Travels through the Wild West: Books V-VIII (Epilogue)

[Horacio]

As promised, next update directly from Lazybones mightly keyboard...

Book VI, Part 19


The two gnomes unleashed their magic as the ochre jelly continued to ooze toward them, Cal using Alera’s wand to shoot another acid arrow at it while Pelanther read a spell from a scroll. Fortunately his ring had blazed once again into life, giving him enough light to read by; while this wasn’t apparently an antimagic area like the Hall of Pillars, the teleport had seemingly interfered with the magic enchantments of their light sources.

In any case, as he completed his reading of the scroll his hand, already ringed by the illusory flames coming from his ring, erupted with a ball of real, hot flames cupped in the pool of his open palm. Without hesitation the druid hurled the flames at the ooze. The little ball splashed hot fire over the surface of the ooze, burning its amoebic form, adding to the damage already unleashed by Cal’s acid arrows. The ooze, a mindless creature fixed only on absorbing organic matter, did not hesitate or retreat, and kept moving toward them. Another ball of flame appeared in Pel’s hand, and he hurled this second missile as he had the first. The ooze quivered and came yet closer, almost within striking distance of the two gnomes, but then it shuddered and collapsed into a greasy slick of stinking goo.

“Nice work,” Cal said. His cousin looked over at him, and was about to say something, but was interrupted by Benzan’s cry of pain from back in the wet chamber.

“I suppose we’d better give him a hand,” Pel said, and the two gnomes rushed back down the sloping corridor toward the room.

Benzan, meanwhile, barely clung to consciousness, still pressed up against the vaulted ceiling of the room through the power of his sword. Pain flared all across his body where the magical missiles launched by the skeleton warriors had struck him, and he knew there was no way that he could survive another barrage. At the moment, however, there didn’t seem to be many good options left to him; if he levitated back down to the floor, he had no doubt that the skeletons would chop him into pieces with their swords.

Then he remembered something Cal had told him about the shield spell, one of the few enchantments that he had been able to master. Careful not to botch the complex gestures required by the spell, he called upon the arcane power, and the magical barrier sprung into existence below him. Protected—he hoped—from further missile attacks, he dug into his pouch for one of the magical healing potions that Alera had given them.

A globe of fire flew from the mouth of the side corridor, striking one of the skeletons in the chest. The fire didn’t do much damage to the skeleton, slick as it was with water and muck, but it did certainly get its attention. All three of the creatures turned toward the corridor, where the two gnomes stood waiting.

Cal had unrolled one of Alera’s scrolls, and he read the words of power with a stentorian voice that filled the hall with its echoes. As the runes scribed upon the vellum flared and vanished, the three skeletal warriors, already moving toward the companions, suddenly froze, held immobile by the power of the spell.

“Benzan, come on!” Cal shouted up to his friend, who was already crawling along the ceiling surface toward their position.

Fenrus, meanwhile, took advantage of Cal’s spell as he splashed through the water and slammed into the first skeleton with an incredible impact. The wolf’s attack broke the power holding it in place, but the creature barely had a chance to lift its sword before Fenrus ripped it apart. The wolf turned to the second skeleton, standing immobile just a few feet away.

“The spell won’t hold them for long!” Cal said.

“It won’t have to!” Pelanther laughed, as Fenrus demolished the second skeleton warrior with equal vigor. As the wolf turned to the last of the undead, however, it let out a yelp of pain and jumped backward in a loud splash.

They’d forgotten the second ooze, which had returned to the water to attack.

“Come, Fenrus!” Pel cried, as Benzan rejoined them, levitating back down to the ground near the corridor entrance. He still looked battered, but the healing potion had helped him greatly.

“Let’s get out of here,” the tiefling said, as the wolf joined them.

The two gnomes readily agreed, and the companions beat a hasty retreat down the passageway, bearing new wounds with them.

 

[Corwyn]

Seeing as Horacio is now updating and thus unable to bump this story, I feel called upon to temporally fill out that role.

Undermountain rules

 

[Horacio]

Let post another update

Book VI, Part 20

Dana materialized within the House of the Moon in the farming community of Greenfields, located just a few days’ travel from the sprawling metropolis of Waterdeep. Her sudden appearance in the center of the temple’s nave startled a nearby priest. He was an elf, old enough to show his years—and that meant he was truly old—clad in a robe of soft blue cloth that flowed around his lean, still muscular body. As the glow of Dana’s teleport spell faded, he recognized her, and his face broke into a wide smile.

