Looking at the monkey, he takes out his crossbow and loads. "I don't like this critter at all... It almost looks as if it understands too much. Origen, don't magic users keep small animals sometimes as special pets? Could it belong to that crazed hag?"
Origen nods. "Yes, some wizards--and a few sorcerors--keep magically enhanced animals called 'familiars.' They usually keep them close, though. Did we see any sign that a monkey was sharing the witch's hut?"
Origen nods. "Yes, some wizards--and a few sorcerors--keep magically enhanced animals called 'familiars.' They usually keep them close, though. Did we see any sign that a monkey was sharing the witch's hut?"
"Do you really need a reason to shoot a monkey?" Jonagher quips.
"Do you really need a reason to shoot a monkey?" Jonagher quips.
Origen smiles. "Witt, we won't know this time . . . because now that I think about it, that witch's hut smelled like Elly's room on a bad monkey day. Except about twelve times worse. And that gives us all a reason to shoot it."
"Brynmor, if that witch is its master, it may have some magical protections. One bolt might not finish it."
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Will need INIT rolls even if you ready an action as when you "take aim" with bolt or spell it will get to react. Please roll those along with whatever it is you try to do.
Also note - if you miss the first time trying to take it down you may not get a second. There is a window it could run to or a balcony it could climb to up above it. Sorry no map - it won't copy form the pdf.
"We might as well give it a try," Isandril offers with a shrug. "Wounded or not, if the little creature is the witch's pet, then it is bound to warn her anyway, yes? If it is not doing so already through whatever bond they may or may not share."
"Between us, we should be able to perhaps put the monkey down if we are not too bad with our aim. Although throwing daggers from this distance is a bit of a gamble, I have to say."
Origen nods. He concentrates for a moment, then cautiously approaches the lighthouse--and the monkey.
Moving as quickly as he can and trusting his elven reflexes and his training to help him get a jump on the monkey, Isandril closes the distance between himself and the small creature, easily drawing a dagger in one fluid motion as he does so. Once within range, the elf throws the blade at the animal, hoping to get a clean strike.
"Well then...he's either an annoying pest or a spy. Either way, let's find out..." Jonagher states. He draws and fires an arrow as soon as the words leave his mouth.
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The group advances and the monkey looks on with a screech as it notices that they aren't headed towards the rope and hole.
Isandril's dagger barely misses as the blade sticks into the wall beside the creature. Looking surprised and a little frightened the monkey doesn't get away from the arrow shot by Jonagher. The feathered shafts sticks out from the monkey's gut, and as it tries to pull it out it slumps onto the ledge, arm and tail hanging over it.
As the rest of the group close in on the lighthouse there is a great burst of white light that flashes like heat lightning and is brighter than even the noon day sun.
As one the group starts checking the sky and looking back towards the east. They wait a very long minute for another flash but none come forth. Instead they all hear the faint sound of rumbling like muffled thunder.
Another long minute and all is silent again. But the group keeps it's eyes and ears perked a few minutes more mostly towards the east mostly in the direction of where they camped just the night before.
Looking surprised and a little frightened the monkey doesn't get away from the arrow shot by Jonagher....
"Well, then...there you go...problem solved," Jonagher nods, "What say we..."
As the rest of the group close in on the lighthouse there is a great burst of white light that flashes like heat lightning and is brighter than even the noon day sun.
"Whoa! What was that?!"
...they all hear the faint sound of rumbling like muffled thunder....Another long minute and all is silent again.
"Well, now...that's rather ominous. Perhaps we've angered the witch by slaying her pet?" the half-elf states, "Origen? Next time, kill your own monkeys..."
Then, in all seriousness, he glances once more toward the open hole and the Captain's hat. "We'd better find out what happened and see if we can rescue anyone left from the Jenivere as fast as we can," he says, "I have a feeling something wicked is on its way..."
"That," Isandril replies, having already turned to look behind him towards the flash of light, "looked like a bolt of lightning. Only it seemed to me like it came from the ground heading towards the sky, not the other way around."
"And that," he continues after the rumbling sound, "does not so much remind me of thunder, which should be loud and clear, but rather of a wave crushing against rocks. Something is definitely going on and we are probably not going to like it very much when we meet up with whatever it is."
Brynmor puts his crossbow away and gives Jonagher a grin:
"That did the trick I guess..."
As the rest of the group close in on the lighthouse there is a great burst of white light that flashes like heat lightning and is brighter than even the noon day sun.
