Leng leaps forward to strike again with his weighted chain.
Leng's chain narrowly misses one of the two remaining guardians. The pair look to be willing to fight to the death.
On Spitters's next action, he tries to use a cantrip on one if he gets a clear shot!
Spitter's ray strikes the wall behind the kobolds, causing a layer of frost, but not harming their foes.
Not bothering to retrieve his trident, Pavo strode towards the remaining defiant kobold and slugged him with his gloved hand.
Pavo's mailed fist clobbers one of the kobolds, sending blood and teeth flying. He thrashes in pain and blinks profusely, clearly having trouble seeing.
Rinse and Repeat!
Spitter's ray proves too much for the wounded zealot. He collapses to the ground, steam rising from the quickly dissipating frost.
Pavo closed the remaining ground with the kobold, taking care to duck under Leng's swinging chain. His covered fist shot out again, and again it connected with a kobold face. The resounding "smack" as leather met leather echoed slightly in the chamber.
Pavo takes down the last of the guardians blocking the passageway into the heart of the lair. Behind the defensive position is a steep ramp with a rope to aid in climbing up and down.
Spitter pushes ahead heedless of danger...almost.
The ceiling at the center of this cave is twelve feet high. A crude idol stands in the middle of the cave, decorated with grisly strips of dried viscera.
Spitter sees nothing unusual, and it looks as those the cave had recently been abandoned based on some scattered trash and the damp remains of a small camp fire.
Nighttail rides forward. "There are two paths. One takes you to the chief's personal chambers, the other is where are young and infirm are. Wait here, I will make sure the eggs and children are safe. Take your time to get ready, I have no clue what traps or how many defenders may be left on his side. I will be back shortly."
Spitter nods, and turns to his friends.
"She is correct. Be prepared for anything. If the chief is as deranged as we suspect, then he will try to overwhelm us with whatever he can throw at us."
"So uh...why are we waiting? Seems like the longer we wait, the more chance they have to prepare, or escape even. Uh..." Pavo hazarded a glance back at Maellyra anticipating an unapproving scowl. "I'm going in."
Wasting no more time, Pavo started down the passageway. He only made it a few feet before he realized his hand was empty. He spun on his heels and retreated back to fetch his trident before once again proceeding down the ominous tunnel.
Just as he turns around, Pavo spots a series of bottles hanging from the ceiling, causing him to do a quick double-take. When he looks again, he realizes there is a sheen of oily liquid coating a ten foot long section of tunnel.
"Looks like fun," quips Leng dryly.
Pavo looked at Maellrya quizzically. This time he tried to think it through. He stripped his pack off and set it on the floor. Opening the top flap, he started looking through the contents before finally pulling out an unlit torch and some flint and steel. It took a minute, but eventually he was able to get the torch lit. He tossed the flint and steel back into the pack and slung it over his shoulder again. Standing up, torch in one hand and trident in the other, he smiled.
"Here goes nothing" he said as he tossed the lit torch into the oily liquid and stepped back half a step.
There is an instant ignition from the substance when Pavo's torch hits it. A bright fireball erupts, burning the sacks suspended above, which flare with their own sympathetic explosions. Within seconds the firey holocaust is over, leaving the tunnel clear.
"Nice."
Spitter rushes in, small staff in hand.
"They will be alerted! We must engage them quickly pink-skins before they have time to prepare!"
Nodding, with a wide grin on his face, Pavo followed along after Spitter. He was quite pleased with himself and hoped that silence from the others meant that they were pleased too.
It really was an odd sensation for Pavo, being scolded like a child. He had fought men bigger than himself, been outnumbered numerous times before, even had to stalk down dark corridors into the lairs on monsters and none of it really bothered him. For some reason that escaped him though, the scoldings affected him. Maybe it was the disappointment, or maybe it was how he was talked down to, as if he had earned the ire of some head mistress.
At the top of the rough-hewn steps is a large cave, the floor strewn with fresh straw. The bones of many different creatures, animal and humanoid both, hang on the walls. Two boulders bisect the cave, obscuring what the other half holds.
A row of kobold zealots stand at attention with spears in hand. Behind them are a pair of human-shaped skeletons and the cleric previously encountered outside the lair.
