The party retreats from the room and Jie slams the door shut, leaving the crystal scorpion trapped within. There's a brief sound of scraping and scratching from the other side, then everything goes silent.
Amélie pants a bit and inspects her bowstring. She pulls it off and produces another from a pouch, then begins stretching it between the ends of her bow. "Zhat was painful," she comments. Once she's done with her bow, she moves over to her dropped torch to grab it and hold it up.
Main entrance (K-1) The crystal veins will yield 50 gp worth of gems.
Guard post (K-2) The violet gem is an enormous but flawed amethyst worth 650 gp. The walls here can be mined to yield more gems.
Shrine of Stone (K-3) The cold ashes in the center reveals a leaf-shaped gold pin and a ring. A pair of boots are in a hidden niche in the chamber.
The Nest (K-5) Personal possessions of the tribe, consisting mostly of simple jewelry or stone tools. Dozens of semiprecious stones (worth 250 gp), six fancy crossbow bolts, and a dagger, hide armor, and stonemasonry tools all of master's quality are found here.
The Fisher's Garden (K-6) The remains of three trogs lie at the bottom of the pool along with their (mundane) javelins. An iron coffer filled with 120 gp and a wand is also in the water. The lichen-encrusted skeleton of the coffer's former owner is also under the water, still wearing a belt of fine gold links.
The Bloodpit (K-7) The cavern holds 10 provision points of meat.
The Greening (K-8) The cavern holds 10 provision points of foodstuffs.
The Rainbow Nave (K-9) The two pound crystal globe glows as an everburning torch and is worth 250 gp.
The Bone Chamber (K-10) The trog champion's chamber contains a masterwork quarterstaff, four thunderstones, two onyx gems worth 25 gp each, a scoll case with two spells within, a silver locket containing a braided length of blond hair (worth 25 gp), two platinum rings (worth 50 gp each), a battered wooden flute in a silver case (the flute is worthless but the case is worth 125 gp), and a valuable-looking pearl.
"Ouch," says Benedict. His aasimar heritage offers no protection against fire. Still, the blast disposed of the skeletons quickly enough. As he explores the caves, he gathers up anything that looks to be of value.
"Let's get back to camp and figure out if any of these things can help us. We'll also see if Rori is on the path to recovery or not."
The group travels back to the camp around the hunter's cabin, weary from their battles within the troglodyte caves yet triumphant. The stink of the place still lingers in their clothes, but nonetheless the clear, fresh air is gods sent.
Provisions 41 - 31 + 20 = 30
Shelter for 31
There is happy news when the heroes return to the Hemlock Banner. Rori had received some restorative magics from Aubrin, and he had managed to gain the upper hand on the sickness. Everyone is hopeful that he will have a full recovery.
The refugees cheer to see everyone return, hale and mostly unharmed. Aubrin channels a burst of healing energy to soothe their burns and other lingering injuries.
Aubrin takes the group aside once the crowd is done cheering the heroes. She smiles, but there is a measure of worry.
"No sign of hobgoblin scouts, but I've kept everyone fairly close to the cabin for safety. The problem is, we've nearly picked this area clean. We might be in for some lean times unless we find more provisions. How are the caves?"
In the meantime, the adepts begin studying the treasures looted from the troglodyte warrens. They learn that the party collected:
boots of elvenkind, a belt of incredible dexterity +2, belt of mighty constitution +2, a wand of hold person (9 charges), pearl of power (1st level), bracers of armor +1, bandages of rapid recovery, a +1 warhammer, and a ring of protection +1. The other wand and the buckler manage to confound all three.
"Clear! Or clear enough. There was some sort of crystal creature that we weren't sure how to deal with, but it's out of the way for now. We found some preserved meat and vegetables. And Jie brought down a stag on the way to the caves! The troglodytes are no more; they are not going to eat any more Rangers."
Benedict already failed Perception checks for:
2 flasks in K3 (first caster trog)
2 potions in L1 (gelatinous cube)
He did not check:
3 potions in K10 (big trog with warhammer)
4 flasks in L6 (priest)
2 flasks oil in L6 (acolyte)
1 flask liquid in L6 (acolyte)
He begins examining the various flasks.
Benedict identifies a total of:
Six oil of magic weapon
Three potion of owl's wisdom
One potion of aid
Two potion of cure light wounds
Two potion of bull's strength
Two potion of cure moderate wounds
Two potion of shield of faith
"Who wants which of these items? The two magic belts, the ring of protection, or the boots? I think I am best off with the warhammer - it isn't the type of weapon Amkarang is best with, and it isn't quite big enough for Grum."
