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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 5053599" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>Back at the crossroads, our heroes take the night off, enjoying the company of merchants and travelers again, sharing their fire and food with friendly strangers. “Some day,” predicts Shar, “a town will spring up here.” </p><p></p><p>The next morning, they trudge back to the earthquake rift, intending to descend to the watery level and investigate the boats that Mulcoyle the goblin told them about. They tie together several coils of rope and begin the long descent, dropping 60’ to the ledge that leads into the third level. From there, they rig a harness from another series of ropes and tie Cavemouth in, then lower him slowly and quietly down to take a look. </p><p></p><p>The shaft of the rift opens at the bottom, revealing a wide, roughly oval pool of water a couple of hundred feet across. A pair of narrow ledges of dry land are visible clinging to the edge of the pool; a few small boats are tied off to one of these. Cavemouth clambers back up and reports his findings to the party. “Unfortunately, there’s a long climb along slick rock to get to either of the ledges.” </p><p></p><p>“Do we have enough rope to rig a pathway over?” wonders Sepia.</p><p></p><p>“I have about 200’ myself,” Shar replies. “Is that enough?” </p><p></p><p>“Almost,” says Cavemouth, “and I’m pretty sure that between the bunch of us, we have enough.”</p><p></p><p>The party pulls out their rope collection and hands it to the goliath.</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>In the crude shelter, the miserable crippled figure lay huddled on a mass of filthy, soiled straw. Fleas and ticks crawled all over his body. Even if he were not horribly scarred and maimed, even had shackles not been closed around his ankles for decades, he was now too old to even attempt to escape. His bones ached, and all he truly wished for was death- as he had wished for over thirty years, now. </p><p></p><p>The air outside the rude lean-to stank of smoke, sweat and rot. The remains of the buildings, given over to the cruel embrace of mold and mildew, were untended and collapsing. Even one of those fouled structures would have offered him more cover from the wind, more surcease from the cold. But no- using those buildings would be a violation of the weird code that his prisoners held to. </p><p></p><p>Eyes crusted with yellow snot eased closed. His teeth were long-gone, rotted from his mouth. He was half-starved. Yet the damned humans and their strange allies would not let him die. </p><p></p><p>Lerrmurr had long ago told them all the information that he had; but it was not enough, not specific enough, not dangerous enough for them. They believed that he knew more. They believed that, somehow, despite the horrible torments that they had subjected him to, he somehow still held something back. </p><p></p><p>The fools. Trapping him was bad enough; leaving him unable to move freely, feeding him the fetid swill that he had been forced to live on rather than fresh prey, the beatings and torture- all of that simply added to his misery without drawing more information out of him. He had always been weak-willed; his greatest moment of strength had been when he forced his captain to leave him behind as their ship had crashed. </p><p></p><p>Surely, though, if she had escaped, she would have returned to save him by now. Except, of course, that she thought him dead- and, no doubt, burned to ashes by the radioactive fires caused by overloaded and exposed radiocrystal. </p><p></p><p>Old- he was old, now. He had lost count of how many miserable winters he had lived through; more than half of them, he was convinced, had occurred in this shackled hell hole. Even if he were to be freed, he doubted whether he could walk, let alone run. Escape were impossible now, and the increasing neglect of his captors was bound to kill him at last before long.</p><p></p><p>Even with his eyes closed, his keen ears detected someone entering the crude lean-to that was his only shelter from the elements. Then a voice, faintly mocking, speaking in the crude human language that he had learned over the years: “You are in luck, my friend. We are moving you. You will see a change of scenery.” </p><p></p><p>It was a struggle to open his rheumy eyes. The silhouette of one of his tormenters loomed above him, and he could hear a key being placed in the shackle binding his ankle to the thick root nearby. Then his emaciated body was being half-lifted, half-dragged clear of the structure. He couldn’t feel his formerly-shackled leg, and the smell arising from the suppurating sores where the metal band had fastened to him told him that he was in for another long, agonizing ritual to keep him alive. <em>Just let me die,</em> he thought hazily. <em>I have nothing for you. I...