Liam pauses, looking around while he gets his bearings and tries to recall who might live out this way.
Far more likely, and far more worryingly, this stretch of land is frequented by wyverns, harpies, wolves, giants and even drakes coming down from the mountains.
...
After leaving the shade of the treeline and continuing beneath the afternoon sun, you find that the land slopes downward. At first you suspect that it leads into a wide, trough-like valley at the mountains' feet, but after a few more miles you discover something far more dramatic.
A vast rift opens in the land, at least a hundred feet wide, many times that in depth, and curving like a jagged smile as far as you can see to the left and right. The road itself falls away into this gorge, leaving a veritable dead end.
Helgrim explains that this is a remnant of the Rending - the cataclysmic set of earthquakes and volcanic eruptions that tore through the region seven centuries ago. The Rending did what ages of war never could: it broke the spirit of the dwarven people. Jernashall and Raseri Kanton, the twin cities that marked the capital of the dwarven empire of Tar Khadurrm, were utterly destroyed by the earth's fury.
Helgrim's heart grows heavy with such a visual reminder of the old tragedy, and he further rues that if the road were not torn asunder here, it would likely stretch on to the city of Rolgrummdur and even the legendary Sky Citadel of Highhelm.
However, one distinct remnant of the dwarven spirit stands upon this precipice. A tall, tottering tower - Helgrim confirms that it was hewn by ancient dwarven hands - clings to a continued existence despite the land sharply dropping away at its back. Likely once part of a fort or outpost that long ago fell into the rift during the Rending, the tower leans precariously beside the gorge. Thick moss grows at the foot of the tower, as though the land itself was trying to cement the old ruin in place.
Shaking his head, Liam turns to Helgrim "Few men live out this way, save perhaps the truly desperate, outlaws, and the occasional hermit. Much more likely we'll encounter wolves, drakes, wyverns, harpies, perhaps even giants."
"I can understand why, the hole probably hides unwelcomed surprises. The groud might prove fertile though, though trying to raise livestock would probably invite even more trouble, especially with the town so far away." He said looking about the place with the eye of a man settled into the life of exactly what he appeared as, a farmer. He was still that in his heart, however his time here in the ruins may change his stripes
'A tower, we actually found a tower.' Looking from the tower to the others, 'Wolves I would expect but giants, drakes wyverns, and did he say harpies.' Raising an eyebrow at Liam, she looks at Liam, 'Would he consider farming here? Brave soul that one.' Looking toward Helgrim, "I realize there are dangers in the wild, and possibly monstrous occupants, but do you boys think it's ok to go into the tower?" She points at the leaning tower, "Think of it, a dwarven tower here in Andoran."
"We have come all this way. We should at least take a peak."
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He'll have to pass on information to that Naomi girl, somehow- and not through Tock, because that is much too risky, at this point. In fact, he very seriously considers outing Tock right there, but figures Kreed wouldn't care too much about the details, as long as the results were clear- that, and Timothy has serious concerns for Tock's health if he carried out his desire.
Instead, he waits patiently for Kreed to finish, and, as everyone departs, he instead follows Vamros Harg, the Magistrate. Once he's gone off a little bit, he'll nod to the Magistrate, and approach.
"Good day to you, Magistrate," he says, cordially. "I missed saying hello back there."
Liam nods. "I'm all for checking it out."
Naomi smiles at Liams response, "Count me in."
"Oh! Yes, good day to you as well, Mr. Lawrence," Harg says, his polite manner betrayed by his nervousness.
He seems to hasten his small steps, trying to outpace you.
.....
Finding the entrance to the tower requires circling around to the side facing the rift yawning open below. Crumbling remnants of fort walls hang off two sides of the tower, like broken bones jutting out from a limb. There is just enough room between the tower and the cliff edge for two people to stand side by side - as long as neither elbows the other.
The stooped, narrow entrance sits open, its door long ago rotting away and returning to the soil. The smell of wet earth and offal wafts out from the shadowed interior of the tower. The light inside is dim, but it is clear that the lower three-fourths of the tower is one large open space.
However, about thirty feet up, you see a stone ceiling with square opening that suggests access to an upper chamber.
Similarly, another opening sits in the earthen floor of the tower, leading perhaps to surviving cellars.