“Dana! It brings joy to my heart to see you return.”

“Seral,” Dana said, with a short bow of respect. “I am sorry to have startled you.”

“It was worth it, to see you once again,” the elf said, walking to her and sharing a warm embrace. When the two broke apart, he fixed her with his amber eyes, eyes that shone with deep knowledge and understanding.

“The last months have not treated you well, sister, I can see it in your face.” He did not comment on the fresh bloodstains and tears in her clothes, but it was clear that he saw those, and every other subtle detail, as well.

Dana laughed, a nervous laugh of released tension. “You are the only man I know, Seral, who would say such a thing to a woman’s face. Well, perhaps one other,” she added, and her face grew pained momentarily.

“You must come, and tell me all about it.”

“I see you were in the midst of your devotional... I don’t wish to interrupt.”

“Never mind. We can talk, and enjoy hot tea, and then conduct the devotional together.”

“I would like that.”

The two of them left the nave into the main body of the temple. The House of the Moon was a large structure, one of the largest in the community, but it was simple in design. The main area of worship was a single large room, its stone walls stretching some twenty feet in height, but supporting no roof—the House of the Moon was open to the sky. First-time visitors usually commented on that, suggesting that perhaps the choice of an open-air temple wasn’t the best for the storm-wracked Sword Coast, but those who knew the place knew that no rain ever fell within the House of the Moon, regardless of how drenched the land around it became.

Seral led her to a small side room adjoining the temple, a simple wooden chamber laid out in a manner that seemed spartan quarters for one of the more powerful clerics of the northern Sword Coast. To Dana, though, the simplicity of the quarters, and the warmth of the many little touches that she recognized, were reflections of the character of the man who poured her a cup of hot tea into a small ceramic mug, adding a small dollop of honey before handing it to her.

“You remembered.”

“A woman who likes sweets? Yes, truly an odd predilection, my dear.” It sounded like something he would say, but Sarel’s smile was warm and open, his tone only slightly wry, not mocking.

“Have you had a chance to get back down to Irieabor, lately?” she asked him.

“No, I haven’t been to the monastery in years, now,” the elf said. “Too long, I know, but of late I’ve been feeling my years.”

“You still look exactly the same as when you were my teacher at the monastery. Of course, what are ten years to an elf?”

“Depends on which ten years you are talking about,” he replied, with a hint of a smile.

They sipped their tea in silence for a long moment.

“I cannot stay long,” she finally told him. “I’d like to use your scrying pool, if I may, once I’ve had a chance to pray to the Mother.”

“You know it is yours to use, Dana. Though I’d hoped that perhaps it was more than that which brought you here.”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “I could use your friendship, and counsel. A... a lot has changed, and while I know what I’m going to do now, I could still use a patient ear.”

The old elf smiled. “Tell me, then,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

And she did.

* * * * *

The busy scritch, scritch of a stylus as it made its marks upon a thin clay tablet filled the confined space of the small office.

Lok paused and glanced over his work. The upper half of the tablet was filled with compact dwarven runes in neat rows. The genasi was no scribe, but the runes were clear. Lok actually preferred to write in the Thorass script, in Chondanthan or another of the human languages that used it, but this record was for his people, not for himself, and most of the urdunnir had never been exposed to the languages and cultures of the world above.

A small pile of completed tablets lay to one side of the desk already. His current project was an inventory of all of the resources available to the urdunnir community; an important tool, both for current planning and for future development. In a way, these records were for the leaders that would come after him, a message from the present to the future.

A dwarf entered, standing quietly without interrupting him. Without betraying any impatience or annoyance, Lok put down the stylus, and greeted the newcomer.

“I have the figures that you wanted collected,” the dwarf said. He was old, his beard white and growing sparse, but there was a fire to him, a strength deep within. Few of the dwarves of his age that had survived the duergar captivity lacked it, for their brutality had culled those who were weak from their numbers. Many of the strong, too, Lok mused, thinking to the role of names that he’d had compiled earlier, a record of those lost for future generations to remember. Some day, when the basics of continuing survival had been attended to, they would construct a memorial to those fallen, a reminder of the darker days.

“Thank you,” Lok said, indicating that the older dwarf should leave them on the edge of the desk. The dwarf did so, but as he started to turn to leave he hesitated.

