Eberron Adventure: Twenty-Second Session

Turnin, the human monk, awoke to a vile, almost Sulphur-like smell in his room in Ghallanda Hall. The smell was emanating from a nearby puddle, and the Kaz the Kobold was chattering softly pacing about the room. Grumbling, Turnin shooed the scaly companion out for a moment, got dressed, and went to find someone from whom he could request a thorough scrubbing for his room.

Groggily, the monk grabbed a pastry as he departed the inn with the ornery kobold – the honest party banker was tired after a few days of running around Sharn looking for things called “investments” on which to spend the party’s hard-earned coin. Despite it being almost noon, the duo sleepily wandered aimlessly for a while before Turnin noticed a note tied around the kobold’s neck. Opening the note, he discovered that the rest of the party had headed back down to the Cogs for some investigative business, and that he should be wary around Kazgaroth, who has been acting out lately. Signed, Kyllar. The duo turns a corner and starts making their way down towards the foundations of the City of Towers.

They wind their way through the Cogs, which over the last few days, has returned to some semblance of normalcy. The two are a peculiar sight, and are quickly recognized, and many of the Cogsfolk thank them and point them in the direction the party traveled.

Several resounding booms are heard as Turnin and Kaz wind their way through the Daask neighborhood. They walk through the grubby cafeteria, and into the “art gallery” just in time for Kyllar’s last “Shatter” spell to uh… shatter the false wall behind the spacious desk.

As the dust motes drift down, cooler air wafts out from the corridor, cutting through some of the oppressive heat from all the lava down in the Cogs. The party, consisting of Rhogar the dragonborn paladin, Shadowale the halfling rogue, Gnofulk the gnome barbarian and Kyllar the human wizard, start discussing their next move. Without announcing his arrival and without breaking pace, Turnin walks past the party and down into the corridor.

However it is far too dark to go far, and he quickly rejoins the party in the gallery and is brought up to speed as torches are readied. Turnin isn’t sure that the statues are real people, but concedes that it is odd that one would wear the insignia of a member of the city watch. Or that someone would take the time to shape the body of a beaten gnome or cowering orcling. But what do they know? They’re not artists or art critics, they are adventurers! The readied torches are lit, and the party is off; eagle-eyed Gnofulk leading the way down the winding corridor.

The party notices (and is surprised to see) that the corridor is rather wide and stout, and supported with actual brickwork – this is no haphazardly dug network. The main tunnel is very long, and minutes pass as the party makes their way down it, taking time to try and methodically explore other tunnels as paths start branching off from the main line. Several dead ends are discovered, and Shadowale, wary of “impediments” as the party destroyed a false wall to find these tunnels, investigates each one with a swift kick from a hairy halfling foot… but finds that these are very solid obstructions; cave-ins from long ago.

One of these branching tunnels doesn’t lead to a dead end, but to an old looming door. Most of the party stumbles into a halt around the corner, but Kyllar approaches and brazenly twists the knob and declares that is open and not trapped. Dark stares are thrown in the wizard’s direction.

The rest of the party approaches, the door, extinguishes their torches, and Gnofulk throws open the door… and finds naught but a treasure chest before him. Torches are re-lit, and Gnofulk reaches to throw open the lid-

-but quickly opens on its own, showing a glimpse of jewels and teeth. Startled, Gnofulk snatches his hand back as the chest snaps, narrowly missing the first bite, but getting a good scratch in with a second lunge. The party dispatches the treasure chest before Turnin can even approach, and the monk, who was bringing up the rear of the formation, wonders what all the fuss is about.

Kyllar is befuddled by the scene and can only mutter something in amazement about how aggressive the treasure chests was. If this is the norm, Kyllar may be gaining a newfound respect for pirates. A Mage Hand is conjured, but despite poking around the innards, the treasure that had gleamed a few moments before is nowhere to be found in the guts.

Undaunted, the party regroups and makes their way back to the main corridor. After a few more kinks and twists… they discover that it has suffered a cave in too. However.. there is something different about this obstruction. Whereas the other obstructions were dense and dusty, with the ends of the walkable spaces contorted under an immense weight, the corridor walls seem intact. The deft halfling foot lashes out again, and discovers that dirt here is indeed fresh.

The party pokes around the dirt and rubble pile blocking their path, which appears to be transplanted into the corridor. Kyllar conjures a shovel, and hands it to his kobold manservant, gesturing towards the dirt pile. The kobold literally digs in as the party loiters – I mean strategizes.

The pleasant chat is disrupted by a resounding, thunderous boom, which blasts most of the dirt obstruction away, but also bloodies and throws the unsuspecting kobold over 20 feet behind the party. On instinct, the party tries to take cover in the corridor, pressing themselves against walls, readying their weapons and looking quickly and intently about them. As the echoes bouncing deeper within the tunnel network slowly lose their force, the party relaxes, and the kobold is tended to. Kyllar finds him dazed, but alright. The party regroups, and cautiously delves further.

They soon reached an intersection of sorts, where their tunnel met three others. The party opts to go left, and travel down another long, winding corridor, and pass two stubby dead end corridors, as they start to realize that it is getting warmer. Up ahead the corridor is lit with faint red glow from magma, and the party decide to extinguish their torches and creep up.

