Beldraim thinks for a moment, then the idea comes to her. She snaps her fingers and says, "I'll use one of my knacks to increase your defenses for anyone that wants to run in there."
She readies herself to use her magic on anyone that walks by to get into melee.
Vibenia lines up her shot and utters a graphic cure as her crossbow misfires.
Khardir keeps his shield up and moves closer to the front.
Nighttail move behind the group, stopping to check her fallen tribemates for signs of life.
Another slung stone flies harmlessly past Bernard, as one of the kobolds fumbles uselessly with its unwieldy weapon. However, its companion manages to take Bernard's feet from under him, more through sheer luck than anything—there is little strength behind the attempt, but its target is on precarious footing. As he stumbles, the rubble below Bernard starts to slide into the pool, sending him careening over the edge. The kobolds let out a cry of victory as the guardsman falls into the water, sending a torrent of water splashing over the edges of the pool. The turtles quickly swarm him, their jaws snapping eagerly...
Pressing against the wall and sliding past the taller humans and the bulky dwarf. Tossing a bomb to the left and looking down the hole, "Damn it!"
The loud splash of Bernard hitting the water, distracts Vibenia, throwing her aim way off.
Bernard lets out a curse that turns into a roar of anger and surprise as he crashes down into the pool, nearly dropping his greatsword as he does so, then all around him explodes into bubbles and splashing, rank water.
Spluttering, he gets his legs under him and struggles to rise, whipping his blade around as he strives to keep the turtles back. When he spies one, he lets out a sharp bark and chops the sword down into the water, looking to shatter its shell.
Bel taps Khardir on the shoulder and a primal, swirling energy envelops Khardir. A deep growl can be heard from very far away as the shimmering veil of protection follows the dwarf.
While Vibenia's shot goes wide, Nisany's bomb finds its target: the kobold to her right is immolated, crumbling into its corner with a piteous shriek. One of the turtles is also splattered with liquid fire, singing its shell. Warded by Beldraim's magic, Khardir moves forward to shield the gnome, engaging the kobold to her left, which switches to a short spear. They exchange blows, neither of them managing to hurt the other. The kobold on the opposite side of the pool slings a stone at Nisany, but is far too shaken by the fiery display to hit her. It then takes cover behind a corner.
Meanwhile, Bernard slams his greatsword into one of the turtles, splintering its carapace. Further agitated by the sudden violence around them, the panicked animals clamp their jaws on the guardsman's armour—not quite hard enough to penetrate the chain, though its links bend and snap at places.
With a roar, Bernard lays about him some more, targeting another turtle.
Crowded into the tight space, Khardir does his best to swing his hammer, though the lack of room for overhead strikes blunts his ability to make useful blows.
Clearing the jammed bolt, Vibenia calms her breathing, firing her next shot over Khadir's shoulder into his opponent.
Beldraim delays until the kobold guardians at the entrance are gone so she can safely move in. Otherwise, she will wait for the creature to be slain.
Looking down and jumping next to Bernard. Holding a small vial in a raised hand, "Take it."
Kicking at the water and lashing out at the turtle in reach.
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Having finished attending to her unconscious kin, Nighttail rides up behind Beldraim and peeks tentatively behind the corner. Hak pads back and forth on its powerful legs, full of nervous energy.
Bernard's roar echoes off the cavern walls as he cuts through the singed turtle, almost cleaving it in twain. Unfortunately for Nisany, her dagger is not quite as effective, glancing off the remaining turtle's shell. This causes it to turn its jaws on her instead, clamping down on her forearm and sending her reeling through the water – unlike with the guardsman, the gnome's feet do not quite reach the bottom of the pool.
Meanwhile, Khardir exchanges more blows with the eastern kobold. The dwarf raises his shield to block his opponent, lowering it a moment later only to find it lying dying on the ground, shot through the chest by Vibenia.
At this point, the last remaining kobold seems to lose its will to fight, throwing its spear at Bernard before slinking off into the western tunnel. Finding its mark, the projectile partially pierces his protective layers of chain and leather, sinking shallowly into his side.
Khardir stomps around and into the water to try to smash the turtle's shell with his hammer, too, though his stubby legs are too short to get him into a flanking position with Bernard.
"Oh no you don't you bastard!" Vibenia growls, firing on the turtle as it drags Nisany down.
"Gah!" bellows Bernard as the spear sinks into his side, hunching over even as he tears the cork off Nisany's potion and quaffs its contents, spilling some of it down his chin in the frack and fray of the choppy water.
That done, he tosses the potion aside, grips his blade with both hands, watches the foaming water and slashing waves for the right chance, then lunges up onto his tiptoes to drive the tip of his blade piercing down into the turtle's shell in an attempt to skewer it.