</em></p><p></p><p>A scent caught his attention and made his blood run cold. It was far off; he had not been able to detect it at all in the smoky haze of his tiny shelter. But now it reached him, a hint of something from his old life- and not something favorable to him. </p><p></p><p><em>Canus,</em> he thought. Trembling from weakness, he realized that there might be worse things than this human captivity after all. They were far off, but why would they be here at all? </p><p></p><p><em>Unless they are looking for me. Or other tabaxi. Or, worst of all, unless they are seeking the radiocrystals.</em> As the laboring human dragged his mangy frame to the fire to warm him, Lerrmurr closed his eyes again. <em>Let them not find it. And please, let them not have anything that can </em>use<em> it.</em></p><p><em></em></p><p><em>Oh please.</em></p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Time and effort always pay off. Cavemouth braids the ropes together, spiking them to the wall of the cavernous area above the water in place after place. Slowly he works his way over to the ledge with the boats on it, then drops down and shouts back at the entrance, “Ready! Come on in!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Cavemouth’s voice echoes deeper into the caves. Rats squeal at the sound. </p><p></p><p>“Did you hear that?” asks Dranko, his high voice like nails on a chalkboard.</p><p></p><p>Corellian hisses, “Quietly, brother! Let us ambush them while they are still making their descent. Surely, anyone entering our cave will have valuables worth stealing.”</p><p></p><p>Hissing laughter, the two wererats draw their blades. But when they move, it is not first towards the entry to their chambers, but rather to the rear, where their “ally” lurks, her eyes on the figure trapped in the icy pool. </p><p></p><p>“I heard,” it says laconically. And, spreading purple wings, the wyrmling- its body the size of a large dog- takes to the air, banks around and begins flying towards the entryway. The wererats and their menagerie of rat pets of all sizes follow quickly in the dragon’s wake, claws scuttling on the cave floor. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>Cavemouth reaches a hand up to help Sepia down off the long series of ropes and onto the ledge. She alights graciously, her tail swishing back and forth.</p><p></p><p>And the dragon emerges from the cave behind them, belching forth a radiant purple froth that catches both of them. </p><p></p><p>“DRAGON!!” screams Cavemouth, even as his head fills with pain. He howls in agony, staggering, and then draws his axe out and tries to stand firm, ready to attack. Sepia pulls out her dagger.</p><p></p><p>“There are more rats coming, too!” she warns. </p><p></p><p>Shifty hurls a shuriken at the dragon, but it just bounces off of its thick scales. Hanging from the ropes, the gnome grimaces. <em>Are they worth it?</em> he wonders. <em>Can we take this thing?</em> </p><p></p><p>Rats pour out from the cave en masse, including a couple of rather large ones- and followed by a pair of things that look like half-man, half-rat. “Wererats!” he cries. “Filthy wererats!”</p><p></p><p>The party is at a substantial disadvantage as the enemy pours in at them. Shar is still above, in the ropes; but she pulls out her bow and starts firing arrows at the rts. Sepia and Cavemouth start trying to fight, cutting down more of the rats, but the vermin swarm over them while their (presumed) leaders, the wererats, move in to flank. </p><p></p><p>The dragon flies by and tears at Shifty with its claws, tearing scarlet furrows in his chest. The gnome cries out- and vanishes, invisible. </p><p></p><p>Then he starts to scramble away, up the ropes, hoping to achieve safety. </p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, the dragon is smart enough to perceive the possibility of flight- and with powerful wings beating the air, it rises up- and with a snap of its jaws, it tears through the ropes about halfway back to the party’s egress!