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Theo sees nothing and cannot hear a thing over the noise. Ya'Bo's flame ignites the mushroom, which continues the awful howling, as do the two next to it. Ore slashes at the nearest mushroom, attempting to fell it with his handaxe. The shrieker goes down, the sound gradually fading like a deflating bladder. The other two, however, remain shrieking.
"It's coming from the plants?! Of all the {imp fornicating} nonsense!"
{translated from infernal}
Theo curses to himself, before channeling his annoyance into something more productive.
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The firebolt and acid burn the plants, but do not stop the horrible wailing that issues forth. Ore hacks at one, taking it down and leaving only one that is quickly dealt with through weapon and cantrip. The room falls silent again, punctuated only by the sounds of your breathing. It would seem, for the moment at least, that nothing was attracted by the noise.
Sorry. I wrote an update about that a couple days ago, but then never posted it.
My aunt's character is about 99% done. It just needs to be converted from paper to digital. That's on me. My aunt is perfectly tech literate. She works full time, though, and isn't particularly familiar with most forum formats.
My brother and I have plans to meet up this Saturday and hammer out his character. We've had to plan around his work schedule.
I should be able to have both of them present and ready to go by Monday, baring extreme unforeseen circumstances.
Sounds good. What's the plan for integration?
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Nothing seems to have been attracted by the noise of the shriekers and all is quiet, until... three figures can be seen down the corridor leading up to the garden.
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"Hey, I think I hear some people up ahead," Galador whispers to his two companions. "I'll see who they are."
"Oh hello?" Galador calls out as he hears the distinct urgency of a gnome's voice. "We are looking for some brave heroes that are bringing righteousness to these foul dens. So if you are brave heroes, do say so!
And if you're another bunch of mangy orcs, just grunt and attack like you always do."
Oddly, the newcomer also seems to bring a faint smell of lilacs and...vanilla?
"Hey, I think I hear some people up ahead," Galador whispers to his two companions. "I'll see who they are."
"Oh hello?" Galador calls out as he hears the distinct urgency of a gnome's voice. "We are looking for some brave heroes that are bringing righteousness to these foul dens. So if you are brave heroes, do say so!
And if you're another bunch of mangy orcs, just grunt and attack like you always do."
Oddly, the newcomer also seems to bring a faint smell of lilacs and...vanilla?
"My trousers aren't quite dry enough that I can go around claiming lofty titles like "hero". On the other hand, I'm not an orc. Is there a third option?"
Theo bleaches the light at the end of his staff before maximizing the brightness. Giving everyone in both parties a clear view of the others.
"They smell...tasty...I mean...like they might have muffins...I mean...trustworthy."
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"How do we know that you are not the same group the killed the ones back toward the entrance?"
"Who sent you? How did you know we were down here? And what are your names? Ya'bo calls back.
Past the third pair of alcoves, at the end of the corridor from the entrance are two steps up. At the top of the steps, the corridor continues straight ahead, and corridors meet from east and west. At this intersection is a grisly sight--the remains of a hand-to-hand battle where no less than five combatants died.
The sight of the decaying bodies is horrifying and the smell of rot doubly so.
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It is apparent that three of the combatants were adventurers, like yourselves, while the other two wear the hide clothing associated with the barbarian tribes from the north.
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The bodies appear to have been dead for about 3 weeks. The first body is that of a human male, slumped against a wall. His broken sword, sheared off about 8 inches above the pommel, tells the story of his demise. The body has been stripped of armor.The second body is also a human male, a wizard, by his dress. He has been impaled against a wall. The killing sword, still thrust through the body, is lodged in the wall, which has a large section of wood at this point. He wears only a bloodstained robe.
A dwarven male lies facedown in the corridor, just east of the intersection. In his right hand, he still clutches a Warhammer, and it appears that he crawled, wounded, to this point, since a trail of dried blood leads back to the battle location. An empty sack, turned inside-out, lies next to the body. Armor has been stripped from the body, but his helm is still on his head. The sizable dent in his headgear makes it worthless.
A human dressed in furs and hides is sprawled on the floor, with a broken shield nearby. The body has no armor on it and there is no weapon on the body or nearby.
Finally, another human male dressed in hides, his head caved in by the blow of a Warhammer, lies on the floor facedown. There is no armor or weapon on the body except for a small sheathed dagger on the belt. The belt is very ornately detailed leather, which would appear to be valuable, except for the bloodstains ruining it's appearance.