Bel runs up behind Bernard and taps him with the wand of healing.
"One more left and we can rest a moment!"
Khardir and Vibenia's attacks glance right off the turtle's shell, its many assailants driving it back into the corner of the pool.
Bernard stabs his blade through the hard carapace, lodging it deep into layers of dermal bone and gristle—he has to push it off the blade with his boot. By the time he is done, the animal has stopped twitching. Now completely drenched in blood and stagnant water, the guardsman is able to help Nisany to the shore.
Right after the battle is over, Nighttail lurks up behind Beldraim. She looks around at the carnage with some uncertainty, hopping off Hak's back and busying herself with tending to her fellow kobolds—those that have not been mangled beyond hope, at the very least. She tries her best, but she is obviously not a trained healer.
As she works, the kobold points out each of the hallways, going from east to west:
"Tunnel behind the gate leads to the armoury. Might've something human-sized in there, but most of it's for kobolds. Middle tunnel goes to where Bloodvows keep hatchlings and pale-scales, but they must've gone down already—if they hadn't, they'd be here tending to the animals. There's also more rats there, bigger ones bred for fighting. Drosk's the one that got away. Nightail bets he runs off to warn others at the checkpoint, through western tunnel. Not much thattaway, unless they's put in new traps... might be, but Nighttail doesn't know for sure. Both ways leads to the checkpoint, so you can goes through either."
Peeking into the hallways reveals little: the eastern tunnel is blocked by a locked gate of rickety wood, whereas the western tunnel hooks around to the south. However, the middle passageway opens right into another, smaller cavern. There is a single small palet heaped with furs sitting against the south wall. An aged kobold, its green scales dull and its eyes shut tight, lies on the palette. Its breathing is ragged, a barely noticeable wheeze escaping between its snaggled teeth.
Beldraim listens and then sweeps her hand across the three tunnel entrances. "I suggest we head for the armory to see what we can find. Then we should head for the checkpoint, the western tunnel and avoid the larger rats."
With the battle ended, Khardir stows his hammer and leans over to help Bernard clamber out of the pool of now-bloody water.
"Mind your head," says the dwarf.
He scans the rest of the room, his eyes piercing the darkness, and says, "What about the oldster in the cave down the middle? Leave 'im to sleep?"
"If they aren't a threat, there's no point to engaging." Vibenia says grimly, trying to curtail her instinct to eliminate the entire kobold den.
As Khardir speaks, the venerable kobold's eyelids flutter open to reveal milky, blind orbs—it is as if it had heard itself mentioned. It reaches its claws towards the dwarf's voice, hand shaking with the weakness of age. He can see it is grasping something in its other, clutching it against its chest.
"Water," it rasps in Taldane.
The sound of its voice, even so low a hiss, immediately causes Nighttail to tense up.
"That's Jakkol, the old priest," she whispers with reluctant reverence. "Before Churgri comes. He's already dying by the time Nighttail's bound up... didn't think he'd still be alive."
"I know of Jakkol, hunh… so he lost control of the tribe." Vibenia says looking at the old kobold. "What do you think?" she asks Bel.
Blood and water make Bernard feel sixty pounds heavier as he grasps Khardir's hand and hauls himself out of the pool. Running his hands through his hair, he leaves it spiked with gore and spend a few moments trying to figure out what to dry his face with before giving it up. He'll just have to walk around looking like a revenant for a while longer.
"Jakkol? Poor bugger. If he got kicked out of the old tribe maybe he can be of help to us? I saw we give him a drink of water, yeah?"
Happily accepting the lift out of the bloody water and trying to wipe it away only to groan, "That's not gonna come out."
Glancing up at the bloody Bernard, "You don't look good in red so avoid it please."
Shaking her head at the idea of the armory, "That's gonna take to long. I doubt anything that would change things in our favor would be there."
Nodding along with Bernard, "Mine's kinda bloody now though."
Bel bends down to the creature and hands it her waterskin. She waits for it to drink deeply, then says, "What aid can you give us moving forward? Is there anything in the armory that we could use to help us? Any new traps or tricks the new leader has installed?"
Jakkol drinks deep, coughing out half of what he swallows. Too weak to even wipe his own snout, the excess water dribbles down his face as he slakes his thirst from Beldraim's waterskin. After a moment, his breathing evens out somewhat, allowing him to speak.
"Who are you to question me, human?" he hisses in a raspy voice, with none of the childlike stumbling of Nighttail and the other kobolds. "I can smell it on you, the stolen magic. Do you even know where it comes from, whose hoard you have plundered? It will be your bane, thief..."
