Helswane Dungeon

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Garrick and Lindon flew past them. And there was another... a fifth man... who came clambering from the water. Darius reached forward, seizing the man's hand and hauling him through, just as a surge of electricity shot through the waves and struck the chamber wall. The man was caught in it and dropped like a stone, falling into the room. Darius and Mallow had no time to help him. They surged forward, bracing their shoulders to the door and slammed it closed... just as the detritus of wreckage, corpses and rocks was hurled up the steps. The force shook the door and sent both warriors reeling. But the lock held. With it the roar of the sea serpent was muffled, along with the cries of any who still remained out there on the seas. The doorway would be too narrow for the serpent to pursue them... but not for the water. A steady trickle was already coming underneath it.

But they were alive for now. They had survived the landing. [150XP each]

As they caught their breath and stared at the unconscious man who had survived with them, they noticed the torches hung on the wall. Their light picked out the tiny, foul-smelling room where the goblins had made their camp. Blankets, bedrolls and cooking pots were riddled with vermin and chunks of food littered the ground. There were bones in the corner, fisherman perhaps or explorers from an age before this one. The Goblins had clearly taken whatever food they could get.

On rickety shelves, slumped against the wall, each Goblin had stashed his trophies. Digging through them, the adventurers would find coins of all age and sizes [90gp], and a box stashed with wrapped vessels. Six of them in all, they held a voracious acid barely contained by the thin ceramic. [6 acid flasks].

Beyond the living area, two doors awaited them, dark and rusted metal warning of the certain death that awaited in the Helswane Dungeon.


Darius collapsed against a pillar by the smouldering campfire, head in his hands. There was still blood on his face - some of it the goblin's, some of it his late Captain's. It was as if he had died with the rest of them and simply been flung in a separate chamber of the underworld. If his new companions were nothing more than convicts, there would be nothing to stop them killing him too.

He promised his wife... his family... that he would return... when his duty was done. But what now? Now that he was the only one of the King's soldiers remaining? Darius watched the water gushing in beneath the outer door, and wondered if he should simply let it run its course...

"There's no way back... God help us..."
 
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"God? Perhaps. Depends on which one is listening." The dark-garbed man spoke after catching his breath, turning to look at the dwarven warrior. The man had impressed him a great deal, even though he had not turned to rescue him - and he remembered the man had taken the lifeboat earlier. However... the man certainly proved he deserved it, and strength was something Lindon could understand. Reaching forward to the dwarf's shoulder wound, he concentrated on a minor spell...

"Death, pain, disease. Flee from my fingers, for I know your secrets." The black energy forced infection and pain from the dwarven male. The wound ceased whatever bleeding it had, but still appeared to be a wound. "It's not a complete heal - merely an orison. We might need to use what little power I have later." He nods, wringing some of the dampness from his dark-colored outfit. [Lindon cast 'Cure Minor Wounds' on Mallow, healing 1 hp.]

He tilts the helmet upward, then finally takes it off - revealing a young face with blond hair. He sighs, looking about. "I'm not sure what I thought I expected this to be like. A little more like the stories I used to read as a kid. Hell of a wake-up call." His teeth clattered, shivering: what little fire they had was not enough to do much for him, and his soaked robes certainly didn't help.
 
[size=+1]GARRICK

Against all the odds, we four are still breathing.

Quite an impressive feat, all things considered.

We stand now in the murky chamber where the goblins we’ve just made fish food of had until recently been living. The smell is almost enough to make my eyes water, a nauseating mix of rotting food, unwashed bodies and dead corpses. Outside the roar of the sea-monster still echoes, but the door’s securely separating us from it.

Sadly it’s not separating us from the water, though; liquid is seeping under the doorframe and into the room. We can’t stay here for very long, it seems. Not that I would have wanted to, however; this place makes me want to vomit. Reaching up on the tips of my toes, I manage to grab one of the torches from the wall, light glinting off the ominous rusted doors that blocked the entrance to the dungeon.

