Argon hides beyond the doors, staying stone still and listening for Graff's signal.
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Time runs differently when you must stay still and quiet for an extended duration. Children do not often have the concentration or oneness of mind to last more than a few minutes, and many adults fall into this category too.
You hide, and wait. At some point you hear some quiet voices, talking to a louder Graff. Then you hear nothing for a time, and then discussion - two quiet voices, speaking to each other in low tones. You also notice they have a light of some sort, probably magical and fairly constant, except that it moves around.
You are startled by a bang, and realize it is a crossbow bolt hitting the door you half removed. It is probably a ploy to rouse any skittish interlopers. If they suspect you are there, surely they will come in force?
After another painstaking length of silence, though you do hear noises from within the large chamber, and therefore surmise there is at least one additional skeleton or rat or something else in there, you do hear Graff's voice. "Good Riddance, I say!"
Upon the signal, Argon looks through the space in the door and up the hall. "I see nothing" he whispers. He climbs through the hole, hoping to the gods that the crossbowman is not there. If he is, and he's human, he can't see them, so he takes some solace in that.
He stands inside the hall waiting for the others to come through.
Moving slowly and carefully to avoid making any extra noise, Ssilax and Dog follow the others.
Wrathe takes his position among the others on the other side of the door.
Ssilax glances around, keeping his eyes open for trouble.
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The intrepid group travels west down the perfectly straight hall. When they reach Graff, they see Me'lar is no longer there. Graff entreats, "Hurry, yaa, she won't wait all day!" You wonder if Graff has ever seen day.
Continuing along the hall, you reach the glowing red fungi, and move past it into further blackness. Another hundred or so feet brings you to two little alcoves, indentations in the wall about three feet deep. The original purpose is not clear, but right now one of them serves to hide a patient Me'lar, and in her hand a candle which illuminates the immediate area.. She puts her hand to her mouth, showing her fingers closing her mouth, large eyes wide to ensure you understand.
The back corner of the alcove she stood in has a dark line from top to bottom, and some space beyond. But Me'lar doesn't explain anything, she just starts moving farther west down the hall. The hall continues to be straight, with flat walls, ceiling and floor, for another few hundred feet, and ends with a large double door.
Me'lar approaches the wall before the double doors, searching for some kind of non-obvious mechanism. She finds it, and the wall moves aside, revealing another passage behind. Me'lar wastes no time, but steps through and waits for you all to join her in the small chamber which is part of the passage. Once you're all through, she carefully closes the door and does something to ensure it is properly closed.
Wrathe flinches as they move through the pools of Dorian's blood, which reminds him of the unexpected attach upon Master Dainoth, leading to Ssilax carting around his master's hand like a loaf of bread.
Glancing at the alcoves he deduces that they are likely the firing positions for the snipers that ambushed their companion earlier.
The wizard pads along, in his chosen marching spot, silently following Me'lar, wary of any signs of betrayal.
Ssilax moves as quietly as he can, barely daring to breathe as he and Dog sneak along. His familiar kept close by, letting the dragonkin guide him along. He had nodded to Graff as they went by to find his daughter.
The day had gotten just a tiny bit better for them.
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The girl follows the new hallway, which is only five feet wide, and goes south for a ways and then turns east and becomes a set of stairs going up. You follow her for a ways, the stairs turning south again, and finally come to a landing with passages heading both east and west, and a door on the south wall.
She stops there and looks at you all. "Now, yaa follow me, and pretand like yer sposed to be here. Just walk, normal. " She looks nervous as she straightens her clothes and opens the door. Dim light pours forth, and inside the room you can see shelves of all manner of goods, from cooking pots to chains to basic weaponry. It is lit by green and red fungi. It may be a main store room for the people who live here.
She ushers you into the room and closes the door, then heads through the room, which seems to be unoccupied, to the other side. You all follow. She stops then, listening at the new door, and many seconds go by.
Right then, several of you hear a noise back at the door you entered this room through. Someone has opened it. You cannot see that first door from where you are now, but it is perhaps only sixty feet away.
Wrathe walks with a purpose, as if he owns the place, until he gets to the storage room, at which point he does a cursory search for anything magical utilizing his innate ability to detect magical auras.
Nodding at Me'lar, Ssilax quickly pulls up his cowl and tightens it. Double checking to make sure the hood of his cloak wasn't caught on one of his horns, the dragonkin was confident enough that his appearance was concealed. At least until someone paid too much attention to the group, then his disguise wouldn't really matter.
