blanket? There's a fire, dude...

blanket? There's a fire, dude...

The group starts this evening in the tunnel, the ceiling soaring two-hundred feet overhead, the rough sides giving way to one smooth, almost sandstone side of the nearly twenty-foot high hill they are circling. Flowing water is be heard. It is chilly; their breath forms puffy clouds that dissipate it's absorbed into the chilly cavern. Frost thickens as they move deeper, bunching up to keep warm.

Prepared, as they hear the slapping sound of feet headed their way, rounding the corner comes a spearman, his weapon raised! He hurls it at Wik, unfortunately the creature, nervous and over-excited with his first tour on guard duty, stumbles on the slippery ground and his spear lands, with a clatter, at Ayrowynn’s feet.

Wik swiftly looses a bolt as the creature stumbles, adjusting his aim easily, that digs directly into the creature’s neck, spurting blood, continuing into its windpipe, killing it. Wik, pleased with himself, does a little jig while jubilantly uttering, “Two-for-two, man – two-for-two!”

Amaril, resting near the fire, inside the tent, tips his ear, hearing the sounds of a scuffle; an arrow being loosed and a high-pitched yelp. He decides to blow the whistle, it’s piercing sound echoing around the cave. He pauses to see if there is a return call.

The group hears the whistle and tilt their ear to locate its direction, determining it is coming from the other side of the hill. They walk forward, curious, their eyes focussed on the curve of the hill, anticipating a foe to materialise in front of them.

"Yeow!" A spear suddenly zips passed Wik's nose. They all jump back, flattening themselves against the wall, deep breathing as they peer at the opposite dark stone wall, seeing a crack or niche outlined.

"What the hell?" Wik exclaims, peering in the direction of travel, seeing the tip of a spear poking out from behind an outcropping of stones. He ducks behind Ayrowynn. Hollering at the creature, “We’re escorting Dwarves!” Getting no response, he tumbles, attempting to pass the opening where this enemy is attacking from. Successfully doing so, his feet sliding on the frosty ground, he manages to catch himself before he plunges into the small lake, or pond, formed in a smooth-sided rock bowl.

Ooma sneaks passed, peering at the outcropping, and sees the spear-tip, “Nice day for it!” she taunts. As she speaks, that spear, comes flying her direction and embeds itself in her shoulder, giving her a slight scratch and putting a hole in her shoulder armour. Adrie jumps forward to help her remove the arrow with as little damage as possible.

Morgan takes a risk and manages to overrun the creature, coming to a stop behind another outcropping a few feet behind the spearman.

A tumble, a rush and a few slashes later, they have this creature flanked; Wik’s arrow bounces off the hard rock, startling, but not hitting, the creature.

As this is going on, Amaril, inquisitively moves in the direction of this racket, cautiously trying to avoid slipping on the frost-covered ground. As he crests the top of the slope, he can see the party at the opposite edge of the lake.

Meanwhile, Ayrowynn moves forward and carefully takes aim, patiently waiting until the creature raises his head before loosing the arrow, finding the creature’s shoulder hitting a main artery, and sinking in so deeply, the creature stumbles falling against the rock, its gurgles fading to silence.

Morgan, behind the, now dead, Kobold, searches the body and recovers a hefty gold broach, that, when he shows it to Ooma, she recommends he throw it far away! 

“That belongs to Lady Triton,” Ooma explains, as she continues, “I tried to return it to the guards when I saw Judy toss it away, but they wouldn't have nothing to do with it; frightened them, don’t know why.” Morgan, asking curiously, learns the broach is valued at an astonishing twenty-thousand gold coins – he doesn’t care who used to own it, he places it in one of his many pockets along with three silver coins he also recovers.

Hearing a shout, they spy Amaril at the far end of the lake that Wik nearly tumbled into when he tumbled passed the ancillary tunnel. Wik gestures to Amaril urging him to come to them.

As Amaril starts to make his way to the group, he slips into the water, the loud splash attracting the group's attention. Unable to swim he begins to sink, the cold freezing his reactions. Morgan moves closer to offer aid. As the others laugh at his predicament, Ichabod, noticing that he is flailing, leaps passed them, her footing sure, and uses her staff to drag him from the water.

Shivering, Amaril smiles and asks if anyone has a blanket. Morgan jokingly ties a rope around Amaril’s waist as Ooma hands Amaril her toga-style dress.