“There's no way back... God help us...” The human warrior, dressed in military attire, seems to be in something of a state after our ordeal gaining entrance to this place. Understandable; I imagine he’s just lost a lot of friends and comrades to the storm and the monsters. For the first time I find myself somewhat glad that I’m just a convict along for the ride. I don’t really know anyone on this expedition, as far as I am aware.

Moving up to the soldier, I give him what I hope to be a vaguely consoling pat on the arm. Not that I can reach very far up his arm, but hey; it’s the thought that counts.
“I’m reminded of my Great-Uncle Baldrick,” I begin, “Always used to say to me ‘my lad, the Gods only help those who help themselves!’ And even if that old coot was perpetually drunk on whisky you can’t deny he had a point, my long-legged friend.” I turn and look at the doors to the dungeon. “As much as the prospect doesn’t thrill me in the slightest I fear the only way is forward, friends. It’s not like we can stay here. The place is gonna be flooded soon enough and apart from anything else it smells like my Cousin Bari’s arse-crack.”

I chuckle slightly before turning to the other two and flashing them a smile. “Name’s Garrick, by the by. Garrick Proudfoot. Pleasure to fight for my life with you all.”[/size]
 
I didn't say anything upon settling down in the room. I listened to the human pray for help, and then I was approached by one of the men in the water. Slightly cautious of his initial approach, my hand squeezed tighter around the handle of my axe, which I had placed back on my waist.

The man placed his hand on my wound, it stung a little, but it wasn't terrible. After speaking a few words, the man had healed me and explained that this was just a prayer.

"Ah, so yer a cleric! I don't care what god ye worship, so don't worry 'bout discrimination. Thanks fer yer help. I'm Mallow Sanguine, Treasure Hunter from the guild in Ozaramar."

I bowed my head as a gesture of greeting. Nodding at Garrick as he introduced himself.

"What are yer names? Yer stories? Anything. I'd like to keep movin' but it seems we'll be stuck here until this one wakes up."
​ I glanced down at the unconscious man. "We can't just leave him...oh and about that runnin' water..."​ I picked up some old bedrolls and tried to slow the flow of water by stuffing them against the bottom of the door.
 
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With a violent primal lunge, Jace awoke in the midst of his rescuers. Doubling over and emptying his innards of the rotten salt water that had invaded, Jace's head remain limp as his arms supported his body, the heaving contractions finally slowing. Turning, he collapsed into a sitting position against the nearest wall, waiting for his vision to clear. Idly his hand runs up to his neck, pulling out a small wooden lightning bolt and grasping it reverently. Assured it was still there, he tucked it back away beneath his mail before starting another small coughing fit, looking up with clarity at the end of the spasm, taking in the sight of the men around him.

"Jace Di'Artige, of the second forward platoon." He started slowly, placing a hand along the wall to sturdy himself as he rose to a semblance of standing posture, the wall still supporting his back. "The boat had just reached the cave entrance when the first spear hit... we flipped and fell into the water against the stone crags..." Jace suddenly remembered his falling into the water, and watching as a seemingly liquid column of scales wormed its way through the water just by his head. With a shudder, he repressed the memory and started to straighten himself, taking the load off of the stone. "Godless heathen island" he spat out with distaste, straightening his armor and checking his sword. "I feel in one piece, only knocked unconscious by the blast. Did any of the others...?" he questioned briefly, the immediate look on the faces of his rescuers answering before he could finish his query. With a small growl, he lightly batted the wall against him. "I should have all the damnable luck." With a sigh, he looked them over again, taking in what the group looked like. "Anyone in need of mending? My head is clearing, I can work."
 
The hand that patted him carried the telltale brand: a snake without eyes. The Halfling was a convict. Darius bristled. With the Dwarf proclaiming himself a freelancer and the cleric uttering foreign prayers, it was clear the paladin was among mercenaries. His rank would count for nothing here - his authority and his royal commission redundant. It seemed his throat might be slit after all.