</p><p></p><p><em>Uh-oh,</em> thinks Shifty. </p><p></p><p>Cavemouth and Sepia, meanwhile, are being sorely pressed. Sepia leaps into one of the boats and yells, “Cavemouth, to the boat! Let’s get out of here!” With a sweep of her dagger, she cuts through one of the ropes that ties the boat to shore.</p><p></p><p>The goliath turns and leaps, clearing a giant rat and landing with a hard thump in Sepia’s chosen boat. “Cast off, quick!” he cries, and the tiefling rogue swiftly saws through the other rope.</p><p></p><p>But then the first wererat- Corellian- leaps into the boat after them and thrusts its shortsword into Sepia’s midsection. Blood gushes out, flowing over his arm. With a gasp, Sepia collapses. </p><p></p><p>Meanwhile, the wererat named Dranko climbs into the other boat. “No you don’t,” he chortles. “You cannot escape us!” Rats pour into his boat after him, and he starts untying the mooring ropes on his own vessel. </p><p></p><p>Cavemouth yells and gives a great push at the wererat in his boat. With a surprised cry and a great pinwheeling of arms, Corellian goes over the side. The goliath pushes off, hoping to gain some distance- and the dragon swoops in, its claws ripping trails of blood into his back. Cavemouth screams in pain and swings his axe with all his strength, scoring a blow on the purple wyrmling.</p><p></p><p>Shifty, hanging invisibly from the ropes, groans to himself. <em>I have to try to save them,</em> he thinks. A glum thought, given the consequences of failure- and yet, the dragon has already made plain that escape will be difficult at best. </p><p></p><p>He is near a piton that has been hammered into the wall; with the pommel of his shortsword, he knocks it free and swings on the rope, held still to the wall by another piton further above him. His trajectory arcs out and past the boats, then back around- and he stabs the dragon in the side to great effect.* </p><p></p><p>It roars and slices him with its claws, wounding him badly. Shifty screams in pain, then stabs again- but this time he is visible. Unable to take the dragon by surprise, he cannot manage to slip the tip of his blade through its thick scales. </p><p></p><p>“Why did I do it?” he wails. “You weren’t worth it!” </p><p></p><p>Then, the second boat glides up behind him and Dranko the wererat, flanking him with the dragon, stabs him from behind. Shifty gasps in pain, and the dragon bites down on his shoulder with devastating force. </p><p></p><p>Shifty collapses, suspended over the water by the ropes, his blood dribbling into the pool below him.</p><p></p><p>Desperately, Cavemouth slices at the wererat in the other boat in front of him. He deals a fair cut to its arm, but Dranko just laughs. </p><p></p><p>The wound starts to close with appalling speed.</p><p></p><p>“Fool!” Dranko taunts, leaping nimbly into his boat. “You cannot defeat us! With our dragon at our side, we are invincible!” </p><p></p><p>The two exchange a few feints and parries- and, to Cavemouth’s horror, the wererat reaches out and snatches his bag of gold from him! “HEY!!” he cries.</p><p></p><p>The dragon rips a hunk of his arm away, and the goliath collapses. </p><p></p><p>Shar, who has been firing arrows the whole time, suddenly finds herself the only one standing. “Wait!” she says, and cuts herself out of the rope harness that she is suspended in. She lands lithely on the boat. “Please, you’ve won!” She drops her bow and raises her hands. “Just let me save my friends!”</p><p></p><p>“You must pay for your intrusion,” sneers Dranko, even as Corellion pulls himself into the boat behind her. The smell of wet rat fills her nose.</p><p></p><p>“What do you want?” she asks desperately, and kneels down to bind Sepia’s wounds. The wererats don’t cut her down, and she manages to stop the worst of the tiefling’s bleeding. </p><p></p><p>The two wererats exchange a glance. “Are you worth a ransom?” demands Corellion. </p><p></p><p>“You wear uniforms,” Dranko says. “Who do you serve?”</p><p></p><p>“We- we’re the governor’s men,” she replies. “Yes, we’re worth ransoming.”</p><p></p><p>“Fortunate for you,” Dranko sneers. “Sixty gold pieces for your lives.”</p><p></p><p>“All right! Whatever you say, just let me save my friends!”