“Anything with the word troll in it can’t be good,” Trianne said, quirking an eye at Jarrek’s excitement. Then she turned Kira’s way and added, “You all but bleed alchemist’s fire, I hope?”
Trianne blew a few stray strands of hair from one eye and mulled how unprepared for the likes of a troll she was. Still, she knew it would be nice to sample some of their regnerative blood if she could.
"If you aim true, only the troll will bleed alchemist's fire," Svarog rumbled. A joke? His expression belied it.
"Ha! That's the spirit, Svarog! We'll cut the thing's limbs off and watch them dance!"
Kira gives a short laugh, "If I bled alchemist's fire I imagine I'd have a much harder time paying my rent. Don't worry, my pyromania is still alive and well."
Svarog motioned for the others to keep their distance for the moment, and crept to the door the tracks led to. Easing it open, he took a quick peek to see if any threat was visible within.
+2 vs orcs
Jarrek knows that flood trolls only regenerate in running water. On hearing what sort of creature it is, Trianne recalls that although they are native to Belkzen they seldom make it this far south of the Flood Road. This jogs the memories of those party members who have met Katrezra--according to him, Rodrik had also encountered a flood troll at the Plague House.
"Flood trolls are only magic in running water. As long as we don't drop it in a river it won't be coming back once we chop its head off." Jarrek laughs. "But don't let that stop you from setting it on fire or blowing it up!"
“Then it will be inclined to flee toward water,” Trianne said. “If it has any sense at all. Keep that in mind.”
“Be careful,” she called after Svarog as he moved off. Redundant perhaps, but her maternal instincts ran deep.
As she watched, she stretched her hands and flexed her fingers in anticipation of bringing her power to bear. Plucking strands of the weave from the carousel of energy which spun in her mind was a delicate art that required a great deal of focus. Plus, she hadn’t been in the thick of battle for some time, and her heart raced a bit at the promise of danger.
She moved as quietly as she could just enough to keep Svarog in her field of vision.
Haftor was getting the feeling that he might be satisfying his itchy trigger finger soon. He takes a moment to load his crossbow and hold it at the ready.
The door Svarog opens leads down the stairs where you killed the rats. Svarog sees nothing (it's quite dark), but hears faint movement further inside and down the stairs.
Svarog scowled. Looking back, he decided that the eyes of the half-orc might be as useful as those of the dwarf, and potentially less noisy. Standing aside, he pointed at Jarrek and motioned him closer, prepared to launch an attack on anything that looked at them funny out of the darkness.
The bard can see no sign of movement down the stairs. Descending cautiously, he likewise observes no movement in the chamber at the bottom of the stairs where the party found the statue with the masterwork longsword.
When Jarrek relayed this information back, Svarog grunted. Caution was good and well, but if they could contain the monsters within the Plague House, they would capture them and have their answers. He was sure of it.
He waved for the others to approach, and followed Jarrek into the darkness. There were times, he reflected, that he wished he could have learned dwarf-sight along with dwarf custom.
He stalked forward, eagerly awaiting the moment when caution could be thrown to the wind.
Trianne closed the distance to the Plague House on light feet. She smirked unpleasantly at the inky shadows awaiting them. As the others proceeded down into the darkness, she nodded at Kira to go ahead of her.
Bringing up the rear, Trianne brought her magical torch out but did her best to keep its light to a meager spill.
Svarog continues to hear stirring from further into the basement up until Jarrek reaches the bottom of the stairs. At that point all sound stops.
Svarog tugged at Jarrek's shoulder, then nodded his head down the basement. "Too quiet," he mouthed.
An abrupt halt. Whispered words. The tension swept back across the ranks in the silence.
Trianne cupped the torch against her utterly, burying as much of the light as she could. Her other hand rose in front of her, and her fingers curled instinctively into the first position taught within many schools of magic. As her heart hammered, she shifted slowly to one side of the hallway and turned a bit to reduce her profile.