But Garrick's cheer disarmed him somewhat. The Halfling had kept his spirits, despite all that had happened, and even called his co-survivors friends. What senses the gods had granted Darius told him that Garrick was well-intentioned, at least in their mutual dilemma.

And whatever apprehension he had left evaporated when he heard the other survivor, Jace, speak. A cleric of the second platoon. Darius was not alone after all. Pushing up from the pillar he crossed the room and clapped a hand on Jace's shoulder to help him steady. "The gods have smiled on you, Brother." He glanced as Mallow set about damming the door, despite his wound which the other cleric had disinfected. "I think we are well, for now."

Then he looked back at Garrick. "Darius Castablane, Corporal of First Platoon."

There was silence. With a nod to Lindon, Darius moved to the rotten shelves that lined the far wall. As he rummaged through the items left by the goblins, he gave quiet voice to his thoughts. "The royal seers foretold no storms. And the Helswane Seas have always been calm. It's as if..." He unwrapped one of the acid flasks from the box on the topmost shelf. "...as if the island knew we were coming." He turned the flask over in his hand. "And these goblins... someone armed them, for sure."

Water began to pool around his feet, breaking him from his thoughts. Slipping the flask into his pack, together with a handful of old coins, he looked to Mallow. "The tide is rising. We have to find a way out." He returned the pack to his shoulders and pulled each strap tight with resolute grimace. His voice rose to address them all. "Whatever crimes or troubles brought you this far, they end tonight. We must work as one if we are to survive."

He looked to the two doors at the end of the chamber, wondering which to take.
 
[size=+1]“Either that or your Royal Seers should be forced to resign immediately,” I observe with a grin. Then my eyes fall upon the flask Darius retrieves from the shelf. “Nonetheless I do believe you’re right, Corporal Darius; these goblins are rather well-armed for a pack of savages living in a hovel. Makes me a tad nervous, truth be told.” I turn to look at the newly-awoken soldier and flash him a grin. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Jace Di’Artige. Glad to know we’re not the only ones to survive that landing.”

The good Corporal continues, stating that regardless of circumstances previous that might have kept us all apart we’re all going to need to work together to survive. Wise words, I must admit. Yet as I look from the two Royal Soldiers to the Dwarven mercenary and the darkly-clad Mister Skull-Helmet I cannot help but laugh a little. “And what a motley little crew we make, Corporal. Still, mutual cooperation is likely our best bet if we wish to see another day I think.”

Holding the torch aloft I begin to search the shelves of the miserable little chamber, rifling through the belongings of the slain goblins with the expertise of somehow who’s done a fair bit of rifling through belongings in his time. I produce another two flasks of acid, which I shake experimentally before tucking into my belt, and a handful of coins, which I slip into my backpack. A pardon is one thing, but a bit of profit on the side does not go amiss either.

“These flasks I could make good use of,” I inform the group, “A good throwing arm I have, after all. I imagine any further beasties we encounter will not be overly chuffed if they were to have a flask of this shit broken on them.”

Finally I follow Darius’s gaze to the rusting metal doors. The dilemma of which to take in order to begin our journey into the dungeon. “Not to worry, dear friends. My Cousin thrice removed Rickan devised an excellent method for dealing with such conundrums.”

I step before the doors, outstretch my arm and begin to point alternatively between the doors to the rhythm of my words.
“Eenie-meanie meiny-mo, catch a Bugbear by the toe. If it roars, let it go…”[/size]
 
Storms had always been following Lindon, for as long as he could remember. Yet... never like this. Something made the storms into something dangerous. Something utterly monstrous, at least in his eyes. Telling them this, however, was the furthest thing from his mind: he didn't need to be blamed for this and lynched in some goblin-lair on the first room through by his own allies.

