Tuesday, August 22nd, 508 AF, Continued
The group ventures into the ruined moathouse. Little has changed in the entry chamber since it was being used as a dragon's lair. Durhon and Yip quickly examine the room in detail to verify the fact, but all they can see are the marks where a bleeding gnoll had made his way to the wall.
Two darkened hallways lead off from the main room, and there is a doorway leading down to a dungeon level in the north-eastern corner.
It takes them little time to scour the rooms off the western hall, most of them crumbling and devoid of any sign of life. There are two rooms that still have fresh gnoll corpses within, and amid the rubble of one they find the small cubby where the assasin was hiding out of the rain. The southern hall proves almost as un-interesting. As they work their way along the rooms that lead to the far end, they see signs of the gnolls camping out while waiting for the ambush. In one, they even find a good quality dagger stuck into the wooden frame a round the arrowslit, a quiver of arrows slung over it.
"Dagger any good?" Yip asks, eyeing it appraisingly. Durhon grunts.
"Not bad, nothing special," he explains. "Aint worth nothin."
"Yip need dagger," the kobold says reasonably. "Fists not hurt anyone."
Durhon just shrugs, not really caring. Calmert and Warwind have already lost interest, heading back into the hall. Yip contemplates the dagger, hanging at least a foot out of reach, as he realises that none of the taller party members can be bothered pulling it down for him. With a shrug, the agile kobold scrambles up the wall and grabs at the handle, trying to lever his legs against the wall and pull it free. He hangs in the air for several seconds, drawing a quick bark of laughter from Durhon, before the dwarf leaves and Yip's alone in the room. His tiny muscles strain, and the kobold wonders if perhaps the gnoll had hammered the dagger in.
Durhon, Calmert and Warwind finish searching along the southern hall, arriving in a large chamber that seems to have stood up relatively well to the ravages of time. Most of the walls have held up well, although the southern edge seems to have collapsed into a pile of rubble. They can hear the slow trickle of the moat beyond the crumbling wall, and the room feels damp and slightly humid.
"I got a bad feeling," Durhon mutters.
"That's just because you can sense water," Warwind tells him. Durhon snarls in reply. Acting on the dwarfs gut instinct, they more carefully through the room. Calmert has his magic sword at the ready, using it's dim light to explore nooks and crannies, while Durhon and Warwind scour for secret doors and traps.
In the corner of the room, a small puddle of runny ooze suddenly senses their presence. It rears up like a serpent breifly, then drifts slowly over the ruined tiles towards Calmert. It's glide is silent, and slow enough that the cleric doesn't notice until the ooze wraps itself around his leg. Calmert screams in pain, hurridly scraping at his leg to free the clining substance. In seconds, both the leg of his armor and his sword have dissolved into slag. The ooze is shaken off, but rears up to strike again.
"Heironous protect us," the cleric mutters as he stares at the stump of his sword. There is a sharp cry and Durhon and Warwind leap in to hammer at the ooze, and their weapons fare better than Calmets own. Within seconds, they have beaten it into a faintly steaming pool.
"You got a spare weapon," Durhon asks. Calmert nods mutely, still staring at the remains of his sword.
"What?" Durhon asks. Warwind coughts softly, pointing to the glowing sword insignia on the clerics holy symbol.
"Right," Durhon says. He searches around for some encouraging words to offer his new ally. "Maybe we can find another one."
Warwind rolls his eyes as Calmert sighs in resignation and searches through his pack for a spare weapon.
There's a muffled thump up the hall, followed by a short Yip of truimph. A pleased looking Yip emerges with a gnollish dagger in his paw.
"Yip get dagger," he announces. "Lets go see what in dungeon."
