Goblin Campaign

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 30: Out of the Pan]Kraashgar draws his pistol and morningstar.  The dwarven undead shamble slowly towards our hero in various states of decay; their moans fill the chamber.  There's no way he can fight this many.  They walk forwards, arms outstretched, hands groping, rotten teeth gnashing in their mouths, eyes full of mindless hate.  Their stench fills Kraashgar's nostrils, nearly making him retch.

Nothing for it '" if he can't destroy them, he'll have to flee.  The exit is on the other side of the chamber.  Two sarcophagi are evident in the center.

Our hero's red eyes narrow and he tenses, then rushes forward.  The dwarves groan enthusiastically and begin to cluster.  One lurches from the shadows behind him, arms raised in a macabre embrace; it fastens its putrid limbs about his waist, clawing at him, jaws opening, preparing to clamp down on his thigh.

Kraashgar yelps and rips himself free, jumping in a single bound atop the first sarcophagus.  He fires off a shot into the morbid crowd and leaps again, sailing over their heads!  The zombies and skeletons claw at the air, rasping voices crying out, full of insatiable hunger.  Kraashgar's boots land on the second sarcophagus and he nearly falls, but keeps his balance.  He jumps down, skids around two remaining zombies, and sprints through the exit and down the passage beyond, undead in close if sluggish pursuit.

The goblin outpaces them quickly and dashes through the broken doors.  Red eyes linger behind him in the musty gloom of the crypts, but the wards on the floor deter the undead from following.

Kraashgar catches his breath.  He heads to the mess hall down the corridor and eats his fill.  As he finishes his meal Veth enters the chamber and calls the inhabitants to attention.

'Alright you lot, listen up.  Boss wants everyone in the central hall on level one.  Finish up and then get up there, and don't dawdle.  Caustic is in a mood, and I hear the Boss isn't too pleased either, so everyone just fall in line, got it?'

More work?  He'd hoped at least for a chance for a decent sleep'¦ Resigned to his fate Kraashgar troops up to the central hall with the rest of the denizens, grumbling under his breath.

Everyone is arrayed in the central hall, clustered about pillars and standing or sitting in loose groups.  Kraashgar recognizes many familiar faces: Skelus and his assistant, Wrask, the kobold weaponmaster Kurlok, Skabrat, Xug, Zetch, Mr. Pincer, Szor the drow and his ogre opponent, the gnoll priestess, the Salamander smith '" everyone is gathered.  Obraxus walks in, exuding power, followed closely by Caustic, Veth, Morkoth, and the Ogre Mage's imp familiar, Shez, who flutters about its master's horned head.  Everyone looks up, and those who were sitting stand.  The hall goes silent.

 'The time has come to prove your mettle.'  The Ogre Mage growls.  'The adventurer situation has grown intolerable.  It's time to stop hijacking the odd caravan and attack the Above-landers in force, before they hire another party.

'We have an agent who even now has infiltrated their surface town.  He will have the gate unlocked, and the guards on the wall will be dead, but we'll have to strike hard and fast.  I will lead the main strike-force.  There will be two other groups, one captained by Veth, the other by Zetch and Mr. Pincer.

'One group will secure the main gate swiftly, then signal the other two to follow.  We will proceed into Gloamwood, loot the storehouses and the armouries, and take as many slaves as we can before retreating.  We'll torch a few houses but we won't burn the place to the ground '" just cripple their ability to respond.

'We'll leave a skeleton guard here, hand-picked by Caustic.  She will of course be in charge while I am gone.  Now group up!  And let's have some discipline!  I won't have you sniveling maggots embarrassing me.'[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 31: And Into the Fire]Obraxus' minions have marched from the gates of the dungeon down into the vale that shelters the human town of Gloamwood; they pause at the gates.  Kraashgar is grouped with a ragtag band of minions that includes the Ogre Mage himself.  The portcullis has been raised and the gates thrown open.

A thick mist cloaks the ground, from which a cloaked figure materializes, eyes glowing red in the darkness of his hood.  The figure removes his cowl revealing demonic horns; Kraashgar recognizes the man as the tiefling Alastor, who he met in the Blind Beholder Tavern in Ool-Nacha and who recommended him to Grognash for his current position.

'Everything's taken care of, Obraxus,' Alastor says, smiling.  He gestures with a bloody blade at a corpse slumped inside the gate.  'My payment, please?'

'Here, hell-spawn.'  Obraxus throws a bag on the ground that clinks with coin.  'As always your service has been exceptional.'

The tiefling smiles a wry, enigmatic smile and takes the gold, melting into the night.  Obraxus signals that the other groups move in from their positions.  When the do so the Ogre Mage levitates several feet off the ground to address all present.  Kraashgar loads his pistol and readies his morningstar.

'Veth, your group will stay and guard the gate,' Obraxus growls.  'Cromn, get some volunteers and head to the northwest tower armory.'  He nods to a hulking ogre '" the one Szor had been playing chess with.  'Zetch, take Mr. Pincer and start slave-taking.  The rest of you, head to the storehouses.  We want to be fast.  Light a few small fires if you must, but don't torch the place entirely.  We'll regroup here; anyone who lingers gets left behind.'  Obraxus unsheathes his huge black greatsword and points it towards the town.  'Let's go, boys!'

They charge in; Kraashgar decides to head with the party going to the armory and so follows the ogre Cromn, co-opting Wrask, Xug, and Skabrat as well; the drow Szor follows, also.  They head through the town along the wall, treading quietly; the sounds of looting in other parts of Gloamwood become audible.

Two guards are stationed at the huge iron door of the northwest armory tower.  Kraashgar shoots one in the torso and the man staggers back, but draws his blade and holds one hand to his wound.  The other guard is armed with a halberd, but takes one of Skabrat's throwing knives to the throat and goes down.  Cromn finishes the second guard off with a sweep from his greataxe.  They search the bodies but there is no sign of a key, and even Cromn's prodigious strength isn't sufficient to batter down the door. Skabrat tries to pick the lock but cannot.

'The watch captain must have the key,' Cromn snarls.

'Wait, guys, I think I have a solution,' Kraashgar interjects, producing the small bomb he looted from the Gearhead caravan on his previous surface raid.  'Everyone stand back.  Someone have a light?'

Xug lights Kraashgar's bomb and the goblin lobs it towards the door, where after a few moments it explodes in a cloud of flame and smoke, blowing the iron door off its hinges.  The group swarms inside and begins looting weapons kept within.

'Goblins, drow, head upstairs and secure the upper floor,' Cromn orders, pointing to a flight of spiral steps.  The three head up; Szor is still snootily ignoring Kraashgar.  They listen at the door they find at the top but hear nothing.  Skabrat fiddles with the lock and it clicks open.

'Alright, on three,' Kraashgar whispers.  'One'¦ two'¦ three!'

