Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Mailing list

My posting schedule had developed to be far less regular than I was planning, and I hope that won't keep me from losing readers. (Those of you who have announced yourselves in comments, thank you.)

If you would like to get an email when I update, email me at sinotuber@hotmail.com, and I will add you to my mailing list.

Thanks everyone (all... three of you?).

Monday, January 26, 2009

Chapter 08

Roll Call:

Gherota, Human Fighter, Level 1. First and foremost a front-line swordswoman, and quite skilled. Irritated by Fisk's violent, exploitative worldview.

Gurnlocke Fisk, Dwarf Warlock, Level 1. A bitter spell-slinger with powers touched by brimstone. An advocate for Machiavellian methods and strategies.

Mairrethid, Human Wizard, Level 1. Student of mechanical magic and military theory, a war mage. Both moderate rationalist and mediator.

Mez Gobbo, Goblin Rogue, Level 1. Lockpick and shadow-skulking cut-throat. Motivated by enlightened self-interest, a mercenary.

Schlobrock, Ork Cleric, Level 1. Nature-worshipping shaman and medicine woman, with a huge axe. Has trouble pronouncing the letters F, S, T and V.

 

First Ch 01: Poot's Angels
Previous 
Chapter 07


Pursuing stolen loot, five adventurers penetrated the underground hide-out of a gang of goblins and hobgoblins. With sentries overcome, the five crept undetected into the thieves’ lair, quickly overcoming a pair of villains to recover the stolen statue. The noise of the fight, however, betrayed their presence, and now they are cornered in the small armory of an ancient fortress, with nothing but a heavy wooden door between themselves and a force that outnumbers them by more than three-to-one.

Gherota and Schlobrock took up positions, side-by-side, to block the double-door and Gherota lifted the bar. Fisk, Mairrethid, and Mez stood behind them, preparing spells (in Mez’s case, loading a small crossbow).

As Gherota pushed the doors open, they discovered their enemies, assembled in a battle formation in the bailey hall of the underground fortress.

Close-combat was being offered by two groups of hobgoblins, a larger, more-militant cousin of the smaller goblin. Hobgoblins are human-sized and well-respected as professional soldiers and mercenaries. Each group of hobgoblins had four members, wearing chain mail with a few mixed pieces of plate and carrying shields and longswords, led by a fifth who looked like a sergeant--the closer of the two carried a flail, while the further one carried a spear.

Another group of three goblin archers had taken up positions on a balcony across the bailey hall, roughly fifty feet away and ten feet above the party. The three-foot tall, furry creatures were carrying bows almost as tall as themselves, but clearly new how to use them. A nearby flight of stairs would provide easy access, however, to anyone seeking to charge this group.

Two more goblins with shortbows were on the floor of the bailey hall, scattered between the hobgoblins and standing back a bit. Two more had short swords, and were similarly arrayed between and behind the hobgoblins.

Finally, a goblin leader, stood slightly behind his forces, carrying a cruelly-shaped, shining black cudgel and matching armor that all appeared to have come from some sort of giant insect. This goblin began chanting and waving his hands around to cast a spell as soon as Gherota’s head appeared.

Mez would get the first shot, however, conspicuously aiming for the nearest hobgoblin sergeant’s groin. The hobgoblin responded defensively, acting on instinct, while Mez casually shifted the focus of his attack at the last moment. A crossbow bolt was launched, pegging the hobgoblin cleanly in the eye and eliciting a horrendous shriek.

One of the goblin shortswords slipped in closer, near the massed hobgoblins, but against a wall so that none of the five adventurers had line-of-site for detection or attack.

Mairrethid followed up on Mez’s crossbow shot with his own, less effective spell--a hurled incendiary orb which exploded, harmlessly, on the sergeant’s shield. The resulting fireball did, however, manage to kill one of the other, lesser hobgoblin warriors who were standing too close.

Without missing a beat, Mairrethid completed the spell he was working with his other hand, conjuring another, much larger orb of fire directly behind the hobgoblin sergeant. This orb lunged at the sergeant, missing widely, but remained active, bathing those closest to it in waves of blistering heat.

