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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4446754" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 23</p><p></p><p></p><p>Irontooth was in a foul mood. </p><p></p><p>Blood continued to ooze from the gash in his ruined ear, but he did not deign to so much as notice it. He held his huge axe, now, and his expression suggested that he would bury it in the flesh of an ally if any enemy was not forthcoming. </p><p></p><p>Wisely, the kobolds kept their distance. </p><p></p><p>“I want that halfling found,” the goblin said, its voice like a deep rumbling in its barrel chest. </p><p></p><p>“It likely fled to the others that are attacking to the west,” Kurgus said. The wyrmpriest was the only kobold who did not seem to be intimidated by the goblin warrior, but even he knew better than to provoke him. </p><p></p><p>Irontooth looked distracted; the goblin had turned and was looking back toward the cliff. </p><p></p><p>“My lord?” the kobold prodded, after a moment. </p><p></p><p>“Order your skirmishers to cut off any possible route of retreat,” Irontooth said. “Send the rest of the tribe to engage the attackers. I want them killed, all of them. If any escape to warn the human town, I will hold you responsible, dragonpriest.”</p><p></p><p>“As you say, lord,” the kobold said, inclining its head slightly. It turned to the nearest scout, issuing the necessary orders. But as the skirmisher bounded off, and the priest turned to follow, Irontooth forestalled it. </p><p></p><p>“Hold. I have something else for you to do...”</p><p></p><p>The darkness enfolded Jaron as he slipped through the mouth of the cave, into the dank mustiness beyond. The darkness wasn’t total; there were torches in cracks in the walls further in, and once his eyes adjusted to the change he could see fairly well. But the whole sense of being underground was more than a bit unnerving, especially with the stink of kobold thick in the air around him. </p><p></p><p>But Beetle, if he was still alive, was somewhere inside, and so he had to go in. </p><p></p><p>He was careful, his booted feet making not even a whisper on the bare stone as he moved ahead. The passage opened onto a larger interior space ahead. Jaron peered around carefully, but there were no signs of any kobolds. Thus far, their plan seemed to be paying off. Maybe <em>too</em> well; he felt another twinge of guilt at having left Mara and Elevaren, but then quashed the feeling. He had to get Beetle out of here and quick, and then they could return to help the others. He wasn’t going to leave them behind, any more then he could abandon his cousin. </p><p></p><p>He knew better than to call Beetle’s name. Even if most of the kobolds had abandoned the lair, he expected them to have left at least one guard watching their prisoner. </p><p></p><p>If he was even still alive. </p><p></p><p>That thought added some speed to his steps. But it took him only a few moments to scan the interior of the lair. As he moved into what looked like the deepest room in the place, he saw a wooden chest banded in iron, a small mound of discarded bones, and some scattered trash. Nothing big enough to have concealed Beetle. </p><p></p><p>“Damn,” he said, and turned to leave. </p><p></p><p>He never even saw the goblin until it appeared in the entrance of the room, silhouetted in the light of a torch burning on the wall behind it. Jaron had fought goblins before, and even hobgoblins, but this thing almost <em>dripped</em> menace. It wasn’t its size, although it was big for a goblin. Rather, it was something in its beady eyes, that gleamed in the reflected torchlight as it fixed them on Jaron. It was holding a nasty-looking two-handed war axe, and wore a shirt of chainmail links that looked stretched over its muscled frame. </p><p></p><p>“Looking for your little friend? He squealed like a pig when I gutted him. But my axe is still thirsty.”</p><p></p><p>He was trying to provoke Jaron, but the halfling was experienced enough to know that rushing the goblin would only result in a messy and quick death. The goblin saw that he knew that, and laughed. </p><p></p><p>“So. You’re not stupid. Good for you, even if this can end only one way, halfling.”</p><p></p><p>The goblin came forward, but only enough so that was fully in the room, still blocking the exit. Jaron could see that the goblin was wounded, blood trailing from a deep notch in its ear, but it might as well have been a splinter for all it seemed to take from the goblin’s vitality. </p><p></p><p>He thought about reaching for an arrow. He would only get one shot, he knew. </p><p></p><p>As if reading his mind, the goblin laughed again. “Even as you cower, halfling, your friends are being torn to pieces by my kobolds. You may very well be the last to die.”</p><p></p><p>“Did you kill those other adventurers? The ones led by that wizard out of Fallcrest?”</p><p></p><p>A look of confusion crossed the goblin’s face, but only for a moment. “Ah, them. So, you knew them, eh? Or maybe one of them in particular. I’d heard that a runt halfling was in that group. Your daddy, maybe?”</p><p></p><p>“Brother,” Jaron said. </p><p></p><p>“Ah, more’s the pity for you, then.” He lifted his axe. </p><p></p><p>“So it was Kalarel, then?”