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The wererats prove to be surprisingly merciful, allowing Shar to keep her allies alive. The priestess, soaked in the sweat of fear, turns over the requisite gold to the pair of lycanthropes while the dragon perches on a nearby rock, glaring at her. Clearly, treachery is not a good option here- a fact that the wererats keep reminding her of. </p><p></p><p>Once her friends are stable, the wererats even allow her to bring them around. Chastened by their defeat, nobody makes a hostile move. The dragon watching over the scene is a grim reminder of the odds that they would face if they tried anything.</p><p></p><p>Instead of just leaving, however, the party talks to the lycanthropes, hoping to draw out some information about what else might lurk down here. The wererats, surprisingly forthcoming, claim that the entire fourth level is theirs.</p><p></p><p>“But there is something interesting here,” Corellion says. “We will show it to you for ten gold, so long as you agree that, each time you wish to see it again, you will pay us another ten gold without causing any trouble.”</p><p></p><p>“Fair enough,” Shar replies. “After all, if we don’t want to see it again, we can just stay away.”</p><p></p><p>With a nasty laugh, the wererat gestures deeper into their tunnels. “Right this way.”</p><p></p><p>The party follows the lycanthropes despite their misgivings, and soon find themselves in a dead-end chamber with an icy pool in there. “I predict that you will be very interested in what she has to say,” one of the wererats says. The dragon flaps over to a large boulder and sets down, watching the proceedings languidly.</p><p></p><p>“The money first,” the other wererat says. </p><p></p><p>“What?” </p><p></p><p>“Ten more gold.”</p><p></p><p>The party pays up. Cavemouth points at the money bag that Dranko snatched during the fight. “That’s mine.”</p><p></p><p>Dranko just laughs. “Not anymore. Don’t push your luck, big man. You’re lucky to be alive.” </p><p></p><p>Paid off, the two wererats withdraw, smirking, to the edge of the chamber. Cavemouth mutters angrily about his lost gold; he still has a few silver pieces, but now he is pretty well completely broke.</p><p></p><p>The party approaches the iced-over pool and gazes within it. </p><p></p><p>Someone is there- someone <em>beautiful.</em> Green-skinned, garbed only in pearls and shells, with long hair floating in the water, she swims easily beneath the layer of ice. When she sees our heroes, she floats up to the underside of the ice layer and presses her hands against it. </p><p></p><p>“Whoa,” says Shar. “What is that?”</p><p></p><p>“Hello,” the green-skinned woman calls. “I am Katimah, and I need your help.”</p><p></p><p>Cavemouth hefts his axe. “Are you trapped?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes, but your axe will not free me. There is an enchantment laid upon the waters here, keeping me in.”</p><p></p><p>“Did the wererats do this to you?” asks Shifty. </p><p></p><p>“No. I was imprisoned... long ago, by the duergar that dwelt beneath this level of the dungeon.”</p><p></p><p>“There is more to this place, then?”</p><p></p><p>She nods. “Yes, the duergar, in their heyday, used my powers to help control the flow of water in their demesnes.”</p><p></p><p>“Your power? What are you? What did they make you do?”</p><p></p><p>“I am a marid. As I said, I helped channel the flow of water in their underground city. They used me to help control their irrigation needs, to prevent flooding and the like. I have great power over water, which is why they bound me to their service. I am sure you can imagine that changing water levels can be a great danger to an underground settlement.”</p><p></p><p>“How can we free you?” asks Shar.</p><p></p><p>“And what’s in it for us?” Shifty adds.</p><p></p><p>“I will give you my magic items,” Katimah replies. “And you can free me by obtaining the <em>Bell of Salash</em> and sounding it here.”</p><p></p><p>“Where is this bell?” asks Cavemouth.</p><p></p><p>“Below, somewhere in the duergar levels. There is a canal, now submerged, that leads to the fifth level of this place, and it is through that that you must go.”</p><p></p><p>“Underwater?” exclaims Sepia.</p><p></p><p>“We aren’t really equipped for underwater exploration,” Shifty says.</p><p></p><p>“I can bestow the ability to breathe water upon you,” the marid says. “It will last for 24 hours. All you must do is touch the surface of the ice.”</p><p></p><p>Our heroes draw back to discuss this. “I think we should rest up first,” states Shar. “And we can always come back for a mere ten gold pieces.”</p><p></p><p>At this, Cavemouth growls deep in his throat. </p><p></p><p>“Let’s go back to the tower first and think this over,” suggests Shifty.