Taking a deep breath to steady his nearves, Ssilax follows Me'lar's council, walking by the supplies as if he saw them everyday. From underneath his cloak hood, the Theurge's sapphire orbs glanced about. He was keeping a tight rein on his curiosity, not wanting to be distracted from getting back to the surface. Although, there where a number of interesting odds and ends making that difficult.
Daxniss follows the others, keeping up with the illusion that she belonged here.
*critical failure
Wrathe adopts a form most closely approximating those of Graff and Me'lar, accepting the lack of vision that would likely entail, and removes his cowl in the hopes of solidifying their collective ruse.
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Me'lar's eyes go wide as she hears the door open at the back of the room.
"Quickt! Ramember, act normal!" she whispers hurriedly.
The room's treasures are of limited interest unless their adherents are into cook pots, chains (there are a few sets of manacles, but no keys visible), rust, or metal weapons. In fact, you notice there is no wood that you have seen, though cloth and hemp can be spotted; everything else is stone or metal. Nothing inside gives off any magical aura.
Me'lar stands up straight, trying to appear authoritative, which is difficult to achieve for one so young. Still, she does a fair job of it. She quickly opens the door and starts walking, to the right, down the hall beyond the door. She turns and says, "Close the door behind ye."
The hall is maybe twenty feet wide, lit periodically by red and green fungi, and is occupied! You see a number of people, humans, up and down the hall, apparently going on about their business. The smell of food cooking reaches your nostrils, and you realize how hungry you are.
You follow her, and as you go, people mostly ignore her, and you, and each other. You wonder how big this group, or settlement, or whatever it is, is. They are dressed in drab garb, and most have long hair, though the men are shaven. Two children go by, joined by a chain attached to their iron collars, and wearing few clothes. They stare at you as they go by.
Daxniss and Dorian notice a group behind them - two uniformed men with crossbows, two cowled men in robes whose faces are in shadow, and two huge men, or creatures, standing seven feet tall, wearing very little, and with greyish and sallow skin. The group is moving in the same direction as you down the corridor.
Soon, the left wall of the path opens up onto a cavern. A huge cavern, with what looks to be some kind of town inside. Buildings of stone, some with metal roofs but most without, interspersed by "streets", and people going about their business. The path you're on seems to be circumnavigating at least part of the town. The whole place is lit by the fungi. Me'lar, who has seemed in too much of a hurry to say anything, now tells you, "That is the homes quarter of Siranor, where we sleep."
Right then a woman in her thirties, perhaps, approaches, speaking in the same mix of common and undercommon that you're getting used to. "Me'lar, how's yer father? Near done?" Then she notices the group of non-humans and near-humans, and her eyebrows raise, slightly. Me'lar quickly explains, "Oh, these are traders from one of the markets, come to look at the wares. Me... me father is occupied, as you know, so I's showin them. I must not keep them, they be goin back now." She nods and keeps moving what might be southwest by now (the homes quarter being generally south of you). The woman looks skeptical as you go by.
The sights and smells of the new place rushed at the young dragonkin, who tried to maintain boredom in his body language. The only thing that really gives him away was a noisy gurgle from his stomach, followed by a quite sigh. Dog sticks close by, his nose sniffing at the air as the familiar looks around.
When the woman tries to slow Me'lar down, Ssilax tenses for a brief heartbeat. Sending a brief nod is sent the older woman's way, and then Ssilax turns to ignore the older woman. Very similar in attitude to a merchant who sensed their newest victim had no coin. Aside from a few differences, it did seem to be similar to the surface. The sight of the slaves obviously chained together was a bit new.
At the sight of the underground city, the dragonkin started drawing up a long list of questions. In keeping with his merchant guise, the Theurge doesn't say anything. At least for the moment, however, the first chance Ssilax had (if one happened), he was going to pick Me'lar's brain for answers
Wrathe searches his mind for anything he has ever heard about Siranor.
Impatiently the wizard hisses in the same mix of Common and Undercommon, "Time presses, and our time is valuable Me'lar. Find another occasion for socialization." The woman's skepticism was sufficient to risk his intervention, lest she raise an alarm.
*critical success
His nostrils flare as he sees incarcerated children, and it takes all he can do to not lash out at those that keeps them in chains.