"Jonathan Lindon. Most ended up calling me by my family name, Lindon, since there were three Jonathans in the sect I belonged to... with all of the sect's members finding eternity elsewhere, I've taken the helm." He taps it, hinting that it was appearantly some (un)holy artifact for his religion. He turned to look at the other cleric - specifically, the holy symbol he wore. He knew that symbol, pointing at the dwarven man, he stated, "If you could look to Mallow, we'll all benefit from it. I defer to your skill in this regard."

Sweeping his hair back, he placed the helmet back on his head, attempting to hide bitter feelings that welled up within him. He was silent, before looking to Mallow: apologetic. "I'm sorry that I'm no good at knitting wounds with magic. We were dedicated to different uses for it." He shrugs, "The last person who wore this helm was dear to me... he was also named Lindon." Shaking his head, the dragon skull creating frightful noises with the movement. The clattering noise of a skeleton, the wind striking it to create the whispers of a ghost. Unsure of how to proceed, he rose his head to listen to Darius.

"Moving on, then." Leaving his past behind him for the moment, he stepped forward - missing the wand of prestitdigitation that his friend used to wave about. It would have been perfect for drying the clothes in an instant. "I intended to work together with those exploring these depths. Now that I'm working with a... smaller group than I originally expected, I can afford to specialize a little."

Lindon set his gaze on the doors. Both led to horrors, he thought - again, he kept his mouth shut on the matter. The problem of figuring out which one to go through... "Opening both and looking through them to make a judgement is out of the question, then?" Thankfully, Garrick had it under control. Tilting his head back, the thin man roared a very sudden laughter, "Ha! Your thrice-removed cousin deserves to be a legendary augur! I shiver at the thought of such a man using his powers to gamble. Why, entire towns would be reduced to a handful of copper under such prowess!" His mood far improved, Lindon took the time to laugh - he needed it.
 
The unconcious man had woken up, apparently within enough time to hear my request for introductions. He introduced himself as Jace, a cleric from the second platoon of some military. "Ah, a military cleric! I'm glad ye pulled through. Ye were out cold, ye know?" My question was rhetorical, so I continued. "I don't know if ye had come to yet, but I'm Mallow Sanguine. I'm a treasure hunter for the guild. It's a pleasure to meet ye." I didn't respond to the remark about needing mending, I felt fine.

Lindon was next to chime in. He belonged to some sort of sect that he didn't go into too much detail about. I nodded and smiled. "I'm thankful fer what ye did already. I'm fine now, no need for apologies or further attention. Thank ye." I really did appreciate what Lindon had done. I'd hate to have my arm rot off from infection!

I finished my work and took a step back to look at it. My attempt at damming the door was shabby and poor, but I think I slowed the pouring water down a bit...maybe...nevertheless, introductions continued on. As Darius introduced himself, i turned around to face him since my work was complete. "Yer a military man too, eh? It'll be good to have ye fightin' by me side. Corporal, nonetheless! I hope ye'll be ready to direct us in battle!" I ended with a chuckle. Someone with military experience would make a good leader, and if he had any orders or suggestions, I'd likely follow them.

His first suggestion, as he moved towards the shelves and grabbed a flask to fidget with, was that the goblins had been armed...this didn't sound too far-fetched. Garrick chimed in, causing me to chuckle by making a smart remark. Garrick and I both agreed with the Corporal. "Aye ye may be right...So were we set up then?" I let my question hang for a moment before Darius spoke again.

He spoke next of finding a way out, camaraderie and cooperation. "Aye! We didn't make it through that mess back there without team work! Consider me yer ally! Now, let's find some treasure and slay our foes, haha!!" I said to the group as a whole, puffing my chest out and acting proud.

Garrick had already made his way to the doors, grabbing a couple flasks on his way. I stayed away from those, I was not too fond of harmful liquids or magics for that matter. He said that he had learned a great way to pick a direction...then proceeded to sing a song, bouncing his finger between the two doors with the rhythm. I grinned and shook my head, then Lindon made a sarcastic remark about Garrick's cousin, who devised this amazing method. I couldn't contain my laughter. My barrel chest rumbled with hearty laughter, it was good to laugh in these situations.