"Damnation! What in the Nine Hells?!?"
"Well, now...that's rather ominous. Perhaps we've angered the witch by slaying her pet?" the half-elf states, "Origen? Next time, kill your own monkeys..."
Then, in all seriousness, he glances once more toward the open hole and the Captain's hat. "We'd better find out what happened and see if we can rescue anyone left from the Jenivere as fast as we can," he says, "I have a feeling something wicked is on its way..."
Brynmor shrugs and looks around expectantly
"Damned if you do, damned if you don't... At least that little freak won't be spying on us anymore. Count me happy. But we should make haste, that's true. Whoever is coming for us, they 're already on their way. Let's get in there and get out quickly."
"That," Isandril replies, having already turned to look behind him towards the flash of light, "looked like a bolt of lightning. Only it seemed to me like it came from the ground heading towards the sky, not the other way around."
"And that," he continues after the rumbling sound, "does not so much remind me of thunder, which should be loud and clear, but rather of a wave crushing against rocks. Something is definitely going on and we are probably not going to like it very much when we meet up with whatever it is."
The mercenary curses under his breath as he looks towards the east.
"Magic then... That hag is probably sending hell our way. Even more of a reason to be quick about this. Let's move."
Origen spins toward the source of the light and looks that direction for a moment, trying to see if anything is approaching.
"Magic then... That hag is probably sending hell our way. Even more of a reason to be quick about this. Let's move."
"Agreed. But before we go . . . ."
Approaching the lighthouse, Origen says a brief spell. A dark ray shoots from his hand toward the prone monkey.
Origen contemplates what he can see of the frost-covered monkey for a moment. Then he fires a second ray. And a third.
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"I am not sure the monkey is necessarily bait not a spy. Why it might even be..." Her words drift off as she watches as the knife goes wide and the arrow finds it mark.
As the rest of the group close in on the lighthouse there is a great burst of white light that flashes like heat lightning and is brighter than even the noon day sun.
As time permits, during pauses in the search for traps and victims, she'll cast "Gozreh's Guidance" upon her fellow survivors as opportunity avails.
"I think I agree with Jonagher," Isandril offers as he retrieves his dagger. Examining it for a few brief moments, he returns the small blade to its sheath at the small of his back. "We need to see if these cannibals keep prisoners down there and rescue them, if they do. This is not a fate I would wish on anyone."
"We could indeed choose to have a nice miniature siege sort of thing, but I do not find it a particularly good idea. Better to quickly check the huts for any nasty surprises and then just as quickly see what this hole and whatever lies beneath it is about. After all, if it comes to it, narrow underground passages might prove as defensible as a stone dwelling."
"Regardless of our choice, though," he finishes, "we better start soon."
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NPCing Torden
"What about the others?" Torden asks still eying the sky to the east. "We haven't been back to camp in almost three days and add to that the weird lighting in the sky, it may just spook them. Or they'll come looking for us, thinking were in trouble. If I know Bran he's tromping through the woods right now."
The dwarf sighs as he looks back to the hole and then to the others, "I think we should start back. Or at least some of us should anyway."
The dwarf sighs as he looks back to the hole and then to the others, "I think we should start back. Or at least some of us should anyway."
Torden's voice seems to rouse Origen from his focus on the monkey. "Eh? Cth'fau rath . . . I mean, wouldn't that split us up? We should go back, yes, but let's make sure that we check for captives first. It won't be much longer."
And I don't want anyone from the Jenivere to die because we were too afraid to look for them. No one else . . . .
Hmmm . . . that first bit was Aklo, the language that Origen was using earlier. After this little foray is done, Origen owes you more of an explanation.
"I think that the monkey's screeching made stealthy scouting pointless for now. Let's do this as quickly as we can." Origen looks back toward the edge of the village, unease visible on his face.
"If you do not mind, I believe I will take a quick look around," the elf remarks with a smile, his two blades already out of their scabbards. "Regardless of what we do, I would hate to have crazy people jumping at us from this or that hut."
Taking his own advice, Isandril starts checking the various dwellings to make sure they do not hide anything of particular interest or any nasty surprises, such as cannibals lying in wait. He goes about his task as fast as he can while the rest discuss their options, not wanting to lose any additional time once a decision is reached. He keeps his swords firmly in his hands during his search, just in case.