The prospect of moving again, this time into into a series of caves, has the refugees alternately eager and filled with trepidation. The cabin is cramped and nowhere near big enough, but it was familiar. Living in caves is not, and even the dwarves among the refugees have been used to living in structures. However, the caves promised safety, so the refugees were generally in favor of locating there.
After whatever supplies and gear has been packed and readied for travel, Jie gathers the other Heroes of Phaendar together, looking solemn.
"Everyone, I-- I've made a decision. The caves are no place for Feng. Really, this whole forest isn't very good for him. I'm always pulling burrs out of his coat, and checking his hooves, and helping him up ridges--" She stops herself, wipes a tear from her cheek, then continues. "Anyway, now that we've got a good place for the Phaendarans, I need to get back to what I was doing before. Riding, delivering messages. There's got to be more pockets of resistance. I need to find them, give them hope and aid, and send them here if wherever they are isn't safe. I keep thinking about that night on the road where we heard hoofbeats. The hobgoblins don't use horses, so it has to be others like us."
Amélie frowns in thought for a moment, then she steps forward. "Traveling alone? Zhat seems too dangerous. I can ride well enough, and I do not like ze thought of living in zhose caves." She waves her hand over her nose as she crinkles it in an expression of distaste.
"I'll go with you too."
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”Makes sense.” Grum said. He had been sharpening his blade. He put it down and stood up, extending his green, calloused hand. ”You fought well. Both of you did.” He said; looking at Amelie. ”Ride safe.”
A squeak could be heard. Grum bent down to converse with his hedgehog. When done he said ”Sir Kingston says he will miss you both.”
Benedict nods. "That sounds like a good idea, Jie. We could use you here, but there are many more that could use your help as you said. Make sure you get word to Longshadow and the other larger towns. Amélie, I think one of those horses we liberated from the supply train along with you might be up for a ride, as long as you give it enough food, and rest when you can."
He shakes hands with both of them. "If you find yourself back this way - on your own or with more survivors - come join us again. If we've moved on from the caves, we'll leave markers or encoded signs."
He takes the time to write out some code phrases, and gives the note to Jie and Amélie to memorize and destroy.
"Good luck."
Amkarang nods solemnly and places a hand on Jie’s shoulder, ”Stay safe, though I know you will.”
It's an emotional goodbye as Jie and Amélie say their farewells to the refugees and the champions of Phaendar. But after a while and many tears, the two ladies guide their horses west while the rest press onward toward the caves.
Over the course of the day, the long procession of farmers, merchants and herders make their way down the slopes and through the marshy region to the troglodyte caves. The initial reaction by most is unpleasant, due to the stench caused by both the former occupants and a common fungus that is growing within that exudes a rotten egg smell.
However, what was at first thought to be a smelly nuisance, Yallie the gnomish herbalist reacts with excitement. "This is grubpuff! Oh, it stinks now, but wait 'till I cook up a batch! It's delicious!"
The herbalist is correct, and once cooked it has a pleasant, earthy flavor. The refugees soon realize that they can harvest the pungent fungus and supplement the foodstuffs that the troglodytes left in their larders.
Kining recognizes the crystal scorpion as a crysmal, and warns that the creature desires gems so much because that's how they reproduce. If they eat enough of the right kind of gems, they'll split into two.
The lower level also has one additional feature that Kining and Aubrin do not quite know how to feel about. There's a tunnel that goes down at a steep angle and ends -- sort of -- at a rough barricade of crudely quarried stone. It's evident that it continues at a sharp descent beyond the barricade. Kining whispers to the heroes that she suspects it may even link up with the Darklands, the underground realm of caverns and strange societies, and even stranger creatures.
Other than the crystal scorpion in the basement, the tunnel to the Darklands, and the smelly fungus, the refugees ultimately make the caverns their home in short order. The artesian well provides plenty of fresh water for drinking and bathing. The caverns are easy to defend from surface-based threats, should anything be skilled enough to spot the caves. And though the area around the caves are marshy and wet, there are enough nearby patches of dry land for the herd animals.
The Phaendarans, for the moment, have found themselves a place they can call home.
The night the hobgoblins came will forever be seared into your memory.
For you, William, they came upon the squat broad monastery of the Aroden ascetics where you learned your unconventional skills of magic. The horde outmatched the small number of monks, and they forced you to flee rather than waste your life trying to fight them off. Clutching your meager belongings, you fled from one town to another, sounding the alarm, warning the tiny communities and households of the hobgoblin threat and staying just barely ahead of them.
Hama, as you returned with your oxen laden with goods, you hear increasingly disturbing rumors that have to be impossible. But as you near your home of Phaendar, the haze on the horizon becomes more and more ominous.