“Drat,” Mairrethid cursed to himself, “that will teach me to try to do two things at once.”

Across the hall, the goblin leader finished his own spell, pointing at Gherota and invoking a dull, purple glow which radiated out of her faintly in a five-yard radius. Insects and worse started to flood the glowing area, with spiders materializing from the ceiling and dropping on strands of webbing, centipedes crawling up from between the flagstones underfoot, and a wave of moths and locusts flying in from nowhere. The vermin cloud aggressively dogged the five adventurers, impeding their attacks and concealing the goblins, while completely ignoring the goblin leaders’ own men.

“I hate bugs,” Gherota snarled. “I am vexed!”

“Dhey are nod much poizonouz,” Schlobrock informed her allies, “bud dhey will probably be here undil dhad goblin zpellcazder iz daken care ob.”

“I happen to like bugs,” Fisk announced, scratching uncomfortably as he tried to complete a spell, “but I don’t like this at all. I’m going to force-feed that goblin his own feces until he chokes on it and dies, and then I’m going pay to have him raised, so I can--.”

He was interrupted by a volley of arrows from the balcony, hitting him for minor damage. Of five incoming arrows, another hit Gherota, but the rest all missed.

“You’re going to pay for that,” Fisk growled, “you other stupid goblin...”

Meanwhile, the nearest group of hobgoblins was staying just out of sword range, forcing Gherota and Schlobrock to come out of the room in order to attack them.

Gherota did no such thing, drawing and throwing a handaxe at the sergeant, punching through his armor and causing additional damage. “Big hobgoblin, tiny sexual organs,” she taunted.

The hobgoblin growled back at her.

Schlobrock, meanwhile, took advantage of no one being close enough to interrupt a spell to cast one, calling upon a piercing blast from the ceiling to descend on the goblin leader. It missed by a wide margin, however.

“By all the ruinous powers,” Fisk intoned, pointing one finger at the hobgoblin sergeant, “most especially your mom, I curse you.” With those words, he completed his spell, throwing a conduit of energy out, around Gherota, and into the hobgoblin, stealing away a portion of his life force.

As Mairrethid’s own flaming sphere continued to burn behind the hobgoblin sergeant, the heat combined with weakness from Fisk’s vampiric embrace, finally dropping the hobgoblin after five or six seconds of near-total onslaught from the five adventurers.

Another hobgoblin, who had much less to complain about than his sergeant, collapsed from the heat of the flaming sphere as well. The sphere was close enough, too, to the second hobgoblin sergeant that he was burned a bit as well.

The other hobgoblins in the front rank pressed forward, however. With their sergeant dead, battlefield discipline collapsed and the two remaining hobgoblins in the forward group advanced. One stepped into Schlobrock, swinging his longsword to score a respectable hit, while the other moved into Gherota, who easily deflected with her shield.

The surviving sergeant, standing with the second group of hobgoblins, looked to the goblin leader for a cue. The goblin leader waived him forward, and so he advanced, taking his own hobgoblins into the melee. He recognized the superior warrior in the adventurer’s front line very early in the battle, and took the fight directly to her, advancing on Gherota and stabbing at her with his spear. He missed.

Another hobgoblin moved against Schlobrock, and managed to score another hit with his longsword. She stood strong, but the battle damage was quickly piling up on her.

These four hobgoblins--two from the forward group, the surviving sergeant, and one of his own hobgoblins--were all that could access the adventurer’s own front rank, as they used the doorway to shield themselves from flankers and from being overwhelmed.

The other hobgoblins bunched up behind the front line, waiting for their chance to do some damage, until the surviving sergeant countermanded them. “Spread out, you fools,” he barked, in the goblin language, “or their spellcaster will take you out with one shot.”

The hobgoblins moved to obey.

Mez contemplated a crossbow shot against the surviving sergeant, but couldn’t hit a vital area without some kind of advantage--by surprise, flanking, or magic. He waited to see what his allies would do, and if an opportunity might develop.

