Lilita looks where Markon pointed and listens to Reg's assessment. "Oh. I guess Delma was right" she says.
She peruses the area then shakes her head "I don't see which way he went, though"
Markon slash-swats a few more grass-stalks out of the way with a city boy's clear ignorance of what sort of prints he's actually looking for, but Sparrow gestures him to stop with a handwave of annoyance and instead uses his walking stick to ease bushes and grass to the side. He stoops to study the ground around, then glances up and around, studying the houses a moment with beetled brows... then limps about twenty feet down the road... stoops again....
"Oh come on, are we gonna stand here while you look under every single tree? The little bugger's long gone, okay, so--"
"The tracks go this way," Sparrow announces firmly, and starts off the direction indicated, apparently trusting you're all following. The pace isn't quick, with Sparrow's limp compounding the deliberate way he's studying the ground, but he does seem to have found a trail. For a minute or two you follow it together.
Sparrow leads around a ramshackle barn that looks ready to topple in on itself, the path momentarily blocked by a food trough comprised of rotting, sagging beams, as well as rusted plows and other farm implements. And then-- you all see Finnik!
The goblin is squatted in the center of what was once a barnyard, a chicken with its neck freshly broken hanging from one hand. For a half a second you and the goblin just stare at each other in surprise-- then Finnik leaps to his bare feet and tears madly off the other direction. Time to give chase!
The first obstacle in your way is the piles of discarded, twenty-year old farm tools. The nimble among you might simply manage to vault over them , or brawnier sorts might be able to shove things to the side instead .
"Hey! Get back here!" Markon shouts, and kicks the rotting trough down in his attempt to chase the goblin.
Markon has no trouble clearing the rest of you a path! Lillit, Regariel, and Sparrow can hurry after the fleeing goblin, some of you faster than others. Around the barn's corner, you see Finnik sprinting around the edges of what was likely once a watering pond for livestock-- now a muddy morass.
Reg takes a breath, intending to try a reassuring call of We're not here to harm you, we just need to talk. But before he can get a word out, Finnik is on the run and Markon is kicking holes in things. Not that he's complaining.
Gritting his teeth, Reg starts in pursuit of the fleeing goblin, hoping that he won't have reason to be glad he'd left his better tunic in his pack today...
Lilita winces as Markon crashes through the trough and slips to a stop at the edge of the muck. She attempts to keep her footing as she gives chase across the remains of the pond.
As she scrambles she calls "Wait! We've only got some questions. Delma's worried about you."
Reg loses his footing and has an embarrassing moment of displaying a complete LACK of supposed elven grace... the slick mud is as slippery as ice under his foot and he falls, catching himself with a hand but doing a great job of splattering himself with the algae-crusted mud of the abandoned pond. A little bit even gets into his mouth...
Lilita is more sure of foot, however. Her balance and nimbleness are on display as she hops from dry patch to dry patch, and reaches the other side deftly enough.
Sparrow and Markon try to navigate the pond as well...
Perhaps having the benefit of seeing where Reg fell, Sparrow is able to pick a limping way around the pond, while Markon darts ahead with confident speed and makes significant ground after Finnik.
On the far edge of the pond, a small flock of half a dozen geese-- perhaps once domesticated, but no longer-- are sunning themselves. Finnik apparently picked his way through them with the stealth that goblins are known for-- will you try and follow his route to not disturb the dozing geese, or will you use your knowledge of birds and beasts to get by unbothered?
Lilita winces as she sees Reg fall in the mud, but it will all be for nothing if they lose that goblin. She slides past him, intent on their quarry, repeating "We just want to talk!"
She attempts to skirt past the geese as she follows the little goblin.
Luckily, she's quick on her feet. All of that sneaking out of her room as a girl apparently taught her something.
Regariel grimaces, spits, and scowls in that order, but he regains his feet and follows his companions. Approaching the geese, he tries to slip past them silently.
If it's any consolation to Reg, Sparrow is even noisier, huffing out of breath, his flapping robes clearly agitating the angry geese. While Markon and Lilita slip past like graceful, athletic warriors....... Reg and Sparrow draw the ire of the feral geese, who launch themselves in a flurry of wings and pecking!
Brutal, brutal geese. Sparrow and Regariel both hasten from the range of the angry geese, nursing new cuts, scraps, and bruises to both flesh and dignity alike.
But never mind them. Lilita and Markon, meanwhile-- not delayed by the geese--- manage to deftly catch up with your runner! Markon launches himself the last few feet and more or less bodyslams Finnik to the ground! The little creature OOFS while Markon looks triumphant, his grin fading only slightly as he's reminded that you're all so invested in, like, talking to this little guy.
"Alright," he growls, hoisting the squeaking, cringing Finnik to his feet. "You heard her, the lady wants to talk to you. And you definitely want to talk to her, and not to me."
Lilita takes a breath. She glances at Markon and then at Finnik
"We need to learn what happened with Bort's bowl. What did you see? If we don't find out who did it people will blame you. That would be bad. For you and for Delma. So will you please talk to us?"