"You think you can trespass in the lair of the Blood Vow Tribe with impunity?" asks a purple and red robed green-scaled kobold who polishes a green dragon scale on one of the boulders. "I am Roaghaz, and I serve the great Lord Aeteperax! He rewards his supplicants for ferocity and faithfulness. We shall add your bones to those hanging on these walls, and our great lord shall supp on your flesh!"
"Run, you fools, beware his enchantments!" the cleric shouts.
"Hush, friend, you must use your minions to defend me." Roaghaz says sarcastically.
As Maellyra enters the chieftain's lair, her focus is drawn not to the chieftain himself, who threatens to add their bones to his grisly collection of trophies hanging from the wall, nor the helpful priestess who warns them away, nor even the guards who all look ready to sacrifice their lives in defense of their leader. Rather, her attention rests solely on the two skeletons that idle behind the zealots and the strange... warmth she feels standing so close to them.
-----Beforehand-----
Woman of little affect that she is, it would be easy overlook the expression of surprise that flits across Maellyra's features—evidenced by the minute shift of her ghostly white eyebrows up towards her hairline—and assume that she remains unimpressed. But impressed she is, somewhat by the kobold's ingenuity but mainly by Pavo's vigilance and resourcefulness. As the grinning man turns to follow Spitter down the tunnel, Maellyra creeps up behind him and tries to stop him with a bony hand on his shoulder. The witch gives Pavo a long look, and, if one isn't mistaken, there is a hint of approval in those otherwise impassive eyes. Then, as the silence starts to turn uncomfortable, Maellyra leans in toward him to whisper. "Ajazh dhad qedret shema ashekear shewd." Without further explanation, she continues on down the tunnel, her hand leaving a dusting of powdered iron on Pavo's shoulder.
"Man, I thought they were small before. Now they're so tiny, they're almost cute."
One of the kobold guardians lunges forward with his spear, aiming for one of Pavo's knees.
Unfortunately, the zealot, shaking with fright, misses by a mile.
Puffing him-self up and spreading his vestigial wings, Spitter grimaces.
"You who defend your 'king' know nothing of what you do! Think! Even if you defeat us, the pink-skins in the town above will root you out tooth and nail...regardless of who backs the tribe!"
Spitter then pulls energy from the surrounding air and launches it at one of the un-moving skeletons!
Spitter's miniature lightning bolt flashes purple across the skeleton's bones, arcing and burning away what little bits of tendon and magic keep the undead animated. It collapses to the ground with hollow thuds in a small pile.
Holding his ground, Pavo focused his attention on the kobold standing in front of the others and stabbed his trident forward, hoping to impale him.
Pavo tears the kobold into shreds with his now immense weapon and added strength. Blood and gore spray the rest of the defenders who gasp. The priestess smiles. The chief looks nearly enraged.
The one who had held the line beside the dead kobold lunges with his spear, but the gore covering the weapon causes him to lose his grasp.
Leng lightly hops past Maellyra and lashes out with his chain-weight at another kobold.
*wiff*
Another kobold tries to stab Pavo but his armor catches the spear point before it can draw blood.
The chief sneers at the priestess, "Use your magic to help us!" He demands before casting a spell.
Once she's certain that the chieftain's spell has had no obvious adverse effect on the newly empowered Pavo, Maellyra fixes Roaghaz with her patent glower. Reaching out with her little understood but undeniably dark gift, the witch tries to impose her will on the remaining skeleton and shift the odds closer in her group's favor.
The priestess snaps her eyes to focus on Maellyra, at first glowering, then smirking. She nods her head slightly out of respect. "Kill the big one," she says to the skeleton.
Another zealot tries to wound Pavo, but again fails to hit the large human.
Churgri then chants in a demonic language and touches the chief.
The kobolds continue their assault, focused on the large target.
Still, the zealots are unable to find an opening in his defenses.
Hesitant to attack the green-scaled kobolds, Spitter steps up and attempts to strike at the last skeleton!
Spitter's lightning strikes the undead creature. Azure sparks crackle and the tang of ozone fills the cavern, but the skeleton remains standing.
Again Pavo raised his trident up and again he stabbed forward into the ranks of kobolds.