[Eberron] The Forgotten Forge

Rawhide's eyes light up at the new find and he plops the plate on his head and turns to Plonk, "Look! Mes gots a new hat!"
 

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Gannon walks down to Flawed. "Found anything, Flawed? I suppose his companions fled the scene while they had the chance" he says to the scouting warforged. "But why is everyone out to get this stupid thing? That man must really have investigating something very important. I just hope we find out what it is before our enemies do."
 

Rawhide looks to Gannon, smiling and proudly showing off his new "hat". "Heya boss! Yous like?", he asks tipping his head jauntily.
 

"I have not found anything yet, Gannon." It answers the cleric's question. "As for why everyone wants that object - it is a Cannith heirloom, and may contain secrets of that house. Secrets potentially interesting to the Lord of Blades."
 


Rawhide's antics and the conversation between Flawed and Gannon are periodically interrupted by the sound of water crashing onto water and stone (a sound which Flawed recognizes as the various valves releasing their contents into the main gulley in the next chamber).


[Listen checks] Then, your group hears an odd splish-splopping through the water and snippets of conversation — all interrupted by the crashing water. The voices speak a weak, mongrel Common in a bizarre stage whisper, as if they were play-acting at being stealthy, but were too stupid to realize the problem with their behavior.

"Are dey gone from dere?"
"(CRASH)—no. What 'bout Slicer?"
"He stones dead, I thinks." (CRASH)
"Oh noes. Whats abouts our crunchings?"
"What about—(CRASH)—sense? We's as good as stones dead, too!"
"What you think?"
"Me hungry. No food down in dis hole."
(CRASH) "And no ways out an' back to sunny!"
"No sunny?"
"(CRASH)—oo's fault. Me always folloes you. 'Cause you's always been—(CRASH)—everer. Not nows. Big troubles nows."
"Me's fault? I'll show yous me's fault." (CRASH)

At this point the conversation breaks off, and you can hear, intermittently, louder splashes and insensible growling and snarling.
 
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Rawhide cocks a black, bushy brow, but otherwise says nothing. His hackles are rising slightly, but he is still more interested than concerned at this point...
 


Rawhide picks a bit of the spider carcass from his fur and holds it up for all to see. "Dis is him - dis is dee spider...". The shifter grins, his new 'hat' cocked a at jaunty angle.
 

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