Lita tries to say the right things, but it is clear she is every bit as annoyed as Markon.
Though he's painfully aware of how he looks as he stumbles up, brushing goose feathers and mud clumps off his person, Regariel nevertheless intently observes the interaction, especially Finnik's reactions. Whatever the terrified little goblin might try next, Reg wants as much advance notice as possible.
He sighs inwardly at what he hears. If Markon's imposing presence and Lilita's attempt at persuasion won't gain Finnik's cooperation, Reg is not sure how much he'll be able to contribute, especially given the endemic distrust between goblins and elves. But nothing ventured...
He injects all the calm and reason he can summon into his tone. "No one here wishes to harm you, Finnik." Well, he's not altogether sure about Markon just now, but never mind. "All we want is the truth. For Bort's sake, Delma's, and yours."
For all of Lilita's training and charm, her words just seem to make the goblin squirm and twist away, clamping his hands over his ears. Markon gives him a shake, his grip not slipping. It's Regariel whose blunt earnestness somehow gets through to the goblin.
"I... I.... it wasn't my fauuuult! Pleaaaassse don't hurt Finnik, don't kill--"
Sparrow is rather out of breath but manages to say, "Alright, yes, we won't, but you need to tell us what happened."
Finnik slumps as sudden and dispirited dead weight in Markon's grip, causing Markon to growl a brief curse as he nearly loses his hold, but the goblin doesn't try to break free. He slumps to the ground and wraps his fingers over his face in a miserable gesture.
"Wasn't my fault, wasn't my fault-- Mister Scary Hallod, he grabs Finnik and tells Finnik to do it!"
"Well you're gonna have to get more precise with IT, you little green freak--" Markon scowls, though he cuts off at Sparrow's look.
It takes a few minutes for Finnik to calm down enough to tell you a useful version, but the gist is as follows:
Hallod, the man that Markon engaged acrimonious words with when you first entered the common room, had given Finnik a small bottle of 'spices' that he ordered the goblin to put into Bort's bowl at some point in the evening. He said that the spices would just make him 'a little sick,' payback for Bort's high prices, according to Hallod. Hallod had threatened to beat Finnik black and blue if he didn't do as he was told.
"So why'd you run?" Markon scowls. The goblin miserably parts his fingers to peer up between them
"Ran out in the fight! Fights bad place for goblins! Everyone doesn't care if Finnik gets hit! Then today I hear Mister Dwarf Bort almost dies! What can I do? Say did not do it? But Finnik DID do it! Sorry, sorry, not my fauuuuullt...."
"What a craven creature," Sparrow says with a certain sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Finnik, do you know where we can find Hallod?"
The goblin peeks up again, then bobs a nervous nod. "This side of town. Dead oak down the road, then left, then right-- house with the falling chimney! He lives there! I can show?"
"Hallod," Regariel breathes, eyes narrowing as he recalls those particular entries in Bort's ledgers. He gives Sparrow a significant look.
His lips tighten a trifle at the tale's conclusion. While he understands the goblin's fear of a beating, the thought that Bort likely would not now be lying unconscious if Finnik had turned the vial over to Delma and explained the situation makes Reg grit his teeth.
"Yes, I think that would be best," he says in answer to Finnik's offer, then turns to his comrades. "Do you agree?"
Sparrow nods. "That does seem to be where our trail leads next-- Finnik was a mere tool."
"He still did the deed," Markon points out with a glower at the goblin, who cringes.
"There is that," Sparrow concedes, "but I'm more curious about finding out this Hallod's reasons for murder then in punishing the patsy. What will we do with Finnik? Let him go?" (The goblin nods frantically.) "Or turn him over to that deeply unpleasant, puffed-up town 'sheriff'?"
Together you follow Finnik's directions to a decaying, old house on the north side of town, the goblin obsequiously trying to prove his helpfulness...
With the matter of Finnik (eventually) settled, Hallod's house stands before you. A huge, dead willow stands in front of a house that appears to be in serious disrepair. It might have had a second story at one time, but that long ago collapsed into ruin, taking parts of the first floor with it. The windows are all boarded over, and the front door hangs open about a foot, kept from swinging wider by a frayed rope.
Lilita is inclined towards mercy towards the goblin "What he did was not out of malice but out of fear. He couldn't know the outcome. Unfortunately, on the other hand, we can't prove it was Hallod without him."
Lilita doesn't like the look of the house and is not sure they will find anything or anyone inside, but she stops speaking when it comes into view. If Hallod is inside she doesn't want to alert him to their presence.
Reg nods thoughtfully at both of Lilita's assertions. Even if he could wring more physical evidence from the vial in his belt pouch, that evidence would most likely point straight at Finnik instead of whoever handed him the poison. If someone else handed him the poison. Reg refuses to be pushed into a conclusion yet.