</p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I need to get more alchemist’s fire anyhow,” says Sepia. </p><p></p><p>The party turns back to Katimah. “With respect,” Shifty says, “we have a few other things to take care of first, but we will be back to take you up on your offer at a later date. If that’s all right with you.”</p><p></p><p>“I am not going anywhere. I have waited a long time for my freedom- a few days, weeks or even years more is nothing to me.”</p><p></p><p>With a nod, Shar says, “Until later, then.”</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> For the first time, our heroes meet the authorities!</p><p></p><p></p><p>*I gave him an extra W damage for using such a cool stunt, and with his sneak attack and all, he ended up doing 35 points of damage to said dragon! “Still not bloodied,” I said.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 5053599, member: 1210"] Back at the crossroads, our heroes take the night off, enjoying the company of merchants and travelers again, sharing their fire and food with friendly strangers. “Some day,” predicts Shar, “a town will spring up here.” The next morning, they trudge back to the earthquake rift, intending to descend to the watery level and investigate the boats that Mulcoyle the goblin told them about. They tie together several coils of rope and begin the long descent, dropping 60’ to the ledge that leads into the third level. From there, they rig a harness from another series of ropes and tie Cavemouth in, then lower him slowly and quietly down to take a look. The shaft of the rift opens at the bottom, revealing a wide, roughly oval pool of water a couple of hundred feet across. A pair of narrow ledges of dry land are visible clinging to the edge of the pool; a few small boats are tied off to one of these. Cavemouth clambers back up and reports his findings to the party. “Unfortunately, there’s a long climb along slick rock to get to either of the ledges.” “Do we have enough rope to rig a pathway over?” wonders Sepia. “I have about 200’ myself,” Shar replies. “Is that enough?” “Almost,” says Cavemouth, “and I’m pretty sure that between the bunch of us, we have enough.” The party pulls out their rope collection and hands it to the goliath. *** In the crude shelter, the miserable crippled figure lay huddled on a mass of filthy, soiled straw. Fleas and ticks crawled all over his body. Even if he were not horribly scarred and maimed, even had shackles not been closed around his ankles for decades, he was now too old to even attempt to escape. His bones ached, and all he truly wished for was death- as he had wished for over thirty years, now. The air outside the rude lean-to stank of smoke, sweat and rot. The remains of the buildings, given over to the cruel embrace of mold and mildew, were untended and collapsing. Even one of those fouled structures would have offered him more cover from the wind, more surcease from the cold. But no- using those buildings would be a violation of the weird code that his prisoners held to. Eyes crusted with yellow snot eased closed. His teeth were long-gone, rotted from his mouth. He was half-starved. Yet the damned humans and their strange allies would not let him die. Lerrmurr had long ago told them all the information that he had; but it was not enough, not specific enough, not dangerous enough for them. They believed that he knew more. They believed that, somehow, despite the horrible torments that they had subjected him to, he somehow still held something back. The fools. Trapping him was bad enough; leaving him unable to move freely, feeding him the fetid swill that he had been forced to live on rather than fresh prey, the beatings and torture- all of that simply added to his misery without drawing more information out of him. He had always been weak-willed; his greatest moment of strength had been when he forced his captain to leave him behind as their ship had crashed. Surely, though, if she had escaped, she would have returned to save him by now. Except, of course, that she thought him dead- and, no doubt, burned to ashes by the radioactive fires caused by overloaded and exposed radiocrystal. Old- he was old, now. He had lost count of how many miserable winters he had lived through; more than half of them, he was convinced, had occurred in this shackled hell hole. Even if he were to be freed, he doubted whether he could walk, let alone run. Escape were impossible now, and the