So far, the two goblin short swords appeared to be doing the same, though they were well positioned to get involved in the melee quickly.

Mairrethid renewed his flaming sphere with a subverbal chant and, with one hand outstretched, directed the newly-stoked ball of fire to roll across the floor toward the goblin leader. The sphere bounced towards the goblin, but missed completely. “Drat, drat, drat,” Mairrethid cursed. “At least it will scald him a bit, being that close.”

Scald the goblin leader it did, and made him quite angry as well. The goblin didn’t lose concentration on his own cloud of vexing vermin, sustaining the spell and moving it slightly to cover a maximum number of goblins. He showed himself to be much better at doing two things at once than Mairrethid, however, as he assembled and deployed a spell of his own.

Mairrethid was struck in the face by invisible magical forces, nearly knocking him over and leaving him reeling.

“Outch!” Fisk remarked with uncharacteristic empathy. “You okay?”

“I’m blind!” Mairrethid howled. “That motherless wolf-spawned maggot-sucker!”

“Let it out, man,” Fisk encouraged, “feed your vengeance with anger and hatred.”

“Saying things like that is why you’ve got to pay women to even notice you,” Gherota said, her grin suddenly cut short when she was the only one of the five to take incoming fire from another volley of arrows. “Gods above, that is starting to hurt!”

She finally drew her sword, dancing forward with a feint as she tagged the hobgoblin sergeant with the flat of her blade, right in the face. The hobgoblin took the bait, returning her insult with a strike, and Gherota effortlessly used the momentum to her advantage, trading places with the hobgoblin, and sending him toward Fisk and Mez.

“Lunch time, boys,” she said, pleased with herself, apparently unconcerned that she was now standing outside of the room, surrounded by hobgoblins.

Schlobrock quickly cast two spells of her own, passing a heal over Gherota while she charged her axe with magic, bringing it down on the now-surrounded hobgoblin sergeant. Despite the second spell, however, Schlobrock’s attack missed.

Meanwhile, Gherota’s benefit from the healing spell was a short one, as one of the goblin shortswords stepped forward and promptly reopened a series of wounds that Schlobrock’s spell had healed. Gherota was worse off than when she started, and the hobgoblins weren’t done yet.

“I’ve trapped your brother’s soul in a choir that forever sings my praises in the underworld, pig,” Fisk taunted the hobgoblin sergeant while stepping back just out of sword range. “I curse you like I cursed him, and soon you will join him.” He summoned hellfire that leapt up from the floor, engulfing the hobgoblin, though not quite hot enough or on-target enough to actually burn the warrior.

“You die last, dwarf,” the hobgoblin said, in dwarfish, “after I take from your body a considerable amount of pleasure.”

“You two are dumb,” Mez said, dropping his crossbow and drawing his new, magic sword. “There’s no sense making this personal.” He promptly passed his sword through the hobgoblin’s armor, into his back, and threw several internal organs. He twisted the blade, shifting his grip, and charismatically moved the weapon upwards into the hobgoblins lungs.

“It’ll take more than that,” the hobgoblin grunted, bloody saliva bubbles forming in and around his mouth, “to take me out.”

The remaining hobgoblins renewed their attacks with increased anger and aggression. One delivered a nearly-perfect longsword blow against Schlobrock, an attack that only her orkish constitution allowed her to survive.

Gherota, meanwhile, took hits from all sides. Three hobgoblins ganged up on her, overcoming her defenses and bashing her savagely. Every hobgoblins’ sword saw blood, and Gherota collapsed, helpless under the onslaught.

“Crap!” Mez yelped.

“What’s happening?” Mairrethid asked, rubbing at his eyes.

“First time yet,” Fisk growled, “I’m sorry that pathetic human female isn’t yapping away at me about goodness and puppies.”

“Crap,” Mairrethid intoned, taking Fisk’s meaning.

One of the goblin shortswords was quick enough to take advantage of the gap, too, leaping past his comrades and over Gherota’s body, into the room, to stab ineffectively at Fisk.