When they finally reach Hallod's house, his eyes narrow as he studies the ... residence. "Strange. If Hallod is the 'H' in Bort's ledgers, and produced the gold that paid for those 'reagents,' whatever they were ... why would he live here? Some sort of cover?" Reg keeps his voice to a low murmur, pitched to carry no further than his companions.
"A valid question," Sparrow says in response to Regariel's musings. "I suppose it could just be a front. The sort of building that wouldn't raise questions about his wealth."
Markon grunts, unsheathing his sword. "Under the circumstances, I'm gonna suggest we don't knock. Guy doesn't seem like the sort to welcome guests, you know what I mean?"
Markon strides up to the door. "You want the honors, Lita, or me?"
Lilita draws her sword. "I wouldn't dream of depriving you." She then stands back to let Markon take point.
Markon grins. "Here I thought it was ladies first, huh?" With a wink, he confidently goes for the door... though not so confident that he doesn't strap his shield into place on his forearm first. Regariel has time to draw his sword as well. Markon starts to use uses his shield to push the door open...
...and Regariel cries out a sudden: "Wait! STOP!"
The dark-haired man duly pauses and glances back. "...uh, yeah?"
Regariel wordlessly indicates that the rope will serve as a tripwire for a trap, pointing to the way the rope goes up and into the rafters.
"Oh shit. Yeah. I see it now. Good eye, Ears. Hey, maybe I better start calling you Eyes?" Markon says, then turns to assess the rope mechanism for a moment. "Yeah. Huh. That thing is set to launch a spear. Alla you, back up, I think I see where to cut it..."
"If you're sure," Sparrow says with some skepticism, but moves away from the door.
Switching out his sword for a belt dagger, Markon cranes partially in and applies blade to tripwire (triprope?) in a careful, deliberate fashion...
...and in short order, has the door swinging open harmlessly. A spear clatters to the ground. It looks nasty. Markon grins in triumph. "Boy, that sucker would have punched a hole right through me, huh? Guess I owe you one, Ears-Eyes. Better hope your sniffer doesn't pick something up, then you'll be Nose."
Sparrow rolls his eyes a bit at Markon's jibing. "Yes, yes. Maybe we should be a bit more careful? This house is clearly not empty... and clearly prepared to repel unwanted guests."
"Okay, Mom," Markon says, and makes a show of refastening his shield to his arm and adopting a defensive posture before he takes another step into the space.
The room beyond is... a mess. Debris and trash are strewn in piles, and you see no signs at all that anyone has been in this room save for yourselves in quite some time-- the floor is thick with dust and spiderwebs and shows no signs of recent traffic. The back wall of the room seems to have collapsed, with more trash-- broken furniture, charred beams, smashed pottery, and cobblestones-- all wedged in a haphazard but effective barrier that prohibits any passage further directly north.
You can squeeze into the eastern room, which has a fireplace long choked up with leaves and other rubbish; the spiders have also been at work here and clearly the fireplace hasn't been used in years. Everything appears untouched and unused. If Hallod lives here, he must do so without ever making contact with any of the house's surfaces...
"That f#%+in' goblin lied to us," Markon says with a deepening scowl, cracking his knuckles. "Man, I bet he set the trap!"
"That seems like a very hasty conclusion," Sparrow says with a shake of his head. "Let's look around the building a bit more, shall we?"
With the trap disarmed, Regariel's sigh of relief ends in a small chuckle at Markon's friendly gibe. "Ears is fine," he replies. Though Selcheneb does mean "wise-eyed" in the ancient tongue.
Unfortunately, his wise eyes seem doomed to disappointment when he scans the rubbish tip of a room for anything significant aside from the spear on the floor. Brow furrowed, Reg nods agreement to Sparrow's suggestion of a further recon, then exits the room to examine the tumbledown building's exterior.
"Look there." He gestures at the boards across one window. "I don't think those boards are actually attached to the window frame." He steps forward, then hesitates, scanning the ersatz barrier. "Best to check it first."
"You're earnin' your keep. I'm gonna sit here and let you look it over LONG and THOROUGH," Markon says with a slap to the elf's slim shoulders.
Regariel duly does give it a thorough examination, and determines the window should be safe to enter through. A bit of hoisting and squeezing-- Sparrow exhaling with dismay at all this physical climbing, and ultimately needing a bit of assistance from the others to get through-- sees you inside a tiny cramped 'room' in the building-- more like a corner of a room, the corner that you couldn't get to before due to the debris barrier. It's a tight squeeze for all four of you-- but from inside, you can see the trapdoor in the floor. It appears your trail leads down.
Regariel gives this hatchway another intensive once-over, but if there's traps he can't find any. However, a tug on it reveals that it seems to be locked.
"Since Markon has been kind enough to lead us this far I can give this a try." Lilita says. She bends to examine the trap door and takes a pin out of her hair.
She attempts to jimmy the lock open. She has some skill but the hairpin doesn't seem up to the task. She wrinkles her nose and backs away.
Markon grunts. "Lemme give it a go-- I, uh, may actually have some tools for this." He rummages in his pack before pulling out a set of what are undeniably lockpicks, with a sheepish sort of smirk. (Sparrow gives a minute sigh.)
