"Sounds good, Njord," Ashte'l replies, being careful not to touch the mucky bear-man. "Do you need a little healing?" he asks, holding up the ever-reliable wand.
"I've had worse", the big man admits. "But I wouldn't mind a few hits from that wand of yours."
The idea that there might be more of the creatures is enough to stop Randall's celebration. He quickly turns toward their goal.
The party arrives at the nearest of the submerged towers and finds, on the farthest side, a window large enough to serve as a door.
Inside, the floor of a small cramped room is caked with dust and dried mud crusts over the floor and lower walls. Randall easily picks out the outline of a trapdoor amid the caked mud.
"Oh, look! Wonder if anyone still uses this?"
He looks around for signs of someone, footprints or discarded materials, before examining the trapdoor to see if it's a trapped door. See what I did there?
Asht'el continues to fly around, keeping a bit of distance between himself and the doorish window.
Randall sees no signs of traps or other hidden dangers around the caked-over trapdoor.
Asht'el zips around the remaining towers. He sees no signs of life in them but in the southwestern-most structure he spots signs of habitation - scraps of cloth and bits of gnawed bones. Something must live here.
Randall reports his findings to the others. "The thing we seek sunk in the mud, right? Is there a point in investigating the buildings? Is one building any different from another?"
"Let's check it out Randall. If nothing else it'll give us a chance to get the mud outta our boots", the big ulfen suggests with a laugh.
Asht'el zooms back to the party and reports what he's seen. "Maybe whatever is living in the building to the southwest can tell us where to find what we're after," he suggests. "Seems better than crawling through a bunch of muddy buildings. Shall we go see if they're around and want to talk?"
"I'm not sure anyone living in this place is going to be very friendly," replies Fíriel thoughtfully, "but I suppose it's worth a try."
Abandoning Randall's find for now the party ventures to the southern tower and enters through another window-turned-door.
The floor of this chamber is caked with dried mud. Dust floats through the air, concealing most of the contents behind a film of dirt and muck.
Sure enough there are signs of habitation as described by Asht'el, though no one appears to be home right now. A crude ramp along one side of the chamber leads to a lower level.
Randall slips down the ramp like small furry-footed shadow.
The lower floor is dark but enough light creeps down from the upper level to give Randall a decent picture of the space - a partially collapsed chamber that seems to be a nesting chamber of some sort, judging by the ten cramped pallets of mud and leathery fragments and slop that sit on the floor. Four small creatures armored in dense bony plates are curled up sleeping amid the pallets.
Doors to the north and south provide exits from this room but are currently tightly shut.
He carefully retreats to report his discovery to the others.
”I have found a charda nest. Four asleep, with six more beds. There are two closed doors.” As he talks, he sketches out the room’s layout on the floor. ”The earth genie said these fellows will be a handful if we encounter them, but I can’t kill them in their sleep.”
"The genie also said they're fierce and cruel enough to rival any demon," Asht'el weighs in, "and we haven't held off on getting any advantage we could against all the demons we've fought. I'm okay with starting to kill them while they're asleep, since we'll end up killing them anyway. But if you don't feel the same, we can either send Prickles in to do it, or just prepare well for the fight and then storm in. I expect one way or another, we'll fight them."
Prickles shows his teeth as he strikes a fierce pose, squeaking bravely. Fíriel tries to suppress a giggle, but quickly sobers. "Maybe we don't have to fight them," she replies. "Randall's trap door should lead us down into the ruins and away from them; they can enjoy their nap and never know we were here."
After a pause, she adds, "Randall could probably even lock them in for good measure, just in case they wake up."
Prickles squeaks disconsolately, his fearsome pose melting into a sad little hedgepuddle as he hears the alternative suggestion.
"Are you serious?" Xiddik's tail rattles the ground. "Their blood is akin to the black blood of the earth. This is the Deep Down Under—we do not play as chivalryous knights down here! Avoid combats if we can, yes, but kill what you can before it kills you!"