No surviving ladders or stairs can be seen leading up or down.
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Once he gets close, he speaks calmly "Oh, come now, Vamros. There's no need to rush off. To think, I came here to do you a favor!" He puts a lilt of exasperation into his voice near the end, for flavor, but also to give a fraction of control into the nervous halfling's shaking hands.
Being light weight and having the ability to climb walls, Boggel scouts out the tower in front. "There seems to be an upper room above the open area. I will have to climb to get up there."
He turns to face the group. "If one of you has a rope, I can climb up and let down the rope if it seems safe. It looks like much of the... beams, that is the word, have rotted. It may not hold much weight."
Sticking to masonry where-ever possible, Boggel can ascend once he has a rope.
Even back away from the door, Naomi picks up the odor. 'What is that smell?' Watching Boggel move into the doorway, she begins to take off her pack. "I have a rope, but before we start to climb, can we make sure that whatever left that terrible smell isn't in there any longer?"
Whatever purpose the interior of this tower once served, it is now only a repository of moldering leaves, flies, and animal waste.
You spot a pair of giant centipedes resting among the offal, their segmented burgundy hides barely standing out against the waste that forms their nest.
.....
"A favor?" Harg asks incredulously.
A mix of anxiety and greed plays across the magistrate's face. He is familiar with your reputation and the work you have erstwhile done for the Gavel, so he fears how you have taken an interest in him. However, owing to that same reputation, he is tantalized by the prospect of what you might do for him.
"What...um...what did you have in mind?" he asks with interest, now striving to keep pace with you, rather than futilely attempting to outpace you.
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"What...um...what did you have in mind?" he asks with interest, now striving to keep pace with you, rather than futilely attempting to outpace you.
Timothy waits, drawing out the silence for a few steps, before turning and casually stating to the halfling "Kreed was pretty tough on you down there. Doesn't seem right that you should have to tell that thug to move his secret stash. Not when someone more... expendable, could do it."
Then, as nonchalantly as possible, almost casually, he asks "Why don't you let me talk to Bloodeye? If he tries anything, well, I can remind him a thing or two about myself."
Helgrim is furiously scetching and writing notes in his book. (Plus in real life he has been busy as hell).
”Yes, yes, simply amazing. The foundation can’t be any less than 1300 years old and I am guessing this structure that remains must be much much older than that.”
”Now if we can fortify this place, shore up the foundation, maybe cap the slope. We’ll need a few timbers and a door.”
The dwarf stops and marvels at the frogman sticking to the wall.
”Huh! Dwarves used to make their walls as slick as possible so that orcs couldn’t find purchase to climb them. Good thing we never had to survive a siege of your people Boggel. You’d catch us entirely by suprise. Huh! If we can make a ladder we could keep it up top and that chamber could be a safe place to stay for the night. Boggel, you grow more amazing by the day.”
”I! Uh oh . . . What’s that smell . . . ?”
The dwarf’s glee sobers instantly.
”S$&~, that smells like poop and those centipedes can be poisonous.”
He prepares his axe and shield.
”Be ready, those that don’t want to be on the front lines get to the edges with bows, bolts and daggers ready to throw. Someone watch the roof hatch. Liam, what made this poop?”
Wow, Helgrim behaving like a child is a candy store, that was worth the trip.' Watching the dwarf move about and take notes, Naomi looks from Boggel to Liam, then back at Helgrim, when he voices the expletive. 'I can't tell if that was literal or figurative, but he's right. We need to figure out what left it, and how to keep away from the large worms.' Drawing her bow, Naomi stays behind the others near the door.
Liam holds a finger to his lips. "Shh. I hear something." he says, pausing to listen. After a moment, he gestures to the chamber above. "It sounds like someone is up there, sleeping. If we cause a commotion we may have more to deal with than some centipedes." he says, careful to keep his voice down.
The dwarf nods, licks his lips then leans over to the Grippli to whisper.
”You think you can stealth your way up there to see what it is?”
Boggel nods. He prefers the forest where he is better camouflaged, but you can't always be in the ideal setting.
The walls are crumbly and difficult to navigate. Boggel does his best, sticking to the places where the wall seems most strong. He winces at every noise his passage makes.
Harg's eyes light up at the prospect.