The three burst into the room: crossbow quarrels whistle through the air, one grazing our hero's face!  Three of Gloamwood's much-dwindled militia crouch in the room '" perhaps the only guards left in the entire town.  They are reloading and preparing for a second strike as the raiders charge in, Skabrat hurling daggers, Kraashgar brandishing his pistol and morningstar, Szor lunging with an ornate rapier, his movements cat-like, almost balletic.  The guards are swiftly overwhelmed by the three, who take few wounds themselves.  Kraashgar's pistol jams during the fight, but he manages to clean out the firing mechanism in the aftermath.  The group loot the top room as well '" predominantly stocked with quarrels and crossbows.

The looting of the armory complete the group head out into Gloamwood once more.

'I'm heading back to the gates,' Szor proclaims, striding off into the darkness.

'Pretty-boy,' Skabrat sniggers, once the drow is out of earshot.

'More like a dancer than a fighter,' Kraashgar adds.  'Want to loot some shops?'

'Yeah, come on,' the other goblin exclaims '" and the two head into the town in search of mischief, followed vaguely by Wrask, Xug, and Cromn.  The gnoll is merrily smashing windows and laughing manically.
Kraashgar and Skabrat enter a stables.  A stablehand in his night-clothes is inside, a pitchfork in one hand, lantern in another.  Kraashgar charges forwards and smashes his morningstar into the youth's face; the lantern falls and shatters, lighting the wooden floor on fire.

'Come on, Kraashgar!'  Skabrat shouts, as the flames begin to lick at the walls.  The goblin ahs liberated a black horse, which he sits astride; Kraashgar, grinning, mounts up behind him, and the two ride out into the street, towards the sound of a pitched battle and the flicker of other, distant flames.

They approach the town's central square, where a few citizens have gathered in an attempt to defend Gloamwood, cornered by Obraxus' minions, including Zetch & Mr. Pincer.  These are no militia '" just craftsmen and similar locals armed with clubs, cutlery, and farming implements.  Kraashgar and Skabrat ride into the fray, steed neighing, our hero's pistol flaring, commoners crying out in alarm!  They stay atop the steed for a moment before a stray scythe-swipe nearly fells the beast and they leap down.  Together with Cromn, Zetch & Mr. Pincer, Xug, Wrask, and others they make short work of the townsfolk.

'Alright, everyone, back to the gates,' the Neogi Zetch whines.  The group heads back towards the entrance down the main street.

They have nearly made it back to the gates when four mysterious figures appear from out of the night.

One is sheathed from head to toe in armor and carries a massive blade.  Another, a dwarf, hefts a warhammer; behind these two a tall, effete gray elf simpers and a lithe halfling swivels a hand crossbow to and fro.

Kraashgar squints into the darkness.  Are those'¦

'No.  It can't be them.'

But it is; indisputably.  The four are adventurers, but not random mercenaries.  These are the four that slaughtered Kraashgar's kinsfolk and destroyed his home-cavern.  These are the four that took everything away from the goblin.

Our hero's red eyes flash as the two groups advance.

The ensuing battle is messy and deadly.  Kraashgar aims a bullet at the mage and fires, but his shot bounces off a shield of arcane force; Skabrat is hit with a bolt from the halfling's crossbow but stays on his feet.  While Mr. Pincer and the adventurers' fighter go toe to toe the rest of the battle becomes a swirl of flying arrows, bullets, and magic.

The elf wizard assumes a look of contempt and utters a dread incantation.  Magic missiles '" of the same variety that knocked Kraashgar unconscious much earlier '" fly from his fingertips, hurtling through the air towards the raiders.  They converge on the gnoll Wrask, who is leaping forward with his scimitar gleaming.  The Missiles penetrate his armor and fur '" and the gnoll explodes from the inside-out.

Kraashgar roars a shriek of goblin fury and charges forward with morningstar raised.  Despite the wizard's eldritch protections our hero manages to land a blow, nearly breaking the magus' concentration as he begins another spell.

'You should be more thorough!'  Kraashgar yells, bashing at the elf with his weapon.

The fighter is surrounded by foes, holding back the Umber Hulk and other minions with assistance from the dwarven cleric; the halfling is still sniping from the rear.  Seemingly out of the smoke and mist Obraxus suddenly appears, sword drawn.  The Ogre Mage and the fighter cross blades and spar; the armored human has already been battered.  Obraxus parries aside his blows and sinks his black sword into the man's chest, punching through his plate mail.  He twists the sword and then yanks it free; the fighter staggers back and falls, lifeless.

The gray elf moves fast, darting backwards with uncanny agility, outside of Kraashgar's reach.  He touches the halfling and the dwarf, who is touching their companion's corpse, while speaking a spell; a portal of magical energy manifests and the four disappear, snatched from the raiders' clutches in a puff of purplish smoke.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 32: Alas Poor Wrask!  Where Be Your Gibes Now?]The raid is over; the company of raiders make their way back towards their dungeon, led by the Ogre Mage Obraxus.  Gloamwood smolders behind them '" scorched but intact, looted of its wealth.  Many of its citizens have been interred in huge bone cage-wagons that even now are drawn up the mountain paths by ogres and orcs.  These terrified humans will be sold in the slave-markets of the Great Below; an eternity of darkness and pain awaits them.

Bringing up the rear, battered but alive, the goblin Kraashgar hauls the head of Wrask the gnoll.  His companion and friend, the gnoll was slain by a powerful gray elf wizard; after the fell magus used a dimension door to teleport himself and his comrades away, Kraashgar recovered Wrask's head from the battlefield.  The head drips blood, spattering the stone steps that lead up to the Ogre Mage's Lair.

They arrive at the massive, rune-etched gates of the dungeon and find the anteroom devoid of inhabitants.  Obraxus growls and pushes open the next set of doors and the company passes within: suddenly, dwarves appear from the gloom beyond, and shots ring out as battle is joined!  The Gearheads '" marked by their crude, piston-driven augmentations and their penchant for firearms '" had concealed themselves behind the huge pillars of the upper hall.  Now they swarm about the raiding company, filling the air with gunsmoke!

Kraashgar yelps a battle-cry and shoots a charging dwarf in the chest with his pistol, then readies his morningstar, but Obraxus '" enraged and seething with arcane energies '" has already decimated the first few ranks of dwarves, assisted by the enslaved Umber Hulk Mr. Pincer.  The rest of the intruders are swiftly destroyed.

'They must have attacked in our absence!'  Obraxus bellows.  'Minions!  Cleanse my halls of these scum!  On!'

The dungeon denizens make their way cautiously into their home, bypassing traps and checking every room for dwarves.  The first guard-room is empty.  As they near the second they hear the sound of battle and rush inside, crowding the doorway.

Inside the second guard-room tables have been overturned and bodies are strewn across the floor.  Caustic the drow wizardess stands behind the impromptu barricades and pelts the dwarves surrounding her with spells, while their bullets whine off her eldritch shield.  Several other dungeon minions snipe with crossbows and pistols of their own, but most of the skeleton guard left behind during the raid are dead '" slain by the Gearhead invaders.