“So, when are you thinking of leaving?”

Lok looked up again. “Excuse me?”

“Several of us old-timers have been talking about it. You’re a difficult man to get to know, Lok, but even so we’ve been able to see it. You’re not happy here, haven’t made this community your home. Please don’t mistake me; every dwarf in this clan is eternally in your debt for what you and your friends did for us. To be honest, we had fallen so far that few of us even could grasp what hope was, and you literally carried us back up into life again. You have been touched by the Keeper of Secrets, you’re... different from us all in a way that none of us fully understands.”

“You are my people,” Lok said. “My responsibilities are here.”

“Indeed, and you’ve fulfilled them. And if you chose to stay, you will always have a home among us. In any case, I’d better get back—I am sorry to have interrupted your work.”

The dwarf left, leaving Lok alone with a thoughtful look on his face.

Then the stylus returned to work, continuing its inexorable march across the tablet

 

[wolff96]

You know, Lazybones won't be able to read this for a few weeks... He has more, uh, important issues to attend to... but I just have to praise this story again.

It's amazing the depth that each character has, along with the quirks that seperate them from each other. Truly spectacular.

 

[Corwyn]

*Bumpertie bump*

 

[Horacio]

And another update!

Book VI, Part 21


“That was a useful spell you used, back there,” Pelather said. “I did not know that you dabbled in necromancy.”

“It was Alera’s spell, part of a cache that she gave me on our departure,” Cal explained. “As I understand it, she doesn’t specialize in anything, but ‘dabbles’ in a little of everything.”

“Yes, there’s little that that old woman doesn’t know,” Pel acknowledged. “What else do you have in that cache of hers?”

“A polymorph, shades, stone to flesh... and a few other assorted lesser spells.”

“Potent magics indeed. Good to know you have them at your call.”

The hostility between the two gnomes seemed to have simmered over some, now that they’d been twice blooded and fully confronted with the difficulty of their mission.

Valor led them onward, with Fenrus a step behind, and Benzan now bringing up the rear, checking back frequently to see if the ooze or the skeleton was following. The corridor they’d taken from the flooded room led them through a complex of side passages and chambers, but Valor had been able to pick up the scent from Nelan and his companions and led them unerringly along the trail each time they were confronted with a choice. They spotted a few interesting things in the passages and areas that they passed, but instead of stopping to investigate they pressed on, focused on their objective.

At one point, as they were making their way down a long, empty passage, a loud clatter sounded behind them. They spun just in time to see a heavy stone wall slam down from the ceiling just a few feet behind Benzan, sealing the passage behind them.

“This damned place is giving me the creeps,” Benzan said. “This Halaster guy who built this place, he’s long dead, right?”

“No one knows for sure,” Cal said. “He lived a long, long time, even for a wizard. I’d heard stories from people who said they saw him in Waterdeep, the above-ground part, as recently as ten years ago, but no one’s been able to confirm or deny such reports. He’s like that entertainer... what was that guy’s name... oh yeah, that famous bard, Sivle. People were insisting that they saw him all over Faerûn, for decades after he died.”

“Maybe somebody who liked his work had him raised,” Benzan noted.

“Perhaps. Sometimes, people are better left where fate chooses them to be, though.”

“Well, at least we don’t have to worry about that skeleton, or that ooze thing,” Pel noted with practicality, and without further debate they continued on their course.

With Valor’s guidance, they made swift progress, although it became increasingly clear just how huge this complex was. Their trip through the teleporter meant that they had no idea where they were, how deep in the dungeon they were, or how to get back to the entrance. But the three adventurers were too seasoned to give into thoughts of despair or uncertainty, instead focusing on the route ahead of them, and the direction given by the magical hound following his invisible trail.

Except when they came to yet another intersection, and instead of moving immediately into one of the two passages confronting them, the dog just stopped.

“The trail ends here,” the dog told them. “I do not know which way to go.”

Benzan took a look around, but there was nothing to see but bare stone. “I don’t see any signs of a struggle, but if it’s been a few days...”

“Well, we’ll just have to pick one,” Cal suggested. “We’ll keep picking the same direction, though, whenever we come to a choice, so that we can find our way back—unless we find another clue that leads us elsewhere.”