</p><p></p><p>The name brought the goblin up short. “You know that name, eh? Well, it won’t do you no good, halfling. Whatever you know, it dies here, right now.”</p><p></p><p>He stepped forward again, and this time Jaron knew that nothing would stop him until he had buried his axe in the ranger’s skull.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4446754, member: 143"] Chapter 23 Irontooth was in a foul mood. Blood continued to ooze from the gash in his ruined ear, but he did not deign to so much as notice it. He held his huge axe, now, and his expression suggested that he would bury it in the flesh of an ally if any enemy was not forthcoming. Wisely, the kobolds kept their distance. “I want that halfling found,” the goblin said, its voice like a deep rumbling in its barrel chest. “It likely fled to the others that are attacking to the west,” Kurgus said. The wyrmpriest was the only kobold who did not seem to be intimidated by the goblin warrior, but even he knew better than to provoke him. Irontooth looked distracted; the goblin had turned and was looking back toward the cliff. “My lord?” the kobold prodded, after a moment. “Order your skirmishers to cut off any possible route of retreat,” Irontooth said. “Send the rest of the tribe to engage the attackers. I want them killed, all of them. If any escape to warn the human town, I will hold you responsible, dragonpriest.” “As you say, lord,” the kobold said, inclining its head slightly. It turned to the nearest scout, issuing the necessary orders. But as the skirmisher bounded off, and the priest turned to follow, Irontooth forestalled it. “Hold. I have something else for you to do...” The darkness enfolded Jaron as he slipped through the mouth of the cave, into the dank mustiness beyond. The darkness wasn’t total; there were torches in cracks in the walls further in, and once his eyes adjusted to the change he could see fairly well. But the whole sense of being underground was more than a bit unnerving, especially with the stink of kobold thick in the air around him. But Beetle, if he was still alive, was somewhere inside, and so he had to go in. He was careful, his booted feet making not even a whisper on the bare stone as he moved ahead. The passage opened onto a larger interior space ahead. Jaron peered around carefully, but there were no signs of any kobolds. Thus far, their plan seemed to be paying off. Maybe [i]too[/i] well; he felt another twinge of guilt at having left Mara and Elevaren, but then quashed the feeling. He had to get Beetle out of here and quick, and then they could return to help the others. He wasn’t going to leave them behind, any more then he could abandon his cousin. He knew better than to call Beetle’s name. Even if most of the kobolds had abandoned the lair, he expected them to have left at least one guard watching their prisoner. If he was even still alive. That thought added some speed to his steps. But it took him only a few moments to scan the interior of the lair. As he moved into what looked like the deepest room in the place, he saw a wooden chest banded in iron, a small mound of discarded bones, and some scattered trash. Nothing big enough to have concealed Beetle. “Damn,” he said, and turned to leave. He never even saw the goblin until it appeared in the entrance of the room, silhouetted in the light of a torch burning on the wall behind it. Jaron had fought goblins before, and even hobgoblins, but this thing almost [i]dripped[/i] menace. It wasn’t its size, although it was big for a goblin. Rather, it was something in its beady eyes, that gleamed in the reflected torchlight as it fixed them on Jaron. It was holding a nasty-looking two-handed war axe, and wore a shirt of chainmail links that looked stretched over its muscled frame. “Looking for your little friend? He squealed like a pig when I gutted him. But my axe is still thirsty.” He was trying to provoke Jaron, but the halfling was experienced enough to know that rushing the goblin would only result in a messy and quick death. The goblin saw that he knew that, and laughed. “So. You’re not stupid. Good for you, even if this can end only one way, halfling.” The goblin came forward, but only enough so that was fully in the room, still blocking the exit. Jaron could see that the goblin was wounded, blood trailing from a deep notch in its ear, but it might as well have been a splinter for all it seemed to take from the goblin’s vitality. He thought about reaching for an arrow. He would only get one shot, he knew. As if reading his mind, the goblin laughed again. “Even as you cower, halfling, your friends are being torn to pieces by my kobolds. You may very well be the last to die.” “Did you kill those other adventurers? The ones led by that wizard out of Fallcrest?” A look of confusion crossed the goblin’s face, but only for a moment. “Ah, them. So, you knew them, eh? Or maybe one of them in particular. I’d heard that a runt halfling was in that group. Your daddy, maybe?” “Brother,” Jaron said. “Ah, more’s the pity for you, then.” He lifted his axe. “So it was Kalarel, then?” The name brought the goblin up short. “You know that name, eh? Well, it won’t do you no good, halfling. Whatever you know, it dies here, right now.” He stepped forward again, and this time Jaron knew that nothing would stop him until he had buried his axe in the ranger’s skull. [/QUOTE]
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