Obraxus decapitates the nearest dwarf and continues onwards into the attackers while Kraashgar (still carrying Wrask's head), Xug, Skabrat, and other minions pile in, dealing death.  The dwarves are pushed swiftly back down the stairs, where they are slaughtered in the second-level guard-room.  Caustic slays the last dwarf with a conjured arrow of dripping green acid, which reduces the humanoid to a pile of slag and runny gore.

'They attacked using the level three entrance an hour after you left,' the drow lieutenant pants.  'They circumvented our alarms somehow '" we didn't know they were coming.  I don't know; the whole thing reeks of someone on the inside.  It can't be that captive, Brogg, we've got him warded and shackled'¦'

'Someone go check on the dwarf captive,' Obraxus commands.  'The rest of you, sweep the dungeon.  We need to get rid of this filth.'

Kraashgar volunteers to look in on Brogg; the others begin to pan out to check every nook and cranny of the dungeon for remaining dwarves.

Our hero passes down several corridors and enters the cellblock.  Here he finds a Gearhead fitting a stolen key into Brogg's cell door.  He drops Wrask's head, draws raises his pistol and fires, but the shot ricochets off the dwarf's helm.  The intruder finishes opening the door, then turns with his waraxe raised and rushes Kraashgar, screaming Dwarven curses.  Our hero deftly dodges the dwarf's overhead slash and brains the Gearhead with his morningstar.  The dwarf thumps against the wall and falls to the floor, unconscious, blood leaking from his skull.  Kraashgar steps over to finish him off '" and then Brogg steps out from his cell.

'Ooh, how I've dream a' this moment'¦' the half-shaved dwarf proclaims, balling his fists.  He is ragged from interrogation, both magical and mundane, but his eyes are full of fury.  He shouts a wordless battle-cry and charges forwards.  Kraashgar, light on his feet, ducks away from the blow and makes a counter-attack, but his weapon goes wide.  Brogg snatches up his fallen rescuer's waraxe and attacks our hero again, landing a glancing blow, but Kraashgar lands a crippling counterattack in response and smashes his morningstar into Brogg's jaw.  Impossibly Brogg is still alive.  The dwarf spits out a tooth and prepares to hack at the goblin again '" and then Yoggy, Thollom's Ethereal Marauder, materializes out of the Ether and snaps at Brogg's legs!  While the dwarf is distracted Kraashgar lands a finishing blow that fells the Gearhead Clansman for good.

Kraashgar pants and retrieves Wrask's head, then heads dwn the cellblock: the Gray Slaad's laboratory is just beyond.  The creature seems unaware or simply uninterested in the Gearhead's incursion; he busies himself about his laboratory as if nothing unusual was occurring.  Kraashgar presents the gnoll's head.

'I found another component for your project,' the goblin says.  'You said you were short on parts: here's a perfectly intact head.'

'Oh, a present!'  The Gray Slaad coos.  Kraashgar notices that he is still shedding scales; the new ones beneath are glossy and dark.  'Perfect for my uses'¦ so thoughtful of you!'

At this moment Yoggy drags Brogg's corpse into the chamber by the remnants of his beard.

'And look!  Yoggy's found even more goodies!  My my, this is going to turn out even better than I'd hoped'¦'[/ic]

[Nomadic]

I love it... keep up the awesome work. You have me thoroughly interested.

[LD]

So... the player didn't want to resurrect Wrask?

[Steerpike]

[ooc]The player actually did want to raise/ressurect Wrask, but there aren't any high level clerics hanging around willing to do him the favor.  For one thing Kraashagr doesn't exactly have 50 gp diamonds coming out of his pockets (i.e. the material component needed for a basic raise).  Plus, Wrask's body was blown up: only the head remains intact.  Low-level resurrection wouldn't work without a complete body.

I could have inserted a random high level cleric (or even a mid-level druid) to pander to his desire to get Wrask back, but I decided against it; it would have seemed contrived, and I wanted a death that stung a little (Wrask was a pretty comedic character, I played him more or less like the hyena Ed from the Lion King).

He's going to be integrated into a flesh golemy thing, in actual fact.  At a later date, if that thing gets killed or something, I might consider letting the player remove Wrask's head again and use it for a reincarnation spell... he'll end up as something very un-hyena-like for comic effect.

As a side note, I hadn't planned on killing Wrask beforehand, not had I actually planned to have the adventurers show up; they both just occurred to me as a good capstone to the adventure, and as a reminder of the character's long-term motivations.[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 33: Mapping]The Gearheads have been routed; the dungeon is secure once more, and the spoils of the raid have been rich.  Obraxus is low on minions, however '" a small number were lost at Gloamwood, two more in the attack on the dwarven caravan some time earlier, yet more to an adventuring party before that, and almost all of the skeleton guard left behind to guard the Lair while Obraxus and the raiders were away.

Kraashgar has spent the last few shifts disposing of bodies in a moat of magma that lies outside the level three entrance.  His wounds heal through rest and some magical aid from other denizens employed for that purpose '" Obraxus needs his remaining minions in peak condition in case of another attack '" and he is paid his weekly salary of two gold pieces. After a few shifts of basic guard-duty and maintenance he is called to the map-room and sent by Caustic down to the third floor sub-level to Skelus the kobold trapsmith's workshop.

The kobold's previous assistant was killed by the Gearheads, so Skelus has been scrambling to keep the dungeon defenses in working order.  He is fiddling with some piece of machinery '" possibly something of the dwarves' '" when Kraashgar enters.

'Ah, there you are, you little blighter.  I have a task for you, one fit for someone of your stature.  It seems the Gearheads managed to bypass some of our outer defenses on level three.  Purple worms have riddled the rock surrounding the old mines and the rest of the dungeon with tunnels, and one of those tunnels brushed up close to level three.  The dwarves mined through to a cavern just outside the main doors so that they appeared almost instantly at the dungeon gates.  Usually we would have been warned of their approach by alarm wards we placed along the stairs leading up to the gates, but because of the tunnels they could approach undetected, and since the guard contingent was smaller than usual they managed to force their way inside with relative ease.

'You'll take explosives down to the tunnels in order to seal them off in key places.  The tunnels are small: even though purple worms are enormous creatures they're not very wide, little more than five feet across.  Big enough for dwarves and goblins, but too small for orcs, gnolls, or even drow to move around comfortably.

'Now, sealing off the main exit won't do much good, because the dwarves will just mine through again.  We'll still blow their main entrance to delay them, but it won't slow them down for too long.  Instead of just detonating all the tunnels, we'll seal off certain tunnels while planting traps in others.  This way the dwarves will be funneled into the trapped tunnels, and we can deal a lot of damage to a force trying to pull the same trick again.

'The tunnels are intricate, and hugely extensive.  Take this compass; the Gearhead's fortress is directly west of the dungeon.  You're going to scout the tunnels, map some of them, and then return to get the explosives and traps.  We'll use the map to determine the best placement locations for both.  Don't bother with passages that wind continuously to the north or south: only bother mapping those that run roughly east-west, otherwise it'll take forever.'