increasing neglect of his captors was bound to kill him at last before long. Even with his eyes closed, his keen ears detected someone entering the crude lean-to that was his only shelter from the elements. Then a voice, faintly mocking, speaking in the crude human language that he had learned over the years: “You are in luck, my friend. We are moving you. You will see a change of scenery.” It was a struggle to open his rheumy eyes. The silhouette of one of his tormenters loomed above him, and he could hear a key being placed in the shackle binding his ankle to the thick root nearby. Then his emaciated body was being half-lifted, half-dragged clear of the structure. He couldn’t feel his formerly-shackled leg, and the smell arising from the suppurating sores where the metal band had fastened to him told him that he was in for another long, agonizing ritual to keep him alive. [i]Just let me die,[/i] he thought hazily. [i]I have nothing for you. I...[/i] A scent caught his attention and made his blood run cold. It was far off; he had not been able to detect it at all in the smoky haze of his tiny shelter. But now it reached him, a hint of something from his old life- and not something favorable to him. [i]Canus,[/i] he thought. Trembling from weakness, he realized that there might be worse things than this human captivity after all. They were far off, but why would they be here at all? [i]Unless they are looking for me. Or other tabaxi. Or, worst of all, unless they are seeking the radiocrystals.[/i] As the laboring human dragged his mangy frame to the fire to warm him, Lerrmurr closed his eyes again. [i]Let them not find it. And please, let them not have anything that can [/i]use[i] it. Oh please.[/i] *** Time and effort always pay off. Cavemouth braids the ropes together, spiking them to the wall of the cavernous area above the water in place after place. Slowly he works his way over to the ledge with the boats on it, then drops down and shouts back at the entrance, “Ready! Come on in!” *** Cavemouth’s voice echoes deeper into the caves. Rats squeal at the sound. “Did you hear that?” asks Dranko, his high voice like nails on a chalkboard. Corellian hisses, “Quietly, brother! Let us ambush them while they are still making their descent. Surely, anyone entering our cave will have valuables worth stealing.” Hissing laughter, the two wererats draw their blades. But when they move, it is not first towards the entry to their chambers, but rather to the rear, where their “ally” lurks, her eyes on the figure trapped in the icy pool. “I heard,” it says laconically. And, spreading purple wings, the wyrmling- its body the size of a large dog- takes to the air, banks around and begins flying towards the entryway. The wererats and their menagerie of rat pets of all sizes follow quickly in the dragon’s wake, claws scuttling on the cave floor. *** Cavemouth reaches a hand up to help Sepia down off the long series of ropes and onto the ledge. She alights graciously, her tail swishing back and forth. And the dragon emerges from the cave behind them, belching forth a radiant purple froth that catches both of them. “DRAGON!!” screams Cavemouth, even as his head fills with pain. He howls in agony, staggering, and then draws his axe out and tries to stand firm, ready to attack. Sepia pulls out her dagger. “There are more rats coming, too!” she warns. Shifty hurls a shuriken at the dragon, but it just bounces off of its thick scales. Hanging from the ropes, the gnome grimaces. [i]Are they worth it?[/i] he wonders. [i]Can we take this thing?[/i] Rats pour out from the cave en masse, including a couple of rather large ones- and followed by a pair of things that look like half-man, half-rat. “Wererats!” he cries. “Filthy wererats!” The party is at a substantial disadvantage as the enemy pours in at them. Shar is still above, in the ropes; but she pulls out her bow and starts firing arrows at the rts. Sepia and Cavemouth start trying to fight, cutting down more of the rats, but the vermin swarm over them while their (presumed) leaders, the wererats, move in to flank. The dragon flies by and tears at Shifty with its claws, tearing scarlet furrows in his chest. The gnome cries out- and vanishes, invisible. Then he starts to scramble away, up the ropes, hoping to achieve safety. Unfortunately, the dragon is smart enough to perceive the possibility of flight- and with powerful wings beating the air, it rises up- and with a snap of its jaws, it tears