"Ah...that was a good one, Lindon...and this method, yer cousin's brilliant!"
I waited for one door or the other to be chosen. I really didn't care which we went through, treasure most likely awaited us down either path.
 
A smile ghosted Darius's face. He almost gave himself permission to laugh, as adrenaline gave way to the simple relief of being alive. The Dwarf and the Halfling - even the foreign human - they had kept their spirits. Granted, it was easier for them, having not lost the men and women they had trained with in the King's City. But had they not just been through the same hell as he and Jace? Perhaps it was their way of surviving. Darius had his own way, of course, and that was in feeling responsible for the fate of this expedition, however decimated. As if he carried the King's decree on his shoulders alone, he took up position behind Garrick, shield and hammer ready.

Garrick's finger came to rest on the lefthand door, which even now was ajar. A gentle push sent it drifting open. A passageway stretched beyond at a downward incline. It was naturally formed, weathered by ancient water, and littered with more bones and whatever excrement the goblins had dumped here when the tide in the cave was too high. The smell was nauseous and the adventurers had to cover their airways in disgust. At the end, a door rough-hewn from wood had been jammed across the space and hinged on bolts drilled into the wall. It didn't need Mallow to tell them that this was shoddy Goblin craftmanship.

It was Darius alone who heard the noise, perhaps because his paladin training offered some tolerance to the goblin stink that assailed their senses. Raising a hand, he signalled the others to freeze. There were sounds coming through the clumsy gaps around the door, thirty feet ahead. Goblinoid... two..." But he couldn't make out what they were saying. As the others concentrated they too heard it - short yapping sounds in conversation, footsteps, and the clink of a chain.

Behind them, water was leaking through the top and sides of the first door, which had clearly not been built to be watertight. The cave was flooded and it would not be long before the pressure cracked the door.

At the end of the passageway, the rickety door was framed in torchlight, which was cut now and then by moving bodies.

 
Standing beside Darius, I readied my axe, there was no telling what was behind the door Garrick chose. I had to be ready for anything. The door opened with a swift push, and there didn't seem to be anything inndeiately dangerous in the passage in front of us.

As we walked, I would follow closely behind Darius, noting the door not too far in front of us. "Ye probably don't need me to tell ye this, but that's shoddy Goblin craftsmanship. Probably means that there are mo..." A hand stopped my whispering and movement. I put my hand up as well, signaling to anyone behind me that we were stopping.

"What happened..."
I whispered. It took a second, but I could hear the murmuring from the next room.

"Goblinoid... two..." Darius answered my question.

"Should we barg in, swords 'a swingin'?" I would be okay with that, it was one of the things i did best.
 
Head still drooping slightly with headache, Jace accepted the help from Darius to find his ground. At the talk of the party, he remained silent and kept his own countenance, partly due to his attention on the invading salt water. "I have no desire for a second taste at this moment, it might be prudent to hasten our advance." He spoke with reserved urgency, holding in a growl as the lefthand door was opened and he followed the rest inside. "They will bloody well regret leaving me alive; no one dies from this point." Jace commented at the various remarks reflecting back on his luck and health, truthfully he was slightly bitter and already growing a sense of survivor's guilt.

Walking into the passage, he perked at the lull in conversation as Darius announced the two presences at the end of the passage. Laying a hand over the hilt, Jace motions for them to wait and stalks down the passage, stopping 10 feet from the door and observing for a moment before returning. Walking back to the group, he whispers in a restrained voice. "Two different voices, one holding a chain and patrolling around the other side of the door. Their speech is high pitched... unable to determine if specifically goblins or otherwise." With a stern expression he waited for the rest of the group, readying his longsword and shield.

"Either we breach the door soon, or backtrack and try the other corridor, though that be a complete gamble. Life means there is a reason to be there, I would put my money on this one."
He fell in next to Darius, somewhat out of habit gained during training. If he had been part of his platoon, Jace would probably have been one of the next in command after Darius.
 
