Lasso the new corpse dude with some rope;
oh, just remembered my portable hole. We can dump them in there.
Note to self: buy some lime.
Seeing the kalashtar's hesitation about descending into the dark, Bugbear-Gil says, "Nevharath, stay near," and casts Dancing Lights. She has them hover alongside her once she is down the ladder, but she will send them into side passages that bear investigating.
When Rodergo starts fiddling with rope Ezreal snarls, "We don't have time for that! Every minute spent here gives 'Croke' that much more of a lead on us. If we come up dry you can return to fishing for sewer corpses!"
Rod kinda thinks for a second;
"effit. You're right.
I need to get in a hurry here."
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Nevharath descends with the party and hurries down the tunnel at their pace.
The sewer runs for several hundred yards. The sewer makes a sharp bend and, where it does, in the side wall is sunk a metal door, streaked with rust and filth.
The door is not locked, and it opens easily - its hinges and lock have been maintained. There is a short brick-lined corridor which breaks into a new chamber. The architecture here is entirely different - large blocks of carefully-worked stone and hexagonal flagstones, many cracked, on the floor. The roof is supported by arches and pillars carved to resemble armoured warriors. To one side, stairs up are blocked with massive slabs of fallen masonry. To the other, they descend downwards unimpeded. The atmosphere is dry and silent.
"I gather those damp footprints are the ones we seek. Our lights will give away our presence, but I can silence something and Janosz can carry it to block sound from our movement reaching those ahead." Seeing the Shadow Marcher's scowl, she adds, "Or someone near the front, at any rate."
"Save your spells. Why don't y'all hang around here for a few minutes and admire the architecture, have a smoke, that sorta thing? Meanwhile, I'll scout ahead. I can be a bit quiet when needed, and I can operate in total darkness. I'll be back in five minutes." Janosz hefts his warhammer and tiptoes quietly down the stairwell, hugging the right wall.
Runzyl takes a step to follow the Marcher, but then nods in silence and remains where he stands knowing that the Gatekeeper's darkvision would allow him to go without light.
The rest of the party stay in the room as Janosz steals away in the dark.
It takes a while, and Janosz wonders if they will ever stop, but eventually the stairs open out into a large, low-ceilinged chamber. His night vision cannot penetrate far but he can see a forest of pillars, carved from the living rock in vaguely organic shapes and sprouting randomly from floor to ceiling, disappearing into the dark. The roof is little more than six feet above, and the floor is crudely carved, naked rock. Somewhere he can hear distant voices – a crowd, shouting or chanting, but sounding no louder than a whisper – but with the strange acoustics here it is impossible to tell their how far away they might be. And Janosz can smell death. Not the smell of old death, of decay, dust and tombs. But recent death – fresh blood and opened bowels.
He edges forward, against his better judgement. His foot squelches on something. It is barely recognisable, but he realises it is half a human hand, with thumb and two fingers, lying severed on the floor. As he looks, there are more pieces, scattered widely – piles of shredded meat, fragments of bone, blood-spatters and torn cloth, none larger than the chunk he just trod on.
"Good luck, Janosz,....." Rodergo stands in thought as the ranger goes sneaky.
Cataloguing his buffs.
After a while, Janosz comes creeping back. He looks a little ill.
"Ah, so... I think I found Croke and his buddy. If Croke went along on the original attempt to kill Jeeboo, that is. Or he's not the guy floating in the sewer back there. It was kinda hard to tell - everything was in little pieces, y'know, a finger here, an ear there..."
"Uh, so... There's enough..., ah, meat down there for about two adults. There are a gazillion bloody child-sized footprints through the mess. Could be goblins, halflings, feral kids, though my guess is dolgrims. Looking at the state of the bloody scraps, the little fellas have cleavers and a bad attitude, and there are lots and lots of them."
"The tunnel goes on and on, before opening into a big natural cave. It's full of pillars and the ceiling's really low, maybe six feet. It's darker than Gelb's soul on there, and there's some chanting going on somewhere - the acoustics are all f~#$ed up. We'll get swarmed once we get there. This'll get rough."
He gives his new warhammer a trial swing, smiling grimly. "Let's go kill some aberrant m~@#@&+!*@@#s. We just don't want to go in cold. It's a fair walk, so hold the prep for a bit. Wanna get going?"
"Shall we buff first, or wait a bit?"
Looks at Rolund;
"I think you had an idea about that."
"Sounds like we wait little while. What buffs will be best, Janosz? Stealth? Speed? Strength?"
"Individually, the little freaks aren't all that scary. A hundred of 'em will give anyone white hairs. We do not want to get bogged down in a slugfest where they can whittle us down by trading blows. Speed and strength is the way to go - hit them fast, drop them dead and then keep on cutting. Who has the dolgrim-killing knife? It'll come in most handy soon."