Kraashgar accepts the compass, as well as a stylus, parchment, and a piece of chalk.  He heads down to the entrance at level three and has Cromn, the level three guard-captain, open the doors for him.  He crosses the bridge over the magma-moat here and locates the tunnel the dwarves used '" a small opening just off the main passage, a long stair that winds into the depths of the Great Below.  Tentatively our hero enters the tunnel: he can walk through the tunnels comfortably, without crouching.

The mapping takes some time.  The tunnels are regular in size but not in level: they pitch up and down, so Kraashgar has to climb up and down frequently.  Sometimes vertical tunnels intersect roughly horizontal ones, so Kraashgar must leap over.  He marks key junctions with chalk and steadily maps the tunnels, acquiring a few bruises from tumbles as he does so.  Eventually he locates an inscription in Dwarven runes on a tunnel-wall leading west '" presumably to the Gearhead Clan fortress.  Twice he emerges on high ledges looking out into an enormous cavern that glimmers with mithril veins; other times he encounters passages that slope till they point straight downwards or upwards, and others that have collapsed on their own.  He is nearly finishing his rough map of the tunnels when he stumbles upon a cluster of reddish toadstools '" shriekers!  He accidentally perturbs the screaming mushrooms and backs off quickly.  Now he needs to return to the dungeon to get the explosives and traps.  Slowly our hero begins making his way back through the tunnels.

Kraashgar is still wandering through the purple worm tunnels when he hears a scrambling sound above him.  He looks up into a vertical shaft and sees a pair of gleaming red eyes approaching.  Our hero draws his pistol and backs away from the tunnel.  Moments later a pair of splayed, spiny hands appear on the rim of the shaft, followed by a narrow, head with yellow teeth '" a choker!  Kraashgar learned of these fell creatures as a child: unwholesome, vaguely humanoid things that lurk in narrow spaces, waiting for prey.  He was lucky to have detected this one: usually they are exceptionally stealthy.

Kraashgar aims at the choker's face and squeezes off a shot, but the aberration draws itself back up into the shaft and scuttles away.  The sound of his gunshot in the cramped space of the tunnel is deafening.

'Damn, now I'll have this thing stalking me'¦ fantastic.'

He heads down some more tunnels in an effort to return to the dungeon, but despite his map he gets turned around and finds himself at an unknown junction. A trail of slime coats the ground '" a viscous, yellow-green mucus.

'At least whatever made this won't be able to sneak up on me,' Kraashgar mutters, and follows the trail down the tunnel'¦[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 34: The Nest]Kraashgar is lost in the tunnels of purple worms.  Somewhere behind him, a choker alerted by shriekers is hunting him, and he is following the slime-trail of something else that lives in the tunnels.

After several twists and turns, our hero enters a small, round cavern of natural origin, predating the excavations of the worms.  Stalactites and stalagmites jut from floor and ceiling, and a large pool of cold, dark water is evident in one corner.  A pile of slimy eggs like frogspawn adheres to the lip of the pool.

Bones carpet the floor, mostly of small creatures like fish or rats, but also of humanoids.  In addition a recently slain dwarf lies on the floor, his flesh covered in ugly pucker-wounds like open sores.  He clutches a small pistol, and a bandolier is strung over his chest.  Our hero investigates the bandolier and retrieves ten bullets, each etched with a distinctive Dwarven rune.  Kraashgar has been running quite low on ammunition '" only six bullets left '" so he loads one of the rune-etched bullets into his pistol.  For good measure he smashes the eggs by the pool with his morningstar; they appear to have been filled with tadpole-like embryos.  He decides, on a whim to keep one of the eggs, and tucks it into his satchel.

No other tunnels lead into the nest so Kraashgar turns back.  He makes a few more turns before he hears a slithering noise behind him in the dark; he turns and finds himself face to face with the creator of the slime-trails, a monstrous, serpentine horror with four tentacles surrounding a beak-like maw '" a grick!

Kraashgar fires off one of the rune-etched bullets, but the shot is deflected by the beast's thick hide.  He fumbles to reload but the monstrosity is upon him, lashing out with one of its barbed tentacles and nipping with its sharp jaws, badly wounding our hero!  At last Kraashgar is able to load a second rune-etched bullet.  He raises the flintlock and discharges it in the horror's hideous visage.  The bullet enters the grick's open maw and explodes in a blaze of orange light.  The creature whines in horrible agony as it burns from the inside out, leaving only a blackened chitin shell behind.

Grimly, the goblin reloads.  He continues down the passage and discovers one of his chalk marks '" at last, back to familiar paths!  Using his map he manages to make his way back to the exit near the dungeon.  He heads up to Skelus' workshop and shows the kobold his map; together the two of them sketch out placements for the traps and explosives.

'I can supply you with the traps: tripwires strung up to small capsules filled with blackpowder.  They'll explode moments after the wire is tripped, spraying anyone who walks into them with shrapnel and flame, and potentially collapsing the tunnel on them as well.'  Skelus gestures to an array of the small, deadly devices on a work-bench.  'For the bombs, you'll need to pay Kurlok a visit; they're being stored in the third floor armory.'

Kraashgar rolls up the map, packs the traps into his satchel, and heads towards the armory.[/ic][ooc]Yes I copy Alien a lot, I know...

The bullets are +1 Flaming bullets; I placed them so that Kraashgar would have a chance against a grick.  It still nearly ate him alive, heheh.[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 35: Light the Fuuuse!]With some help from Cromn the ogre Kraashgar manages to cart a number of small blackpowder casks looted from the Gearhead caravan down to the purple worm tunnels, after signing out these explosives from Kurlok, the officious kobold weaponmaster.  Equipped with a flint and steel as a fire-starter our hero sets off into the tunnels, a cask under his arm and another in his bag, along with the booby-traps he was given by Skelus.  He keeps one hand near his pistol.

Our hero successfully saps two tunnels and lays a booby trap in a third, where the dwarves will be forced to pass through.  He is about to return to the exit to get more explosives when he feels a spiny paw slap him across the shoulder, then encircle his neck!

Our hero gasps for air as the tentacle tightens, constricting him!  The choker has returned '" the foul creature he saw skulking about the tunnels earlier.  Kraashagr squirms but cannot free himself from the horror's tight grasp.  He does manage to draw his pistol; fortunately he remembered to reload this time.  He aims the flintlock as best he can and fires.

In the cramped space of the tunnel it is difficult to miss.  The blaze of light from the firearm lights up the scene for a brief moment, illuminating the aberration with its tentacle-arms wrapped round the goblin in a grotesque parody of an embrace, our hero pointing his weapon somewhere at the aberration's emaciated body.  Then the bullet pierces flesh and ignites; the choker releases its grip and begins swatting at its flaming body with its arms.  It scurries down the passage, attempting a retreat.   Moving as fast as he can Kraashgar begins to reload, while following the choker: he won't have the creature sneak up on him again!

