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<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 910287" data-attributes="member: 2292">Tuesday, August 22nd, 508 AF, Continued Teh bodies contain little of value, although another small collection of unfamiliar holy symbols quickly confirms that they belong to the same cult as the dead bodies in the dragon's lair.&quot;Slim pickings,&quot; Durhon grumbles as he sorts through the bodies, throwing thin pouches at worthwile daggers to one side for Warwind to check.&nbsp; Calmert and Yip do a quick scout of the area, discovering that the room is larger than they originally thought and dissappears into the distance.&nbsp; Yip makes out several shadowy archways, like catacombs or crypt entrances, down one long hallway and there are several doors that sit ominously waiting to be opened.&nbsp; Whatever was built down here, it's larger than the building above.&quot;Never a good sign,&quot; Calmert mutters to himself as he searches.&nbsp; &quot;People who build underground have something to hide.&quot;Yip just scampers from door to door, pressing his ear against them to listen for noise on the other side.He finds it on a door close to the stairs, where he can hear the sound of someone muttering to themselves on the far side.&nbsp; YIp motions for everyone to keep quiet, and Durhon pauses mid-loot to place a hand on the haft of his axe.Yip reaches forward to push at the door, hoping to surprise whatevers on the other side.&nbsp; As the door swings open, it becomes obvious that he's failed - a small flurry of magic missiles thundering into his chest.&nbsp; The kobold is thrown back by the blast of magic, although he lands cat-like on his feet with a small Mew of pain.&quot;Get back,&quot; a voice screams from the room.&nbsp; &quot;I'll not be taken alive by dark-spawn like you.&quot;Yip hisses in anger, his tail swishing from side to side, but Durhon and Calmert are quick to restrain him.&quot;An who said anythin' about killin' ye?&quot; Durhon asks loudly.&nbsp; &quot;Although if ye spring another one of those there spells on us, I may just let me scaly friend snack on yer leg bones.&quot;A small tabby cat walks out of the room, seeming to move with a restrained caution.&nbsp; It takes a moment to stare at all four of the adventurers, then mews loudly to summon a middle-aged man in grubby robes.&quot;You're not cultists?&quot; the stranger asks.&quot;We're soldiers,&quot; Calmert explains simply.&nbsp; &quot;Or we were.&nbsp; I guess you'd call us freelance do-gooders these days.&quot;&quot;Do-gooder?&quot; Durhon asks, his voice slightly confused.&nbsp; Warwind echoes his sentiment at the same time, although his focus is on the word &quot;Free.&quot;&nbsp; Calmert ignores them both.&quot;I'm Calmert, priests of Heironous, while this is Warwind Treehugger, Durhon and Yip.&quot;&quot;Boccob be praised,&quot; the stranger says, emerging cautiosly.&nbsp; &quot;My name is Spugnoir.&nbsp; I...I'm a potion maker in Hommlet, but I've spent years poking around in these ruins in my spare time.&nbsp; Late last week I came out to look around, and I found the place over-run with cultists and a dragon.&nbsp; I've been trapped in that room ever since, hiding in the hopes I could find some method of escape.&quot;&quot;Why not blast them?&quot; Durhon asks.&nbsp; His eyes narrow as he glances at Yip's chest, focusing on the scorched cloth and scales.&quot;I tried to fight my way past the dragon,&quot; Spugnoir says appologetically.&nbsp; &quot;I used most of my spells in teh attempt, without success.&nbsp; The spell I used on your companion was my last resort.&nbsp; I should be cursed for a fool forever after coming out here without a spellbook.&quot;&quot;Well, we be lookin' for more cultists,&quot; Durhon says.&nbsp; &quot;Ye can either tag along or head home, I don't really care.&quot;A grimace of pain crosses Spugnoir's face.&quot;I'll come,&quot; he says.&nbsp; &quot;I don't fancy my chances sneaking past the dragon.&quot;&quot;The dragon's dead,&quot; Durhon sighs.&nbsp; &quot;Me and knobbly here killed it a few days back.&quot;Spugnoir blinks for a few moments, taken aback by the statement.&quot;Then you have my thanks,&quot; he says, &quot;And I'd best be on my way.&nbsp; I left my daughter in charge of my store, and she'd be frantic with worry by now.&nbsp; If you're ever in town and in need of potions, come see me.&nbsp; I promise I'll be more than willing to give you a good price to show my gratitude.&quot;&quot;A pleasure,&quot; Calmert says.&nbsp; He spots Warwind about to start speaking, no doubt ready to ask exactly how large a discount Spugnoir is speaking of, and the cleric stomps hard on the elfs toes.&nbsp; &quot;I wish you a safe journey home.&quot;Spugnoir rushes towards the stairs, his familiar hot on his heels.&nbsp; Durhon is already looking over the gnolls meager loot as Yip searches out Spugnoir's hiding spot - a small stock room still filled with ancient crates.&quot;Yip think we should rest,&quot; he calls through the door.&nbsp; &quot;Yip hurt, Elf-mage need spells, Cleric need healing.&quot;&quot;That room be safe enough?&quot; Durhon asks.&nbsp; Yip chirps an affirmative, and everyone hurries in.&quot;Two man watches,&quot; Durhon reminds them as they settle in.&nbsp; &quot;Keep it quiet, and keep yer eyes on that door.&quot;</blockquote>

