It’s been nearly a month since Venture Captain Drandle Dreng, a decrepit yet well-respected Pathfinder, instructed you to meet him dockside in Absalom. On arrival, Dreng herded you on to a Korvosa-bound merchant vessel and gave you a series of quick, stern instructions.
“One of my good friends, a merchant in the Varisian outcast’s haven known as Kaer Maga, sent me a very strange letter, which I need you to investigate. The merchant—his name is Horis Collgardie—tells me that the residents of Kaer Maga are very upset about the Society’s plan to build a lodge in their city and even further upset that the agents we sent are making trouble, stirring up the delicate balance of power that exists in the so-called City of Strangers. The trouble is, not the Decemvirate or any venture-captain I can find gave the okay to build a lodge there. We know it would be folly to do so—at least right now—and so this idea that Collgardie has that the Society is there and doing just that is worrisome. In a few weeks’ time, you’ll be in Korvosa. From there, book passage on a river ship for Harse, then travel overland to the road’s end at the cliffs below Kaer Maga—the so-called Twisted Door. There you must pay the Duskwardens to escort you through the Halflight Path to reach Kaer Maga. Once inside the city, find Collgardie and find out what he’s talking about. If there are Pathfinders in the city founding a lodge, tell them I order them to stop at once. If this is some kind of ruse, get to the bottom of it and do what you can to keep our Society’s good name in Kaer Maga—we may not be completely welcome there, but neither are we unwelcome. Let’s keep it that way. Any questions?”
A huge Shoanti is amongst the Agents gathered by Captain Dreng. He stands six and a half feet tall, and is heavily muscled. His tanned olive skin in covered in white inked tattoos in stylized flame patterns. His head is shaved, and he has dark brown eyes. Aside from his great size, there is little remarkable about his appearance. Were he shorter and tattooless, he would blend easily into any crowd in Absalom. He wears a basic outfit of furs and animal hides, which exposes much of his sking. Over his clothes is an expertly crafted steel breastplate, which is completely lacking in ornamentation. At the side his belt is the skull of a large lizard, which is covered with etched eldritch runes. A steel blade thrusts out of the skull's mouth, where the animal's tongue would be were it still alive. Across his back is a huge two handed hammer. To those familiar with the barbarians of Varisia, the klar and earthbreaker mark him as practitioner of the Thunder and Fang combat style famous amongst the tribes there.
He considers the other agents the way a man buying a horse might, stopping just short of approaching and having a look at their teeth.
Standing at the edge of the group is a tall, black-haired elven woman made most notable not by her own presence, but that of a large golden hawk sitting upon one of her pauldrons. Unlike pets used in falconry, the hawk is not hooded and while it has jesses on its legs, they are not affixed to anything to hold it in place. Nonetheless it sits still, focusing its attention only on the elf--or any who come near her.
The elf herself wears a fine wool mottled green cloak with a moon-shaped clasp, under which is a well fitted breastplate and matching greaves, which she manages to make little noise in despite its metal bulk. Her hair is kept away from her face with a green circlet, which accentuates the green in her eyes. While all elves are generally seen as exotic and graceful, she may be graceful but she is relatively plain faced besides the striking green of her eyes. Given the presence of the hawk and green garb, along with the bow and quiver she carries, doubtless she could be anything other than some kind of forester or hunter.
She looks about, always wary even in this relatively peaceful environ. When the Shoanti gives her a once over, she stares back at him openly.
When the captain finishes, she speaks. "Iriel Lasslanta here," she says by way of introducing herself to the others and to be sure Dreng knows who she is, and then she addresses Dreng, "I know little of most cities--who are these Duskwardens and can we trust them to be our guides?
"Secondly, when we get into Kaer Maga, do we know where to meet Collgardie? What does he look like? And do we need to prove to him we are who we say we are?"
The gnome chooses to stand next to the Shoanti, when he listens to Venture Captain Drandle Dreng, to accentuate the height and fashion disparity. If he had been wearing his most recent hat, only two feet would separate their heights. As he is wearing a colorful headband decorated with hairpins, dangling earrings, and enamel pins, to tame his copper hair, the true height difference of three feet is revealed. As if he just came from a splendid lunch with nobles, his clothes are fine silk, mainly purple hues to match his eyes and add contrast to his dark mead skin tone. His cloak has a maze-like sigil sewn onto the back of it in hummingbird feathers and goldthread. On his left hip, a short sword gleams as only mithral can.
