Newt pushes the door open; a single flickering candle stirs in the breeze, shadows dance across the walls of the small room. Simple wooden bunks, six in total and covered in tattered and soiled bedding, take up most of the chamber. A feverish moan rises from one of the farther beds, the plaintive cry of someone clearly in pain.

Ala and Cas cross the room quickly, shivering in the bed is a filthy looking Thug clutching his blanket to him.

“Filth Fever.” Ala states.
“Can you heal him?” Cas asks.
“In time.” Ala replies.
“We’ll come back for him, do what you can to make him comfortable.”

Ala sets to work.

There’s another door in the chamber, it leads to a small room, not much larger than a closet, inside are stacked half-a-dozen crates and barrels, it’s a storeroom.

“He’ll sleep now.” Ala calls over
“Right, out of here, back to that other door.” Cas takes charge.

They file out following the Paladin, except for Newt who’s spotted something on the floor of the storeroom, a small tobacco pouch, when the others have gone he picks it up, sniffs it- Bitter Root, a narcotic, he hides his stash and catches up with the others.

The Goodman Gang return to the former home of the Thugs, and settle before the door south, it’s not locked, Cas opens it and enters, it’s a dead end.

“Hang on your Lordship.”

Newt scurries past the Paladin.

TUG

The wall ahead swings forward and into the dark chamber beyond, they bring light.

They’re in a cellar, the air is cool and damp, the smell of wet earth. Barrels are stacked in front of them; Cas gingerly clears a path through. The far wall is occupied by a wine-rack sagging under the weight of age. A set of wooden stairs lead up into a corner of shadowy light.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrggggggggggggggggggghhh.”

A guttural scream, bitten off, a woman’s voice.

It comes from up the stairs.

Cas and Ala share a look, hers terror, his intrigue- the Paladin truly knows no fear. He shrugs and sprints for the steps, then up them, two, and when he can manage it, three at a time. The others trail behind.

And into the bar room of the Ten Bells Inn, at one time it must have been a comfortable, if decidedly lower-class tavern. The original brick and flint walls, ancient floors, old beams, and aged furnishings and tables are reminiscent of an earlier age, a time when patrons by the dozens would have drunk themselves into rowdy stupors within.

The room is eerily silent; the only patron left a frighteningly large rat which scurries into the fireplace in response to their intrusion.

“Who screamed?” Cas asks.
“Not me.” Ala states, breathing hard, “yet.” She whispers under her breath.

They stand and stare.

“I hate rats.” Bec whispers. Anya hears him, nods to herself.

“They’ve gone.” Cas turns round to face his companions.

“GEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET OUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT.”

The voice a molasses thick whisper- full of pain and suffering.

A woman’s voice.

Cas spins round.

“Who’s there?”

And is struck in the face by a flying chair.

The Paladin collapses onto the floor.

Next Turn: Seeing is Believing.