The choker is about to drop down a narrow shaft when Kraashgar finishes reloading and fires again.  This time the bullet catches the monster in the back of the skull, spattering the tunnel with blood and brains.  Our hero blows the smoke off his pistol and continues about his task.

Kraashgar has almost finished sapping the tunnels and laying his traps.  He is about to lay the final explosive when something hideous squirms in the darkness, a thing all tentacles and beak: the grick's mate, come for vengeance.  Yelling loudly Kraashgar tumbles out of the tunnels and back into the cavern outside the dungeon, where the ogre Cromn is guarding the heap of remaining explosives.  The ornery grick slithers out in pursuit; Cromn interposes himself between Kraashgar and the monster and swats at it with his huge club.  His blow batters the grick against the cave-wall, but it seems surprisingly unaffected by such a tremendous attack.  It screams horribly and launches itself at the ogre, slashing at the giant's face and chest with its tentacles and snapping with its beak.  Blood spurts as the barbed tentacles lacerate flesh.  Kraashgar aims a shot but misses, then furiously begins reloading his pistol.  He's nearly out of rune-etched bullets: every shot needs to count.

Cromn is struggling to fend off the grick, still mauling him with its tentacles, when Kraashgar's bullet takes it in the flank.  It hisses as it ignites and tries to scuttle back into the tunnel, but Cromn aims another blow with his club and squashes it against the cave-floor.

'Whew.  That was close '" thanks Cromn,' Kraashgar says, as he prepares the final explosive.

'Don't mention it.  I need to see a healer; I'll send Szor out to help you haul this stuff back.'

Our hero detonates the final blast as the drow Szor saunters out, a look of contempt on his face.  The two return the rest of the explosives back to the armory while the drow looks daggers at Kraashgar.

Some time later, Kraashgar gives the grick egg to Thollom the Gray Slaad, who accepts it with fervent interest.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 36: Tracking]After a couple of guard shifts Kraashgar is summoned for a new assignment.  Usually the drow Casutic has given him jobs, but this time Obraxus himself meets him.

'Kraashgar, was it?'  Obraxus towers above our hero, massive, black eyes staring unwaveringly.  Kraashgar cannot help but think of the ease with which he dispatched the dwarves, or the human adventurer.  'I have heard... good reports concerning your conduct over your last few assignments.  You can consider your parole period officially over.'

'Thank you, Boss,' the goblin squeaks.

'Now, I have a new task for you.  Despite your lack of experience you have acquired something of a reputation as a negotiator.  Caustic tells me you secured a dwarven captive from a worg, and also convinced the spirit on the second level to depart.  I have a job that will require a similar sort of delicacy.

'Normally I would select someone who's been here longer for such an important mission, but I am severely understaffed at the moment.  I need new guards for the gate on level three: the previous defenders were slain during the Gearhead attack.  Rumors have reached me of a gang of hill giants dwelling in the foothills of the mountains outside the dungeon, near the forest's border.  I want you to find them and convince them to sign on as dungeon guards.

'Fortunately, the sale of the slaves we took in the Gloamwood raid has ensured that my coffers are full at the moment.  You may offer the giants up to five gold pieces a week, each, for their employment.  If you complete this task, you will receive a bonus of five gold pieces for each giant recruited, and if you continue to serve me well I may consider raising your weekly salary.

'Unfortunately, giants rarely speak anything but their own tongue.  Cromn will accompany you on this mission as a translator.  Caustic has also prepared several potions for you, in case you run into difficulties Above.'

'Of course, Boss.'

A short while later, Cromn and Kraashgar meet up in the first level hall before heading out onto the surface and into the night.  It's cold outside: the seasons are changing.  The two head down the mountain stair and into the foothills.

The hills are barren and desolate, dotted with old barrows, druidic circles, and shattered statues '" relics of defunct kingdoms and long departed peoples.  The two are looking for a smoke-trail or a glimmer of fire, listening for the sound of deep voices.

Kraashgar is still scouring the hills with Cromn when he hears a scrabbling sound on a rock above, and then they appear, gliding almost soundlessly out of the darkness: a pride of huge, catlike creatures somewhat like mountain lions, perhaps eight or nine in all.  They stand on rocky crags or slink out of narrow defiles, predatory, growling softly.

Kraashgar draws his pistol even as the first beast pounces from the crag.  His shot takes it in the chest, his rune-etched bullet '" one of the very few remaining '" igniting on contact.  The mountain cat is killed instantly.

The rest of the pride are clearly spooked, but they look hungry.  One advances towards our hero and with a screeching wail draws back the flesh and fur of its visage, exposing a bare skull.  The effect is extremely unnerving, but Kraashgar and Cromn stand their ground, unaffected.

'Krenshars,' Cromn mutters, his massive club raised.  'If we kill a few of them, the rest might decide we're not worth the effort.'

As the ogre finishes speaking one of the beasts pounces towards him, but he bats it aside with his club.  The krenshars are closing in slowly, as Kraashgar reloads.

His second shot wounds a Krenshar badly and scorches its fur; it hisses and backs away warily.  A second cat leaps on Kraashgar and scratches him across the chest with its claws while snapping its teeth.  The goblin falls back and swings with his morningstar, fending off the krenshars.  One of them darts forwards and bites Cromn on the thigh, while a second mauls him, flanking the ogre; Cromn smashes the latter with his club.  There is a sound of bones snapping and the krenshar lies still, its spine broken.

There are plenty of krenshars left, in a tight circle around Kraashgar and Cromn; those from higher up have scrambled down to join their pack-mates.  It looks as if the pair are going to have a particularly tough fight on their hands when our hero hears a howl and a huge, black wolf with red eyes leaps down out of the darkness from a rocky outcropping above, teeth bared '" the worg Svaorch!  The creature fastens its jaws round the nearest krenshar and savages it badly before throwing it aside; the krenshar hisses but backs away, obviously frightened, pulling back its flesh as it does so.

With the worg assisting them the goblin and the ogre fight off the rest of the pack easily, and the krenshars retreat into the night, bristling and licking their wounds, mewling in fear and rage.

'Goblin,' the worg says in Goblin.  'Kraashgar.  We meet again.  What brings you to these cold hills?'

'We're trying to find a gang of hill giants,' Kraashgar pants.  'Seen any recently?'

'I have seen six of these creatures in the hills.  Their camp is well-hidden: I will take you there, if you perform a favor in return.'

'What is it this time?'

'A group of redcaps has moved into an old tower in the forest and begun killing indiscriminately.  I have been forced from my burrow to take shelter in these hills, but I like not the openness of this place, nor the feel of cold stone beneath my paws.  Help me to destroy the redcaps and I will lead you to the giants' camp.'

Kraashgar translates the worg's speech into Undercommon for Cromn.

'We don't have time for this Kraashgar,' Cromn declares gruffly.  'And how do we know this beast is to be trusted?  It'll probably lead us into a trap, where the rest of its pack is waiting.'