“Find our way back? Back to where?” Benzan noted. “We’re already lost.” But he followed the gnomes as Cal picked the left corridor, and their small company moved out once again.

None of them noticed the new ring that Benzan was wearing, replacing his ring of water walking on his left hand, and the tiefling forgot to bring it up.

Their bootsteps sounded a regular cadence as they made their way down the passageway, Pel’s light casting long shadows ahead of the two canines as they probed ahead.

The passageway opened ahead into a long “L” shaped room, with them entering at the top of the “L”. Several other exits, all dark corridors, were immediately apparent, but it was also clear that the room was not another vacant, empty chamber.

A structure of sorts had been erected at the apex of the “L”, in front of another passageway leading away from the chamber. The construction was clearly a defensive fortification of some sort, a six-foot wall apparently fashioned from stone and wooden debris, with narrow embrasures along its summit and a single tight opening in the center. A pair of torches on tall poles were mounted behind the wall, casting a broad ring of light out over the chamber.

A man waited in front of that opening, facing toward them, waiting for them. He was armed with a bared longsword, but the weapon was lowered and he made no threatening gestures as he waited for them to draw nearer.

Cautiously, they approached.

“Movement, behind the wall,” Benzan whispered to his companions.

“I see it,” Cal replied. Fenrus growled, but Pelanther calmed him by stroking his muscled foreleg.

“Hail,” the man said in greeting, once they had closed to within about twenty feet. Now that they were closer, they could see that he was clad the uniform of the City Watch, although the garment was faded and more than a little threadbare around the edges.

“Hail and well met,” Cal said. “It’s nice to encounter someone who doesn’t instantly attack down here. Although I certainly didn’t expect to find a member of the Watch down here in Undermountain.”

“Undermountain is a strange place, which breeds strange alliances,” the man commented. The companions noticed more movement behind the uneven summit of the wall, and for a moment, a tall, hyena-headed figure was visible before it dropped back down out of view. None of them needed to comment on what it had been—all of them had traveled enough to be quite familiar with gnolls.

“Indeed,” Cal said, sparing a quick glance at his companions to verify that they had seen it too. They were all on edge, ready for any trouble. Fenrus and Valor were each ready in their way; the wolf bristling with barely contained energy, the magical dog calm and implacable.

“I am delegated to make an offer of shelter and protection, if you seek it,” the man said. “We have a community of like-minded souls, banding together against the chaos and danger of this place.”

“Oh? And who leads this little community of yours?” Pelanther broke in.

For a moment, the man’s expression darkened, but then his stale smile returned. “Why, we have no single leader, but pool our efforts in cooperation for the common benefit. You will find such protection of good use, for many dark things lurk in these halls.”

“Yeah, that we know already,” Benzan commented.

“We are looking for someone,” Cal said. “Another gnome, younger than us, in the company of a mixed group of other adventurers. Has he come this way?”

“Perhaps. He may even be a part of the community; I do not always get to meet the new arrivals. If you would come with us, we can check and see if your friend is here, or someone may know where he has gone.”

“Let us say that we agree to come. How many of you are there, and how far is it to where your people reside?”

“It is not far. Come, let us escort you. We ask only that you leave your weapons behind, at this watchstation, and that great wolf of yours must remain behind as well. I can swear that no harm will come to either while in our care.”

Cal seemed to search for a response for a moment, but Benzan snorted, and Pel’s muttered curse was equally negative. “No way I’m leaving Fenrus with him,” the gnome said.

“Leave our weapons behind?” Benzan said at the same time. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“Surely you can understand our need for security, especially against a group of strangers such as yourselves. We can’t just let a group of armed men—and ferocious animals—into our community. You can come to look for your companion, but not armed.”

“We are not hostile,” Cal said, and as he spoke, a melody seemed to stir through his words, his voice lilting with a familiar tenor. “You can trust us, and take us to your leader, with all of our gear, and our animal companions.”

The words seemed to hang in the air after he spoke them, echoing with the force of a magical suggestion, but the Watchman acted as though he hadn’t even heard them. “I’m sorry, I cannot. Perhaps one of you would like to come inside, while the others wait with his weapons? I swear that no harm will come to you.”

Cal frowned, but he quickly rallied. “Perhaps if I could consult with my colleagues, first?”

“Of course. Take all the time that you need.”