through the ropes about halfway back to the party’s egress! [i]Uh-oh,[/i] thinks Shifty. Cavemouth and Sepia, meanwhile, are being sorely pressed. Sepia leaps into one of the boats and yells, “Cavemouth, to the boat! Let’s get out of here!” With a sweep of her dagger, she cuts through one of the ropes that ties the boat to shore. The goliath turns and leaps, clearing a giant rat and landing with a hard thump in Sepia’s chosen boat. “Cast off, quick!” he cries, and the tiefling rogue swiftly saws through the other rope. But then the first wererat- Corellian- leaps into the boat after them and thrusts its shortsword into Sepia’s midsection. Blood gushes out, flowing over his arm. With a gasp, Sepia collapses. Meanwhile, the wererat named Dranko climbs into the other boat. “No you don’t,” he chortles. “You cannot escape us!” Rats pour into his boat after him, and he starts untying the mooring ropes on his own vessel. Cavemouth yells and gives a great push at the wererat in his boat. With a surprised cry and a great pinwheeling of arms, Corellian goes over the side. The goliath pushes off, hoping to gain some distance- and the dragon swoops in, its claws ripping trails of blood into his back. Cavemouth screams in pain and swings his axe with all his strength, scoring a blow on the purple wyrmling. Shifty, hanging invisibly from the ropes, groans to himself. [i]I have to try to save them,[/i] he thinks. A glum thought, given the consequences of failure- and yet, the dragon has already made plain that escape will be difficult at best. He is near a piton that has been hammered into the wall; with the pommel of his shortsword, he knocks it free and swings on the rope, held still to the wall by another piton further above him. His trajectory arcs out and past the boats, then back around- and he stabs the dragon in the side to great effect.* It roars and slices him with its claws, wounding him badly. Shifty screams in pain, then stabs again- but this time he is visible. Unable to take the dragon by surprise, he cannot manage to slip the tip of his blade through its thick scales. “Why did I do it?” he wails. “You weren’t worth it!” Then, the second boat glides up behind him and Dranko the wererat, flanking him with the dragon, stabs him from behind. Shifty gasps in pain, and the dragon bites down on his shoulder with devastating force. Shifty collapses, suspended over the water by the ropes, his blood dribbling into the pool below him. Desperately, Cavemouth slices at the wererat in the other boat in front of him. He deals a fair cut to its arm, but Dranko just laughs. The wound starts to close with appalling speed. “Fool!” Dranko taunts, leaping nimbly into his boat. “You cannot defeat us! With our dragon at our side, we are invincible!” The two exchange a few feints and parries- and, to Cavemouth’s horror, the wererat reaches out and snatches his bag of gold from him! “HEY!!” he cries. The dragon rips a hunk of his arm away, and the goliath collapses. Shar, who has been firing arrows the whole time, suddenly finds herself the only one standing. “Wait!” she says, and cuts herself out of the rope harness that she is suspended in. She lands lithely on the boat. “Please, you’ve won!” She drops her bow and raises her hands. “Just let me save my friends!” “You must pay for your intrusion,” sneers Dranko, even as Corellion pulls himself into the boat behind her. The smell of wet rat fills her nose. “What do you want?” she asks desperately, and kneels down to bind Sepia’s wounds. The wererats don’t cut her down, and she manages to stop the worst of the tiefling’s bleeding. The two wererats exchange a glance. “Are you worth a ransom?” demands Corellion. “You wear uniforms,” Dranko says. “Who do you serve?” “We- we’re the governor’s men,” she replies. “Yes, we’re worth ransoming.” “Fortunate for you,” Dranko sneers. “Sixty gold pieces for your lives.” “All right! Whatever you say, just let me save my friends!” *** The wererats prove to be surprisingly merciful, allowing Shar to keep her allies alive. The priestess, soaked in the sweat of fear, turns over the requisite gold to the pair of lycanthropes while the dragon perches on a nearby rock, glaring at her. Clearly, treachery is not a good option here- a fact that the wererats keep reminding her of. Once her friends are stable, the wererats even allow her to bring them around. Chastened by their defeat, nobody makes a hostile move. The dragon watching over the scene is a grim reminder of