“You’re next to die, Toothpick,” Fisk hissed at his new opponent.

Whether it was adrenaline or will, Mairrethid managed to shake off the blinding hex just in time to conjure a force blast against the hobgoblin sergeant. The goblin shortsword was quick enough to wound Mairrethid when he dropped his defenses to cast the spell, but it wasn’t enough to stop him. The blast knocked the hobgoblin sergeant off his feet, dead before he hit the floor. Two more of the hobgoblins were knocked backwards and down from the concussive blast, though the goblin shortsword was nimble enough to roll away in time.

Mairrethid sustained and recalled his flaming sphere, moving it against the hobgoblins who continued to muster outside of the door, while taking care to ensure Gherota wouldn’t be burned too.

The goblin leader, meanwhile, attempted to renew the blinding hex on Mairrethid, but Mairrethid was able to shake it off. “Try another one, fool!” he shouted at the goblin.

Another volley of incoming arrows descended. Mez nimbly dodged, and Fisk was protected by the shield of life force he had constructed from the captured souls of his fallen enemies. A second arrow, however, managed to punch through, negating what remained of the shield and causing a nasty puncture.

Gherota continued to hover near death’s door, down and out, but still hanging on to a sliver of life.

Schlobrock laid into one of the remaining hobgoblins with her axe, howling an orkish battlecry in the process. Her energy was renewed, bolstered by adrenaline and success as her enemy fell dead in front of her. She popped off another healing spell on Gherota, allowing her to slip back to consciousness.

The goblin shortsword who hadn’t moved into the room yet now advanced, but in the process, Schlobrock and Mez were able to swing at him. Schlobrock’s axe came down with devastating effect, nearly knocking the goblin to the floor, while Mez was unable to score a hit. The goblin shortsword managed to recover, however, and attacked Mairrethid, hitting him severely.

Fisk took a step back from the newcomer and, sensing a soul about to  cross over, placed his curse on the goblin. Nearly simultaneously, Fisk fired a blast of eldritch energy at the goblin, nearly disintegrating portions of his chest, dropping him dead and allowing Fisk to feed on his life energy.

Mez followed up against the other goblin shortsword, relying on the power of his sword to guide his blade in the absence of other combat advantages. One feint, then a stab, and Mez was able to pass the blade deep into one of the goblin’s kidneys. And then Mez did the same to the other one, just for fun. The goblin slouched backwards, badly hurt.

Another hobgoblin collapsed, burned my Mairrethid’s flaming sphere.

The two remaining hobgoblins, plus the goblin shortsword, all turned their attention to Gherota, who was struggling to get back on her feet. All three missed with their attacks.

“Tactical retreat, I think. Let’s clear the door so we can close it and get a chance to heal up,” Mairrethid said, gasping while he waited for the others to provide him with better options for attack.

The goblin leader wasn’t waiting for anything, though, and dropped a new blinding hex on Gherota. Her eyes instantly flooded black with decay and magical energy, and the churning magical energies ripped her open in new, painful ways, dropping her back to the floor, unconscious and again slipping towards death.

Another volley of incoming arrows descended, two skewering Schlobrock and a third punching through Fisk’s energy shield and hitting him badly. They both slumped, severely wounded.

“Well,” Schlobrock yelled at his allies, “kill dheze jerkz zo I can grab Gheroda’z body and cloze dhis door!”

Fisk obliged, dropping his curse upon and conjuring hellfire from below the other goblin shortsword. The attack worked, and the goblin fell dead. Fisk gritted his teeth in pleasure and pain as the precious life energy flowed towards him.

Mez moved forward, quickly dispatching one hobgoblin with his magical short sword, and taking a second attack against the other. Unfortunately, his second attack wasn’t as accurate as the first.

Mairrethid raised one hand, chanted subvocally, and conjured a missile of magical force, sending it to the final remaining hobgoblin. He collapsed, dead.

Schlobrock made her move, quickly grabbing Gherota and sliding her back into the room, slamming the doors shut, and dropping the bar back into place.

“Crap.”