Cal nodded graciously, then retreated with the others in tow, back toward the corridor through which they’d entered. When they were far enough so that the words would not travel to the guardpost, Cal turned, standing behind Fenrus’s bulk so that even his moving lips would not be visible to the watchers.

“Well?”

“Most pressing strange,” Pelanther said. “I’d not recommend trusting anyone who cavorts with gnolls, however. And I’m not leaving Fenrus behind, no matter what.”

“He’s lying, of course,” Benzan said. “Trust me, I’ve done enough of it to know.”

“But to what end?” Cal said. “I mean, maybe he’s right about at least some of it, and there is some sort of... community down here, of guards and adventurers and humanoids trapped in Undermountain, unable to find a way out.”

“Such a thing would never hold together without strong leadership,” Benzan persisted. “He’s lying about that, at least—did you see the look on his face there for a second, when Pel asked him?”

“Yes. And he resisted my spell—no minor accomplishment, especially for an average soldier of the Watch.”

“I doubt he’s average,” Pel added. “I don’t like it. There’s something going on here that’s not as it seems.”

“But I doubt it’s a coincidence that Nelan’s trail ended right around here,” Cal said. “Maybe I should go with them, alone, and see what I can learn.”

“I don’t think that splitting up would be a good idea,” Benzan said. “Just the fact that he seems to want that is enough to recommend against it from my perspective.”

“All right. We’ll see what more we can learn, but won’t commit to anything.”

They returned to where the man waited patiently, having stood in the same spot during their hurried conference. He seemed almost nonchalant—or at least was trying to present that attitude.

“Well, my friends? Have you decided to accept our generous invitation?”

“I am sorry, we cannot,” Cal replied. “But I wonder if we could speak with someone else from your community, someone who might have seen our friend? We’re very concerned for him, and he has family above who are also worried about him.”

“Perhaps,” the man said, looking a little undecided. “Maybe you could wait here, outside the guardstation, while I send word to the community of your search.”

“Actually, we thought we might continue our search, and stop back here later. That would give you time to investigate, and find out...”

“Actually, I’m sorry, we cannot accept that either,” the man interrupted. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that you accompany us; we can’t have you leaving and warning our enemies about our position.”

“Behind,” Benzan said, the single word a warning. The gnomes turned and saw what the tiefling had just noticed; several shadowy forms moving up into the room via the corridor behind them, blocking off their retreat. They wore long black cloaks that made it difficult to identify them, but they were a range of heights, from as small as Cal to slightly larger than Benzan. As they drew nearer the companions could see that there were six of them in all.

“We would rather avoid violence,” the Watchman said, but his voice was iron, all conciliation gone from his tone.

“So would we, but it never seems to work out that way,” Benzan said harshly.

“Last chance, back off or deal with the consequences,” Cal said.

In reply, the man made a short, cutting motion with his blade, and his compatriots leapt to the attack.

 

[Broccli_Head]

The story hour is too good to be slipping so far down on page 1.

I know that I've said it again and again, but I love Undermountain!

 

[Reg Dword]

Isn't it about time for another update, Horacio?

 

[Horacio]

Isn't it about time for another update, Horacio?

Ups, yes, it is!

In five minutes

 

[Horacio]

Book VI, Part 22


As so often happened in the chaos of battle, everything seemed to happen at once, with warriors drawing their weapons, casters uttering the words of their magical spells, and everyone trying to get the jump on their adversaries.

The row of cloaked figures that had moved up behind the companions pressed closer. Three of the smaller ones, each about Cal or Pel’s size, threw back their cloaks to reveal scaly, rust-colored skin and reptilian features. Kobolds! Three of them hurled fat objects at the companions. Benzan easily dodged the slow-moving missile, but Pel, already in the middle of a spell, was hit with a flat plop. The nature of the attack became immediately evident as a thick, gooey mixture burst out of the bag all over Pel’s body. But the gnome druid, focused entirely on his spell, ignored it.

“Tanglefoot bags, watch out!” Benzan cried, as he turned to face the rapidly advancing Watchman.

The third tanglefoot bag struck the ground at Valor’s feet, bursting all over his legs and rooting the magical hound securely to the ground. The dog struggled to get free, but all his efforts accomplished was to mire him further in the glue-like mixture.

The other three cloaked forms also moved swiftly to the attack. Another short one was revealed to be a fourth kobold, but instead of throwing another bag it pointed at Pelanther, uttered a mystic phrase, and a sickly glowing green bolt materialized and shot toward the druid. The missile hit the gnome in the chest, burning with magical acid.