"....oof. Well that pin's all bent... Okay, let's try the elbow grease method."
Setting his wires and pins aside, Markon studies the hatch a moment then brings his booted foot down near the hinges.
"....okay, more solid than I thought. Uh, maybe-- here--"
STOMP!
STOMP!
"--for pity's sake," Sparrow says with a grimace. "Stop that, you're not getting through, you're going to wrench your ankle on one of those tries, and you're essentially knocking on the door-- why not yell and say 'coming in'? Go back to trying to pick the lock-- or-- Regariel, do you have any ideas?"
"Hmmm." Reg kneels by the trap door and examines the lock. "It looks solid. Maybe a sturdier piece of metal..." And with that he reaches into his belt pouch and pulls out two ... probes. Slim, but definitely stronger than a hairpin.
He slides one tip into the lock and wiggles it, then inserts the other in at an angle to the first. Here's hoping...
Regariel probes for a bit at the lock, then turns his attention to the hinges as well-- perhaps if the lock can't be picked, the entire hatch can be disassembled. It isn't fast, but it IS successful!
"Well done," Sparrow murmurs, though he doesn't seem terribly excited-- possibly because he knows that the only thing that can come of a hatch in the floor is... a climb or a crawl down.
Sure enough, when Markon helps move the dissassembled trapdoor out of the way, you see a cramped shaft with rough beam-and-rock walls, and a crawlspace leading on from it... destination unknown.
Markon looks around. "So this is fun! This is fun. Right? It'll be fun. Who's first? I don't mind takin' point, but maybe Eyes should be close enough behind me to stop me walkin' into a spear?"
Sparrow just looks wordlessly down into the cramped tunnel, and sighs.
After a bit of discussion, Markon agrees to go first, with Reg next to lend his keen senses, then Lilita, then Sparrow for the rear. The magician grumbles under his breath as he climbs stiffly down, having to accept Lita's hand for the last bit.
The crawlspace is about four feet tall-- nice and spacious for halflings, gnomes, and the like, but forcing all of you to hunch to travel it. It's also dark-- although not for long. Sparrow touches one of Markon's shoulder pauldrons, whispering a few words, and it emits a soft yellow glow that allows you to see ahead of you.
"Nice trick, Spare."
"Don't call me that. I suppose let's get this miserable experience over. After this, I claim first dibs on the tub back at the inn... my back is going to need it."
****
Markon and Lilita keep the threat of a fight in mind as they make their way down the tight, low tunnel, Markon's shield raised and Lilita tense and watchful. Right behind Markon, Reg keeps his senses peeled for more traps, and Sparrow mutters the words of a low incantation as he goes. "I'm determining if there's any magic around us," he whispers if anyone should glance curiously back at him. "So far, nothing."
Reg's eyes rake left and right, up and down, scanning everything he can see in the amber glow of Sparrow's conjured illumination.
Unfortunately... it's not enough.
As you hunch-walk along, you all feel a sudden shift in the floor beneath your feet. "...shit," says Markon into the moment's silence-- and then the low ceiling collapses atop you!
Regariel lets fly with an elvish epithet of his own when the floor sinks. How--
--did I miss that?! is lost in immediate action as he leaps forward, trying to get clear, then turn and help others. If he can.
Lilita fully intended to defend herself. But she can't help but worry about Sparrow - Maybe she should let him go ahead of her so she can guard the rear. What if someone comes at them from behind? and she could brace him if he loses his footing...
Despite her stance being a one of preparation, Lita is thinking on this matter when the ceiling collapses. It catches her completely unaware She gives a small cry as the debris hits her.
Rubble rains down, most concentrated on Reg in the center of the first three people. Astoundingly, the elf manages to twist out of the way of the falling stones and beams. Markon lunges forward as well and manages to dodge the rubble.
Not so for Lilita.
Her thoughts occupied with Sparrow's safety, Lilita is slow to react. The first she knows of the trap being sprung is when rocks begin to crash into her skull.
Lilita drops, for the second time...
The stones and rubble rain a cloud of dust over you all, leaving Sparrow coughing but otherwise unharmed.
"Miss Yuzu isn't moving!" he cries out sharply. He drops to a stiff knee by Lilita and hurriedly inspects her head.
Quick hands and thinking from Sparrow help blunt the injury in short order, as he gets immediate pressure off her skull and neck...
...but she is well pinned by the rocks and debris.
"Miss Yuzu? Lilita? Can you hear me?" Sparrow says anxiously, gazing into Lilita's face. "Hang on, we'll have to dig this rubble off of you-- Markon! Use your shield!"
"Man. I'm getting the sense this house doesn't like us much," Markon says, but sounds a bit subdued despite his words. "Hang in there, okay?"
Markon must be more shaken than he lets on-- his first attempt to start digging is clumsy, and he freezes as tiny pebbles and more dust rain down from overhead. Fortunately nothing worse than that seems to happen.