'The rest of its pack was killed by a human woodsman,' Kraashgar explains.  'I've dealt with the creature before.  Besides, it'll take less time to kill these redcaps and have Svaroch lead us to the giants than to keep wandering around here blindly.'

'Very well, then,' Cromn relents.  'So long as we make this fast.'

'Lead on, Svaroch.'[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 37: The Tower]Svaroch the worg leads Kraashgar and Cromn down through the foothills and into the depths of the forest.  He takes them along secret paths through the wood; all three use the utmost stealth, to avoid the attention of arboreal predators, or the forest gnomes whose territory they trespass.  After some time the three approach a moonlit clearing from which a ruinous tower juts.  The tower is a small, round edifice of crumbling stone.  Its upper floors have decayed, and its walls are clad in ivy and moss, as are its grotesque gargoyle sentinels.  A narrow, black doorway admits entrance.

Kraashgar drinks the first of the potions Caustic gave him '" a potion of Cure Moderate Wounds '" and motions that the others stay back, then creeps through the archway into the chamber beyond.
 

Smashed furniture litters the floor on the first level.  Hundreds of skulls have been stacked like morbid trophies in the center of the room: stags, wolves, cats, gnomes, humans, and even the tiny skulls of birds, squirrels, and mice.  A spiraling staircase leads up to the next level, and a trapdoor in the floor leads down to a basement.  No redcaps or other creatures are evident: Kraashgar gestures that the others follow him in, then creeps up the stairs to the next level.

Red stains encrust the floor of the room at the top of the stairs.  Some sort of diabolic shrine has been constructed along the far wall, pieced together out of rubble and twigs, a monstrous, grinning idol with a bloodstained altar set before it.  Three small, hunched figures like wizened old gnomes squat in the gloom before this hideous shrine, their backs to our hero.  Their mouths are full of sharp teeth, they wear red caps on their heads, and they carry huge, rusty scythes and small slings.  They mutter in the fey tongue of all forest-folk.  Kraashgar creeps back down the stairs, motions that Svaroch and Cromn follow him quietly, and draws his pistol.

His first shot takes one of the redcaps in the back.  The fey turns, grinning horribly, scythe gleaming in the moonlight that streams through the broken walls and windows.  Even as Svaroch and Cromn burst into the chamber the faerie horror leaps towards Kraashgar and slahes him with its scythe, dealing a terrible blow.  The other two redcaps scramble to pick up chunks of rubble from the floor to use as ammunition for their slings.

The fight is frenzied, bloody.  The redcaps grin manically as they slash about with their scythes, quickly focusing on Cromn.  Kraashgar uses up the last of his rune-etched bullets and switches to his morningstar, which seems woefully ineffective against the fey.  Cromn and Svaroch fare somewhat better, but their attacks seem weakened as well '" the redcaps are incredibly resistant to damage.  Slowly they wear the fey down, eventually slaying two; the last Kraashgar pounces on and grapples.  He tries to interrogate the creature but it merely grins and spits blood, babbling in Sylvan, before Cromn finishes it off.  The three are all wounded; Kraashgar quaffs his second (and last) healing potion.

'Two of them remain,' Svaroch barks.  'They must be out on the hunt.'

Our hero investigates the top floor but finds it empty and desolate, strewn with rubble and crumbling statuary.  He heads down to the bottom floor, accompanied by Svaroch and Cromn, and with an effort hefts the trapdoor back.  He descends a ladder into a cellar below, pistol in hand, loaded now with a normal bullet.  He is perilously low on ammunition, and curses himself for not picking up more from Kurlok.

Dust and cobwebs are thick in the cellar. Kraashgar sees large wooden kegs and shelves with old wine-bottles, as well as a large wooden chest, slowly gathering dust, padlocked.  He hears a chittering sound and looks up, is horrified by a massive spider crouched in a huge web on the ceiling.  He aims a shot and blows the giant arachnid's head apart; it falls to the ground, legs twitching and contracting.

Kraashgar puts a couple of wine bottles in his satchel, then heads over to the chest.  After a couple of tries he busts the rusty padlock off with his morningstar.  Inside the chest he finds a heavy iron mace and a weighty book written in Common and scrawled with notes and pictures of faerie creatures.  Our hero takes both these items and returns to the first level.

Svaroch cannot read, but Common and Undercommon share an alphabet '" the two languages have a common root.  Kraashgar skims to an entry with a drawing of a redcap and speaks the strange words; Svaroch translates them into Goblin.  Our hero discovers from the book that redcap teeth are very valuable, that the fey increase in power the more they kill (filling their caps with blood), and that they are remarkably hardy creatures, susceptible only to weapons of cold iron.  He hefts the heavy mace in both hands.

He is still reading when the other redcaps return, yellow eyes glinting in the dark.  The creep into the first level, but Cromn notices them and the three prepare for combat.

This time the fight is much easier.  Kraashgar's mace proves effective against the redcaps, and between the three of them they manage to slay the two remaining fey without suffering excessive injury. Thoughtfully Kraashgar plucks the a tooth from the dead fey, and one from each of those upstairs.

'There, we got rid of those damn sprites,' Kraashgar says to Svaroch.  'Will you take us to the hill giants now?'

'Very well.  I will lead you to their camp, though I cannot accompany you further '" the giants would skin me alive.'[/ic] [ooc]Kraashgar leveled up at the end of this episode, becoming a 4th level warrior.  He increased his Con by 1 point and split his skill points between Climb and Jump.  He rolled a 4 for his HP, putting his total HP at 24 (when fully healed).

At level 5 or 6 I will allow him to take his first PC level (probably fighter or rogue), as the campaign may shortly enter a new phase.[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 39: Diplomacy]Kraashgar and Cromn approach the hill giant camp cautiously.  Kraashgar drinks a potion of Charisma given to him by Caustic beforehand.  They enter the camp; Cromn snarls something in Giant by way of greeting.

There are six of them: massive, squat creatures, eleven feet tall, even hunched.  They would look down even on Obraxus.  They are huge of girth and of smell, exuding a stench as of poorly tanned firs, alcohol, and general uncleanness.  Their skin is mottled, dirty, and hairy, their faces simian and almost chinless; they are garbed in poorly tanned furs, hides, leathers, and bits of stitched-together cloth, and they carry tree-trunk clubs and weapons of bone or stone.  Their eyes are tiny and black, and they sport lice-ridden, matted beards.  The gang hunch around a campfire, cooking what look like whole skewered sheep.  When they speak they do so with a slurred, mumbled tongue.

'Heh, damn yokels, I can barely understand their dialect,' Cromn grunts in Undercommon.  'They're asking what we want, why they shouldn't eat us.'

'Tell them we can promise them many riches,' Kraashgar says.  'Four gold pieces a week, and all the mutton and ale they can consume.  Keep it simple.'

Cromn and one of the giants converse.  Something one of them says makes the other giants laugh.

