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William Entry 6
Our investigation into the bathhouse of Orak has intensified. We seek now some underground lair from which the goblin hordes could be surfacing. Fortunately, Orak is currently indisposed, having been arrested under suspicion of some degree of treason.
Inspection of his business revealed, with Pheane’s expert assistance, a staircase behind a locked door, descending into darkness. The goblins must be coming from here, and must be receiving assistance from Orak in order to find their way to Cauldron’s streets. Why would a proud dwarf with worldly experience and knowledge of many types of foul denizens work with such loathsome creatures? Goblins, in general, do not possess the type of magic necessary to coerce such a hardy fellow into such misguided efforts, and are generally too stupid to use other methods of influence. Orak, for his part, would likely kill the creatures as soon as look at them. So where does this influence come from? Is it magical, logical, or emotional?
All these things I thought, leading up to the investigation. Fortunately, it did not take long to find the information, resting eagerly upon the tongue of some hapless waste of divine breath. The goblin told us of Drakthar, a bugbear wizard who could summon creatures for his bidding and, the creature said, turn into fog. This appears to be the source of Orak’s stubborn courage.
Although this information seemed genuine, more research was certainly necessary. Once again we strode into the goblin hole, and once again goblins obliged us with conflict. There were more of them on this second descent, but not more than we could handle.
Further exploration of the halls revealed interesting stonework. Statues in this foul place seemed to suggest that it was carved out by dwarves, or at the very least inhabited by such a race for some time. If this assumption were true, a long road could be ahead of us. I have heard that dwarves build vast systems of interconnected tunnels and great halls. If these elements exist down here, untold numbers of goblins could inhabit them.
This great space nearly became our tomb when a group of goblins attempted to pin us down. Much to my surprise, there was even a mounted goblin, riding on the back of a worg. I had heard of such creatures, and their close ties to the goblinkin, but never had I actually seen such a pair. It was a formidable force to be sure, and taking it down proved to be about as much as our group could handle. I was thankful when the dog beast was dispatched and we were finally able to kill the meager artillery that sought to pierce the blood from our skins. I must say I delighted in the destruction of those creatures more than the rest. I grow quite disdainful of crossbows.
Following this battle we thought it best to surface, lest we become the bones that litter these very halls. Given the loud raucous of the battle, I feel confident another score of hellions and their beasts would have soon attacked us from every dark place available. Having not found the location of the goblin leadership, or the whereabouts of the ultimate lord, Drakthar, it is into this foul pit we shall again delve on the morrow. The creatures cannot be given too much time to regroup, nor can we continue without preparation into the belly of the beast. A day fraught with battle comes to a close, and a night of uncertainty soon will follow. Boccob be praised, we have made it through another day; and the blood of our enemies has not soured our freedom.