A pale Taldan man with an aristocratic bearing strides confidently out of the treeline, approaching the group with arms held up to show he has no weapons drawn. He is tall and extremely lean, with ebony black hair and deep brown eyes, with well groomed facial hair. The man wears a hooded, black robe with gold trim, with ornate images of almost empty hourglasses, broken pocket watches, leaking water clocks and other symbology in a similar vein adorning the fine clothing. On the chest of his robes, a large scale is depicted- perfectly balanced, with one side bearing several bones and skulls and the other some kind of sheet of parchment. It looks like hes wearing some kind of leather armour under the partially open robe. He wears metal gauntlets on his raised hands and has a few weapons strapped to a belt around his waist- particularily two whips, one of leather and one of steel.
The most striking feature about the man is the intensity yet paradoxical hollowness about his eyes. It seems like he has simultaneously seen too much yet somehow draws strength from his experiences. He is not particularly old, somewhere in his early or mid twenties by the looks of him. Behind him are two men who seem to defer to him, imitating his raised hands. They are garbed in simple sailor's outfits rather than adventuring gear like the Taldan man.
Do not be alarmed... he says gravely, his voice sombre, mellifluous and low pitched, but with a tinge of command and authority to it; judging from the tone, this man is used to being in control. We are survivors, not savages. We sought the lighthouse. Are you now in control of it?
Brynmor can't help but cast a sharp glance at Origen as those first alien syllables come out; he keeps watching him as he responds to Torden:
"I agree. I 'd rather we finished the job here first; it's not clear when we might get another chance to do this. I understand you are concerned about your friends, but we need to be quick about this anyway. And the last thing we want right now is splitting up."
* * *
The mercenary tenses at the first sign of the strangers approaching, watching them carefully, but doesn't make any hostile moves.
Do not be alarmed... he says gravely, his voice sombre, mellifluous and low pitched, but with a tinge of command and authority to it; judging from the tone, this man is used to being in control. We are survivors, not savages. We sought the lighthouse. Are you now in control of it?
He gives the newcomers another good look and seems to relax; his left hand however stays on the hilt of the shortsword playing nervously with the leather strap.
"This place keeps getting busier and busier. At this rate it will turn from a god forsaken hell-hole into a metropolis long before we manage to get out of here... I would extend a welcome, but I am not sure anyone is really welcome to this place, except as an entree."
"I wouldn't get too excited about the lighthouse either. Judging from the number of wrecks around here we are more likely to get more survivors instead of rescuers in case we signal for help."
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As Origen and Torden discuss alerting the other surviving crewmembers at base camp, she discretely offers to cast Guidance upon them and does so without waiting for an affirmative. She ignores the foreign tongue having heard enough of it during his feverish rant.
Her focus returns and she begins to scan for the others, moving quickly to offer backup and get within range to cast Guidance upon Isandril, Jonagher and Brynmor.
Yuuwa following Isandril to one of the buildings' door, notices the figures and the alertness of the others, quickly steps into the shadowy entrance, shield up and facing the newcomers. She tries to maintain stealth for any occupants within but does not hide from the robed one nor his bodyguards.
"Pssst" She waits 2 seconds, Isandril, we got company."
A pale Taldan man with an aristocratic bearing strides confidently out of the treeline . . . . The man wears a hooded, black robe with gold trim, with ornate images of almost empty hourglasses, broken pocket watches, leaking water clocks and other symbology in a similar vein adorning the fine clothing.
Origen freezes for a moment when he sees the movement at the edge of the forest. They're back! Wait . . . is it someone from the Jenivere?
Like his fighter companion, Origen relaxes a little when he realizes that the new arrivals are more castaways. But only a little. Watching them closely, he mutters, "Are they from your ship, Brynmor?"
As the three men approach, Origen looks curiously at the leader's ornate robes, which seem almost like magical or religious regalia.
We are survivors, not savages. We sought the lighthouse. Are you now in control of it?
"Not yet. We're looking for any captives."
"I'm Origen Leanthris, formerly of Absalom. Our ship, the Jenivere, wrecked here about a week ago. Since then we've been exploring--and fighting off savages."
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NPCing Jonagher Witt
"Not liking this island getting so crowded myself," the half-elf states with a look about. "But then we are getting pretty close to evening the odds against the locals."
He comes out of the last hut as Isandril finishes checking the lighthouse. "All clear?" And with a nod from the elf he starts thinking.