Daxniss works on her body language, acting calm like she had seen all this before and isn't impressed, her eye twitches as she sees the slaves. She knows that there will is nothing that she can do at the moment, as the group might not be able to free the slaves and live at the same time.
Ssilax hopes his body language is displaying his feigned, uninterested attitude.
Argon follows along, trying to be as unnoticed and nondescript as possible.
He notices the weapons in the store room, and sees they seem to be of decent quality, as to most of the goods made of iron, which is a good deal of them.
As the group moves on, he looks at the town, wondering about their security, trade, and other things. But he keeps his mouth shut for now.
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Wrathe thinks he has heard the name Siranor referred to as a place under the city where children are bought and never seen from again. The people are secretive and insular. Of course, he is not sure how much of this is true.
The women is a bit taken aback at Wrathe's harsh words, but you all move on.
As you approach the western side of the large cavern, you see a large black building with the same symbol of Norgorber prominently displayed on the side. The western side has an exit, a wide passage leading west, and Me'lar says, "That way's tha farm, 'n' forges. We gonna go that way but turn off."
The creepy group behind you (creepy because they don't seem to say anything to anyone, and others seem to avoid them, and, well they look creepy) pick up their pace a little as you approach the western tunnel.
Teaching everyone the Undercommon tongue had merely been a means of hiding their words for surface dwellers, but in this case it was paying additional dividends.
Wrathe leans in close enough to Me'lar so his words will not carry, "My harsh words were merely a ruse to support your story Me'lar." Apology extended he nods behind them as they travel and asks, "We appear to have garnered the interest of that other group, do you know anything of them?"
The wizard starts looking for a location to launch an ambush from. If truth be told he would look forward to an opportunity to spill slaver blood.
He speaks only when it is unlikely that his words will be overheard, except by his companions who he wishes to learn what he has remembered, "Me'lar, I had heard tell of Siranor being a place where children are taken and never return. Is this correct? Can we help somehow?"
"Can we focus a little more on the people tracking us down? I feel that's a slightly higher priority. We can't really help anyone if we end in chains. Or dead." Ssilax whispers to the the others. He felt for the slaves, what person with a heart wouldn't? But they where without any real for of support, other then the skills that they had. One only had to glance at Dorian (where ever he disappeared to), to be reminded of how.., weak, all of them still were.
Wrathe remains silent as he methodically collects information on absolutely everything he has seen. He vows to return to this place in power and leave it a smouldering ruins, if its purpose does indeed match what he has heard.
Perhaps knowledge of this place was a gift a gift from Master Dainoth, since the elderly wizard was well aware of Wrathe's beliefs on the subject of subjugation.
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Dorian finds that there is no crowd to blend into. There are people on the road here and there, surely, but only a hermit might call it a crowd. Nothing he sees brings to mind any way to hasten the groups progress.
Wrathe speaks to Me'lar, and his first words are met with a nod a she hurries forward. She says, "They be Clergy, 'n' guards. They da not want a scene." She seems reluctant to share more than that. And when missing children are mentioned, she looks a bit taken aback, and flustered, says, "No, it's ... he... No, no thanks. Follow quick!"
As you go, you hear a beautiful sound coming from the direction of the church. It is a choir, and they sing a lovely, melancholy hymn of some kind which is not recognized by any of you.
Soon you reach the turn to the tunnel leading, you believe, west. The tunnel is similar to the previous one, before it entered the large cavern. After a short trip down there, she says quietly to you, "We'll take the farm; mayba we can lose them in there." She takes a passage leading north.
The passage is less than ten feet wide, and it is not straight but rather quite winding, and with narrow exits off both sides. It is now carved stone you travel through - no bricks, but there are occasional places where there are stone or even iron supports. She takes the second exit off this one, leading east, and says, "Hurry! The narrow passage seems well worn, but turns quickly and you cannot see more than thirty feet ahead within it.
Argon reads urgency in the girl's voice, so once they reach the narrow exits to the farm (or in the farm?) he looks for anything he can use to slow the progress of those behind them, even the stone itself, if there are boulders, or loose or soft stone that can be put in the path... He moves to the end of the line and says to the others, "If I'm delayed, keep going, but don't let me get lost!"
Wrathe lightly taps an iron and then a stone support as he passes, wondering if there's any give to them that might assist in a tunnel collapse.