"Oh! I would be very grateful if you could manage Bloodeye for me," the magistrate gushes emphatically. "Despite what Kreed says, he doesn't bat an eye when that flesh peddling orc-kin lets his men off their leash, usually leaving me with more than one bruise. I simply loathe dealing with his guild - which is why I've abhorred the use of the, er..."
Harg trails off, but you know that he was about to mention the bolthole beneath the tribunal office. He caught himself before openly discussing this secret arrangement between Kreed and Bloodeye.
"But yes, I would much appreciate if you could visit his establishment and inform him that he must move his goods...for me and for the Gavel."
.....
Despite flakes of stone falling as Boggel scales the wall, and his webbed digits occasionally rasping against the surface, the centipedes do not take notice of the grippli intruder. They are far more interested in the rats attempting to steal bites from the piles of carrion littering their nesting site, as the many-legged vermin strike and seize the rodents in their mandibles.
You also notice a change in the odor as you ascend the tower walls. It still smells abhorrent, but rather than the raw stench of rotting meat, this is something more subtle. This is the smell of something unsanitary and unwashed, like a predator that never bothered to wade through a river to wash away the blood of a kill.
Ancestors preserve us, that stench! Boggel quickly makes his way back to the others. "As Liam fears, there is someone, or something, up there. It appears as a woman, but the smell... like one who revels in blood and offal." He makes the sign of Ketephys across his chest.
"I'll come with you Helgrim. I am better at hitting it with a stick then arguing over what it is or isn't" He says taking his scarf and wrapping it about his nose and mouth then applying water to help with the smell. It wouldn't cover it all but it was an old trick he was taught from his dad.
'So are we going up first or dealing with the centipedes first.' Quietly drawing her bow, Naomi nearer Helgrim, Wulf and Liam, "Do we take the centipedes first and chance waking the woman, or do we climb first and speak to her?"
"Perhaps we can lure the centipedes out. They are not very intelligent. Deal with them outside to avoid making as much noise?"
”I am wondering if the woman has wings, because otherwise, how does she get up there?”
The dwarf whispers readying himself.
”Wish I had a spear right about now.”
Aghast, Naomi looks at Boggel, "So one of is going to play bait for a centipede and hope the sleeping woman doesn't hear combat outside her window instead downstairs?" She shrugs, "well I hope whoever it is can run fast!"
"That's why I carry the staff, Helgrim. It's inconspicuous and versatile!"
"As for the centipedes do we have anything for if they group together. Had some spiders do that to an ol' neighbor of mine, poor bastard never did recover from being scrabbled on, and then dosed in liquor. After he went mad I got his land though. Heard he went south to see a cleric. Wonder what happened to ol' Thurm" He scratched his chin as he thought on it and then stopped.
"Also are we sure its just a women, not one of them shape-changing creatures that steal yer soul, or yer kids?"
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He'll wait for nightfall, towards the busy hours, and head over to the Rogue Lady. He'll sit and make small talk with the patrons, some of which he's used for contacts, before finding anyone he knows might work for Bloodeye.
"I can only report what I have seen, It appeared to be a female human."
He ponders the centipedes. "Centipedes do not make much noise, that I recall. We could just quietly pepper them with arrows. They would probably come after us if they survive." He licks his lips with an overly large tongue. "Incidentally, they are quite tasty when correctly prepared. A delicacy."
The Rouge Lady squats on the edge of town, just outside the palisade, like a bloated beast chewing on its cud. A number of smaller shacks and hovels cluster around the gambling hall like fleas.
Many tough, unsavory men loiter around this small, dirty neighborhood. They eye you as you pass, but likely recognizing you as one of Kreed's agents, so you are able to pass unmolested.
You push the door open and are ushered into a world apart from Falcon's Hollow. Red-shaded lanterns cast their scarlet glow across the lattice screens, velvet hangings, and polished gambling tables that adorn the wide hall. Twisting columns reach up to the ceiling, ending with sculptures of overly buxom women who seem to strain to hold up the weight of the roof.
Lewd wall panels depicts scenes of frolicking nymphs, tumescent satyrs, whip-bedecked succubi, and other scandalous sights.
Not a single eye looks up to take notice of your entrance; everyone remains fixated on their wooden mugs, the sheep's knuckle dice clattering across the table, or a dancer twirling a scarlet scarf.