No sooner had Jace returned when another sound came from behind the door. There was a clink of chain and then a low, feral growl. The goblinoid voices ceased abruptly, and after a pause Garrick could hear them yipping quietly to one another. The chain clinked again. There was silence.
 
[size=+1]And down the left corridor we go.

I’m pleased to finally be away from the stench of the chamber, though the rather ominous corridor we find ourselves in is a little foreboding. We’re starting to move down it when Darius suddenly raises aloft a fist to halt us.
“Goblinoid…” he mutters, “…two…”. I stop and listen for a moment, and sure enough I hear the yapping barks of goblin-speak coming from the rickety door further ahead, with light spilling through it’s cracks.

As my companions begin to discuss how best to approach this situation I move a little ahead and begin to scan for signs of any threats within the corridor we’re travelling through. This proves to be sensible; not too far from the door is a loose section of floor, and on the wall next to it I spot five small holes. These goblins clearly aren’t looking to entertain any guests.

Reaching into my pack I dig out my tools of the trade, setting to work on disabling the floor mechanism. It quickly proves to be a frustrating task; some sort of switch holds the trigger in place, and despite my efforts (hampered by my need to be quiet so close to the door) I cannot get it fixed.

Cursing under my breath, I wipe my brow and try again. After a short struggle I finally manage to get the catch free from the trap. Grinning in apparent victory, I’m almost about to motion for my companions.

That’s when the secondary mechanism on the trap kicks in and the trap activates.

I have just enough time to try and pull away from the thing before a dart shoots out of one of the holes in the wall and drives itself into my shoulder, knocking me slightly to the side. Stupid, Garrick, really fucking stupid. Way to look like a half-arsed crook in front of your new mates. I grab my tools and back up rapidly, motioning for the others.

If nothing else the trap is gone, but we’re probably going to have company soon.[/size]
 
Lindon stays as quiet as possible through the proceedings - even going so far as to hold his breath. It was one of the ways he stayed alive so long as a cultist... well, that, and his poisons. His dark eyes narrowed as he assessed his capabilities - two goblins didn't sound like that much of a challenge for the group, but the chain noises unnerved him. Reaching a hand up, he tilted the dragon-bone helmet down over his face, looking through the eyeholes.

At least for a little while. As Garrick moved ahead, he closed his eyes - straining to listen to whatever he was doing. The 'whirring' sound of the darts forced his eyes open again, and the sight of the slightly injured halfing began to rile him up. The goblins had set traps, the little bastards! Gritting his teeth, Lindon snapped the unholy symbol from it's place around his neck, holding it in the palm of his hand.

"They want to play rough? Wish granted." He spoke mostly to himself, staring at the wooden medallion in his hand - a grinning dragon's skull. Any moment now, goblins would be coming for them: and Lindon was going to be ready. "You who feed on the dregs of the damned, I force you to me. I call you to feed on those who would wrong me - taste what this plane has to offer. Come." The cruel-sounding prayer completed, he instead held the charge... waiting for the time when he would let it off.

[Lindon casts 'Summon Monster I' to summon a Fiendish Dire Rat, which takes 1 full round. Rather than finish the spell, he holds it and prepares an action to have the monster appear on the opposite side of a goblin in a flanking position.]
 
The trap triggered with a chorus of clicks and hisses, joined by Garrick's grunt. It was enough. As the wounded rogue retreated the growl came again from behind the door and then, loud and resonant, the barking began. It was followed by a rattle of chain, a goblinesque shriek, and the scurrying of feet...

...away from the door.


Realisation dawned on Darius. "They'll raise the alarm!" he shouted before barrelling forwards, past Garrick and Jace. There was already scratching and barking at the door, but the paladin charged regardless. He kicked the door down, and instantly the patrol dog leapt at him, snarling and snapping. The beast was small and agile, despite the chain around its neck. Its jaw closed around Darius's throat, teeth sinking into flesh, and pulled him down. The paladin fell, screaming and rolling bloodily with the dog. [9 damage]

And beyond them, the shapes of two Kobold could be seen, fleeing down a vaulted corridor and howling at the top of their lungs. They were seventy feet or so away, and a turn in the corridor lay a hundred feet ahead. They were almost out of sight.
 