Somehow, though, Pel managed to keep his concentration even through that painful assault, continuing the difficult incantations of a potent summoning.

Another of the cloaked forms unlimbered a short bow and started firing arrows. A long shaft darted toward Cal, narrowly missing him as the missile glanced off of the deflection aura maintained by his bracers of armor. Cal, meanwhile, was not idle, casting his always-reliable haste spell. Suddenly his movements seemed to blur as his speed increased dramatically, and he took advantage of the magical enhancement to cast another spell, one of his potent new enchantments. He felt a crinkling sensation all over his body as the protection of stoneskin settled in around him, making him almost invulnerable to physical attacks.

That was reinforced a moment later, as a second arrow shattered harmlessly against his body.

The final cloaked figure, the one that was larger than Benzan, rushed forward, his cloak swirling out behind him as he moved gracefully to the attack. He was a half-orc, clad in a rough vest of thick hide, armed with an axe and shortsword.

The half-orc charged silently toward Pelanther, who was just finishing his spell, but before he could reach the gnome Fenrus leapt into his path, growling an angry challenge. The half orc lashed out with his blades, the axe connecting with a solid gash to the wolf’s torso, but Fenrus in turn latched onto him with a vicious bite to the shoulder, twisting and dragging the warrior roughly to the ground in a jumble of limbs and fur.

Meanwhile, on the opposite flank, the Watchman met Benzan, the two exchanging a series of swings with a loud clanging of metal on metal as their swords connected. Any doubt that the man was in fact a member of the Watch were extinguished as the warrior pressed his attacks, his smoothly executed moves clearly reflecting the styles taught in the training yards of Castle Waterdeep. He was good, but so too was Benzan, the tiefling himself a veteran of countless battles against a wide assortment of deadly foes. Benzan managed to get one stroke through the Watchman’s defenses, thrusting his blade into the man’s shoulder. He wore armor under his faded surcoat, an undershirt of mail links, but Benzan’s bronze sword was sharper than the best smith’s craft could hope to make it, and it’s magically-keen edge tore metal to dig into the flesh beneath. The warrior staggered under the blow, but he did not hesitate in launching another attack, favoring his wounded side as he pressed Benzan with a skillful series of feints and thrusts.

And Benzan could all too clearly see the trio of armored gnolls that emerged from behind the fortification, hefting huge axes as they cleared the narrow opening and rushed toward the battle.

“Company coming!” he yelled in warning to his friends, as two of the gnolls broke off and rushed toward Pel and Fenrus, while the third moved to flank him.

No, he wasn’t going to fall for that one. Well, not again, anyway.

A globe of pure darkness suddenly appeared around the Watchman and Benzan, completely blocking all light. The gnoll pulled up in surprise, wary. The sound of metal striking metal issued once more from within the darkness, then only quiet came from within.

The gnoll didn’t see the faint blur that crept around the edge of the darkness; Benzan’s ring of shadows kept him well hidden. The tall creature let out a cry of pain and surprise as Benzan’s sword slammed hard into its side, tearing up through a gap in its armor into the organs that the mail was supposed to protect. The gnoll staggered a few steps back, then went down in a heap.

Benzan turned just in time to meet the rush of the Watchman, as he came out of the darkness into another series of attacks.

Pelanther finally finished his spell, and with a small explosion of smoke and light a pair of wolves appeared in front of him. He’d heard Benzan’s warning, and turned to see the two gnolls bearing down on them. He pointed and issued a low growl, and the two wolves leapt to the attack. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Fenrus needed any help. The giant wolf had his opponent pinned, the half-orc unable to get up with the larger creature tearing at him with his massive jaws. The warrior was still fighting back, thrusting upward with his sword and scoring a glancing cut across the wolf’s thick neck. Fenrus, however, had stamina to spare, and with a single vicious lunge latched his jaws on the burly half-orc’s neck.

Satisfied that his companion had his fight well in hand, Pel turned to the two gnolls. His summoned wolves were exchanging attacks with the two creatures, but one was already slowed by a brutal gash from one of their greataxes. Pelanther had a spell that could greatly enlarge animals, one of the most potent magics in his inventory of spells, but he was reluctant to unleash it now against a mere handful of gnolls. Instead, he drew his scimitar, and with a gnomish battle cry charged into melee. The tanglefoot goo covering his body slowed him down, but it couldn’t stop him entirely. One of the gnolls tried to take a swipe at him, but he easily dodged the clumsy stroke. His own blade clove upward into the gnoll’s side, staggering it, and a moment later one of the wolves hamstrung the gnoll, driving down in a thrashing heap to the ground.