"And also, vanilla?"
Turning to his friend "Did you not have enough to eat this morning?"
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As the light illuminates Galador, he's dressed as a moderately prepared sojourner, with medium armor of used but quality condition, a light wooden shield that gives off the aura of having until recently been on a practice dummy and actually resents having been lifted from its cushy position. He's young, and good-looking, but also quite bookish, and it takes no great gamble to mark him as a clerk or librarian that has somehow gotten out of his dusty tomes and had a taste of the real world.
"Ah-ha! Oh no, good sir, oh no! If you are person of good intent, mind you, and you are within these halls, then I proclaim you Hero, good sir! And no lesser title will do!
As to who I am and who we are and we art come by such a warren as this?
I, am Galador. Of late I am now known as with the surname of Imrael, but that is story for a later time," he says, leaving his companions to introduce themselves.
"As to who sent us and how we know of your sublime reputation, that is one in the same! You are battling a Great Evil, this is known. And such is the evil, upon who's doorstep you are now dancing, that forces have roused themselves to render such aid as they can. In my own case, I was destined here on my own powers, but 'twas the Order of the White Angel that knew of thy quest and sent me thus.
You see, I was at Academy when my research of the Past and my reading of the Future made me aware of a Great Conjunction that convenes upon the very ground we now tread! My fellows laughed at me. Laughed! At me! And said there were no more funds to follows some wild goose. So I packed my own bags, made ready my own powers, gathered a few choice experiments that I could not leave behind, and here I am!
As far as Vanilla, good sir," he says, turning to Ore, "I find these sepulchers so dreadful in both spirit and smell that I had to make some change just to keep the spirit up! If that is not to your liking--." Galador turns and touches one of the knobs on his armor and the vanilla smell is whisked away by the prevailing air...only to be replaced by the equally strong smell of ylang-ylang.
"There. Is that more pleasing?"
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Galador seems to grow self conscious and adds in addendum, "So, ah, yes, as to the condition of the other deaths, ah, they have been dead for over a fortnight, and I have only just arrived."
He finishes his statement with a polite bow...but he overcompensates and out of one of his bags an armored sabaton boot spills out along with a complete left arm from a suit of heavy armor.
"Goodness gracious me!" he exclaims, scooping up the thick STEEL and cramming back to which they have come. "One of my experiments, you see. I've been trying to get inanimate objects to respond to mental impulses, but, alas, though I've made progress, I don't have much to show for it as yet."
He finishes stuffing the things back in and straightens up. "Although, someday, I hope to show that brains can be just as strong as brawn! Wouldn't that be something?"
"Has anyone really ever had enough to eat?"
...
"Well, they're not with the Orc, that's for sure. Not much tolerance for long explanations, you see, in the Orc community. Or so I've heard. If you're interested in battling Evils, you've found the right place, my good Vanilla Knight."
"And what about the rest of you all? Any other perfume enthusiasts?" Ore says with a friendly simile and sincere interest.
"Good sirs, if you please, I am Makira Glory. While I enjoy the odd scent, I am no enthusiast. However, I dislike the scent of rot so am very much willing to journey with any other pleasing smell." says Makira eyeing the other group suspiciously. "I thank you for your light good sir. she says to the one with the staff.
She turns to her companions and whispers "I'm not sure how much we should tell them until we know them a little better. Are you sure they are the ones we are looking for?"
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'Vanilla Knight?' Galador ponders on the nom de gare, rolling it over in his head and tasting it. "Well, I've been called worse!" he declares, finding it to his liking. "Vanilla Knight it is! Let all manner of evil cower before my heavenly aroma and warm, enticing bouquet!" he laughs.
At the question of the Tieling Bard, Galador pauses before answering. He must needs look at her to answer, and, as always, it made his cheeks flush just a touch. 'Confound such a vision could bring sweat to a statue!' Of course he'd carried such a torch ever since they had started journeying in the same direction, but, just as surely she was quite out of his league.
"Erm, ah, yes. Yes of course," he stammers back at Makira, regaining a modicum of composure. "See you their square jaws? Their roguish good looks? I daresay the gnome even wears his hat at a jaunty angle, in the manner of world-savers everywhere. Besides...the odds of encountering a halfling, a gnome, and a human that are -not- heroes in this warren of orcs and goblins in something other than stew is quite astronomic."
What is that? Makira asks, drawing her rapier and brandishing it in front of her. Sir gnome, can you dim your staff? she asks in a hushed tone.