Next: Chapter 09

Thursday, January 15, 2009

Chapter 07

Roll Call:

Gherota, Human Fighter, Level 1. First and foremost a front-line swordswoman, and quite skilled. Irritated by Fisks’ violent, exploitative worldview.

Gurnlocke Fisk, Dwarf Warlock, Level 1. A bitter spell-slinger with powers touched by brimstone. An advocate for Machiavellian methods and strategies.

Mairrethid, Human Wizard, Level 1. Student of mechanical magic and military theory, a war mage. Both moderate rationalist and mediator.

Mez Gobbo, Goblin Rogue, Level 1. Lockpick and shadow-skulking cut-throat. Motivated by enlightened self-interest, a mercenary.

Schlobrock, Ork Cleric, Level 1. Nature-worshipping shaman and medicine woman, with a huge axe. Has trouble pronouncing the letters F, S, T and V.


First Ch 01: Poot's Angels
Previous
Ch 06: Bug Hunt

 

The five had finally come to their destination. Poot was offering 500 gold if they could recover an idol from goblin thieves. The five were closing in, having penetrated the underground hideout Poot described and overcome the traps and guardians encountered so far. They had yet to come to any goblins, but they were sure they were on the right track.

Mez led them onward through a tunnel, sneaking with his eyes and ears open while the other four followed at a discrete distance. He heard rushing, crashing water and recognized a dull blue light ahead, prompting him to snuff his own torch and continue ahead.

The tunnel flared open, into a massive, domed cavern. Blue, dimly glowing fungus spread across the ceiling and walls, bathing the space in twilight. A waterfall at the nearer end of the cavern tumbled into a pool below, feeding a snaking river that disappeared at the opposite end.

Towers of stalagmites crowded the cavern floor, all encrusted with a species of mushroom distinct from the glowing variety above. Small creatures, most the size of rats and some as large as dogs, moved among and over the garden, but their form was obscured by shadows and undergrowth.

An ancient masonry bridge joined each side of the cavern. Its trestles cleared most of the cavern floor, far more than just the river itself, suggesting the flow of water had varied considerably over the years. Statues and reliefs on the bridge were mostly eroded away, but appeared to represent demons and slender humanoids.

Doors and windows were carved into the nearer cavern wall, and several glowed with a yellow light that was clearly distinct from the fungal blue. A path craned along, following the contour of the cavern, up towards these apparent settlements.

Mez retreated to the other four to catch up with him, pressing a finger to his lips to command their silence as they approached. He whispered, “We want to head that way,” gesturing towards towards the cave behind him, “but I’m worried about attracting the attention of whatever is moving down on the cavern floor.”

“Can we have a look?” Mairrethid asked.

“Extinguish your lights and come on,” Mez answered.

They complied and followed him to the mouth of the tunnel, staying low and against the walls.

“We’ll just have to move as quickly and quietly as possible, and hope those creatures are as dumb as they look,” Gherota answered.

Mairrethid stroked his chin thoughtfully. “I’ve read about the habits of ants, that in faraway lands they sometimes keep fungus gardens. I wonder if that could be what this is, here.”

“Those are too big for ants,” Fisk answered. “Unless they are some kind of giant variety.”

“A dheme rebealz idzelb,” Schlobrock added, “widh dhe cabe mandiz and now dheze andz.”

“Some kind of vermin lord, you think?” Fisk asked.

“Zuch dhingz exizd,” Schlobrock replied.

“Keep your eyes peeled for spellcasters,” Mairrethid agreed. “There has never been successful domestication of any bug that didn’t involve magic.”

“You ever notice how humans are the only ones who really use the word, ‘never’?” Fisk teased. “A young people with small minds.”

“At least our women don’t grow beards,” Gherota mumbled.

“Led’z mobe dhingz along,” Schlobrock chided.

“Yeah,” Mez agreed. “Rush for the door, at a brisk pace but not a run. Stay low again against the cave wall. I’ll go first, but stay close to me, Gherota. I’m not eager to get cut off from support again.”

Gherota nodded, strapping her shield to one arm and clearing her sword, though she left it sheathed.