Lilita groans as Sparrow shifts the rocks and tends her head. She opens her eyes to see Sparrow looking back at her.
"What hit me?" she asks, groggy. With a few blinks the answer to the question is clear as Sparrow comes into focus and she shifts to the degree she is able to face him "Mr. Sparrow? Oh. Is everyone...." but she trails off, glancing at the others.
No Lita. she thinks Only you were caught off guard.
"Thank you. Mr. Sparrow.
For all that she is dexterous, Lilita is not overly strong. She tries to wiggle free from the rubble.
"When we catch up to this fellow we'll have to tell him what a charming home he has." she mumbles.
"Right?" Markon snorts. "Hey brother, we really like your welcome mat..."
He tries again, using his hands instead of the shield, throwing wary glances at the 'ceiling' as he goes.
Your initial attempts do little to free Lita, and there's a lot of nervous pausing to see if it's making things worse. Eventually you come to the conclusion that everything that was going to fall from the rigged ceiling has done so, and the important thing is just to keep working diligently at freeing Lilita.
It takes longer than you'd like, but eventually you manage to shift enough of the stones and rocks off that Lita can stagger to her bruised feet. Markon helps brush the worst of the debris off her but you are all smudged with plaster dust and small chips of rock and wood, to say nothing of fresh bruises.
"I dunno about this, we've hit two pretty rough traps so far," Markon says with uncharacteristic hesitation. "Maybe we pull back, come at this when we're fresh?"
"I'd like nothing better," Sparrow says with a sigh, "but that may be impractical. Hallod, or whoever set these traps, is going to know they were rather dramatically sprung. If we leave and come back in the morning, he may have skipped town. Or reset the traps. I think we need to keep going."
Markon and Sparrow look at Lilita and Reg with enquiring gazes. "What do you think?"
Regariel sighs. "We won't have a better chance at finding the answers we seek than we do right now. At the very least, Hallod will remove any useful evidence if he finds out someone has been here."
He glances back at the rubble, then looks ahead down the tunnel. "I say we go on."
Lilita attempts to help in extricating herself and gazes down at her rumpled and dusty clothing. She thanks them all again and fixes her hair that has come loose as Markon speaks.
When he and Sparrow have both said their piece, she swallows and rubs at a spot on her neck which is beginning to become discolored with bruising "If he gets away this will all have been for nothing. Perhaps all of us should be on the look out for traps as we continue, but I agree with Sparrow and Reg that if we go back now we might let him get away. If he hasn't already."
"I don't want the wrong person to be blamed for this if it was Hallod."
"On the other hand I don't want you all to have to keep reviving me...We need to be careful if we can?"
Sparrow nods at Lita's words. "All the traps so far have been mechanical, not magical, so I think I'm going to assume that magic isn't on the table, and just attend to keeping my eyes open, with Regariel. It's a good point that even if he doesn't flee town, he might destroy evidence-- it's not like having tunnels and traps in your home is illegal, as far as I know, so arguably we might be in the wrong in that foolish sheriff's view."
Markon nods with a laconic shrug. "Okay, yeah. Back to it, then, I guess. After the noise we've made so far, he's gotta know we're here."
Somewhat the worse for wear, you push on...
The crawlspace ends very shortly on-- yet there's another hatch leading down. Markon shakes his head ruefully. "How far down are we gonna go? Okay, okay, let's make sure this one isn't trapped..."
You collectively take your time looking it over from all angles and determine that it doesn't appear to be trapped. When you open it, another ladder goes down-- this time, more than five feet.
"Dark down there," Markon mutters. "Cool air coming up, too. That's a lotta earth to dig out-- maybe there's caves or something? Great. I hate caves."
"I hate ladders," Sparrow sighs, looking at the rusted rungs that go down into the darkness. "But it appears there's nothing for it..."
It's a slow, slow progress down, with the lot of you now tense and wary for any sort of dangers ahead. For each step Markon tests his weight on the rung before committing to it, in case any of them are false, and all of you stay on alert. The ladder's thirty feet feel like a minor eternity. But eventually you stand on flat ground again. (Except Sparrow, who's holding onto the ladder above Lilita's head, with not quite enough room to stand in the little hallway that holds three of you.)
A wooden door stands at one end of this cramped hallway. Markon looks it over... then lets Reg look it over.... then lets Lita.....
None of you detect a trap. Markon readies his sword and shield again, and mouths the word, "ready?" to you all.
When you signal that you are prepared, Markon turns the handle...
The old wooden door swings open on rusted hinges, revealing a room lit by a single, flickering torch. Through the gloom you see piles of small crates and more than a few barrels stacked up haphazardly on the south side of the room. Opposite you is a stout wooden door with iron bands, while the north side of the room is bare save for an iron gate set into the middle of the wall. The stench of smoke and damp dog hangs heavy in the air. The flagstones directly in front of the door Markon has opened seem ominously slick with some sort of substance.