You encounter a patrol of hobgoblins well before you reach the town, and you are forced to flee, your wagon and most of your goods ultimately being abandoned so you could lose your attackers. For several days, you play a cat-and-mouse game with the increasing patrols and marching columns of hobgoblins -- some of which escort long lines of chained captives.
As fortune would have it, neither of you are discovered by hobgoblins, but encounter each other -- surprising each other when you each chose the same copse of trees in which to hide. Introductions were short and hushed, as the patrol passed by. It was evident that as the hobgoblins' numbers and patrols along the roads and the mighty Marideth River increase, you both feel it's only a matter of time before you run out of close calls.
The only hope is the Fangwood Forest, a traditional redoubt for Nirmathi citizens in times of invasion. Though it would be hazardous and difficult, better an uncertain fate than certain death.
Another stroke of luck happens just as you reach the border of the Fangwood. You encounter a pair of human riders armed with bows. One of them, you recognize as Chang Jie, well-known in the Phaendar area as a messenger and rider. It makes your heart sing to see her alive and well. What's more, she tells you of a band of refugees from Phaendar that have survived and made it to safety in some caves deep within the Fangwood.
They provide you with directions and wish you the best of luck as you push into the forest in search of the caves.
It's been a week since the Phaendar refugees have claimed the caves.
Through diligent industry, the caves have been converted each day into something more and more like home. The fires of the forge in the basement have been lit, and a few needed tools are now in the hands of those who can use them. A few places have been found topside in order to cultivate a few plants. The refugees have started to relax from their displaced status and are now feeling a sense of pride in their new home.
The caves and the protection they offer, however, has not diminished the lurking threat of the invading hobgoblins, though a few lookouts are starting to be dispatched for an early warning system. Thankfully, no sign of the hobgoblins, or anything else for that matter, has been spotted.
However, on this day, a runner comes in, breathlessly reporting a sighting -- two people and an ox! They're not hobgoblins at all, but Phaendarans!
Benedict has enjoyed a few days of quiet. While he would like to take some time to develop his alchemical skills, he feels he's probably more needed on patrol and investigating various things.
The path to the Darklands is interesting. He is not sure what to do, either. "There are actual societies down there? Like what?"
Benedict goes into the path a short distance, using his Darkvision to look for any tracks or other sign of creatures.
He grows to appreciate grubpuff. "Thank you, Yallie!"
He also sends teams to clear out as many recoverable gems from the walls as possible before the crysmal can get them. Even if low value, the gems could be used for trade (if we find anybody to trade with) or for appeasing the creature from time to time - rationed, and using the lowest-value ones.
On hearing of more Phaendar refugees, he takes up his shield and warhammer. He asks the runner, "Do you know them?"
The runner is quick to answer. "They knew Jie's code!"
Benedict is relieved, but now more curious than suspicious.
"Great! But who are they? Did Taidel and Lirosa make it?"
He goes back where the runner indicated. Presuming he sees them, he recognizes William from Phaendar, and Hama from past caravans to Absalom.
"William! You're alive! And Hama, I mean it's good to see you, but why are you here? And not someplace safe like Kraggodan?"
Hama walks with spear and shield in hand in case they find some more hobs or some other unwelcome presence. She had been spooked earlier already when she spotted some movement from the corner of her eye, though she hadn't been able to determine what it was.
This was different though as a familiar face from the past suddenly appeared in front of her. "I'm not sure Kraggodan is all that safe right now. At least I can't get in. Molthune has been laying siege to it for years now so it's impossible to get in. I was getting out of here when those damn hobs ambushed the caravan I travelled with just outside of Phaendar and all I could rescue is old Bertie here." She gently pets the ox walking alongside her. "And as luck would have it, I met this fellow while hiding from those goons."
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Grum eyed the newcomers. He had been worried that there would be more mouths to feed who couldn’t pull their weight. But these ones looked sturdy enough. The only problem was that one was a dwarf! He had yet to meet a dwarf whom he had gotten along with. It was always ‘Tusker this’ and ‘Torag that.’ Still, Benedict seemed to know her. That was good.
He walked over, his sword resting on his shoulder. ”Greetings.”
William waves as he approaches the caves. "The monastery was attacked as well and I knew I had to get out as there were too many to fight and being dead never helped anyone. I stayed on the move and met Hama here in a thicket we both decided looked like a good place to lay low for a while. It will be nice to know where I'm laying my head for the night. What can I do to help around here?"