They find a dimly lit cavernous room; their tunnel becoming a path, then descending down and becoming a bridge to span the lava flow before boring back into the rocky walls as a tunnel. Marching out of this other tunnel is an 8-strong patrol of assorted Daask thugs. The party retreat, and opt to hide in the nearest dead-end corridor.

Kyllar conjures a new pile of rubble a few feet out from the obstruction and the party hides. Poking two fingers into his illusionary wall, he makes some peep holes… but realizes he cannot see in the dark, and leads them down to gnome eye-level.

Holding their breath, the party anxiously waits until Gnofulk gives the all clear. A small flame is conjured behind the illusionary wall, and in pantomime, the party argue about what to do: either avoid the patrol and press on, or circle back and try to take the patrol by surprise.

Rhogar, pounding his fist into his palm, convinces the party to try and take out the patrol. The conjured flame is snuffed out, and the party stealthy moves out to stalk their prey, led by the gnome and halfling.

The floors are clear of obstructions, and those with darkvision lead the two human members through the dark without incident, and they begin to close the gap. Before they can strike, however, Gnofulk absentmindedly fumbled his axe, and clatters to the ground. Not the “GO!” signal he was expecting, Shadowale hesitates, and the patrol – all with darkvision – are able to react to the presence of the party.

The two small satyr bowmen fire their shots; one of them pricking Gnofulk, who is just seething with rage. The four satyr-like brutes in the rear scramble up towards the party, spreading across the hall while the two orcs take up position behind the hairy, bestial wall, while growling orders and readying their weapons.

The party begins to charge in the darkness, closing the gap. Gnofulk is first, charging along the right side of the wall, but he is apparently still rattled by his buttery fingers, and misses both his mighty swings. Shadowale decides he doesn’t want to get into the fray, and haphazardly draws and fires his crossbow, narrowly missing Gnofulk, but endangering no one else. Rhogar and Kyllar charge up to the hairy wall, Rhogar breathing fire and burning the two satyr brutes in the middle of the line as well as the two orcs behind them; and Kyllar casts Thunderwave, tossing one brute back and off against the orc, and ending up prone. Poor Turnin, still blind in the darkness, ignites his torch and run up to assess the situation.

The battle now joined, the brutes slash with simple, sharp blades while the orcs move up to plug the gap and press the attack against Rhogar with their axes and maces. The satyr bowmen fire again, only managing to injure the brute fighting Gnofulk, who after scoring a hit against the raging gnome, takes a brutal hack in return. Shadowale abandons his crossbow and scurries over to the far left of the hall, drawing his blades and viciously slaying the brute. Having took the brunt of the Daask counter attack, Rhogar growls and strikes back, finding a much needed second wind to focus his mind. Dangerously close but not actually engaged in the fighting, Kyllar is able to weave a Firebolt through the ranks, injuring one of the brutes, while Turnin, having assessed the situation with a discerning eye, wades into the fighting and lands a critical killing blow with his staff while waving the torch menacingly at the hairy brutes.

Losing ground, the orcs growl an order incomprehensible and the satyr bowmen make an expeditious retreat while the rest of the Daask hack against the party, spilling blood from everyone but Kyllar, who was hiding behind Turnin, and Kaz the kobold, who was hiding behind Kyllar.

Gnofulk and Shadowale slay another brute each, with Gnofulk swinging normally while Shadowale attempted to use his smaller stature to slice at the femoral artery and… while he never quite found it, did manage to his a few other things south of the belt. Ever the talkative one, Turnin stepped forth to interrogate an orc, but received an unintelligible snarl in reply. In his own rebuttal, Turnin swings, but misses the orc’s head twice.. then resorts to Shadowale-inspired “dirty fighting.” (…Or, if you remember back to session one, “uh.. just saying hello”.)

Having the advantage in numbers, now the fight began to grind down. Blood continued to be spilled on both sides, though the Daask were getting the worse of it now. The enemy line broken, Shadowale springs off a wall to land near the last orc’s feet and land more ignoble strikes while Gnofulk circled around and struck from behind. At death’s door, the orc looked upon Rhogar with pleading eyes, and the dragonborn mercifully smote the armored, green-skinned gangster.

The party staunches their wounds, and catches their breath. The party hears nothing in response to the scuffle, and considers chasing after the bowmen… however don’t think they’ve explored the tunnels well enough yet to even guess where they might be retreating to. They decide to press on. Leaving the bodies, they make their way back to the cavernous room, down to and over the bridge, and into the other tunnel. A few winds in, the distinct sounds on conversation can be heard up ahead.

Kyllar signals for the party to stop, conjuring his familiar and casting Comprehend Languages. Shadowale grabs the familiar and stealthily moves up and around the corner.

Via the senses of the familiar, Kyllar hears a slightly raspy woman’s voice speak of “securing the goods” and “preparing to withdraw for now if the patrols cannot secure the tunnels or find what set off the Thunderwave trap.” Deeper, more growly, masculine voices reply curtly, assuring her that everything will be seen to.

Shadowale creeps back, and Kyllar relates the words to the party. Shadowale relates the path ahead; the tunnel opens up into a pit-like hole, with another tunnel across the way. A second level appears to circle the pit, and it is from here that the voices came.

Injured and uncertain, the party withdraw to discuss their options….