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"I think, my dear, that is the denizens of this place making it known that they care not of our credentials, nor the why or who of how we are here, but simply that we must needs leave or be eaten, as is the way of their kind."
Galador readies his shield and rotates cautiously in a circle. He pulls out a wee dagger that looks like it would be more at home cutting a fine bird at mid-winter than wreaking great slaughter in a dungeon.
"Denizens, indeed, Ore says, twirling his mace in a way that's not only visually impressive but serves to prepare him for combat.
"Given the choice, I'll trust these new folks more readily thank whatever is making noises in the distance. I think we should prepare for the worst, and let our new friends here prove themselves in trial by fire."
Ore's face quickly shifts from jovial to serious, as he feels out the ki in his body and limbers up, his head on a swivel.
What is that? Makira asks, drawing her rapier and brandishing it in front of her. Sir elfgnome, can you dim your staff? she asks in a hushed tone.
Theo obliges the request, careful to leave enough light that the nightblind can keep their footing.
"[...] but simply that we must needs leave or be eaten [...]"
"If it is a hungry beast, perhaps subterfuge will be enough to send it away. Feign the presence of a predator, or perhaps easier prey. Is anyone familiar with the local fauna? "
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"Subterfuge? A predator? Well I guess it can't hurt."
He taps one of the light-emitting protrusions on his armor. It goes dark, but soon the battle-roar of a charging black bear can be heard echoing along the walls.
"Charge of the bear cavalry, Battle of Vestland," he says casually, as though that explains the origin on the sound.
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The sound lowers in intensity as if fading into the distance. Then, the place is plunged into silence once more. Suddenly, four small reptilian figures appear in the far doorway. They stand about 3 feet tall and are covered in reddish-brown scales and wear loincloths and carry stone-tipped spears. They seem unsurprised to see you. They are about 55 feet away from the party at this point.
You know these creatures? asks Makira, amazed at the sight of the new arrivals. Are we in danger? she asks the gnome still holding her rapier and ready to fight.
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"You. Have a truce. With kobolds?" Galador stammers out as the gnome causes his bolt to go quite wide. "My good friend you do know that, historically, kobolds have never held to a truce a full year? They have politics more protean than a tempest in an ocean. Why my good man the very lizards we see might have already eaten whatever chieftain you made your pact with and are now coming to kill us to prove to their females they are the strongest.
Yes, Makita, we are in some danger and only when those yonder villains are dead will we be safe from their cookpots!"
"You. Have a truce. With kobolds?" Galador stammers out as the gnome causes his bolt to go quite wide. "My good friend you do know that, historically, kobolds have never held to a truce a full year? They have politics more protean than a tempest in an ocean. Why my good man the very lizards we see might have already eaten whatever chieftain you made your pact with and are now coming to kill us to prove to their females they are the strongest.
Yes, Makita, we are in some danger and only when those yonder villains are dead will we be safe from their cookpots!"
"Mercy bears rich fruit, my friend. By happenstance we freed the Kobolds from their faux idol; a simultaneous show of power and benevolence. I'm no profit to tell you what they will be doing in a years time, but I doubt we will know their treachery this day."
EDIT
Oof. This is why you refresh every once in a while if you are going to take half an hour to write one post.
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"They say, they came here because of a loud noise. And that they are sticking to the agreement." Ya'Bo explains to those uneducated that may not speak in Draconic.
Ore stays silent, simply twirling his mace in the same smooth pattern, and committing all of the rest of his attention to perceiving the surroundings, in case there's a second threat.
He gives only a single nod towards Theo and Ya'Bo to suggest he trusts their judgment with the kobolds.
Still, I doubt they came just due to my bear cavalry. Do they know what might have causes the first big noise?"
"I'm inclined to agree. They arrived too quickly after your display to assume a causal link."
Do you know if others in your tribe have heard this noise before?"
"This is the first they have heard the sound. I find that...concerning. We may have awoken something long-dormant.
You two should return to your tower. Tell the chief he was wise to keep the tribe away."
"Then perhaps we should find it, before it finds us."
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Lowering his hands and letting the spell dissipate. He speaks to the human.
"Well since your group is here and there is safety in numbers. Would you like to join us and find what threats are down here?"
Turning to the Kobolds
Agreed, there is safety in numbers. I, for one, would like to join you. Makira says. I would not want to meet the creature that made that noise by myself. What should we do first?