"The alternative explanation for the carnage down below could be that the two idiots got hit by a powerful flesh-rending spell. I think that all the bloody footprints would indicate otherwise. Still, we should be aware of the possibility that there might be an accomplished witchdoctor among the enemy."
"This is distressing; I think we can handle it, though."
"I can cut a wide arc at one time if i end up getting surrounded. As long as they can't sustain a ton of wounds before going down, I should be ok. It would be best to put our strongest at the front, I think... But I will defer to your expertise with these creatures if you suggest otherwise."
Gil pulls the dagger that they found at the investigator's office. "Is this the dolgrim-killing knife? Do you want someone else to carry it?"
"It is beautiful, isn't it?" Janosz gets a dreamy look in his eyes as he contemplates the knife. "Ah, but it should be held by someone who will use it. The Children of the Dragon Below can be hard to hurt with mundane weapons."
"aye,...."
"I would do my best, but I'm far from the most skilled with blades. I would gladly offer it to someone with more talent. That said, I could use all the help I can get..."
"I have weapons of my own that I would prefer to use."
"What would those be, friend?"
"With Falla Caesenri almost fully awakened, I do not believe I will have difficulty with the Dragon Below. I do not require the dagger," the elf states coolly, moving into position to follow Janosz's lead.
woah. It's a pbp extravaganza tonite!!!
Janosz looks a bit dubious at Runzyl's non-byeshk sword, not to mention the empty-handed kalashtar. "Riiiiiiight. Just be ready when the swarm hits us. The ceiling's too low for missile fire, so at least we won't have to worry about that. Ez, Rod - we'll need light. Have some illuminating spells ready to go when we get to the bottom of the stairs."
"Then I will keep the dagger. And I'll have light, too - just tell me where you want me to put it."
"I have.....minor invocations for light...."
i.e. cantrip/orisons.....
"What would those be, friend?"
"I can create personal weapons with my mind. I typically fight with a greatsword, a flail, or a bardiche, depending on the situation."
Rolund turns to the spellcasters and says, “Douse your lights. The torch should provide more than adequate light until we get closer.”
“Master Frogshanks, you’ll have to tell us when we’ve gotten close enough to prepare ourselves without our light and magics giving us away to the enemy. Valenar do not be so quick to enter the fray until I’ve blessed you as before.”
“Once we’ve done our preparations, it’s going to be up to you three,” Rolund points at the changeling, Farlowe, and the Purified, “to light the cavern as long as possible for the rest of us. I’ll throw my torch into the fray for good measure.”
“Then we attack. Keep to a wedge formation and protect each other’s back. We don’t want to get swarmed. The Valenar will be our point and I’ll cover his left side. Master Frogshanks can cover his right while the Purified can cover the Shadow Marcher.”
“Kalashtar, you’ll be covering my side.” The bone knight looks at him dubiously.
“The rest of you will be inside our wedge protected and prepared to use your spells as needed. Do we have agreement?”
"It's a good plan. Stick relatively close to a wall so we don't get outflanked. And, most importantly, stick together. Anyone who hares off once they see an enemy will get swamped and dragged down."
"I'm on the lookout for the beefiest target of the daelkyr type. If I can cast my highest divinity, I can touch one and perhaps send him away.
This won't be for the swarming midges, though."
Runzyl nods to the collective battle plan. "My knowledge of these creatures is very limited. Janosz, I will engage whichever target you decide is the greatest threat. Lead on," the elf raises his weapon slightly.
Blessing of fervor, bull's strength coming right up when it's necessary.
Call the shot, man.
"In that case, let's go. I'll lead; for light, Rolund's torch will have to suffice until we get to the bottom. Watch your step; the floor gets uneven in places. We'll be walking for about ten minutes. Think about it - all this, about twenty minutes easy walking away from home."
"As for dolgrims, they are dumb and ugly. However, they also have four arms and are surprisingly ferocious; they might look like profoundly f%*~ed-up goblins, but should be taken seriously. Dolgaunts are bigger, smarter and quicker; if in doubt, go for the bigger opponent."
"Which side do you want me on, Sir Rolund... left or right?"
"Huh. Nice sword."
The group head down the stairs. They are rough and turn this way and that, and the descent takes some time.
Eventually they emerge in the chamber at the bottom. It is as described by Janosz, with its low, 6' ceiling and the forest of smooth, organic-shaped pillars randomly sprouting from the floor. The whole chamber has been shaped by carving it from the living rock, but with little regard for ordinary aethetics or comfort.
The remains are where Janosz found them, the shredded chunks and slicks of blood cooling in the dry air. The sounds of the distant congregation whisper in the dark.