The Dark

2 April, 103 CY

In the morning, the party gathered back together, made a few last minute purchases, and set off to the east along the Old King’s Road. It was a pleasant day, Morthos and Etholin picked up where they’d left off in a conversation about body hair in various species. Balasar tried to follow the thread, while Tolis-Va shook his head with a smile. The elf caught Syler’s attention and gestured with his head that they walk a little ahead, as was usual.

. . .

Towards evening, though they traveled a heavily patrolled road, the ranger felt uneasy. As a precaution, he strung his bow and kept the weapon in hand as he scanned the surrounding area for potential threats. His vigilance proved worthwhile as the party neared the place where the Old King’s Road intersected with the trail that lead north to Thunderspire Mountain. He spotted a pair of shadowy figures lurking near a boulder, weapons in hand. Without hesitation, he drew back his bow and fired a pair of shafts at the nearest one.

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28 March, 103 CY

The surviving adventurers returned with Syler’s body to Winterhaven around mid-morning. They were still covered in blood and received more than a few terrified looks from the people in the village. The outer gate guards welcomed them back and commented that they’d felt the eeriness of the last several days lift earlier in the morning. When asked where to find a “Spirit Priest,” as Etholin referred to it, the guards directed the group to the Temple of Avandra.

They’d returned on a market day and the open space in front of Wrafton’s inn was filled with merchant carts and stands, selling a variety of goods. Tolis-Va stopped one of the locals and asked for more specific directions to the temple, and the stuttering man looked nervously over the bloody group, focusing particularly on the dead halfling held in one of Balasar’s arms. The man was visibly shaken as he pointed them to the southwest corner of the walled city. He practically sprinted away after the adventurers set off again.

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27 March, 103 CY (Continued)

The hobgoblin patrol was not up to the task set to them by their commander. They choked the hallway, leaving the party’s ranged combatants free reign to lay down the pain. The outcome was a foregone conclusion. After pulling their weapons free from the body of the last hobgoblin, they once more ascended the stairs and took refuge in the secret armory.

28 March, 103 CY

The party returned to the dungeon’s lower level to discover that all of the hobgoblin corpses had been removed. They cautiously entered the eastern guard chamber and considered their two remaining paths. The hallway exiting to the east of this room and the double doors at the bottom of the steps heading east from the zombie infested chamber far to the south were as of yet unexplored. Syler wanted to go to the doors, but Tolis-Va suggested the nearer course. The others were inclined to agree with the elf. The halfling rolled his eyes and shrugged, taking point with the elf.

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27 March, 103 CY

Having decided that they had better recuperate from the battles so far that day, the adventurers returned to the room behind the secret door and rested the night. They woke in the morning, ate a light breakfast, and moved to the stairs that lead down to the lower level. As they descended past the extent of Etholin’s magical light, he moved the cantrip to a stone and tossed it down. It bounced down to a landing and off the wall to continue clattering downward. The wizard moved the cantrip again to Balasar’s armor, and the dragonborn warrior led the others down the stairs.

The stairs descended into a large, torch-lit chamber with what appeared to be an open well in the center. Two human-sized creatures stood near the entrance. Big, pointed ears stuck out from under their helmets, and sharp teeth glittered in their mouths. One of the guards yelled out a challenge phrase in the Common tongue, “Shadow seeks shadow!”
Syler responded with the pass phrase they’d found in the note on the elf spy’s body, “In the ground some magic was found.”
The hobgoblin’s eyes widened, and it yelled over its shoulder, “Someone tell Kalarel that Ninaran is slain!”

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26 March, 103 CY

After another night’s rest back in Winterhaven, the party returned to the ruined keep and continued their exploration of the natural cavern. The southern tunnel opened into a smaller chamber, which emanated a musky, snakelike scent. There was an open pit just before the tunnel widened, and at the bottom lay the unmoving form of a broken, six-limbed reptile. Tolis-Va easily identified the creature as a kruthik, a deadly reptile that tended to live in hives. His keen eyes also noticed shards of what appeared to be a thin layer of flagstone scattered around the corpse. Scanning the chamber by Morthos’ sunrod, the elf also noticed a section of the floor in the first part of the chamber that seemed slightly elevated, as though it concealed something below. He suspected another pit trap. Syler dropped his waterskin on top of the tile, and when it did not break, he left the skin there to mark the location, so that the party could avoid it.

The group moved cautiously into the chamber, noticing very narrow cracks in the walls that even Syler would have to squeeze to get through. Following a tunnel to the west, they came to the edge of a chamber filled with several more of the kruthiks clustered around a small pile of loose coins and other objects. The creatures were six-limbed reptiles with insect-like traits. Silvery chitinous plates covered their bodies and short tails, and each had four limbs that ended in scythelike claws. The creatures had two smaller limbs, which had finer digits close to the body. The heads were vaguely reptilian, and the lower jaws were a toothed plate flanked by serrated mandibles. Most of the kruthiks were no larger than small dogs, but one was the size of a wolf.

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March 25, 103 CY

Zalketh and the other kobolds had been locked in the stone prison for well over a month. The goblins and hobgoblins working for the scary human had taken them from their homes and dragged them to this frightening ruin. They hadn’t been fed often or well, and sometimes, the cruel hobgoblin would pull some of them into the next room for a torture session.