With Amaril safely out of the water, the group takes the time to notice organically shaped rectangular lichen, giving a soft glow, lighting the space dimly. They are spaced haphazardly along the walls and, as you observe, down into the water, showing bright, glittering rocks of many colours embedded into the bed. In the very centre of the body of water lies an object. The nervous group decides to leave well-enough alone, although Ayrowynn suggests, jokingly, tossing Amaril back in, seeing as he’s already wet.

 Ayrowynn spies the flicker of a fire, on the other side of the slight hill. Morgan wisely suggests lighting a fire to warm them, when Ayrowynn points to the fire and proposes that they head over to it instead, and Amaril, obviously confused from his dip in the cold water, says, "That's a good idea, there's lots of other stuff up there too."

Before they can move though, a spear sails over their heads and clatters against the wall behind them. Morgan knits his brows, “Who are these guys?!” he looks around.

Wik spots a narrow opening between two dark-black mounds, across the pond. He spies the spearman’s reptilian body, and quietly points him out to those next to him.

Morgan retrieves the creature’s spear and attempts to return it to him, although his throw is off and the spear falls short landing with a splash in the cold liquid. Meanwhile Ichabod begins to circle the end of the lake, attempting to sneak close to the creature.

Wik, moving along the ledge, fires his shortbow, sending the arrow into the creature’s neck, dropping him with a pitiful shriek. Then, makes his way around the rim of the lake, looting the deceased creature’s body, finding a slimy mass of pearls that resemble the goop that leached out of the centipede when its guts were severed a few hours ago. He wraps the bundle and stashes the slimy mess in his backpack, along with six silver coins.

Standing, he looks around and spots another narrow opening in a seeming niche, his eyes locating a path between the rocks soaring above his head.

The others make their way to the fire; Racelette and Fequr tumbling into the water. The group laughs at their plight, before noticing that Racelette is unable to help herself out. Ooma takes pity, using the spear shes gathered, holds it out to Racelette, pulling her to the side and assisting her out of the water. Racelette is very grateful, as are her sisters, hugging Ooma in appreciation.

Items stacked around the fire are examined, explored and expropriated as most everyone finds something of interest. Ooma pockets the healing pouch, noting it has supplies for about eight wounds. The scroll case containing the scroll, the ink-vial and pen, as well as three, foot-long, golden-topped rods, is taken by Amaril, he decides to ask Tessalia about the scroll later when he thinks about it; he also decides to ask her about the vials, maybe she has knowledge of these potions?

Wik leaves the party behind as he steps through the short tunnel, stopping on the rim of an enormous natural cistern of water. Lichen also lend their unusual glow to this area, extending into the clear water. This lake bed is encrusted with gems, like the other, although these ones are mostly shades of blue, purple, and red. The opposite side of the lake reveals a series of shelf-like protrusions jutting out as the rock wall ascends to the soaring ceiling. He sees something move and quickly recognises frogs. Giant frogs. Even the small ones are as big as an average sized human.

Wik, still examining the area, notices the water sort of forms a small, scooped inlet off to his left (should have been RIGHT, DM error, sorry.) He nods, turns and silently makes his way back to the party, reporting what he viewed. He also observes the three wooden boxes and, noticing that no one else has taken them, he lifts one, and leaning over the box he lifts the lid, sees the leather pouch inside and lifts it from the box, noting it is squishy and heavy, but not overly so for its size.

Moving slightly away from the group, Wik nimbly undoes the string, the bag falls back and a flaming ball of fire erupts, burning through his gloves and singeing his fingers. He speedily drops the leather into the water sees it sink to the bottom, lays down and thrusts his hands into the icy water, barely avoiding an icy bath.

The sudden explosion of fire stuns the group momentarily, everyone seeing spots, dazzling them for a few minutes. Morgan, his back to the flash, head down, looking at the mirror, deciding to put it in his sack, effectively shades his eyes.

Ooma laughs. “Be careful opening those other boxes.”

As they are laughing and joking, a loud ‘thud’ shakes the cave, the water shimmering as the noise continues. This ‘thud’ is separate from the steady ‘thump-thump’.

Ooma looks at the three servants and, rhetorically asks them, “What the hell kind of neighbourhood do you live in?!”

The ladies try to explain that they don’t normally have to use the back tunnels into their homes, and, indeed they have only done it once before. “Normally there isn’t a lot of creatures, but lately we’ve been fighting off more and more; creatures that don’t even belong down here!”