No sooner have you opened the door then you hear sudden furious barking and snarling, and the sounds of a rusted metal mechanism grinding open!
Markon hurries forward, trying to keep his footing despite the slippery stones...
...and promptly loses his footing, skidding to the ground. "Aw, shit!"
The warrior struggles back to his feet, and raises his shield, that seeming to be all he can do right now.
Sparrow drops the last few feet off the ladder with a wince, hobbles forward, takes in the scene, and quickly snaps his fingers together. A flickering spark of electricity jumps from one of his hands to the other, and then out to the snarling hounds.
The black-hued dog seems badly hurt by the jolt, while the dog next to it, with the red collar, is less affected, managing to dodge partially.
Having unshipped his crossbow and loaded it, Reg gives Markon a tense nod in response to his silent query. Once the door opens, he scans the room, taking in every visible detail with his keen, dark-adapted eyes even as his hearing tracks the direction the baying comes from.
Between seeing Markon's fall and recalling his own earlier misadventure in the mud, Regariel is not keen to venture onto the slick stones himself. Instead he takes aim at the red-collared dog, watching its movement and reaction to Sparrow's shocking spell. He holds off actually firing, though, waiting for the beast's next aggressive move.
The gate rises the rest of the way, and the dogs tear out like a pack of wolves to try and drag down Markon! Regariel's bolt flies forth but whistles over the backs of the dogs.
But the first one, blasted already by Sparrow's lightning magic, skids in the slippery substance on the floor and hits the ground briefly. It lunges back to its feet a second later-- but in that second, Markon has seen an opportunity. He stabs swiftly down with his sword and the black-collared dog never does regain its footing...
The green-collared dog, however, manages to keep its footing and takes a snap at Markon's calf, drawing blood. The other two dogs seem stymied by Markon's raised shield, and make little progress on attacking the warrior.
"Coulda been a lot worse," Markon grunts from the front line.
"Can you get clear of them!" Sparrow says urgently from behind Markon; Markon looks dubious but sighs. "I'll try--"
......Once again, the scarred fighter slips on the greasy floor, yelping as he goes down much too closely to the teeth of the dogs for comfort. He jumps back to his feet with a certain desperation.
"Bad idea! Bad idea! I'm just attacking from here!"
Markon lowers his shield enough to try a hard swing at the one in front of him.
But it doesn't connect. Sparrow grimaces. "Right, well-- I will probably regret this, but--"
Sparrow manages to keep his feet where both dogs and warriors failed to do so! Maybe because he thinks a lot about where to step as a general rule. He pushes past a startled-looking Markon and into the room. From there, he takes a deep breath and spreads his hands towards the hounds.
Like yesterday in the bar, a blast of colorful lights bursts forth and washes over the troublemakers...
The red dog seems not incapacitated at all, but the other two seem ever-so-briefly confounded. Perhaps Lita and Reg can capitalize on that.
Markon looks gobsmacked. "What the hell are you doing! Get back behind me!"
Lilita follows Sparrow's careful path over the slick ground for two steps, then diverges from his path, lightly touching the wall with one foot and sliding across the slick ground, before rolling to a stop and rising on the other side of the wolves. If she was less dusty and bruised and wearing her daring red cape it no doubt would have looked spectacular, but even in her sorry state it is bold.
Lita swipes at the confused wolf with the green collar in a graceful arc as she rises, hoping for a suitable finish to her flashy entrance
Regariel, still in the doorway, focuses on the slightly dazed, blue collared dog. Eyes narrowed, he loads up with a second bolt and takes a moment to study the animal's vulnerabilities.
Reg takes a steadying breath and fires.
Lilita dances over the grease as if it's not even there, doing a super-cool parkour move that leaves Sparrow and Markon blinking at her grace. Even if the dog COULD see her, it would be left stymied by her skill! Her blade finds the dog's unguarded flank easily.
The dog howl-whines in pain and fury as it's struck!
Reg, meanwhile, eyes the hounds with slitted gaze. This time, he promises himself, he will not miss...
The blue-collared hound falls with a yowl and a whimper!
The two surviving dogs, both hurt now, attempt to take their revenge...
The green one snarls as it bites at Lilita, who wounded it.
The hound manages to land a glancing bite on Lilita but its second snap misses, and Sparrow's magic seems to be impeding from a third attempt.
The other one chooses to keep its focus up on Markon. Without his shield raised, the beast gets lucky and worries the gash on his leg, causing Markon to hiss in annoyance.
"They're throwing off that spell-- finish them off quickly!" Sparrow frets.
Lilita slices at the first dog as he pulls back from his snap at her (green), then dances one step left and twists her blade deftly to stab at the other hound in one graceful movement (red), turning her hand at the last moment to give it a decisive push.
Lilita didn't start this fight... but she finishes it with devastating grace and power. Her first strike catches one dog right in the snarling jaw, putting an end to that threat, and, almost as if she's dancing, Lilita sweeps on to the next and drives her blade home with emphatic finality!
In one fell swoop, Lilita drops two of the beasts, and suddenly you're no longer under attack!