Seeing Wrathe tapping on the supports, Argon nods and starts digging in his pack for the rope and grappling hook. "Good thinking! Let's hold off until we find a weak one."
Wrathe and the others know Argon has had training in how structures are made, and Argon knows Wrathe is clever when assessing such situations.
He watches for a support that can be pulled down, but that will also allow the rock to cave in.
About to say something about potentially bringing down the ceiling on their heads, Ssilax thinks of the group following them. Odds where decent that they wouldn't collapse the entire tunnel, so they wouldn't cut off the villagers from their underground farms.
Daxniss curses inwardly at the fact that they were being followed however it was not surprising to say to the least. Argon had a good idea and it might slow down their new 'friends'
Wrathe also seeks out the best support to pull down to augment Argon's intentions.
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You navigate through a maze of passages, which is punctuated occasionally by small caverns where crops grow. These include several kinds of mushrooms and other fungi, a few small plants, some kind of water plant growing in ponds and lit by large amounts of glowing fungus. In these rooms you encounter people, farmers, who are lightly dressed because of the warmth down here, and their sometimes heavy work making them sweat. They regard you with interest, surprise, and occasionally shock as you pass through their farm-caverns.
Also inside, and sometimes outside in the wider passages, are a few different kinds of metal containers - some are like big iron baskets, while others are more like a wide ring surrounding a mesh bag. Iron is everywhere, but some of the pieces seem to be made of tin, or of metals with lighter colors. These containers are sometimes full of whatever is being harvested, sometimes on the ground, other times stacked, and sometimes placed on a small metal two-wheeled cart.
There are not so many supports here, so Argon is able to pull down a few stacks of empty iron baskets, by slowing down just a little. He can run quickly to catch up. The first time he does this, a guard comes into sight and fires a crossbow bolt at Argon, but the bolt had come off its seat, and now falls, broken, to the ground. Argon is able to run to catch up to the others, the basket spread sufficient to slow down the followers.
After a few basket and cart turnovers, accompanied by indignant shouts of farmers, or perhaps pursuers, Wrathe sees a pair of metal supports that look like they might be pulled down; whether the rock above them will fall is anyone's guess, but it does seem to be a fair possibility with these supports. In addition, there is a mesh attached to the support that looks like it is there to keep smaller rocks from raining on people's heads.
Wrathe falls to the back of the group, awaiting Argon's return and points out the two supports to his friend, and then hurries to get out of the man's way.
In mid-stride Wrathe shifts into a form much better to see in the darkness; a dragonkin.
"Well, it's safe to say that they know we're not from here," Ssilax mutters dryly. His orbs shift around rapidly as he looks for any method he could use to help to slow down their pursuers.
Rushing to catch up with the others, Wrathe suggests that they slow their pace a bit, in case Argon gets in trouble attempting to trigger a collapse.
Ssilax wishes he had a more powerful version of his acid spell as he glances at a nearby support beam.
Wrathe turns on his heel, brining his master's staff out before him, and prepares to lend assistance to Argon, if needed.
"Not the fastest choice in forms, my friend," Ssilax whispers from behind his cowl which hid the grin on his snout. His sapphire orbs dance across the mesh designed to catch smaller rocks. The young Theurge tries to quickly figure out if it would be possible to drop a section of it on their pursuers. Or perhaps, to drop a section to block the tunnel long enough for them to escape.
Te young dragonkin wasn't sure, but he thinks that dropping a section of mesh might be safer then the support beams. After all, they where helping to hold a near incalculable amount of weight of stone from falling. He whispers this to his friends.
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There is little time to spend considering what to try to collapse. Neither Argon nor Wrathe know whether pulling down the beam will definitely cause a collapse of rock. But it seems more likely that pulling the mesh might pull down some smaller stones. Again, it's unclear whether enough stones will fall to block the passage. Ssilax nearly echoes this thought in his whisper to the others.
Argon hears Ssilax and nods. He takes the grappling hook which is in his hand, and hooks it to the edge of the mesh - where the mesh is attached to some kind of metal, but nothing too solid looking. He tries to jam the grappling hook so that it holds for a bit while the group move down the hall. Then, moving forward down the hall, he wraps the rope around his staff, to have a good pulling handle. He runs forward and pulls two-handed on the staff, which should, he hopes, pull on the rope and grappling hook, and finally the mesh which is holding up stones.
Realizing he is not getting a good grip on the staff, he asks the others to help him pull.