[QUOTE="arwink, post: 910287, member: 2292"] [I]Tuesday, August 22nd, 508 AF, Continued [/I] Teh bodies contain little of value, although another small collection of unfamiliar holy symbols quickly confirms that they belong to the same cult as the dead bodies in the dragon's lair. "Slim pickings," Durhon grumbles as he sorts through the bodies, throwing thin pouches at worthwile daggers to one side for Warwind to check. Calmert and Yip do a quick scout of the area, discovering that the room is larger than they originally thought and dissappears into the distance. Yip makes out several shadowy archways, like catacombs or crypt entrances, down one long hallway and there are several doors that sit ominously waiting to be opened. Whatever was built down here, it's larger than the building above. "Never a good sign," Calmert mutters to himself as he searches. "People who build underground have something to hide." Yip just scampers from door to door, pressing his ear against them to listen for noise on the other side. He finds it on a door close to the stairs, where he can hear the sound of someone muttering to themselves on the far side. YIp motions for everyone to keep quiet, and Durhon pauses mid-loot to place a hand on the haft of his axe. Yip reaches forward to push at the door, hoping to surprise whatevers on the other side. As the door swings open, it becomes obvious that he's failed - a small flurry of magic missiles thundering into his chest. The kobold is thrown back by the blast of magic, although he lands cat-like on his feet with a small Mew of pain. "Get back," a voice screams from the room. "I'll not be taken alive by dark-spawn like you." Yip hisses in anger, his tail swishing from side to side, but Durhon and Calmert are quick to restrain him. "An who said anythin' about killin' ye?" Durhon asks loudly. "Although if ye spring another one of those there spells on us, I may just let me scaly friend snack on yer leg bones." A small tabby cat walks out of the room, seeming to move with a restrained caution. It takes a moment to stare at all four of the adventurers, then mews loudly to summon a middle-aged man in grubby robes. "You're not cultists?" the stranger asks. "We're soldiers," Calmert explains simply. "Or we were. I guess you'd call us freelance do-gooders these days." "Do-gooder?" Durhon asks, his voice slightly confused. Warwind echoes his sentiment at the same time, although his focus is on the word "Free." Calmert ignores them both. "I'm Calmert, priests of Heironous, while this is Warwind Treehugger, Durhon and Yip." "Boccob be praised," the stranger says, emerging cautiosly. "My name is Spugnoir. I...I'm a potion maker in Hommlet, but I've spent years poking around in these ruins in my spare time. Late last week I came out to look around, and I found the place over-run with cultists and a dragon. I've been trapped in that room ever since, hiding in the hopes I could find some method of escape." "Why not blast them?" Durhon asks. His eyes narrow as he glances at Yip's chest, focusing on the scorched cloth and scales. "I tried to fight my way past the dragon," Spugnoir says appologetically. "I used most of my spells in teh attempt, without success. The spell I used on your companion was my last resort. I should be cursed for a fool forever after coming out here without a spellbook." "Well, we be lookin' for more cultists," Durhon says. "Ye can either tag along or head home, I don't really care." A grimace of pain crosses Spugnoir's face. "I'll come," he says. "I don't fancy my chances sneaking past the dragon." "The dragon's dead," Durhon sighs. "Me and knobbly here killed it a few days back." Spugnoir blinks for a few moments, taken aback by the statement. "Then you have my thanks," he says, "And I'd best be on my way. I left my daughter in charge of my store, and she'd be frantic with worry by now. If you're ever in town and in need of potions, come see me. I promise I'll be more than willing to give you a good price to show my gratitude." "A pleasure," Calmert says. He spots Warwind about to start speaking, no doubt ready to ask exactly how large a discount Spugnoir is speaking of, and the cleric stomps hard on the elfs toes. "I wish you a safe journey home." Spugnoir rushes towards the stairs, his familiar hot on his heels. Durhon is already looking over the gnolls meager loot as Yip searches out Spugnoir's hiding spot - a small stock room still filled with ancient crates. "Yip think we should rest," he calls through the door. "Yip hurt, Elf-mage need spells, Cleric need healing." "That room be safe enough?" Durhon asks. Yip chirps an affirmative, and everyone hurries in. "Two man watches," Durhon reminds them as they settle in. "Keep it quiet, and keep yer eyes on that door." [/QUOTE]

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