The others prepared their weapons and spells, as well: Schlobrock hefted her oversized axe. Mez cocked and loaded a small crossbow. Mairrethid cracked his knuckles and acted like he was making a purposeful inspection of his staff. Fisk hefted his warhammer on one shoulder.

“I have yet to see you use that thing in a fight,” Mairrethid observed, referencing Fisk’s hammer.

“It’s better than a quarterstaff, if you get forced into close-combat,” Fisk answered, bored.

Mairrethid shrugged, “Of course, your magic is better still.”

“Dwarves cling to their hammers and axes like babies cling to their mommies,” Gherota chuckled.

Fisk made an obscene hand gesture in Gherota’s direction.

“Snuff your torches, so we don’t attract attention,” Mez ordered, “and let’s go.”

The five advanced into the cave, moving quickly and quietly. Their footfalls made some noise, and Gherota and Schlobrock’s armor made even more, but if any enemies did hear them, they didn’t make themselves known. The distant march of creatures toiling in the fungus garden seemed to go on without interruption. No goblin sentries were sighted.

They emerged out of the tunnel, following a path that veered along the side of the save and up towards the settlement. As the five got closer, they could better see the architecture of a subterranean fortress, cut out of living rock. The path led up along mostly-sheer cliffs to a heavy double-door, with a good twenty-foot drop from there to the nearest stable ground. The way up was watched over by arrow slits that glowed with faint, yellow light.

Mez led his allies to the door and motioned for them to pause a moment. He snuck on ahead of them, quietly, to the door. He found a smaller portal set in the middle of one of the larger doors, man-sized for casual entrance and exit. He used a can of oil from a belt pouch to grease the hinges and then, very slowly, pushed the door slightly ajar. It was unsecured by lock or bar, and cooperated with the goblin.

What he found inside was a great hall, one hundred feet long and fifty feet deep. A second set of arrow slits on the far wall described the space as a probable bailey--a place to meet visitors, assemble troops, and a second line of defense against invaders. A catwalk manned the arrowslits on the outer wall, and was exposed to the hall.

The entrance to the bailey hall was far at one end, in the south-east. The far, northern wall had a double-door at the far corner and a few arched passageways that appeared to support the arrow slits above. This double-door was ajar, with light coming from inside. Another heavy double-door was set in the western wall, while the eastern wall had a ten-foot wide archway leading to a sunken room that was out of view.

Incredibly, there were no guards or sentries of any kind in site. Mez double-checked the doorway he was using for traps, and then gestured for his comrades to join him.

He pushed the door the rest of the way open and entered the bailey hall.

The others followed, with Schlobrock bringing up the rear. She threw glances around nervously, after them, but it appeared they had come this far without being seen.

Mez led them first to the passage in the eastern wall, checking to see if anyone was out-of-site there. He found a large room with a low ceiling, similar in size to the bailey hall. The floor was covered in shallow water--possibly a cistern. No one was in sight.

Mez continued to lead his group along the eastern wall, and then back along the northern one. They used the first of two open archways there, and sure enough it did lead up a flight of stairs to the arrow slits on a catwalk above. Mez followed this route to continue moving west, since it was less exposed than the bailey hall itself.

Emerging from the far arched passageway, the five were very near to the other double-door, the one that was ajar. Mez gestured for the five to stay put while he snuck forward to take a peak.

What he found was a square, twenty-by-twenty foot room. There were tables and shelves within, scattered with coins and weapons.

In two chairs, a goblin and a hobgoblin relaxed. Both were dressed and equipped in a way that suggested that either they were ranking members of their clans or that their clans were very wealthy. The goblin wore a light chain shirt over a velvety black shirt, with matching pants; he was outfitted with a small, jewel-pommeled sword on his hip, multiple daggers scattered about his person, and a wolf-skin cape thrown over his shoulders. The hobgoblin was clearly a soldier, completely at ease in a heavy suit of scale mail and draped in a variety of furs; dull brass bracers set with completely ordinary-looking granite stones screamed “magic item” at Mez. The two were playing cards.