Cal, meanwhile, was facing off against the four kobolds, one of whom was already proven a spellcaster. The other three had quickly spread out and moved to flank him, attacking with a cool confidence that he wouldn’t normally have associated with the diminutive reptilian creatures. Even as they leapt to attack, drawing small swords from their belts, Cal drew out one of his wands and unleashed a blast of blinding colors at them. He caught only two in the blast, and when the colors faded the kobolds were down; stunned and disoriented, but not unconscious as he had expected.

All right then, tough kobolds, he said to himself.

The third creature didn’t hesitate, rushing up and sticking his sword into the gnome. He might as well have been attacking a stone wall, as the blow was turned by his stoneskin.

The spell didn’t however, turn the acid arrow that slammed into him a moment later, blasting into his side with a rush of hot pain.

“So, that’s how you want to play?” he shouted. He lifted the wand in his other hand and returned fire with his own acid arrow, catching the kobold sorcerer squarely in the chest, ignoring the hit that he took from the kobold adjacent to him in the process. The sorcerer let out a thin screech but didn’t retreat, even as the acid continued to burn into his body.

Cal, meanwhile, tucked one of his wands back into his belt, and drew his sword.

Benzan continued to fence with the Watchman, exchanging blows with the warrior. Or rather, taking the occasional hit that failed to penetrate the excellent protection of his mithral chainmail, while in turn landing strikes with his magical blade that tore through the significantly lesser armor worn by the guardsman. It could only end one way, but the warrior neither sought retreat nor begged quarter, pressing his attacks more aggressively even as he took more damage. Finally, he left himself wide open with a final desperate lunge, and Benzan finished it with a single stroke of his blade.

“Persistent bugger,” Benzan said, as the man crumpled before him.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of movement behind the embrasures of the defensive wall. But no attacks were forthcoming from that direction, so he turned to lend aid to Cal against his kobold adversaries.

But the battle was already approaching conclusion, and the outcome was already evidently clear. One of Pel’s summoned wolves had gone down, but the druid and the other wolf were making short work of the last gnoll. Fenrus’s opponent had ceased resistance. The enemy archer had apparently seen the writing on the wall, for he had turned and fled back down the corridor. The kobold sorcerer, however, remained, although his last ally was rapidly being beaten down by hasted attacks from Cal. Benzan arrived in time to finish him off with a single thrust from behind, and then the tiefling turned to the two blinded foes that Cal had stunned earlier.

“Yield!” Cal shouted to the kobold sorcerer. “You are defeated!”

But the kobold only shouted the words of another spell. In response, a thick cloud of vapors started to form around him, the beginnings of an obscuring mist that would presumably cover his retreat.

That plan didn’t quite work as intended, as Fenrus darted into the gathering mists, and a single loud ‘crunch’ could be heard from within a moment later. Benzan, meanwhile, finished the last two kobolds, who were no match for him in their blinded state, and with that the battle was over.

The companions gathered in the center of the room, somewhat bruised and battered but otherwise hale and ready. Benzan was the only one who had not taken any damage in the brief melee, but between them Cal and Pel were able to rapidly restore all of them to full health. It took them a little more effort to free up Pel and Valor from the tanglefoot substance, but they finally did that as well. Meanwhile Benzan took a quick look behind the defensive wall, and reported that the area beyond was now empty.

“There was one more back here, I think, but he’s obviously high-tailed it out of here.” Benzan said. “We can expect more of them pretty soon, I suspect, if they’re as organized as that guy said they are.”

“Kobolds, gnolls, a human, a half-orc,” Pel was saying. “And I think that archer that fled was an elf, if I’m not mistaken. An odd alliance indeed.”

“Still, I find it difficult to believe that Nelan and his friends came this way and didn’t run into them,” Cal said. “Ready for us or not, we’ve got to investigate.”

“So it’s rushing blindly in again, eh?” Benzan asked.

“Hardly. A little... preparation, first, is in order.”

And they gathered around him, while he outlined his plan.