Jarrek nodded back at Svarog and gestured at the wall, indicating without words that he was going to stick to one side of the chamber rather than walk brazenly right down the middle. With his oversized sword out in front and Svarog's hand on his shoulder, Jarrek hugged the right wall and proceeded further into the room.
Happy to be moving underground, Haftor helps to guide Svarog along through the passage, with subtle elbow nudges in one direction or the other.
He keeps his crossbow at the ready, pointed down for safety.
Jarrek, your recollection is that the righthand passage leads eventually to a hall that previously was filled with traps, which the party tripped. Slipping along the wall, he glances down the formerly-trapped hall and sees that the bear traps are still on the floor. There is no sign of motion in the meditation chamber past the traps.
The party hears a door close from inside the meditation chamber.
Haftor is concerned that they might get flanked from the left-hand corridor. He takes up a position in the intersection, keeping an eye out in that direction. The two big guys can handle whatever is in the meditation chamber, at least for a few rounds.
Jarrek moves up to the door of the meditation room and takes up a flanking position with Svarog. Once the barbarian is in place, the big half-orc tries to open the door.
Kira holds her crossbow at the ready, waiting for her chance to take a shot as soon as the doors are open at anything hostile on the other side.
As the forward contingent moved down the hall, Trianne slipped by Kira and Haftor on quick, quiet feet and took up position just beyond the sentinel dwarf. She didn’t know these men that well yet, but she knew enough of tactics to cover one of their flanks. Haftor would alert them if the need arose on the main front.
She kept her magical torch dim until more was called for and focused her attention on the hallway ahead of her, just making out a doorway at the limits of her vision.
Jarrek nods at Svarog and heads down the passageway to the meditation room.
Svarog follows Jarrek, stepping softly but quickly, ready to charge forward.
Jarrek and Svarog move quietly into the meditation chamber. It's immediately apparent that the place has been ransacked still further, and it's also plain that other than that the room is empty. There are three doors and a portcullis that exit from the room, but Svarog had been able to see the door on the west wall when he heard the sound from the room. You forced open the portcullis when you came through earlier, and it hasn't been closed again.
Jarrek gestured to the hallway to the north and the door at the end.
Svarog gave a suspicious look to the door to the west, but nodded and followed Jarrek's lead. He strained to hear any noise that might give their chosen prey away.
+2 orcs
No word, little sound. Just a faint shuffling in the dark. Trianne didn’t care for the skulking. She understood it. She just didn’t like it. Moving slowly and all but on tip-toe, she advanced into the meditation chamber, still keeping her light well hooded.
She was a dim outline, casting only a faint glow as beacon for both halves of the group. Withdrawing into a narrow corner, she waited and listened.
Svarog listens carefully, but can't pick out any noise through the closed doors.
Svarog nodded to Jarrek. Time to bust in!
Jarrek throws the door open and sidesteps to allow Svarog to charge in. The ranger leaps into the room, bringing his sword up against any foe that might be present in the cramped confines...but finding no target. The room is empty.
Svarog grunted his disgust, and turned to motion Jarrek to open the next door.
Jarrek nods back at Svarog and sets up to one side of the door. Once Svarog indicates his readiness he throws open the next door!
As the frontline duo came back toward Trianne, she hummed two notes in low succession, barely loud enough to hear. She smirked at herself for the engrained habits. The last bunch she had delved with had used the notes as identifiers while moving in darkness.
She shifted her weight and maintained her vigil between the two access points being explored. Keeping the energies she commanded on the tip of her tongue was challenging, but her training had been rigorous and unforgiving. Now she was reaping the benefits of those trying times.
The half-orc throws open the door next to him, just in time to see a pair of booted feet vanish from sight through a ragged opening in the ceiling. Jarrek recalls that there's a place in the great hall above where the floor had mostly collapsed, and figures that this must be where it opens to.