He starts counting heads on his fingers and grins wickedly. "Maybe we should send someone out for reinforcements. Here's what I think...
Since Jonagher has had all the big plans in the past I figured he'd be the one to state one now. Here it is in a nutshell.
- Torden and the two NPC sailors head back to camp. While they are marching up to camp and bringing back everyone else, the rest of the group will explore the hole and then hold up in it.
- Torden uses his drums to let the group in the hole know when they are ready to attack. And while the cannibals are busy fighting them they get hit from behind.
- Hopefully there are prisoners like the captain to help in the fight to come.
You may fill in details as you wish.
The camp is totally empty and the searches have found no signs of any children living here.
1d20+2
Aedalis nods in greeting, slowly lowering his hands. I am Aedalis Omathi. Shipwrecked here three days ago on the north coast. Would you object to my assistance?
Once Jonagher lays out his plan, Adealis nods in agreement.
Go with the Dwarf. he tells the two men behind him, almost dismissively.
"Well," Isandril comments in a relaxed enough manner, swords still in his grasp, "despite the rather ominous fashion choice, you do not seem particularly evil and the fact that you are not frothing at the mouth is certainly in your favor."
"Still, we might feel a little more at ease if you were to share a little more information? We also shipwrecked here not too long ago, as my friend here has just shared," the elf continues, indicating Origen with a glance towards him, "yet the circumstances of our ship's demise are a bit... suspect, to say the least. And here we are, on a supposedly savage land, making friends left and right." With those last words, his gaze shifts towards Brynmor.
I apologise for my clothing; the symbols are a reminder to me and not meant to be read into by others. Your caution does you credit in keeping yourself alive. We were en route to Eleder on a ship called the Miser's Grimace. These men were crew members, and I a passenger. The Captain was incompetent and run us aground in the night. There were few that escaped Pharasma's judgement in the ensuing crash. I merely assumed by the lack of tribal tattoo's, general hostility and use of a civilised tongue that you were also shipwrecked here.
Aedalis spreads his hands slowly, at the waist.
I'm not asking you to trust me yet, but I am willing to assist you in your endeavours if it means getting off this island alive. I am a worldly and resourceful man; you may find me to be an asset to your group of survivors.
. . . I merely assumed by the lack of tribal tattoo's, general hostility and use of a civilised tongue that you were also shipwrecked here.
"You know the natives well already. They've attacked us twice without provocation, and our attempt to negotiate only demonstrated that talking wouldn't help."
I'm not asking you to trust me yet, but I am willing to assist you in your endeavours if it means getting off this island alive. I am a worldly and resourceful man; you may find me to be an asset to your group of survivors.
Origen looks toward his companions. "For what it's worth, I say to join forces. The more of us, the better that we'll both deter cannibal attacks."
Origen says little as Jonagher presents his daring, but risky idea. He recognizes that they must warn the others, but Torden--ill and inexperienced in jungle survival--may need aid to make it to camp safely.
After Aedalis offers his companions' help, Origen says to the two sailors, "Do you men have experience with the jungle? Could you make it back to our camp safely?"
He turns to his dwarf friend. "Torden, is this what you want?"
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The sailors both give near toothless grins. "Cor an me we know the jungles well enough. And this island. Been around her enough times. It is how we knew about the cannibals and the lighthouse."
"Yeah," Cor says in a screechier voice. "Da Capn' made a bad turn this last time out is all. I tink we can get to yuir camp right so."
Torden nods and says to Origen, "The plan is a good one. We won't be safe until we can thin these cannibals numbers enough that they stay away from us for good."
"So be it, then," Isandril concludes as he walks towards the hole, taking a peek inside once he gets near enough. "Take care, Master Ironcask, and try to avoid thorns and such, yes?" His tone is warm and friendly as he bids his dwarven companion good luck.
The elf then turns to the rest of the group. "Now then, care to join me?"
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The group stands around the hole looking down into a twenty-five foot deep pit. The hole acts like a shaft going down about fifteen feet till it opens into some sort of chamber below.
Bones, leaves, and scatter broken gear can be seen from your vantage point, but the size and the shape of the chamber is hard to determine.
Brynmor listens carefully to Jonagher's plan before he replies:
"We could do it, provided we can count on some serious back-up from your friends. I am not sure what their combat skills are, but we wouldn't want to get cornered in that hole with no means of egress and those raving lunatics outside, ready to chop us up for dinner."