".....Wow. Remind me not to piss you off," Markon says with a blink down at the two skewered hounds.
"Yes, well done, but let's not waste too much time patting ourselves on the back. Who knows what further traps or problems are in wait here?" Sparrow says, twisting to look around the chamber.
"Jeezus, let people celebrate for a second," Markon mutters. "--ALSO, you numbnut, what were you thinkin', going out in front of me? YOU stay in the back, remember, I get hit! The boss'll murder me if you get yourself dead."
"It was the most tactically efficient thing to do," Sparrow says dismissively, looking around at the room rather than at Markon. "--Also, what's 'jee-zus'?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind," Sparrow says, brushing a bit of loose hay aside. "Here, there's some bottles here... Two flasks of alchemist's fire, by the look of things. Someone better at throwing things than I should probably carry them."
Aside from dead dogs, there seems nothing more of interest in this room. The only exit is the door on the opposite side-- a heavy door with metal bands reinforcing wood beams, and a slit at eye-level. After some cautious inspection, you're fairly sure it's not trapped... but it might be locked.
"...we might be here a while..." Markon says as his first fiddling with the lock produces no results.
Lilita pulls her sword out of the dog and wipes it clean, allowed herself a small smile at Markon's words.
I suppose I had to prove that I am good for something other than getting gored and buried in rocks. She thinks to herself.
She takes one of the flasks and offers the other to Reg. "Unless you want both?" she says "Your aim seems good in other instances.
She follows the men across the room and watches Markon. "May I give it a try? she asks "Perhaps a second set of eyes?
She does not do any better however. She steps back after a moment "Clearly it needs more than fresh eyes.
Reg smiles and shakes his head at Lilita's offer of both flasks. "Better to divide them, I think," he says mildly. "If something unexpected happens to one of us, the other will still have a flask to hand."
He gnaws thoughtfully at his lower lip as he watches Markon and Lita's attempts to get past the locked door. When Lilita steps back, he steps forward with a diffident shrug, once again pulling his probes from his kit. "I wouldn't call lockpicking one of my fortes, but no reason not to make the attempt."
Markon watches what Regariel is doing, his head cocked to the side. "Oh-- yeah, I see what you're doing there, the angle you're hitting..."
There's a click from within the door, but when Reg tests it, it seems a second lock is still in play. Markon gives a nod and steps forward to try again with his picks.
The second lock clicks, while Lilita and Reg each stow one of the flasks. Markon grins in triumph, stows his picks again, and preps his sword.
"I'm a little hurt... but not like, about to lose my guts. And Lilita got scratched too. Does one of us drink that potion first, or we just gonna go on in? I'm good either way."
***
After deciding on the potion... you move tensely forward, weapons drawn, crossbows loaded, spells on the tips of tongues.
Inside the door, you see a metal wheel set into the wall. Experimenting with it raises the grate on the small room that held the dogs! Does that mean that someone stood on the other side of the door, peeking through the eye-slit, and deliberately opened the grate as you came in? Maybe. If so, perhaps Hallod--or whoever-- isn't far ahead!
But the room beyond doesn't show any signs of Hallod. It's a living quarters, it seems-- a fireplace in one corner, a rough-hewn cot piled with blankets that could use a wash. Two alcoves in the room hold, respectively, a basic larder with food that keeps well, and, behind a tatty curtain, what must serve as a combination lavatory and refuse pit.
A single rough-hewn tunnel leads further out of the room, the dressed stone of the room giving way to natural stone of caves, to Markon's dismay.
As Regariel looks around at the objects in the room, he steels himself to check out the stinkiest area, holding his nose. In amid things like cracked chicken bones, discarded wax rinds of cheese, soiled paper, and things we won't describe, he sees... the glint of glass. Using a stick, he fishes in the trash and finds a few small glass vials atop the rest of the muck, as if they had just landed there. They have a few drops of silvery liquid still inside, mere dregs now. Another poison? Something else?
While Reg digs in the trash, Markon has found a strongbox chest under the bed. He pulls it out, rubbing his hands together. "Now we're talking-- something to make our bruises worthwhile!"
Regariel stops him before he can start to open it, however, and urgently points out the presence of a barely-visible poison needle on the chest's lock mechanism.
"Oof. Thanks, Eyes. I owe you one," Markon mutters, and digs out his tools to see if he can possibly disarm the needle on the trap. "And I owe this guy a punch in the mouth, when we find him."
Markon tries to disarm the needle-- and his first go slips, nearly resulting in a bad outcome! Fortunately, the needle doesn't trigger, and he takes a breath, and tries again, more slowly...
This time, the attempt pays off. The trap is cleared! A little more work and Markon has the box itself open, a certain avaricious glee lighting up his face. It dims when the first thing he sees is... papers.
"Ugh. C'mon. Here, Sparrow, you look at these..."
The papers are handed off and Sparrow adjusts his spectacles to look them over. Markon keeps digging, handing more papers over, and then.... "YES!"