Mez almost missed the most important thing in the room, though--Poot's statue.

Mez withdrew to the other five and did his best to communicate the situation with his hands only--a single room, no exits, with two capable enemies inside. And the statue.

The others did their best to quietly assemble in the bailey hall outside of the door.

Mairrethid held out five fingers and slowly counted down.

Gherota was the first in, kicking the door and rushing toward the hobgoblin. She drew her sword and, in the same motion, cleaved the hobgoblin’s chest and face.

Mairrethid followed her attack with his force-blast, centered on the goblin. It smashed into him with a loud pop and the concussion further battered the hobgoblin.

Fisk was almost as quick, throwing his soul-sucking hex on the hobgoblin, more than enough to finish him off. Fisk grimaced in a combination of pain and pleasure of his victim’s life force flowed into him as a usable commodity.

Mez led, and Schlobrock followed as they advanced as a team on the goblin. Mez got behind the goblin and waited for the ork’s assist, which was readily delivered--a spell-charged hit from her axe that virtually magnetized the goblin for Mez’s subsequent strike.

The goblin wasn’t down yet, though, and he managed to clear his own short sword and stab at Schlobrock viciously, scoring a surgically accurate strike that should have been possible against a trained, guarded combatant like the ork. Mez raised an eyebrow and prepared to finish the goblin off.

Gherota beat him to it, decapitating the enemy with a single stroke.

“It is nice when no one misses.”

The five moved into the room.

“Someone, Schlobrock, man the door and keep an eye out. I’m going to look for magic items,” Mairrethid instructed.

Mez pressed for urgency, “Let’s make this fast and get out of here. I wouldn’t expect our luck coming in to hold on the return trip.”

“Zhid!” Schlobrock howled in alarm.

The other double-door swung open, and a dozen goblins and hobgoblins appeared, moving into the bailey hall. They quickly realized where the intruders were and moved to engage.

“Run for it?” Mez asked.

“Engage?” Gherota snarled.

Mairrethid was the first to act, grabbing the double-door and pulling it shut. He threw the bar, just as the goblins on the other side made contact, pounding on the door with anger.

“Great, Merry,” Fisk said, sarcastically, “Now we’re trapped in here.”

“Gherota, Schlob, man the door,” Mairrethid instructed. “Brace it, and make sure you’re ready if they get through. The door looks solid but who knows.”

Both of them complied without argument.

“Mez, start looking for a secret door or passage,” Mairrethid continued, “not just for us to get out, but to make sure they can’t get in.”

Mez complied, “Help me look, Fisk.”

The dwarf grumbled and complied.

“What are you doing?” Gherota challenged, from her place at the door. The goblins were cursing and pounding on the other side.

“Getting what we came for,” Mairrethid said, picking up Poot’s statue and inspecting it.

“Whad nexd?” Schlobrock asked.

“I’m open for suggestions,” Mairrethid answered.

“Remember, wizard,” Fisk snarled as he set about tapping and twisting at the stones along the wall, “we didn’t put you in charge or anything.”

“So don’t follow my suggestions,” Mairrethid replied. “I was just the first to act. I’ll do whatever you want to do here, if it makes sense to me.”

Fisk cursed under his breath, but let it drop.

“The door seems to be holding,” Mez suggested.

“Yeah,” Schlobrock agreed.

A voice, speaking Common, came from the other side of the door. “I don’t know who you are, in there, but why don’t you come out and talk to us?”

“You want me to reply?” Mairrethid asked Fisk.

“Clear the hall, and we’ll come right now,” Gherota yelled back.

“Fair enough,” the voice answered.

The five all stopped for a moment, surprised.

“You don’t think...?” Gherota started to ask, in a whisper.

Mez crossed to the door and dropped onto his belly. He managed to look under the door into the hall. He crawled back to his feet and shook his head.

“They’re not there anymore?” Mairrethid asked, whispering.

“No, they’re still there,” Mez whispered back. He went back to where he was searching for secret doors. “I counted eight eight pairs of feet, and I’m sure there are more.”

