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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jacob the Impaler" data-source="post: 3543844" data-attributes="member: 42087">CHAPTER 2: AGAINST THE JUNKIESGrus entrusted their kobold friend with his unnamed lap dog, and they trudged into the coast's seediest neighborhood. Samuel imagined that on a normal evening, they would be accosted by undesirables every other step. But the weather forced brave souls seeking debauchery into the taverns, brothels and opium dens themselves. Every establishment was brimming with displaced sailors. In one tavern, a small war seemed to be waged, and Taren was nearly hit by a stool flying from an already shattered window. Aldaian piously watched the murky floodwater rising between his legs, clutching his cloak tight as if to shield himself from the wickedness outside.The party walked past the Silver Sacarab twice. To their credit, it was hard to find. The little place was wedged between a sprawling, noisy burlesque house and a boarded-up tavern. It was maybe fifteen feet wide and very long. Beads and curtains separated it into little segments where stoned guests huddled silently around hookahs. At the end of the den was a little oriental man who scowled at the newcomers while he combed his long moustache. Aldaian stepped forward."Welcome. We still have best opium, best prices in whole city.""We want to know if you've seen any kobolds here."The little man's scowl deepened, opening wrinkles like fissures in his face."I do not associate with those disgusting creatures."When Aldaian made it clear that they didn't want any opium, the man yelled something in a strange language and ordered them out. On cue, two patrons arose and drew flails from under their cloaks.They fought with much more skill than the half-orcs. Taren was knocked cold before he could react. Grus drew his sword, and one of the thugs jerked it from his hands. Unfortunately for the thug, Grus was raised in a culture where disarming a barbarian warrior was a grevious insult. In the frenzy that ensued, he tore apart half of the den trying to get his hands on the offender, shrugging off flail blows like snowballs. Finally, the thug tripped over a nodding sailor and subsequently got his trachea crushed by a smelly boot.The other thug went down more honorably, seriously injuring Aldaian and fending off the attacks of the dwarf before succumbing to several crossbow bolts. When the smoke cleared, figuratively and literally, the little man was nowhere to be found. The patrons who weren't comatose crept towards the door. Even after divine healing, Taren felt more like taking a nice, long bubblebath than hunting down a rude little man who would probably lead them to another beating. Grus bolted the entrance shut to keep out possible reinforcements. After a thorough search, Samuel found a trap door hidden behind an exotic paper wall that folded like an accordion. The wall amused Grus, despite the fact that he was starting to feel his wounds."What's the point?" he mused. "A kobold with a damn cold could tear through one of those."They discussed their next course of action. Aldaian's spells were gone, and Taren and Grus were bruised and bleeding. After a heated debate, they agreed on pushing forward. The little man could not be allowed to escape.The trap door opened to a shaft. A rope floated rigid in the air, waiting for use. Just to be safe, they dropped a torch to the bottom."Caltrops," Grus spat. "Welll son of a..."Sliding down the rope would mean imapling a foot on one of the many caltrops spread across the floor. Froderick gave a practical solution - sliding down with one's feet up, then landing carefully between them. He was so confident about his plan that he offered to go first.He grabbed the rope, and it went limp. He fell twenty feet and landed on several of the spikey metal buggers. Humiliated and furious but alive, he was hoisted out of the pit and tended to. Aldaian insisted that he rest up, a suggestion that was hotly rebuked. After they learned what they needed from that little monster, Froderick swore he would tear him limb from limb.A few minutes later, the party lowered themselves into a pit using thier own rope. Samuel suggested they take the rope that betrayed them, which was met with cold silence. He took it anyway. They wandered through a damp series of rooms and corridors. Weird echoes of music and brawls and sex filtered through the stones, making a weird eerie echo occasionally drowned out by the roar of nearby sewers. They dispatched a few dire rats and a stray skeleton lacking the sense not to attack when outnumbered and outgunned. Samuel did his best to look for clues of their quarry's passage, but came up with nothing. They reached a rusted gate that even Grus couldn't get to budge and turned around, grumbling. The whole experience was so disheartening that they decided to call it quits and spend the night in the opium den. Then by luck or grace, Taren found a secret door. It slid open, revealing a low, narrow passage. Samuel happily volunteered to tackle it, candle in one hand and crossbow in the other.The passage turned, and he extinguished his candle when he saw a dim light ahead. A storeroom filled with little chests opened before him, and soon he caught the sweet scent of opium. A grin spread on his face, and he ventured towards the light. That's when he felt a trip wire break against his knee. He barely avoided falling into a shallow pit filled with glue, and just missed a crossbow bolt from a kobold that sprang up from behind a pile of chests.</blockquote>

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