With a scoff, Jakkol turns his blind gaze towards the rest of the group. "Yesss... I can tell by your scent that there are strangers among you, softskins from outside the village of the dragonslayer. If my nose tells the truth, you are to bring the destruction I have foretold. Good... good. We have become weak, and turned our backs on our god. I had hoped to see our ruin before journeying to the afterworld, but I will settle for listening to it. You want my aid? Fine, listen well..."
The old priest closes his eyes once more, breathing in as deep as he is able. When he opens them, he seems to have regained something of his former self, an air of religious authority that makes even the irreverent Nighttail shiver with fear. Jakkol speaks with fervour, delivering a cryptic and ominous message:
"Beware the great scaly beast. He seems to speak reason, but his words are dripping with poison. Deny him the key at your peril. And his bats, the ones he called from the darkness... they are harbingers of lunacy and chaos, but more wait beyond. Dread Lord Aeteperax will surely be your doom as he has been ours!"
As if the act of speaking out so vigorously was too much, the aged kobold bursts into another bout of coughing, violently wracking the entirety of his frail frame. He lets out one last rattle, and then slumps over dead. The expression on his face is a mixture of rapture and terror.
His bony fingers loosening their grip, Jakkol can be seen clutching a string of prayer beads in his dead hands. While they might look valuable at a glance, in truth each bead is a piece of glass or stone, polished by countless caresses into something lustrous, but ultimately without worth. A small phylactery of painted wood has been attached to the string of beads, and stuffed full of scrolls filled with wicked-looking script written in blood.
"Welp. That was a thing."
Khardir adjusts his helm, puts his hands on his hips, and scuffs his boots slightly.
"Hmm...what the hell was all that?" Vibenia mutters looking down at the old priest's corpse.
Bernard stares down nonplussed at the kobold's corpse, eyebrows raised, clearly taken aback. He glances around at his companions as if seeking some explanation from them, and when none's forthcoming he reaches back to scratch at the nape of his neck.
"Beware the great scaly beast? Sounds like common sense to me. Who wouldn't? Keys and bats... anybody make any sense out of all that? And who's this Lord Archperitrix?"
"I could've sworn I've heard 'Aeteperax' somewhere around here," says Khardir. "Can't place it, but I know it was after arriving in town."
"Well, perhaps we should move on. Bring that ruin that old Jakkol here foretold."
Despite the levity of his words, Bernard's clearly a little spooked; he has no idea what just took place, but he's certain that something eerie, perhaps even supernatural just transpired.
He hefts his blade. "On to the armory?"
Taking a deep breath Vibenia nods, scanning the area for any signs of tracks going further into the lair.
Sighing and quietly following the group further into the cave.
Vibenia is soon able to get a feel for the lower warren, spotting signs of life where the others see nothing but dead rock. Most of the tracks in the room lead from the frog pools to the western tunnel, as well as passing through Jakkol's room. The armoury has few signs of ingress. Most recently, almost all of the traffic seems to have been diverted to the western tunnel, probably due to Jakkol's presence. Obviously, the venerable priest was still widely feared: Nighttail is on edge even after his demise, seeming reluctant to pass by his deathbed. She has made no comment regarding his final words, but does seem thoroughly unnerved.
Leaving the dead kobold behind, the group moves back to the armoury. The entrance is barred by a wooden gate, sufficiently sturdy to keep kobolds from stealing from their own, but scarcely enough to keep out a warrior as burly as Bernard. He is saved the trouble of bashing it down, however, as its crude locking mechanism is quickly dismantled by the combined efforts of Khardir and Nisany. No traps are spotted or sprung in the process. Inside, large amounts of armour and weapons have been stashed in neatly ordered stacks and piles along the walls. The air is dry, with fresh straw laid across the floor to absorb moisture.
Most of the equipment is kobold-sized, perhaps accounting for the relatively loose security—there nothing here that could be used against the kobolds by outside aggressors. Nothing, save for a fine longsword of cold iron, its gilded handle and crossguard forming a stylised sunburst. The dark blade has been polished to a dull gleam, and carved with prayers to Iomedae. This weapon was meant to kill demons. Perhaps it was lost on its way to the Mendevian Crusades, on the way north from Cassomir to Egede along the Sellen River. However long it has lain here, the masterfully forged weapon is still sharp and ready to be used.
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"Hm. This cave is homey enough if you're a kobold, I suppose. Could use higher ceilings... and wider tunnels... and more support beams... a few alcoves for guard posts, and the walls need smoothing... well, not bad for a kobold, I guess," muses Khardir.
When the group breaches the kobold treasures and finds the cold iron sword, his eyes light up. "Oh! Now this is not kobold-craft! Mendevian style, I would guess. Cold iron! A fiend-slaying sword of quality. Despite its dark hue this is a bright weapon, meant to drive back evil. A symbol as much as a sword. Vibenia? Bernard? Either of you would be fortunate to wield this piece."