the odds that they would face if they tried anything. Instead of just leaving, however, the party talks to the lycanthropes, hoping to draw out some information about what else might lurk down here. The wererats, surprisingly forthcoming, claim that the entire fourth level is theirs. “But there is something interesting here,” Corellion says. “We will show it to you for ten gold, so long as you agree that, each time you wish to see it again, you will pay us another ten gold without causing any trouble.” “Fair enough,” Shar replies. “After all, if we don’t want to see it again, we can just stay away.” With a nasty laugh, the wererat gestures deeper into their tunnels. “Right this way.” The party follows the lycanthropes despite their misgivings, and soon find themselves in a dead-end chamber with an icy pool in there. “I predict that you will be very interested in what she has to say,” one of the wererats says. The dragon flaps over to a large boulder and sets down, watching the proceedings languidly. “The money first,” the other wererat says. “What?” “Ten more gold.” The party pays up. Cavemouth points at the money bag that Dranko snatched during the fight. “That’s mine.” Dranko just laughs. “Not anymore. Don’t push your luck, big man. You’re lucky to be alive.” Paid off, the two wererats withdraw, smirking, to the edge of the chamber. Cavemouth mutters angrily about his lost gold; he still has a few silver pieces, but now he is pretty well completely broke. The party approaches the iced-over pool and gazes within it. Someone is there- someone [i]beautiful.[/i] Green-skinned, garbed only in pearls and shells, with long hair floating in the water, she swims easily beneath the layer of ice. When she sees our heroes, she floats up to the underside of the ice layer and presses her hands against it. “Whoa,” says Shar. “What is that?” “Hello,” the green-skinned woman calls. “I am Katimah, and I need your help.” Cavemouth hefts his axe. “Are you trapped?” “Yes, but your axe will not free me. There is an enchantment laid upon the waters here, keeping me in.” “Did the wererats do this to you?” asks Shifty. “No. I was imprisoned... long ago, by the duergar that dwelt beneath this level of the dungeon.” “There is more to this place, then?” She nods. “Yes, the duergar, in their heyday, used my powers to help control the flow of water in their demesnes.” “Your power? What are you? What did they make you do?” “I am a marid. As I said, I helped channel the flow of water in their underground city. They used me to help control their irrigation needs, to prevent flooding and the like. I have great power over water, which is why they bound me to their service. I am sure you can imagine that changing water levels can be a great danger to an underground settlement.” “How can we free you?” asks Shar. “And what’s in it for us?” Shifty adds. “I will give you my magic items,” Katimah replies. “And you can free me by obtaining the [i]Bell of Salash[/i] and sounding it here.” “Where is this bell?” asks Cavemouth. “Below, somewhere in the duergar levels. There is a canal, now submerged, that leads to the fifth level of this place, and it is through that that you must go.” “Underwater?” exclaims Sepia. “We aren’t really equipped for underwater exploration,” Shifty says. “I can bestow the ability to breathe water upon you,” the marid says. “It will last for 24 hours. All you must do is touch the surface of the ice.” Our heroes draw back to discuss this. “I think we should rest up first,” states Shar. “And we can always come back for a mere ten gold pieces.” At this, Cavemouth growls deep in his throat. “Let’s go back to the tower first and think this over,” suggests Shifty. “Yeah, I need to get more alchemist’s fire anyhow,” says Sepia. The party turns back to Katimah. “With respect,” Shifty says, “we have a few other things to take care of first, but we will be back to take you up on your offer at a later date. If that’s all right with you.” “I am not going anywhere. I have waited a long time for my freedom- a few days, weeks or even years more is nothing to me.” With a nod, Shar says, “Until later, then.” [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] For the first time, our heroes meet the authorities! *I gave him an extra W damage for using such a cool stunt, and with his sneak attack and all, he ended up doing 35 points of damage to said dragon! “Still not bloodied,” I said. [/QUOTE]
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