"Monastery? Oh yes, you were learning sword-magic with the Aroden folks, weren't you? That could be useful. And I see you have a bow. Right now we've just been getting settled, but we'll probably want to go out scouting again and see if there are other bands surviving in the woods. Lots of our days are just hunting and foraging for food. At least now we are done with building shelters."
"Food you say ey? Bertie is still carrying quite a bit of that. He's packed with most of the food my caravan was going to need to reach Almas in southern Andoran. All of it is dry though, except the oranges." As if to illustrate she pulls a single orange from one of the many packs on the ox's back.
"If there are some people to help we can unload him and move things to any storage you managed to create. Should also allow him to relax a bit."
"Oranges? Something that isn't foraged for once sounds amazing." Amkarang nods at Benedict, "I can start getting things moved with Grum if you want to strategize. Might see if there's some others back in the caves that'll pitch in, maybe Mershan and Andrum. If you want to pitch in right now William, help me with some of these bags."
William nods to Amkarang "Let me put my gear down and show me where to take the food and I'll be happy to help. How long have you been here?"
Amkarang grabs a bag of food before he motions to William and Grum to follow him and begins to talk as they walk together, ”It’s been about a week. Before that we’d been cramped in an cabin owned by some old codger turned undead. While these caves aren’t quite as homely, I’d venture to say it’s more comfortable.” Upon arriving at the food stores, he slings down the bag and says, ”And here we are. Let’s grt the rest of this moved before we bring too much attention on ourselves.”
Hama smiled when she heard the half orc speak, "Depends, what would you consider 'real food'? If you are looking for meat I'd have to disappoint you, the hobs took all we had."
She then moves to walk next to him, while carrying bags of potatoes using her shield as a tray, "My name is Hama, I'm a merchant. Or used to be I guess. What's your name?"
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”Grum.” He said, eyeing Hama warily. ”You’re awfully nice, for a dwarf.” He said, with obvious suspicion.
As he said this, a hedgehog walked up and began squeaking at the half-orc.
”This doesn’t concern you.”
Squeak.
”No! I won’t!”
Squeak!
”Rawr!”
Squeak!!
Half-orc and hedgehog glared at each other for a long moment, before Grum sighed, defeated.
”That is Sir Kingston. Warrior hedgehog. Very brave. He says hello...and says that I should be polite. He says that I should apologize.”
Sir Kigston walked up to the large half-orc and began to climb up his leg. He bent down, picked it up, and put it on his shoulder.
”....so....sorry. Yeah. I think he likes you.”
Hama appeared to be completely unfazed by the veiled insult from the Half Orc and when he apologizes she nods, "Apology accepted. Sir Kingston sounds like he is an awfully wise hedgehog."
She readjusts the sacks on her shield for easier carrying, "As for my kindness, I guess that's part of being a merchant who deals with more than just dwarves. Most people don't buy from a grump. Then again, the dwarves in these parts are very different from the dwarves in Katheer, where my mother is from. There they are a part of human society instead of isolating themselves in their Sky Citadels."
The newcomers are welcomed by all the refugees, most of whom are at the minimum acquainted with Hama and William or knew someone who was. Therefore, there was an extension of trust almost immediately. The foodstuffs that Hama brought also endeared them to the Phaendarans instantly.
After a day of familiarizing Hama and William to the caves and letting them get settled in, a cry comes from the lower level. The deeply-sloped tunnel into the lightless depths of the world had a guard posted ever since Benedict noticed small bootprints along with the usual troglodyte tracks in the gathered dust.
But today, something had come up from the tunnel.
When you are summoned, there is a creature hiding on the other side of the crude barricade.
"Echuko? Al eovrible fo unal estko un gereabloo? Ulk!"
"Hello? Do you not want to trade goods? Hey!"[/b]
It switches to another language. "Hanaellipofblub, gebri bub ible-wep ingoloccu webeblo uf?"
"I don't care if you're not troglodytes, do you have anything to trade?"
"It sounds like a trader from the Darklands! Speaking in Gnome!"
Benedict replies in Gnome.
He turns to the others.
"Grum, Amkarang, Hama, William - back me up. I'm opening the barricade. It's a leap of faith, but we could use supplies."
He moves the barricade aside (with the others standing near in case of danger, though hopefully weapons not drawn) and takes a look at the creature.
"Sounds like a merchant on the other end." It was somewhat exciting, meeting someone coming from underground who was trying to sell them things. Part of what she loved about her travels with her own goods was seeing what others brought in yet she never saw any trader from the darklands.
"Wonderful! pipes up the soft voice from behind the barricade. After it's removed, a dusky gray gnome is revealed carrying a large pack. "Navvi is my name! So, Ighiz is gone? That's fine, it's always nice to meet new customers! The troglodytes didn't care for much except for offerings to their stone god anyway."