In addition to being strong and impossibly resilient, Xiddik has heard tales of charda being able to vomit up the black blood that flows through their veins as a deadly breath weapon.
Randall is torn, expecting the charda to be deadly foes and likely to be impossible to avoid. He waits, looking for input from everyone before he proceeds.
Njord shrugs. "There's a good chance we're gunna scrap with 'em but there's no sense in picking fights we don't have to. Let's check out that trapdoor you spotted and see where it takes us."
Looking a little relieved, Randall heads to where they found the trap door.
"There is so much dirt up here, some will filter down and warn anyone in the room below that the door is being moved. Be ready."
Carefully, he tests to see if there is a latch or lock on the door. Once everyone is ready, he pulls the door up so that he is behind it from anything or anyone below.
Randall doesn't find a latch or a lock on the buried trapdoor. When he opens it, dirt does indeed fall down into the passage below but no cries of alarm follow.
Peering down into the darkness, Randall is able to make out a narrow earthen tunnel that leads down to the lower level. The end of the tunnel is sealed but bright light filters through cracks in the earthen barricade blocking the tunnel's exit.
He hushes the others or has them stay back so he can concentrate on any noise coming through the earthen barrier.
At first Randall hears nothing. After a few seconds he hears what sounds like clawed feet coming around a distant corner.
He waits, scouting by ear, trying to determine who or what lies on the other side.
Over the course of a minute the footsteps approach and eventually pass the blockade Randall is listening at. Another minute passes and another but the footsteps do not return.
Returning to the others, "I think the passage below ends at the wall into a hallway. I heard something walk by, but not like they walked into a room, more like they entered a hallway and walked past. Perhaps a patrol, perhaps just going somewhere else. They will probably notice any attempt to enter the hallway, so they will know something is up when we enter unless someone can hide it magically."
"It sounds like it's going to be a fight anyway. Want me to lead the way Randall?" Njord asks with a wide grin.
A smile slowly comes over the halfling’s face. ”A plan comes forth. Come on, I’ll bring you a playmate.”
Randall leads the way back down. After listening to see if anything awaits on the other side, he works to open a space to get through. Sneaking into the hall, he takes stock of the area before picking a direction.
Randall grins at the indignant squeak and reaches out, "Yeah, great idea. Bring your favorite wand and let's go cause some trouble."
The masked hedgepeeg takes a good 15 seconds sorting through his wand assortment (conveniently carried by Fíriel), selecting a small rod of polished ebony and tapping himself and Randall with it, before finally swapping it for his trusty wand of magic missile. Giving a squeaky grunt of satisfaction, he trundles over to Randall's shoulder and hangs on tight.
Pushing against the earthen barrier at the end of the short hallway, Randall finds that it falls away easily landing with soft *thumps* on the other side.
Randall steps out into a stone chamber, pitted and filled with holes from which bits of slime slowly trickle, seemingly frozen in mid-drip. Stone double-doors dominate the southern wall, and the eastern wall is split between a makeshift door in a mud-carved corridor and an alcove with a fungus-vine ladder hanging from the ceiling above.
The scout looks at the floor for indications of where the walker he detected might have gone, but realizes he may have a more talented partner for that task.
”Can you see any footprints, Sir Prickles?”
Meanwhile, he listens and watches for company.
Prickles sniffs the ground and examines it up close.
Studying the earthen floor Randall and Firiel spot several pairs of tracks.
Neither of the scouts hear signs of any kind of commotions nearby.
Putting the whole of their survival skills to the test, Randall and Prickles believe they're looking at the tracks of four small humanoids. They look very recent - no more than an hour old.
The halfling scratches his chin for a moment as he looks at each of the exits. He decides to investigate the double doors on the south wall first.
Before he goes, he whispers back, "Njord, I'm going to the south. Keep an ear out for visitors from the east, please." He points in the appropriate directions as he mentions each.
"You got it Randall!" Njord says a few octaves too loudly.