"Just a moment," Janiven holds up a hand, signalling the others not to set off quite yet. "We do need to make haste, but..." The woman studies the wall near the barred door for just a moment, then pushes aside a loose stone to reveal a small hollow in the wall. Breathing a sigh of relief, she says, "Good, they're still here." She begins distributing a number of small flasks to each person present, each of which contains a quantity of yellowish liquid. "Healing potions. You can never be to careful down here. And we won't have time to stop for rest." (OOC: Each PC receives three potions of Cure Light Wounds)
"Now. You, come back over here." Janiven beckons to Marcus to come close with the glow of his sunrod. "Have a look at this." Janiven kneels down and points to a small sigil scratched in the opposite wall in white chalk, just a few inches off the ground. It looks like a crude sword, with the blade pointing to the left, and the hilt pointing to the right. "Arael and I made these marks a few months ago when we explored the sewers. We marked all the intersections so our people could find their way through the sewers and back to our hideout. Should we get separated, always follow the sword's blade and you'll have no trouble getting there."
Standing, she continues, "They may waste a few moments searching the tavern, but some of those hellknights are bound to be down here after us as soon as they get their hands on a lantern or some torches. They may even try to infiltrate the sewers ahead of us if they can guess our route. We need to get moving."
Thus begins a hurried flight through the sewers of Westcrown. Marcus' sunrod casts enough light to see adequately, but the way is treacherous, and progress not nearly as rapid as everyone would like. On more than one occasion, a missed step sends someone's foot plunging into fetid wetness, or scrabbling over a loose stone in the ledge. Furtive movements in the dimness ahead suggest the presence of rats, while the rank odor of raw human waste threatens to overpower the senses. Every so often , small barred grates (constructed to allow rainwater to drain from the streets above) allow the rays of the late afternoon sun to briefly pierce the gloom from overhead.
The tunnels themselves are a maze of intersections, t-junctions, twists and turns. The party hastens along, relying on Janiven or Morosino to pause momentarily at each juncture, and find the secret sign that points the way. The group passes closed wooden doors (perhaps leading to storage rooms or more newly constructed tunnels) and larger cisterns of waste, while dashing across 'bridges' of wooden planks where they span the sewage-filled trenches.
At last, after what feels like hours, but is probably much less, the party comes to a four-way intersection. Morosino darts forward as before to look for the symbol which points the way...but stops short as he sees that a filthy streak of something unmentionable has been smeared across the old masonry. No sign of the chalk mark remains here! The lad shoots Janiven a wide-eyed look of alarm, causing the normally unflappable woman to utter an obscenity. Bitterly, she continues, "Curse the luck, Desna! Why now?" With a shake of the head, Janiven turns to the others. "Well, that's it then. We're lost."