"Greetings, Navvi. My name is Benedict. I am from the surface. What sort of things do you have to trade? Magic potions, perhaps? And do you know anything about crysmals? We're really not sure what to do with the creature, can't speak its language."
"Crysmals? Feh! I'm a merchant, not a creature wrangler," she scoffs. "Though I have lots of items! And am happy to take your unused objects off your hands! What do you have for sale?"
Once allowed into the proper tunnel, Navvi finds a few blocks that have apparently been used before as a bartering table. She doesn't appear to need light to work by.
At Benedict's request, she reaches into the lining of her coat and produces a bottle with a muscular Darklands beast on the label. "A potion of Ghonhatine's strength! And with a touch of bhuyaku syrup for flavor! Only three gold trade bars!"
She pulls out another flask, marked with a cube that has seven pips on one side. "Nivi's shield! Wonderful protection, if you can afford it. I'll sell you two flasks for one gold bar!"
If asked, Navvi rolls her eyes and explains that a trade bar is worth a hundred gold, a thousand silver or only a mere ten platinum pieces.
If anyone is interested in special orders, Navvi claims to have several contracts with Duergar crafters, so she can procure magical or special material versions of just about any sort of weapon or armor, for a small advance. Though she doesn't appear to carry any weapon, she claims to have a magical falchion and a masterwork cold iron rapier, and a mithril scimitar immediately available for purchase.
Amkarang holds up a single finger to indicate that Navvi wait before he jogs off to their storage room. He comes back holding two sets of bracers, along with a handful of gems and coins before placing the items on the table. Once Benedict or Hama agree to interpret he says, "I have a request for a weapon." He then holds up his meteor hammer and says, "This is a meteor hammer, don't know if you undergrounders have them. Any case, I'd like for your contacts to make a magically enhanced version of one of these. Nothing fancy, just hitting harder and all that."
Navvi studies the weapon Amkarang holds up for a moment. "Unusual, yes. But I love dealing with the unusual. I'll find you one. But just a basic enchantment? You don't want it to catch fire or anything?" She breaks into a wide grin. "I understand of you can't afford that, but if you could, you're selling yourself short, let me tell you."
Benedict brings up an eclectic assortment of art items, weapons, and armor. From Razmiran masks to well-crafted stone weapons.
"Those potions will be excellent. Can you take these in trade for the potions and the meteor hammer? If you want more portable wealth, we do have gems and coins. But if you are carrying a falchion with you somewhere, perhaps you can put these axes and shields with it. Have a Darklands pack animal somewhere in the tunnels?"
Navvi grins broadly, but doesn't answer Benedict's question about having a pack animal. She accepts the items, and pays in gold trade bars. She takes an advance for the meteor hammer, promising to deliver the item in roughly a week's time, and can make any additional trade upon her return if the party has more items they wish to sell.
A day after the deep gnome trader shows up, one of the halfling siblings, Ramtam approaches the heroes of Phaendar. "Excuse me, good sirs? I'm sorry to trouble you, but my brother has gone missing! We were watching the herd on the eastern paddock. I was focused so much on getting them back in for the night, I didn't realize that Tamran wasn't with me! I just turned around and he was gone! Could you look for him?"
"Yes Ramtam, we will go out at once! We will not leave any of the Hemlock Militia behind."
The worried halfling leads you out to the area where he last saw his brother. "It was right around here," he points to an area where the goats had been.
Benedict looks around for tracks.
Benedict is able to spot the tracks what was probably Tamran. He follows them back until he finds a spray of blood and the prints of a medium-sized creature. It was clearly moving carefully to hide its tracks, but Benedict was inspired. He manages to follow the trail until he comes to a large hollow stump of a tree. Stuffed inside, is the body of the halfling. However, its head is missing, having been hacked from its neck in gruesome fashion!
"The troglodytes didn't use any sharp cutting weapons, did they? Spears, morningstars, warhammers. I'm not sure they can even forge metal. And if they found such weapons, they'd have been in the hands of their champion. While I guess it's possible to behead somebody with a stone spear, it would mangle the corpse severely."
Benedict looks at the body and tries to determine the nature of the weapon that did the beheading.
"Anybody else have any thoughts? We could always ask Rhyna or one of the others to take a look. When we do go back, we'll have to break the news to Ramtam."
"For now, let's keep following these tracks. See where the murderer went after leaving the body here."
Benedict is unable to ascertain what sort of weapon was used to sever Tamran's head from his body. Picking up the trail from this spot requires renewed effort, since obviously the culprit traveled much lighter once discarding the body.