Nighttail perks up at Khardir's appraisal, listening intently to his every critique. Instead of seeming flattered or insulted at his words, she looks to be actively absorbing new ideas, running through each in her head and filing the best of them away for later implementation.
"Higher and wider's no good," she mutters. "Unless you's higher and wider than a kobold, like softskins. Bad idea, if they comes in to kill kobolds. Also, not as much need for supports, if tunnels stay small. Maybe in tomorrow time, if there's trade to be made with softskin village. You say softskins like smooth walls? Makes sense to Nighttail, since they's got no scales, and turn all purplish when they bumps into things. Hmm, maybe Bloodvows can dig a room in the upper level, for guests... big and smooth, with furnishments. Think that's a good idea, friends? Um, the trade. Not the guest room."
The would-be chief rubs her snout thoughtfully. "Alcoves, watchposts... that's a good idea. Yes! Once Nighttail is in charge, there'll be alcoves..."
"That reminds me, the masons' guild of humans up above doesn't have any work to do since their quarry flooded. They might be excited by the prospect of earning a little money making an accommodation for human visitors here," says Khardir. "Some kind of... trade depot?"
"Guild?" puzzles Nighttail. "Depot? Hrm, kobolds don't need humans to dig for them. What do humans want? We's got animal-skins, and fish, and maybe some stone for building, uh... buildings. The pit-mine's full of water, yes. Big shame, lots of good stuffs down there. Can't do much about that, but maybe kobolds can help dig another? Nighttail knows softskins are mad, but friends could talk to their chief, and help make peace..."
Clearly excited by the prospect, the kobold tries her best to not appear too eager. "Of course, first we has to kill Roaghaz."
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"I was thinking, if we can make a pump, we can try to get the water out of the quarry, and then use it once again," says Khardir. "Perhaps a joint effort?"
"Humans want... let me think. Well, mostly they want... peace. Food. Comfortable homes. Like everyone else! Except orcs. Screw those guys."
Khardir mutters something under his breath.
"But they might by animal-skins, or dried fish. And stone, especially if you excavate anything unusual or valuable down here."
"Pump's no good," says Nighttail, shaking her head. "Even a big one. Beneath the pit-mine, there's an under-lake: endless water. But we could dig a... canal, softskins call them. They's all over the place south of the woodlands. Rivers, but dug by hand. We could drain the under-lake into the big river. That's a lot of work, though. Humans can't dig that well, so they's never really tried. But kobolds could do it..."
"... and dwarves, maybe." she adds diplomatically. "Certainly not orcs! But there's only one dwarf here, and lots of kobolds. Yes, with help from humans, Nighttail thinks we could dig a canal. Meanwhile, kobolds find some ore down here. There's green rock, too. But not as much as in the pit-mine..."
The kobold points to the surrounding bedrock, layered in places with the verdantly hued limestone used in many of Belhaim's structures, at least those built before the flooding. To Khardir's trained eye, there do appear to be small veins of various base metals as well, though nothing too notable. However, they might indeed hint at larger deposits nearby, as Nighttail claims.
Vibenia only half listens to the exchange. She was still having trouble reconciling the hate she'd held for kobolds as a whole, with Nighttail's cooperative and outright genial nature and her willingness to work with the community her kind had plagued for so long. She could almost feel the edge on that sharply honed hatred beginning to dull, and it bothered her.
And somewhere deep down, that bothered her too, conjuring up images of her mother's face. Blinking away the haze of tears, the ranger shakes her head and moves forward. "We go East. I'd rather face the rats now while we're still in decent shape and not run too ragged."
Passing through Jakkol's room once more, the group leaves the priest's corpse behind as they move into the short stretch of tunnel to the east. Beyond, they emerge into another larger cavern, one which looks like it might have formerly housed non-combatants: piles of fur and hay are piled the corners to form makeshift bedding, and various personal effects litter the floor elsewhere. It seems like the room was evacuated in a hurry.
Four large rats are currently rummaging through the kobolds' belongings, their noses twitching as they paw around in the piles of fur. Unlike the ones above, these rodents seem well fed and healthy. Bred for fighting, their frames are burly enough to match a small hunting dog. All have impressions on their fur from collars and harnesses. As the group enters the room, all of the rats turn their beady eyes on Bernard and bare their yellowed incisors, letting out angry hisses and squeaks.
Bernard steps out to meet the rats as they charge in, punching and shoving at them with the flat of his sword to keep them at bay. The guardsman is quickly surrounded, however, not managing to get enough room for a proper counterattack against the horde of rodents.