***
The elf then turns to the rest of the group. "Now then, care to join me?"
"Aye. Let's do this." With those words he checks his weapons to make sure they are secured on his person and follows the elf to the edge of the pit.
"It sure looks messy down there..." Turning to Isandril: "Your eyesight is certainly better than mine under these conditions. Can you see anything interesting, or should I throw a torch down there to see if we can improve things a bit?"
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Yuuwa looks at the others in disbelief as preparations to drop into the hole are made. She makes no movement towrds the hole."Gentlemen... I have serious issues with exploring the dark underbelly of a cannibal village whilst the cannibals are busy hunting us. At the very least, let us take advantage thier absence and either secure items for our own use or destroy what may be used against us upon our exit. Personnally I'd like to remove spell components of undead creation just in case. A couple of torches, rope and throwaway weapons(another net even), compliments of cannibals, would be a nice touch."
OOC:
Yuuwa will also take this time of debate and prep to cast Guidance on each PC prior to lowering into the pit. It gives her something to do, burning up nervous energy. She is also quietly mumbling to herself between castings "Fat lot of good my sealegs are surrounded by rock." ; "Give me starstudded night and I'll always find my way back, but where do they want to go?" ; "Hurricanes, Krakens, Pirates maybe the odds are overwhelming but you know whats coming at ya."
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The hole may not be where Yuuwa wants to go, but want and need are... well you know.
Torden nods and says to Origen, "The plan is a good one. We won't be safe until we can thin these cannibals numbers enough that they stay away from us for good."
Origen looks at the dwarf, uncertain whether to argue more. But Torden seems set on returning.
"If you're determined, good fortune, then. We'll see you soon." He offers the dwarf his hand.
"We could do it, provided we can count on some serious back-up from your friends. I am not sure what their combat skills are, but we wouldn't want to get cornered in that hole with no means of egress and those raving lunatics outside, ready to chop us up for dinner."
"We have eight . . . ten, with the two sailors. Everyone at the camp can fight or use magic. I don't know if they all will help, but Torden can be pretty convincing."
"It sure looks messy down there..." Turning to Isandril: "Your eyesight is certainly better than mine under these conditions. Can you see anything interesting, or should I throw a torch down there to see if we can improve things a bit?"
Origen rummages around in his backpack for a few moments, then pulls out a flaming stone. He releases it, and the stone begins orbiting his head, shedding its light like a torch.
He looks down into the pit himself, but waits to descend until Brynmor and Isandril are down.
"Gentlemen... I have serious issues with exploring the dark underbelly of a cannibal village whilst the cannibals are busy hunting us."
"I do too, Yuuwa. But I don't want to abandon anyone from the Jenivere to these cannibals, even our treacherous captain. If for nothing else, he has a lot of explaining to do."
"At the very least, let us take advantage their absence and either secure items for our own use or destroy what may be used against us upon our exit. Personally I'd like to remove spell components of undead creation just in case. A couple of torches, rope and throwaway weapons(another net even), compliments of cannibals, would be a nice touch."
"Based on what Isandril's said, it sounds as if they stripped the place. They may be moving around and looking for our camp to get the jump on us. That makes it even more important that Torden warn the others."
When the group is ready to go down into the hole, Aedalis pauses before they enter.
Allow me to perform a song of power I have composed first- I call it The Vampire's Prey.
Aedalis begins to beat slowly on his drum, humming a somewhat dirgeful tune in the process. The music begins slow and mournful, but seems to panic and quicken suddenly along with powerful beats on the drum; the performance apparently mimicking the prey's heartbeat as he is stalked by the Undead beast. The speed of the song becomes bewildering, the beats on the drum almost a blur. Yuuwa, Isandril and Brymor feel their own heartbeat seem to quicken along with the song as a feeling of nervous energy washes over them; and then with a resounding, single beat, the song ends- the vampire has killed his prey. The feeling in the three seems to linger despite the performance finishing.
His performance finished, Aedalis bows stiffly and prepares to descend, drawing his metal whip in preparation to descend.
"That was... eerie," Isandril remarks as he puts a hand to his chest. "And the feeling continues. Quite the haunting melody, as I am sure was your intention."
The elf proceeds to carefully move down the wall, walking only a couple of steps forward to make room for the rest. Once everyone is inside, he takes point, the light coming from Origen's magic stone enough for his elven eyes.
Allow me to perform a song of power I have composed first- I call it The Vampire's Prey.