Morgan is sceptical, “You ladies wouldn’t even last a week down here.”

Agreeing, Adrie repeats that the level of creature activity has been on the rise, along with odd accidents. “We would not have had to come this way had there not been a cave-in that prevents us from using the main tunnels.”

Morgan, sensing Ooma’s impatience and his own growing distrust demands, “We’re going to need some kind of payment before we go any further.”

The ladies acquiesce without hesitation, gather the miner’s pick and, one at a time, using the rope from around Amaril’s waist, they drop into the water, staying as long as their bodies can handle the cold. While there, they mine a cluster of gems for everyone. (Four for Wik, three for Ooma, Amaril receives two, four for Morgan, and Ayrowynn receives two stones, they are valued between 5 and 10 gold each, with the paler colours fetching the least and the darker one, more.) Teeth chattering and lips blue, making their way back to the fire, “Will that be sufficient?” Fequr asks as Wik wraps his cloak around the ladies.

While the ladies are ‘pearl-diving’, Morgan, while encouraging them to continue their efforts, so, eventually, he will not feel like he’s been taken advantage of, wanders off to see if he can locate the sound of the ‘thump’.

He is unsuccessful, so he moves to wait at the edge of the pond, watching and listening.

They are still hearing the loud grunts and thumps. They also hear what sounds like digging. Racelette is puzzled, “That sounds like ...mining?”

Her sister agrees it is odd. “All the worthy gems are in the water here.”

While Morgan’s watching, one of the frogs leaps out of the water onto the opposite side of the water, turns and seemingly stares at him, standing in an alcove directly across from the amphibian. His torch sputtering, Morgan douses it, pulls another and sparks it to flame.

As he does so, the frog continues staring at him, holding his attention, until Morgan, suddenly looks down. In a flash, before he can move, a tongue is wrapping around Morgan’s leg.

Morgan, surprised, immediately swings his scimitar downward and the frog, seeing the weapon, disengages his tongue and leaps backward into the water, turning to stare up at Morgan.

“What the hell, do you think you’re doing you slimy bastards,” he snarls.

The frog, apparently angered by Morgan’s words, suddenly flies from the water, soaring up the embankment and aims for Morgan’s head, and as he does so, Morgan raises his scimitar in defence, slicing the frog’s belly open causing the creature to land in a bloodied mess directly on top of Morgan’s head, ruining his new turban. In anger, (after hauling the mass off his head), Morgan lifts a rock and throws it at one of the other frogs in the water, but only splashes the crystal water, and, as it sinks it melds into the bottom of the pool.

The remaining frogs are floating at him staring. The stone causes an enormous frog to rise to the surface, stare at Morgan, before sinking again as Morgan continues to shout expletives and curses upon the frogs, taking out his Meade skin and moistening his throat after each curse.

The thumping increases, sounding like something is marching toward the party.

Morgan tries to climb the rock to get a better view. In his inebriated state he only manages to ascend to the first shelf,elevating him about five feet, Still, it gives him a grander view of the far end of the lake, to his left, and what he sees is dark, large and moving. He shouts, “Hey someone, come and take a look!”

Most of the party trundles to where Morgan is. Ichabod, and the three serving ladies, remain at the fire, tossing another gnarly root into the flames.

Wik, deciding he wants to see better, climbs to the top of the hill. Leaning to look over the backside, he spots, what appear to be people-sized ‘something’ wandering back and forth in another corridor. There is something else down there as well. He is intrigued.

Returning to the party, Wik suggests they continue to the left and not the right...

The DM suggests they take a long rest, recover their strength, have a snooze, eat, relieve themselves (there’s a small trench on the downward side forty feet from the makeshift campsite). We will start the next session assuming you have taken a rest. (Otherwise you will begin to take negative 2 to your rolls, increasing by 2 with each passing hour that you do not rest, as well as one constitution point lost for every hour - take the DM's advice: REST...)

XP FOR JULY 15th = 100xp each (Amaril, Ayrowynn, Morgan, Ooma, Wik, who'd I fergit...?)
PLUS, for those who've written an entry in the Journal or in the community, you add an additional 100XP... (once per week...)

Video link: <https://youtu.be/tnGxRYJhy8c>

o0o

looking at all the shiny sparklies...

FLEDGLING DUNGEON MISTRESS,

khrys...