Lindon, while surprised at the fact their next opponents were kobolds rather than goblins, was still ready with the tactics availible. With a cruel-sounding hiss, he completed the summoning. The small gash in the material plane appeared, a screeching, flailing devil being ripped through into the material plane - bound by Lindon's spell. Appearing right next to the canine on the opposite side of Darius, the small creature vented it's rage and frustration on the canine. The flailing of the canine and the paladin made it impossible for the rat to get in a good hit, though.

Lindon, however, turned his gaze on the retreating kobolds - hoping his devil was of some help. Taking careful aim with his crossbow, he struggled once more to get a good shot - finally pulling the trigger. The shot arched forward, pegging one in it's back. Lindon exalted in the shot, and the sound of the little creature's scream as his bolt entered it's scaled flesh. He could only hope someone got the other one.
 
[size=+1]Violence is upon us once more.

Darius charges ahead of us and kicks down the door, only to be leapt upon by some large, growling and hairy. In the distance I can see two small figures fleeing as they yell for help at the top of their lungs.

This got ugly really fast.

I have to trust that my companions who are more skilled in close combat will assist Darius; those greenskins (Kobolds, I think?) need dealt with. I drop to one knee once more and bring up my crossbow, letting loose a bolt at the one on the right. The shot goes wide at the last minute, slamming into the wall just ahead of the two kobolds.
“A pox upon your whore mothers, you wee ballsacks!” I snarl at them, reaching for another bolt.[/size]
 
Oh Gods...it was a trap...Garrick used his skills to snoop out and attempt to disable a trap that may have very well seriously injured one of us had it not injured Garrick first.

"That's not good..." I stuttered as Garrick motioned for the group. I quickly made my way up to him to make sure that he was actually okay, but before I could do anything, Darius had kicked the door in and been attacked by a dog! The dog was latched on to his neck! As Darius fell to the ground, blood flying about, all I could think was to get that dog off of him, forsake the Kobolds that were running and help my ally.

"Ye little Bastard!" I dove down to the ground next to Darius and grabbed a hold of the dog. Luckily he let go of Darius' neck to attempt to bite me, but I threw him about five feet away before he got a taste of this sweet dwarven flesh. I stood next to Darius and pounded my buckler with the flat of my axe. "Here puppy!"
 
Jace was at the back of the group now, behind the two who fired their crossbows and the two who grappled with the dog. He could not get through.

But he had his own problems to deal with.

Behind him, the door of the first chamber imploded and water came rushing in, a great torrent of salt and blood that roared like an ocean god. And in the rush, a pair of eyes opened amidst glittering scales of green. It was the sea serpent. Its head was at the opening, jaws pulling wide to deliver another blast of electricity. It could not get through the opening, but it would fry them sure enough... unless he got the adjoining door closed and sealed the passageway. [Separate XP challenge for Jace only. Reflex roll vs DC10 to get the door closed. Reward: 150XP]

The dog had been tossed against the far wall, but it was mad with bloodlust now. Dripping saliva and paladin blood, it hurled itself at Mallow. It hit only the broad expanse of its shield before dropping down again, barking and clawing.

And down the corridor, the remaining Kobold left his dead friend and sprinted with all his might towards the turning ahead, shrieking for help. He was now a hundred and thirty feet away. There would only be one chance to hit him now.


Darius had one hand to his throat, staunching the gush of blood. Agony gripped every inch of him, but he could still see the blur of the hound. With a cry of pain and rage he rolled and swung out with his other hand, but to no avail. The exertion brought him onto his back, where he simply lay, clutching his throat and praying that it wouldn't end here. Not like this... not so soon.
 
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