'They ask, whose riches?  The little one's?  And what would they have to do.'

'Those of an Ogre Mage, Obraxus, who dwells in the old dwarf stronghold in the mountains.  We are his servants.  He would have them be his servants also '" as warriors.'

Cromn relates this.  The hill giants speak amongst themselves.  One speaks to Cromn again.

'Their leader says that they will join you, but first you must perform a task to show that they can trust you,' Cromn translates.  'There is a flock of harpies that dwell in the mountains above these hills, in a cave too small for giants to enter.  A week ago, they stole the one called Klet's fingerpick for his banjo.'

Kraashgar notice the banjo in question: a huge instrument of wood and raw hides.  It leans against a log, unused.

'The giants have tried to retrieve the fingerpick, but the harpies are cunning.  They use their song to lure the giants into ravines and off cliffs, and fly out of range of their rocks.  One of the giants will bring you to the harpies' lair: you must get the fingerpick back.  Then you will have earned their trust, and they will return with us.'

Kraashgar sighs.  There's always something, isn't there?

'Fine, I'll do it.  How are they going to bring me up there?  Am I getting a piggyback?'

Cromn translates and the giants laugh again, boomingly, then speak once more.

'Klet says, follow Borl.  He will take you up to the mountains.'

The hill giant called Borl stands up and gestures that Kraashgar and Cromn follow him.  He leads the pair round the side of the giant's camp to what looks to be a cave entrance, blocked by a massive boulder.  Borl grits his yellow teeth and heaves the boulder aside, then steps into the cave '" he doesn't even need to duck.

Inside, a huge beast much larger even than the giants scuttles to and fro, tethered to the ground with enormous chains.  It combines the most repulsive aspects of a gargantuan wasp and a bat, with leathery wings but an insectile head.  An enormous saddle has been fixed to its thorax.  Borl grumbles something

'He says you're going to ride this with one of them,' Cromn says.  'They'll take you up into the mountains, far enough away that the harpies won't detect you, with any luck.'[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 39: In the Harpy Caves]Borl the hill giant and the goblin Kraashgar soar through the night sky on a spider-eater, into the mountains and towards the caves of the harpies.  Clouds swirl around them; the air is chill and damp.  Suddenly Borl, grunts something unintelligible and points.  Kraashgar squints to see a pair of small, dark shapes heading towards them rapidly.  Borl fishes a throwing-rock out of his bag.

As the beasts near Kraashgar sees that they are bizarre hybrids of Overworld beasts: strange mixtures of horses and feathered, beaked monsters.  They swoop towards the spider-eater, cawing loudly.  Kraashgar takes careful aim with his pistol '" he has little ammunition left '" and fires, hitting one of the hippogriff's wings.  Borl hurls a rock but goes wide '" and then the hippogriffs are upon them.

They circle, swoop, and dive, raking at the spider eater and its riders.  The wounded beast singles out Kraashgar and claws at the goblin with its talons and slashing the goblin's face.  Kraashgar yells in pain and attacks with his newly-acquired heavy mace, hitting the creature on the beak.

The other hippogriff bits and claws at the spider-eater, which Borl turns deftly.  The monstrous creature lashes out with its sting, stabbing the hippogriff in the chest; the beast goes suddenly rigid and plummets out the sky, paralyzed by venom.  The second hippogriff gives a cry of alarm and swoops immediately down after its mate.  Kraashgar attempts a parting shot but his bullet misses, and the hippogriff is lost in the clouds.

The brief aerial skirmish resolved the spider-eater and its riders near the mountains and descend to a broad, flat expanse of rock where they can land safely.  Borl and Kraashgar dismount, the goblin scrambling and jumping down nimbly without aid.  The hill-giant points to a winding path of sorts that clings to the mountainside and grumbles something in Giant: our hero assumes this indicates the way to the harpy caves.  Rubbing his limbs against the cold he sets out.

The path is uneven and treacherous.  Kraashagr must climb several times, leap across a chasm, and balance his way along perilously narrow ledges.  At last he spots a cave-entrance up ahead, half-hidden by cloud.  As he watches a dark, winged shape emerges and alights; Kraashgar hastily hides himself behind a boulder and waits for the harpy to disappear into the clouds before continuing.

The entrance to the caves is a low, moss-draped tunnel that a giant would have to crawl through to enter.  It exudes a smell as of spoilt meat. Kraashgar considers using his potion of Invisibility but decides to keep this as a last resort '" no sense in using resources unnecessarily.  He creeps into the cave, down a narrow passage to a vertical shaft that plummets into darkness below.  Our hero climbs slowly down, using creepers and rough handholds and footholds to make his descent.  At the bottom is another natural tunnel; Kraashgar can hear snoring sounds from within.

Using the utmost stealth our hero slinks down the tunnel and finds himself in a large cave.  A morbid nest made of twigs, filth, and small bones of forest animals and what might be gnomes dominates the chamber.  Several large, glossy eggs are nestled inside the nest.  A large, fat harpy slumbers atop, her leathery wings folded about her, snoring loudly.  Kraashgar wrinkles his nose in distaste and edges around the harpy, towards one of the two exits.

In the next chamber two scrawny harpies tear at the half-rotten carcass of a horse, stuffing flesh and guts into their mouths and chewing noisily.  The floor is covered in bones which would crunch underfoot.  Though Kraashgar sees another tunnel leading downwards from the feast-chamber he doesn't want to risk alerting the harpies to his presence, so he retreats back to the nest room and once again skirts the edge, creeping this time into the second tunnel.

Jackpot, our hero thinks, as he enters the next rough cave.  A heap of treasure lies in the center of the chamber: a smattering of coins is evident, along with several rusted weapons of human or dwarf make, some bits of armor, and some pieces of jewelry.  Kraashagr gleefully begins to dig through the pile.  He extracts several valuable-looking items, including a shimmering mail shirt he suspects is made of mithril and a broach with an amethyst inset.  He also finds the fingerpick in the trove: a huge thing bigger than his head, carved from a human hip-bone.  He straps the pick awkwardly to his back and heads out.

The sleeping harpy matriarch ignores him and our hero begins to scramble up the cliffs.  He has just pulled himself over the lip of the shaft, back towards the exit, when he hears the sound of beating wings and sees a shadow darken the tunnel up ahead.  Hastily he conceals himself as best he can, secreting himself in a narrow cleft in the wall. The harpy passes by, muttering to itself absently: it does not detect him.  Kraashgar waits for it to get further into the lair before he sprints to the exit and back out into the cold moonlight.[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 40: Wyvern vs. Spider-Eater]Kraashgar scrambles down the mountainside back towards the hill giant Borl.  The giant grins toothily when the goblin appears, presenting the fingerpick he stole from the harpy caves.  Borl mounts the spider-eater again, followed by Kraashgar, and the beast alights.

They soar once again over mountainous, rugged country.  Kraashgar grimly fights the near overwhelming agoraphobia that accompanies this experience.