You find your contacts clustered at the foot of a stage where a dangerously young dancer awkwardly turns her body. The men seem almost disinterested, instead discussing whose turn it was with Ralla that evening.
...
"Never eaten centipede before. Ate a beetle once, also had a crazy halfling chef in my unit that liked fried crickets and honey caked grasshopper, which was surprisingly tasty"
'Sounds like a plan.' Bow in hand, she adds, "I bet they will taste better with Maple syrup!" Nodding toward the building. "Do we want to spread out in the building? Or stay near the door, shooting and falling back, so we don't accidently hit each other?"
"We should stand apart and facing the door, that way we can fire, step back and fire. A strategic retreat." He says trying to put it into a context he knew.
He pulled out his sling and dropped a bullet into it. His staff went into his holster and smiled."Ready"
Liam takes out and loads his sling, ready to aid in the centipede-pelting.
"Door," Boggel says to Naomi. "They will most likely charge."He holds his bow up and concentrates for a moment. Static electricity begins to dance along the the bowstring as he pulls it back to his ear.
"Now." He lets his arrow go streaking towards the centipede on the left.
'Well, weapons are ready, no reason not to get underway.' Seeing Boggel fire his bow, Naomi turns and fires, then step out of the way so she doesn't block anyone else.
Liam lets fly with a stone.
Wulf lets his bullet fly
Helgrim hurls his belt dagger.
The volley of missiles, rather than simply provoking the oversized insects, actually spells their doom!
Buffeted by bullets, pierced by dagger and arrow, the creatures offer breathless hisses as they thrash briefly against the assault before rolling over, dead.
There is a tense, quiet moment before you are certain that the mysterious sleeper above has not been disturbed.
Helgrim recovers his dagger and points upwards whispering.
”What do you think? Boggel, can you see what she is? Is she undead? Or?”
He prepares to use his axe and shield.
"Hmm, good question. I will try something." Waving his hand and speaking in his native tongue, Boggel casts a spell.
Having pulled her rope out of her pack, she puts the pack back on, handing the rope to Boggel, "Here Boggel, put this rope over your shoulder. If you can, tie it to something and lower it to us."
Boggel uses his magic to add a new layer to his sight...and sees nothing.
The refuse, the stone walls, and the open trap door above - none of them show signs of magical auras or radiance.
Although Boggel is able to climb about halfway up the walls within the tower, the upper half lacks proper handholds to easily progress further. While he could likely climb further with some effort, he would have to be able to cling to the ceiling like a spider to be able to reach the open trap door.
This leaves Boggel with two options to reach this elusive upper chamber:
From his perch, clinging to the rough recesses halfway up where a second floor once stood, he can attempt to propel himself from the wall and leap diagonally towards the trap door.
Alternatively, he can climb the exterior of the tower - weathering and plant growth providing an abundance of handholds for the adept frog-man - and attempt to access the upper chamber from the parapet above.
"Well, that gave me no insight." He accepts the rope from Naomi. "I think the best chance I have here is to approach from the outside. It will certainly be an easier climb."
With that, he skitters up the side of the tower trying to be as silent as possible.
Surmounting the battlements, you find that the parapet is thick with dead grass, branches, and leaves, making it akin to a large bird’s nest. A hole in the refuse lining the parapet reveals a rusted iron trapdoor that has been broken off its hinges only to be laid back atop its aperture as a covering.
The eerie feel of this being a bird's nest makes him very apprehensive.
Boggel slowly approaches the trapdoor. He grabs hold and tests the weight to see if he can lift it. If so, he will carefully move it aside to peer down.
The chamber below is of little better condition than the parapet, filled with a collection of junk and smelling like an unkempt bird's nest.
Many tattered, mismatched boots hang upon strings like a pauper's festival ornaments.
Stone shelves carved into the walls are cluttered with yet more strange curios: cracked glass bottles filled with dirt, a flagon and lantern made of poorly polished brass, bent silver bowls that seem to contain a mixture of coins and more dirt, a clay pitcher filled with surprisingly clean water, and other silvery knickknacks.
Perhaps most importantly, you find the source of the slumbering noise. An unwashed woman, possessing a hawkish nose and sharp features, sleeps upon a torn straw pallet, swaddled in a blanket made of dark, dirty feathers.