As the Venture Captain speaks, Zarboluket repeats keywords to himself,
Horis Collgardie...Kaer Maga ...trouble... Korvosa....rivership...Harse...Twisted Door....Duskwardens...Halflight Path...Kaer Maga... a lodge...bottom of it.”
After Iriel speaks, the gnome bows lowly to the group. ”I am Zarboluket! Who else could I be? Excellent questions from Iriel to which I add, does your friend’s letter mention any names of these agents? Numbers? Races? Perhaps what district of Kaer Maga they are interested in?” his accent has faint traces of Katapesh. As he speaks he moves his hands quickly, his gemstone rings flashing in the sun. He quickly looks at the passing citizens, shifting his weight gracefully from foot to foot as if he’s ready to dance.
Listening closely, a young woman is present, scribbling away into a small book, muttering under her breath. Of reasonable attractiveness, she wears a sturdy, if simple, skirt, with a well-worn shirt, to which are attached number of rolled up papers and writing implements. A golden headband with blue and purple gems rests on her head, while a small, dull reddish rock with visible cracks orbits. A small pouch and a dagger are attached to her belt, though the dagger appears to have not been used in quite some time. A red cloak rest loosely over her shoulders, fluttering softly in the wind, accentuating her blond hair.
As the captain finishes speaking, she snaps the book shut with an audible clap, before tossing it almost haphazardly over her shoulder into her pack. She nods, hearing the questions of her compatriots, before speaking. "I'm Tara Firma, pleased to meet y'all." she says, softly speaking with a Southern Andoren accent, before turning to Captain Dreng. "You mentioned 'upsetting the balance of power' in Kaer Maga, implying multiple factions striving for, if not control of the city, at least influence. Anything we should know of said factions, who are they, who to avoid, who will leave alone? That sort of thing." As she speaks, she pulls a different book effortlessly out of her pack, and prepares to take notes.
Standing at the edge of the group is a tall, black-haired elven woman made most notable not by her own presence, but that of a large golden hawk sitting upon one of her pauldrons. Unlike pets used in falconry, the hawk is not hooded and while it has jesses on its legs, they are not affixed to anything to hold it in place. Nonetheless it sits still, focusing its attention only on the elf--or any who come near her.
The elf herself wears a fine wool mottled green cloak with a moon-shaped clasp, under which is a well fitted breastplate and matching greaves, which she manages to make little noise in despite its metal bulk. Her hair is kept away from her face with a green circlet, which accentuates the green in her eyes. While all elves are generally seen as exotic and graceful, she may be graceful but she is relatively plain faced besides the striking green of her eyes. Given the presence of the hawk and green garb, along with the bow and quiver she carries, doubtless she could be anything other than some kind of forester or hunter.
She looks about, always wary even in this relatively peaceful environ. When the Shoanti gives her a once over, she stares back at him openly.
When the captain finishes, she speaks. "Iriel Lasslanta here," she says by way of introducing herself to the others and to be sure Dreng knows who she is, and then she addresses Dreng, "I know little of most cities--who are these Duskwardens and can we trust them to be our guides?
"Secondly, when we get into Kaer Maga, do we know where to meet Collgardie? What does he look like? And do we need to prove to him we are who we say we are?"
"The Duskwardens escort travelers through the Halflight Path from the bottom of the Storval Rise up to the city. Kaer Maga is atop the Storval Rise, built inside the shadows of enormous walls that are said to have been built before even Thassilon existed. The Duskwardens pride themselves on providing safe passage through the path. As for Collgardie, You’re adventurous Pathfinders—I’m sure with his name and a few loose coins, you’ll find him in no time. He's an older human man, grey hair, a bit fat. Taldan ethnically."
The gnome chooses to stand next to the Shoanti, when he listens to Venture Captain Drandle Dreng, to accentuate the height and fashion disparity. If he had been wearing his most recent hat, only two feet would separate their heights. As he is wearing a colorful headband decorated with hairpins, dangling earrings, and enamel pins, to tame his copper hair, the true height difference of three feet is revealed. As if he just came from a splendid lunch with nobles, his clothes are fine silk, mainly purple hues to match his eyes and add contrast to his dark mead skin tone. His cloak has a maze-like sigil sewn onto the back of it in hummingbird feathers and goldthread. On his left hip, a short sword gleams as only mithral can.