The spider-eater is nearing the hill giant camp when something huge and scaled materializes out of the cloud '" much larger than the hippogriffs they encountered earlier.  It is a reptilian monstrosity: leathery-winged, with a barbed tail and sharp fangs.  The draconic beast swoops down towards the spider-eater, while Borl attempts evasive maneuvers.

The creature is too close, too fast.  It swats at the spider-eater with its tail and rakes with its talons; Kraashgar is nearly thrown from the saddle.  Our hero aims his pistol at the creature's head and fires, inflicting a wound just above its eye and producing a bellowing, foul-smelling roar.  Borl hurls a rock, which batters the monster's scales.

The wyvern lashes out with its stinger tail, but the spider-eater avoids the attack.  Borl pulls back on the reigns, so that the wyvern flies ahead; then, digging his stirrups into their mount's thorax, he provokes the spider-eater to thrust forth its abdomen, equipped with its own sting.  The sting pierces the wyvern's hide and the beast shrieks, but resist the venom.  It squirms in the air, away from the spider-eater, preparing for another flyby.  Kraashgar takes careful aim again, this time for the wyvern's underbelly, and fires a second shot.  His bullet hits again, and the wyvern hisses as blood gushes from the wound.  The creature banks sharply and flaps away, deterred by the spider-eater and its riders.

At last Borl and Kraashgar return to the camp.  While Borl puts the spider-eater back in its den Kraashgar saunters towards the campfire, holding the fingerpick in both hands.

Klet rumbles with obvious pleasure at the sight of his fingerpick and plucks the massive thing from Kraashgar's hands.  He speaks in Giant, addressing the goblin directly '" before he had always spoken to Cromn.

'He says thank you,' Cromn translates.  'They'll come with us now.  But first we must stay '" for supper and a drink.'

The hill giants produce massive bottles of homebrewed moonshine, while Klet breaks into an impromptu victory ballad.  Much meat and drink are consumed, and our hero becomes quite intoxicated.  The entirety of the gang agrees to accompany Kraashgar and Cromn back to the dungeon; Borl releases the spider-eater into the wild and the band assembles.  Kraashgar is given his much-desired piggyback by one of the giants on the walk up to the Lair '" being incapable of walking in a straight line himself.[/ic][ooc]This is about as cheerful as the campaign is going to get.  The proverbial excrement hits the fan next episode.[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 41: Cahoots!]Things have returned to a sort of normalcy in the dungeon.  Gloamwood has been taken care of, no adventurers have shown up in some time, and the Lair has been protected against future Gearhead Clan attacks, after our hero sapped the tunnels they used to infiltrate the complex and recruited a gang of hill giants to act as gate guards.  Kraashgar was well compensated for his efforts with the hill giants, and after another week of guard duty he has another payday.  He re-stocks on bullets at the armory, still replete with blackpowder weapons after the raid on the dwarf caravan.

After a week our hero is sent down to Skelus' workshop to help the kobold maintain some of the lower level traps.  The chuul under the illusory-floor trap on level four needs feeding: Kraashgar needs to go down to the level four storage caves, then trek down to level five to feed the beast.  Welcoming a task that doesn't involve him risking life and limb (for a change), Kraashgar heads down to the caverns the dungeon denizens use for storage, passing the statue-hall and the rom with what he now recognizes as a warped, sinister tree, and finds a few crates of chuul-food '" principally rotten eggs and fish.  He holds his nose against the stink and hauls the chuul-food down to the next level, where he feeds the slavering beast.  On the way he passes the fountain room and several other chambers.

Kraashgar is heading back from the chuul's pit to the upper levels when he hears a voice coming from the fountain room '" high and nasal.  The door has been shut again; our hero tiptoes up to it and opens it a crack.

'Thollom?  Thollom, are you there?'

Chalcesze the beholder and his minion, Nhazgar, stand with their backs to the door from which the goblin spies.  Both are looking into the fountain.

'Ah yes, you're coming in nice and clear,' the beholder says.  'I had Obraxus send some little runt down to clean the fountain so that we could communicate without all that filth clouding the water.  Now: is everything ready?'

Our hero hears the Slaad Thollom's voice, though he is not in the room.  It seems to be emanating from the fountain-water.

'Yes, all is, ahem, prepared,' the Slaad replies.  His voice sounds deeper than usual: perhaps an effect of the magic.

'I see that your metamorphosis is nearly complete,' Chalsecze continues.  'Has anyone noticed?'

'I don't think so.  Is Mordant in position?'

'I'm about to let her through now; she's chomping at the bit!  She's absolutely delighted at the prospect of destroying her sister and her, ah, aquatic masters won't begrudge her a little revenge, so long as she takes care of Obraxus for them as well.  How are the defenses?'

'Just as planned.  Obraxus has most of the guards on the third level, in case of another dwarf attack.  How did you manage to arrange that, by the way?  The timing was superb!'

'Well, let's just say I have eyes everywhere,' Chalsceze chortles.  'And a certain doppelganger under my employ has been impersonating the Gearhead Clan Chief for over a month.  I simply gave the word, and they were battering down the gates.'

'Your genius never fails to amaze.'

'I try.  Now: wake up your little pets, I'm heading to the portal.  We're going to crush that big blue oaf like an insect!'

'And the flayers?'

'With Obraxus' Lair fallen and mine under Mordant's control as well the flayers won't pose a real threat; there aren't enough of them down there to put up much of a fight, and their grimlocks are miners, not warriors.  By the time the illithids arrive in force the entire dungeon will be secure.'

'Alright; I shall prepare my creations.'

'Excellent.'

Chalsezce begins to float away, Nhazgar in tow.  They head down the corridor.  Kraashgar stares after them in horror.

Alright, I've got to do somethingabout this.  He drinks his leftover potion of Invisibility and opens the door to creep after the beholder and his major domo.  He follows them to the room with the inactive portal which he noticed much earlier '" a free-standing doorway carven with ornate, alien glyphs.

Kraashgar watches as Chalsezce speaks an incantation in a vile tongue, and the inert portal kindles to life.  The glyphs around it light up and the air in the portal shimmers, then solidifies: now the door looks into a vast cavern of some kind.  A monstrous creature with the lower body of a massive spider and the upper body of a statuesque drow woman steps daintily through, accompanied by a pair of hideous undead with long, cartilaginous tongues.

'Chalsezce,' she says, smiling slightly.

'Mordant,' Chalsezce greets the drider.  'Is my little escape route prepared?'

'All is in order.  My masters will convey you safely through the necropolis to Phagn'Yath.'

'Ah, thank you.  And may I say '" a nice touch using the slaves taken on the Gloamwood raid as the spearhead of your undead army.  I always appreciate poetic irony, and besides, zombies are so much more durable than skeletons, don't you think?'

Mordant merely smiles.  She steps aside and the beholder floats through the portal to the other side; then the drider scuttles further into the room and begins to speak orders in drow.  Undead begin shambling into the portal room en masse.[/ic]