Origen listens with interest to Aedalis' intricate drum rhythms. His year on the ship with Torden has given him a much better ear for percussion.
He can hear an underlying magical order to the music, but its sense eludes him.
His performance finished, Aedalis bows stiffly and prepares to descend, drawing his metal whip in preparation to descend.
"You're a bard, then? Torden will be sorry that he missed hearing your song." Origen looks toward the jungle, but although Torden left only a few moments ago, he's already vanished into the dark foliage.
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Triple Time - Yuuwa, Isandril and Brymor (+10 to movement) Time remaining: 59 mins.
The uneven floor of this ten-foot-high cave is stained with blood and scattered pieces of wood, fallen leaves, broken weapons, and in places, bits of bone. A hole in the ceiling leads to the surface out to the surface.
The chamber is small and before it becomes to crowded Isandril and Jonagher give it a quick look over. But find it safe for the rest of the group.
A narrow natural tunnel heads off darkly to the east. A bend in it doesn't allow for anyone to see to far ahead even with Origen's light shining brightly as the sorcerer let's go of the rope and drops to the floor.
With but one way to go the group sets itself before continuing.
This area will be the one we keep constant track of and could be called a combat block if you will. It will have all the things that need to be kept track of as you use them up or they change due to spell effects or conditions.
Setting Stealth DC -
Setting Perception DC -
_______________________
Map 1
As Yuuwa drops to the cave floor, Origen pokes at the junk on the ground, noticing the old, brownish bloodstains covering some of the debris. "Nice decor," he mutters. "Surprising that it doesn't smell like monkey down here too."
After a few moments, he notices that Jonagher isn't moving forward. Origen says softly, "What's happening? Do you see something?"
Having drawn his showrtsword and standing close to Jonagher, Brynmor is also waiting for him to react, but starts getting restless. Turning to Origen he shrugs to show he is not aware what the problem might be, but doesn't say anything.
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Jonagher gives Isandril a look and the elf quietly moves forward the half-elf on his heels.
Aedalis jumps ahead before the other two get to far ahead followed by Brynmor, Origen, and Yuuwa in the rear.
The natural cave is not very long only about fifty feet until it looks to come to some sort of chamber . The walls narrow a bit before opening and Isandril starts to squeeze through...
Group Stealth: ]
Isandril INIT:, Perception:
Jonagher INIT:, Perception:
Aedalis INIT:, Perception:
Brynmor INIT:, Perception:
Origen INIT:, Perception:
Yuuwa INIT:, Perception:
MonsterA INIT:
MonsterB INIT:
_____________________________________________
Combat MAP: HERE
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...and the lithe elf quickly squeezes through the narrow opening and makes his way to the chamber.
The smell of decay is thick in the air of this wide low ceiling cavern. To one side, the ceiling drops down little more than three feet in height over a region strewn with bones and bits of old flesh, while the to the other, the ceiling bulges upward in a dome shape - six circular, pod-like alcoves line the walls of the cave at this side.
The short ceiling area to the west has discarded clothes, boots, belts, and even armor. Isandril takes a step away from the tunnel to leave room for the others and suddenly out of the dark from one of the alcoves a greyish-green skinned creature out of nightmare charges towards him, before lashing out with a long limbed arm, with ruff jagged claws. The blow scratches elf across the face leaving a ragged line of red.
In the little light available you see it is like a skeleton with thin tight skin pulled over it's bones. A spine of spikes lines down it's back and boils and zits are present everywhere on it's skin. Without any hair on it's body it is easy to see it's gaunt frame and skull through it's skin as if it has never had a meal in it's life.
A second monster squats on all fours under the low ceiling growling menacingly.
INIT order:
MonsterB - charges Isandril:
Damage:
Brynmor - currently squeezing so first square (N-4) will count as two squares. And you are up.
Yuuwa
Origen
MonsterA
Jonagher
Isandril
Aedalis
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- Areas N-6, O-7, and P-8 are where the low ceiling starts and heads towards monsterA.
- The yellow arrow indicates the tunnel continues beyond your range of site.
Combat MAP: HERE
Brynmor scrambles to get past the bard and Jonagher, grunting as he drops the shortsword and draws his Greatsword once he reaches the more spacious dome-shaped part of the chamber.
Cursing at the lack of space in the confined area of the underground chamber he takes a clumsy swing at the hideous creature that attacked Isandril.