As the Venture Captain speaks, Zarboluket repeats keywords to himself,
Horis Collgardie...Kaer Maga ...trouble... Korvosa....rivership...Harse...Twisted Door....Duskwardens...Halflight Path...Kaer Maga... a lodge...bottom of it.”After Iriel speaks, the gnome bows lowly to the group. ”I am Zarboluket! Who else could I be? Excellent questions from Iriel to which I add, does your friend’s letter mention any names of these agents? Numbers? Races? Perhaps what district of Kaer Maga they are interested in?” his accent has faint traces of Katapesh. As he speaks he moves his hands quickly, his gemstone rings flashing in the sun. He quickly looks at the passing citizens, shifting his weight gracefully from foot to foot as if he’s ready to dance.
Turning the Zarboluket, Captain Dreng replies, "Unfortunately, no. His letter was very brief."
Listening closely, a young woman is present, scribbling away into a small book, muttering under her breath. Of reasonable attractiveness, she wears a sturdy, if simple, skirt, with a well-worn shirt, to which are attached number of rolled up papers and writing implements. A golden headband with blue and purple gems rests on her head, while a small, dull reddish rock with visible cracks orbits. A small pouch and a dagger are attached to her belt, though the dagger appears to have not been used in quite some time. A red cloak rest loosely over her shoulders, fluttering softly in the wind, accentuating her blond hair.
As the captain finishes speaking, she snaps the book shut with an audible clap, before tossing it almost haphazardly over her shoulder into her pack. She nods, hearing the questions of her compatriots, before speaking. "I'm Tara Firma, pleased to meet y'all." she says, softly speaking with a Southern Andoren accent, before turning to Captain Dreng. "You mentioned 'upsetting the balance of power' in Kaer Maga, implying multiple factions striving for, if not control of the city, at least influence. Anything we should know of said factions, who are they, who to avoid, who will leave alone? That sort of thing." As she speaks, she pulls a different book effortlessly out of her pack, and prepares to take notes.
Finally, Dreng turns to Tara and says somewhat enigmatically, "Yes! Keep your head down and be smart. The balance of power in that city is fragile—upset it and you’re likely to die. Don’t go stomping about the place like it was a pharaoh’s tomb. Be cautious, be careful, and be courteous—even if the locals make fun of you for doing so. Oh, and the locals are likely not what you expect—you’ll see when you get there.”
The shoanti speaks up, "I am Chidubem, called the Orc Lover. Exile of the Sklar Quah."
The Captain looks around, counting the agents. "Looks like we're just waiting on one more agent, and then the ship will get underway."
Standing apart from the others, rather short except when compared to the gnome, is a man of Tian-min descent, wearing a simple, relatively ragged robe that appears to be made of twine. He appears to be carrying nothing else beyond that robe except for his ragged, worn backpack. His hair is tightly tied back, ending in a short, stubby ponytail, and he bears a frown on his face. He stands with his arms folded into his robes.
Although he had been quiet previously, and seems rather calm and patient, this changes when he opens his mouth. "Shigeru - Shigeru Akamatsu. Doubtlessly you've heard of me and my skills, so a further introduction is not needed. I have just one question."
He pauses, making sure everyone is paying attention to him, before he continues. "When do we leave?"
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<< >>
From the moment the sun rose this morning and the dizzying Twisted Door opened at the bottom of the Storval Rise, you, your companions, and a handful of traveling merchants have trudged slowly up the myriad stairs, tunnels, cliffside paths, and underground ruins that make up the famous Halflight Path. On either side of you march several gruff-looking men and women wearing brown-and-gray uniforms, the right breast bearing a badge with their symbol: a golden arch on a midnight blue background. These are the Duskwardens, and it’s their duty to see you safely up the Path to Kaer Maga, hours and hours of climbing above you.
About halfway through the eight hour climb up to the city, an enormous chunk of the well constructed brickwork masonry on the west side of the passage collapses! From behind it boil dozens of yowling, barking, and yipping creatures carrying swords and snarling viciously—goblins! The chaos is instantaneous as merchants and citizens scream and the Duskwardens spring into action, their leaders shouting orders. Just as the Pathfinders think to act, another chunk of masonry, this time from the ceiling, collapses and cuts them off from the rest of the traveling group. They find themselves in a small passageway, cut off and under siege.
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Initiative:
Party 25
Goblin Warriors 13
Goblin Shaman 10
Chidubem reacts instantly, shouting "Cut a path clear to the Duskwardens, the shaman's mine!" He charges across the narrow gap between he and the weasel, swinging his mighty hammer down onto it. He completely smashes the small rodent into a smear of bloody pulp.