Schlobrock whispered a suggestion. “Led’z dake a momend do cadch our breadhz, prepare our bezd zpellz and addackz, and dhen bighd our way oud ob here.”

“I’m not coming up with any alternatives here,” Fisk said, agreeing. “Mez?”

“Me either.”

“Will the door hold that long?” Mairrethid asked.

“Maybe,” Gherota answered. “Especially if they keep waiting for their little trick to work.”

“Okay,” Mairrethid said. “Should we divide up these magic items?”

“Which are those?” Gherota asked.

“That sword is mine,” Mez said, referring to the goblin’s sword.

“How did you know it was magic?” Mairrethid asked.

“I watched him use it,” Mez answered. “I bet I can make it work, too.”

“Fine with me,” Mairrethid said.

“Hold on,” Fisk said. “You can borrow it until we get out of here, at which point, it goes back into the pile with whatever else we find, to divide up fairly.”

“Screw that,” Mez said. “What if its cursed? I take the risk, I get to keep it.”

“How about,” Mairrethid suggested, “it is your first pick on magic items when we divide them up later, but no one else can pick it?”

“Fine,” Mez said, picking up the sword and strapping it to his belt.

“What’z dhe odher magic idem?” Schlobrock asked.

“The gauntlets,” Mairrethid said. “I’m not sure, but I think they’re combat related.”

“I’ll take ‘em,” Fisk quickly offered.

“I mean, choppy stabby combat,” Mairrethid corrected. “Not magicky combat.”

“So?” Fisk said.

“Gibe dhem do Gheroda,” Schlobrock said. “Zhe hidz more obden dhan me.”

“I’ll take them,” Gherota said, agreeing. “To maximize the benefit we get from them.”

Gherota took the gauntlets and put them on. She drew her sword and swung it about a bit, skillfully avoiding contact with the others in the relatively close quarters of the room they were in. Then she attacked a piece of furniture, one of the goblins’ chairs, blasting it to splinters. “I’m hitting harder,” she announced. “It is subtle, but it will make a difference.”

“Good for you,” Fisk said, sulking.

“I’m coming up with nothing on the search for doors,” Mez said. “What do you guys think? Any plans for getting out of here?”

“Can we get any intelligence on what’s out there, what is deployed against us?” Mairrethid asked.

“I thought that was what wizards were good for,” Gherota snorted.

“Sorry,” Mairrethid answered. “I’ve got nothing for this situation.”

“You’re not going to see anything out there without opening the door,” Mez shrugged.

“I zaw a goblin zpellcasder, a halb-dozen hobgoblin warriorz, and zome goblin archerz,” Schlobrock said, recalling from memory.

“Expect some of the goblins to be especially good backstabbers,” Mez added. “Be careful if they start trying to sweep our flank, especially working with the hobgoblins.”

“I figure the archers will take up positions on that balcony above,” Fisk said. “My best spells won’t reach that far--might a good place for you to focus your attention, Merry.”

“I am going to start in dropping some explosions on the guys on the ground, before we get in too close,” Mairrethid answered. “Unless the archers are clustered together, you’re blasty spell is probably as good as mine for going after them.”

“I wish I hadn’t dumped my best spell on that stupid bug in the tunnel,” Fisk cursed.

“We work preddy well dogedher, Mez,” Schlobrock said.

“Yeah,” Mez agreed. “Let’s stay close to each other, see if we can’t get in more of those cool one-two punches.”

“Don’t come out of the room too quick,” Gherota said. “Chances are, your spells and Mez’s crossbow will be a better match to their ranged attacks. We’re a bit light on front-line fighters, and there were enough hobgoblins to mob up on us effectively. After we lift the bar on the door, I’ll do what I can to keep their hobgoblins out. Schlobrock can help. You guys just don’t hit us while you fire through the gaps and over our heads.”

“Good thinking,” Mairrethid replied.

“Yeah,” Fisk agreed, “not bad.”

“Alright, so let’s do this thing.”


Next: Chapter 08