When the door opened, Zalketh could not hep but flinch along with the others, assuming the goblins had returned for more sport. Instead, she saw a large scaled humanoid that Zalketh thought she recognized as a “dragonborn.” Some others stood behind him in the hallway, and though she could not see them clearly, they all seemed too tall to be goblins. She stood in front of her hatchling, the youngest of Trivok’s brood, and said in her native tongue, “You’re not goblins.”
A devil man stepped up beside the dragonborn and replied in Draconic, “No, we are not. We killed them.” It could have just been the devil man’s strange accent, but Zalketh thought she heard a threat in the words, and her eyes widened in fear.
In a quavering voice she said, “And now you’re going to kill us?”

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25 March, 103 CY (Continued)

As Splug waved goodbye and headed down the hallway towards the exit, a discussion broke out about what to do next. “Should we deal with the boss first, or set the kobolds free?” asked Morthos.
“Kobold boss?” replied Balasar, sounding confused.
The tiefling shook his head, “No, I mean, should we free the kobolds before we try to fight the goblin boss?”
“Uh… Will they help fight?” asked the dragonborn.
Morthos raised an eyebrow, his mouth open as if to speak, but no words came out. Tolis-Va chuckled, “I think we should go deal with the boss.”
Balasar nodded, “Okay, we fight the boss.” He began walking toward the door imprisoning the kobolds. The others looked at each other and shook their heads.

Balasar opened the door to reveal a relatively small chamber serving as a cell for about twenty kobolds. These creatures were all shorter and smaller of frame than the warriors they’d fought previously. They all flinched away from the opening door at first, but when they realized that there were no goblins there waiting to exact more torment upon them, one of the creatures spoke up in Draconic, “You’re not goblins.”

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23 March, 103 CY (Continued)

After a brief discussion, the party decided it was best to returned to Winterhaven for rest, and to report what they had learned. As they drew close to the walled village, they noticed that the small fields surrounding it seemed strangely empty. Inside the walls, the few villagers they saw walking around appeared nervous, pausing to give furtive glances before darting away. Syler looked at one of the gate guards and asked, “So, what’s going on here? Why are people so jumpy?”
“I don’t know about them… I just feel out of sorts, is all. Like someone walked on my grave, you know? I’ve felt like this for a couple of days, I guess.”

They entered Wrafton’s Inn, where Douven sat speaking with Valthrun. When he saw them walk through the door, their old friend was elated and practically sprang from his seat to hug them all. “Where have you boys been? You said it would just be an afternoon jaunt. When you didn’t return, I assumed the worst.”
Tolis-Va answered, “We made a deal and then decided to go to the keep. Killed some goblins there.”
Douven looked at him quizzically, “A deal?” Then he shook his head before speaking to what he must have thought a more relevant point, “And what, then you spent the night there?”
Morthos lied smoothly, “Oh, we spent the night in a cave. There was a waterfall. Quite soothing, really.” The others nodded wordlessly, except Balasar, who just looked confused.
“Oh! Well! Fantastic, then! Perhaps I’ll have to visit this cave of yours. Sounds very therapeutic.”

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23 March, 103 CY

Griktik sat alone by the river half a mile from the waterfall cave feeling sorry for himself. Yesterday had been a near complete disaster. The priest Korvot had said something about Winterhaven’s leader having finally found some fools to try and stop Irontooth. And they’d damn near done it. The artillerist had gone out “looking for alchemical components” after he’d been forced to help dig the mass grave by that bully Trivok. Hadn’t Korvot ordered the warriors to do the grunt work while the wyrmpriest went to report to the goblins about the marauder’s death?

Griktik didn’t have any clutch being held by the goblins. He was here because he was a believer. He knew that not all of the kobolds shared his faith in the priest and the demon lord Orcus, but soon enough they would see how wrong they’d been to doubt. What matter the lives of a few sniveling kobolds not strong enough to take up arms themselves and better their station? Pah! They weren’t worth considering.

The slinger heard footsteps approaching and saw the hated dragonshield soldier Trivok approaching, probably to try to order him to do some other task meant for lesser creatures. He would refuse this time, he decided, and he stood to face his armored rival. He barely felt the steel of Trivok’s sword slide between his ribs and pierce his heart. His eyes bulged as he reached down to the mortal wound. “T… traitor…” he managed, before his vision faded and he slumped to the ground.

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23 March, 103 CY

The party awoke bruised and bound on a stone floor. Judging from the noise of the waterfall they were still in the cave, and two spear wielding kobolds stood silent guard about twenty feet away. The adventurers were each bound hand and foot behind their backs with some kind of coarse rope that chafed at their wrists and ankles. Additionally, Balasar had rope wrapped multiple times around his snout and tied tightly, and Etholin had been blindfolded. Though most of their possessions seemed to have been taken, the kobolds appeared to have left them in their armor. When the kobolds saw the party stirring, one looked to the other, which nodded and walked out of view. Balasar started to struggle against his bindings before the remaining guard moved over and smacked him hard in the nose. Syler started spouting off to the creature, but it just rolled its eyes at the bound halfling and walked away, shaking its head.

Morthos and Etholin began to talk quietly about what they should do, while Tolis-Va decided to be more proactive. He attempted to disguise the fact that he was trying to wiggle free from the ropes binding him. The adventurers stilled as the two kobold dragonshields came around the corner with the returning guard. One of them approached the group, stopping a few feet away before speaking, “You’re probably wondering why you’re ssstill alive. It is because you are to be sssold as ssslaves. That is… unlesss you can convince me that you can be of sssome ussse to usss.”

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