Not slowing down, he thrusts his klar to the side at the goblin warrior there. He knocks aside the tiny creature's attempt to parry with it's shield, stabbing through its chain armor into its torso. Twisting his shield arm to the left, Chidubem forces an even larger opening in the goblin's defense before bringing his earth breaker back around in a one handed swing that impacts with the side of the goblin's face, crushing his jaw, cheekbone and eyesocket. The little warrior is tougher than he looks though, and remains standing.
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Surprised by the attack, Shigeru quickly regains his posture when he sees what the group are up against. "Goblins, huh?" He grins, adjusting the sleeves of robe, and opens his hand into an outstretched palm.
Uttering a word of magic and drawing from his inner reservoir of arcane energy, five bolts of energy burst from his hand, one for each finger. Each bolt selects a different target - one for each Goblin. The weasel is not considered enough of a threat to even make a blip on Shigeru's radar. Each bolt streaks towards the goblins and strikes them in the chest, the force of the blast knocking each on their rumps.
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Seeing the creatures leap out, Tara calls out "Goblins!", entirely too late. After watching Chidubem charge towards the goblins eastwards, she refocuses her attention to the three prone near her. A gaping pit opens up from around them, and all three tumble in, audible thumps and cracks of bone coming from the bottom. Turning around and stepping over, she draws forth a rolled up piece of parchment.
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Iriel shouts "Goblins!" pointing at the ones behind the bulk of the group. Even as she does so, she lifts her arm and addresses her hawk. "Fion, maeth!"
Fion launches off her shoulder, flying over Chibudem and the goblin warrior and then arcing around to flank the warrior with Chibudem.
Iriel then chants a spell and points at the shaman, ignoring what she assumes is Chibudem's hopes for glory. She is more interested in damaging the shaman before he has time to cast, and the "orc lover" has entangled himself with the warrior, so she knows unless she does not act now, it definitely will get a chance to do so.
A ball of flame appears and begins growing in the space where the goblin shaman stands, growing until the whole area around the shaman is engulfed in flame.
Unfortunately for Iriel, the shaman dances about, somehow managing to avoid the flame all around him--perhaps this is something he has dealt with before. He is still standing in the middle of a fire, and Iriel can only hope that is distracting at best.
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"Maeth!" Iriel shouts again, but as Fion the hawk considers clawing at the goblin's face, it is distracted by the sight of the smashed weasel on the floor, which looks tantalizing enough to the bird to make it pause. It does not move, however, so it continues to flank with Chibudem.
With a brief gesture, the flaming sphere rolls about, trying to catch the shaman in its flame, leaving its space and reentering once again.
And just in case that doesn't work, Iriel then draws her bow and nocks an arrow with a fluid motion and shoots at the shaman as well (seeing the rest of the party has the other attackers well covered).
Somehow, the shaman continues to avoid the flames, but his ability to avoid the arrow is less successful.
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Zarboluket practically slides across the floor, stopping in the sloping space that drops into the magical pit. Sliding out his short sword, the gnome stabs at the middle goblin, but fails to pierce the tightly woven links.
Chidubem reacts instantly, shouting "Cut a path clear to the Duskwardens, the shaman's mine!" He charges across the narrow gap between he and the weasel, swinging his mighty hammer down onto it. He completely smashes the small rodent into a smear of bloody pulp.
Iriel shouts "Goblins!" pointing at the ones behind the bulk of the group. Even as she does so, she lifts her arm and addresses her hawk. "Fion, maeth!" Fion launches off her shoulder, flying over Chibudem and the goblin warrior and then arcing around to flank the warrior with Chibudem.
Iriel then chants a spell and points at the shaman, ignoring what she assumes is Chibudem's hopes for glory. She is more interested in damaging the shaman before he has time to cast, and the "orc lover" has entangled himself with the warrior, so she knows unless she does not act now, it definitely will get a chance to do so.
A ball of flame appears and begins growing in the space where the goblin shaman stands, growing until the whole area around the shaman is engulfed in flame. Unfortunately for Iriel, the shaman dances about, somehow managing to avoid the flame all around him--perhaps this is something he has dealt with before. He is still standing in the middle of a fire, and Iriel can only hope that is distracting at best.
The goblin warriors move up to surround Tara, while the one next to Chidubem tries to stab him. The goblin thrusts his shortsword through the upper meaty party of the raging Shoanti's thigh, leaving a minor wound.
The shaman enraged at the death of his familiar, casts a spell over the Pathfinders. However he underestimates their tenacity and the spell has no effect.
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Not slowing down, Chidubem thrusts his klar to the side at the goblin warrior there. He knocks aside the tiny creature's attempt to parry with it's shield, stabbing through its chain armor into its torso. Twisting his shield arm to the left, Chidubem forces an even larger opening in the goblin's defense before bringing his earth breaker back around in a one handed swing that impacts with the side of the goblin's face, crushing his jaw, cheekbone and eyesocket. The little warrior is tougher than he looks though, and remains standing.
Surprised by the attack, Shigeru quickly regains his posture when he sees what the group are up against. "Goblins, huh?" He grins, adjusting the sleeves of robe, and opens his hand into an outstretched palm. "Feel my wrath, whelps!"
Uttering a word of magic and drawing from his inner reservoir of arcane energy, five bolts of energy burst from his hand, one for each finger. Each bolt selects a different target - one for each Goblin. The weasel is not considered enough of a threat to even make a blip on Shigeru's radar. Each bolt streaks towards the goblins and strikes them in the chest, the force of the blast knocking each on their rumps.
Seeing the creatures leap out, Tara calls out "Goblins!", entirely too late. After watching Chidubem charge towards the goblins eastwards, she refocuses her attention to the three prone near her. A gaping pit opens up from around them, and all three tumble in, audible thumps and cracks of bone coming from the bottom. Turning around and stepping over, she draws forth a rolled up piece of parchment.
"Maeth!" Iriel shouts again, but as Fion the hawk considers clawing at the goblin's face, it is distracted by the sight of the smashed weasel on the floor, which looks tantalizing enough to the bird to make it pause. It does not move, however, so it continues to flank with Chibudem.
With a brief gesture, the flaming sphere rolls about, trying to catch the shaman in its flame, leaving its space and reentering once again.
And just in case that doesn't work, Iriel then draws her bow and nocks an arrow with a fluid motion and shoots at the shaman as well (seeing the rest of the party has the other attackers well covered).
Somehow, the shaman continues to avoid the flames, but his ability to avoid the arrow is less successful. Between the magic missile and the arrow, the shaman looks to be near death.
Zarboluket moves to attack the remaining available warrior with Chidubem, but his blow is deflected by the goblin's shield.
The goblins all scramble to their feet. Chidubem and Zarboluket are unable to hit their nimble foe. The wounded goblin screeches as it stabs the raging Shoanti again. The shaman scrambles to his feet and away from the fire, out of sight behind the pillar to the south.
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"Hmph" Shigeru grunts as he sees the enemies are all but dead already, and decides not to waste his scroll after all. Instead, he moves around the 'front lines' and aims another spell at the shaman. A ray of frost erupts forth from his outstretched hand, only to end up missing the shaman.
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Iriel directs her hawk to attack again.
She then points behind the pillar, directing the flaming sphere to follow the shaman.
As the other goblins are obscured in the pit and the shaman in cover by the pillar and thus not easy targets with a bow, Iriel steps forward and shoots at the only remaining easy target, the goblin warrior.
Zarboluket spins and pivots, practically dancing the few steps to the side in order open up the goblin to easier ranged attacks from his companions.
”Well done!” the gnome admits with a grin. ”You blocked that, but can you block this?” he laughs as he thrusts at the goblin.
Seeing the rest of the party focusing on the shaman, Tara drops the scroll she had drawn, instead pulling out a loaded crossbow from another pocket in her pack. She sidles over the the edge of the pit, looks down at the goblins, and fires a bolt, the shot landing nowhere near any of them.
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Chidubem attempts to finish of the harried warrior, slashing at it with his klar and swinging his hammer at it. Somehow, miraculously the little goblin manages to deflect both blows from the raging warrior with its rapidly splintering shield.
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"Hmph" Shigeru grunts as he sees the enemies are all but dead already, and decides not to waste his scroll after all. Instead, he moves around the 'front lines' and aims another spell at the shaman. A ray of frost erupts forth from his outstretched hand, only to end up striking the pillar it is hiding behind.
Iriel directs her hawk to attack again. Fion tears into the warrior's neck, ripping out a bundle of muslces and tendons. The little green bugger screams in pain and fury. As the other goblins are obscured in the pit, and the shaman in cover by the pillar and thus not easy targets with a bow, Iriel walks forward and shoots at the only remaining easy target, the goblin warrior. Her arrow pierces its breast, leaving it wobbling feebly on its feet.
Zarboluket spins and pivots, practically dancing the few steps to the side in order open up the goblin to easier ranged attacks from his companions. ”Well done!” the gnome admits with a grin. ”You blocked that, but can you block this?” he laughs as he thrusts at the goblin. The goblin hisses and blocks the gnome's blow, spitting at its hated racial enemy.
Seeing the rest of the party focusing on the shaman, Tara drops the scroll she had drawn, instead pulling out a loaded crossbow from another pocket in her pack. She sidles over the the edge of the pit, looks down at the goblins, and fires a bolt, the shot landing nowhere near any of them. Tara's footing is secure, and she manages to avoid falling into her own pit.
Chidubem attempts to finish of the harried warrior, slashing at it with his klar and swinging his hammer at it. Somehow, miraculously the little goblin manages to deflect both blows from the raging warrior with its rapidly splintering shield.
The wounded goblin warrior steps away from the barbarian and out of being surrounded before slashing at the evil hawk with its shortsword. "Die featherf+$#!" it screams in its high pitched voice. Fion easily dips out of the way, hovering skillfully in place.
The goblin shaman is near death, and flees. It runs down into the passageway that looks like it leads over to Tara's pit, and out of sight of Iriel and Shigeru.
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"Woah, ahh!" Tara cries, not expecting the slope to angle as much as it did. Barely catching her balance, she quickly loads and fires another bolt, this time at the most injured-looking one. This shot fly much more accurately, piercing the shoulder of one of the goblin. Um, a little help here? They'll only stay down for so long." she calls out to her fellow pathfinders, before stepping away from the edge.
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Chidubem steps after the goblin warrior. He tries to swat the resilient little fellow into the floor, growling like a wild animal. The goblin deflects Chidubem's huge war hammer with the remaining splinters of his shield, but the blow's momentum lifts him off his feet. The barbarian smiles and jams the blade of the klar through the little goblin's chest. The creature screams once and goes limp, sliding off onto the floor into a rapidly expanding puddle of its own lifeblood.
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”Well you made that look easy,” Zarboluket says to the Shoanti warrior. He turns, draws his dagger while moving next to Tara.
”Wait, I need to make my point,” he calls after the shaman as he hurls the dagger at the creature’s back. It hits but is more annoying that harmful.
Iriel leaves the flaming sphere where it is for the moment, a burning warning to the shaman, should he decide to run back in that direction.
Iriel moves between the pit and pillars. Tapping into the forces of nature which have served her well before, she heightens her senses and looks for where the shaman is hiding.
"Woah, ahh!" Tara cries, not expecting the slope to angle as much as it did. Barely catching her balance, she quickly loads and fires another bolt, this time at the most injured-looking one. This shot fly much more accurately, piercing the shoulder of the goblin. "Um, a little help here? They'll only stay down for so long," she calls out to her fellow Pathfinders, before stepping away from the edge.
Chidubem steps after the goblin warrior. He tries to swat the resilient little fellow into the floor, growling like a wild animal. The goblin deflects Chidubem's huge war hammer with the remaining splinters of his shield, but the blow's momentum lifts him off his feet. The barbarian smiles and jams the blade of the klar through the little goblin's chest. The creature screams once and goes limp, sliding off onto the floor into a rapidly expanding puddle of its own lifeblood.
”Well you made that look easy,” Zarboluket says to the Shoanti warrior. He turns, draws his dagger while moving next to the flaming sphere. ”Wait, I need to make my point,” he calls after the shaman as he hurls the dagger at the creature’s back. Due to the column in the way, the dagger strikes only stone before clattering to the cavern's floor.
Iriel leaves the flaming sphere where it is for the moment, a burning warning to the shaman, should he decide to run back in that direction. Iriel moves between the pit and pillars. Tapping into the forces of nature which have served her well before, she heightens her senses and looks for where the shaman is hiding. She can't see him yet, but he's scrambling her way based on what she can hear.
Shigeru calls out, "I'll cover this end of the passage Iriel, we've got him trapped!" while running down to block off the shaman's possible escape route. He raises a finger and with a few short words sends a ray of frost shooting towards the shaman. The ray strikes the shaman right in the eye, freezing his eyeball and optic nerve which crack open and fall out of its face. A large piece of its brain and a torrent of blood follow shortly. "Oh wait, I killed it," Shigeru calls out belatedly.
The goblins in the pit wail in frustration and pain, hiding under their shields.
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Zarboluket reclaims his dagger, scrunching his face in annoyance at the goblins’ wails. He wipes the sweat from his face with a lace handkerchief and adjusts his jewelry and hat that slightly became askew during the fight.
”What should we do to them? Question them and release to spread warnings about further attacks in the tunnel? I don’t want to kill anyone in cold blood.”