The sound of clinking coins is heard as Markon pulls out handfuls of coins and lets them fall through his fingers back into the box. "Ha, I knew it! Desna smiles, huh!"
"I think that Desna would say you look rather like a petty thief right now," Sparrow says with a somewhat pointed look at Markon over the top of his papers. "Please don't give our new friends some sort of horrible impression of you, hmn?"
"After all," Sparrow continues, "technically we have no legal claim on that money you're drooling over."
"What?! The guy nearly killed us! Like twice!"
"In a legal sense, we broke into someone's private property, ran afoul of their security and their guard dogs-- slew the dogs-- and are now helping ourselves to his valuables," Sparrow points out, very drily. Markon makes a face.
"Whatever. I'm counting the money."
"Well, tell me the total when you're done," Sparrow says with a bit of a thoughtful hum, flicking through the documents with interest. After a minute or so, he says, "This is a transaction ledger. There were fourteen deliveries Bort made to an "H"-- and there's fourteen transactions here. Interestingly, the prices differ a bit. I should have made a copy of Bort's ledgers, to be sure, but if my memory serves the prices Bort listed as payment were smaller than the ones claimed here."
"So someone's cooking the books," Markon says in a much-too-knowing tone, "and pocketing the difference." He flips a coin for emphasis.
"Possibly," Sparrow says noncommittally. "Hm. What's this? A map?
Indeed-- the last page has a crudely sketched map-- a possible cave, next to a pond? And what looks like a tree stump circled emphatically with some arrows. Sparrow frowns at it a moment, then shrugs. "Can't say I know enough of the area to know where this might be. Maybe a local would."
"There are twenty-one gold crowns here, and thirty-seven silvers," Markon says in a smug non sequitur.
Lilita glances sideways are Markon at Sparrow's words. She snorts but then turns her attention the the papers. She frowns, listening.
"He was just here. Do you think we should go after him?" she gestures to the narrow cave. "Unless you think there is more to investigate here."
"Going after him seems like our only option just now," Sparrow agrees, but there's no great enthusiasm in his tone. "We should be very careful. He's obviously a trapsmith of some skill, and this is his homeground. Who knows what's coming up?"
"Indeed," Reg says a touch grimly. He stands from the refuse area, holding one of the glass vials gingerly. "I think this is an alchemical substance for strengthening the drinker. If he just downed some of this, he's expecting a fight."
Sparrow sighs. "Wonderful. But I don't think we have much option otherwise if we mean to see this through?"
Markon just shrugs, busy sticking coins into his belt pouch. "Not like I ever turn down a fight."
****
The passageway onward opens up into a large natural chamber, the center of which is occupied by a pool of brackish water. Stalactites and stalagmites occupy much of the room, but a path between them leads around the pool and to another corridor on the opposite side of the cave.
No sooner have you entered the chamber then the water of the pool starts to flare blue, and movement happens in the depths! A serpentine head surges out of the water, sparks roiling off its fangs and scales!
"What the hell is THAT?" Markon snaps out.
"--it's-- a lightning serpent," Sparrow says with a blink. "I've heard of them-- watch out, it can blast lightning in a line, don't form a convenient group of us for that purpose!"
Sparrow tries to hurl a rock at it via the power of his magic, but he seems so flustered by the presence of the serpent that his spell utterly fails to connect.
Markon just grunts at the advice. And steps closer..... and strikes.
Markon's blade seems well suited for slashing through serpentine forms! His longsword cuts startlingly deep into the serpent's twisting body, leaving a no doubt mortal wound... once the snake realizes it. It's still fighting for now...
Reg had considered trading off his crossbow for his sword as they walked down the passage, but when their path opens up into a wider room, he's glad he kept his ranged weapon in hand and reloaded ... and all the more glad when the serpent boils forth from the depths. In the moments that Markon uses to slice the snake open, he brings his bow to bear and watches the pattern of the beast's undulations, noting the disruption caused by the sudden gaping wound.
Reg studies the situation and determines that in this instant, at least, he doesn't see a clear shot on the creature... instead, he takes Sparrows' advice to heart and sprints for the partial cover of the cavern wall, pressing himself to it to have some protection from blasts of lightning.
The snake hisses as one of its prey gets away, beady and glowing eyes seeming to debate among its opportunities for a second...
It slithers out of the pool in order to position itself for a discharge of lightning, its coils rattling ominously-- but in doing so, it opens itself up to an attack from Markon!
Markon makes up for his earlier fumbles with thievery by showing what he's really good at-- killing things, apparently. Petty thief he may be; skilled warrior, he also is. His blade snaps out, perhaps not as quick as lightning, but quickly enough-- it catches the snake before it can achieve its final position and with one more hack the snake falls, twitching and spasming, electricity coursing along its iridescent scales.
"--That could have gone worse," Sparrow says with an exhale. Markon just grins, his confidence seemingly restored.
"This is what I'm here for, huh?"
Unhurt-- at least by this fight-- you take a moment to breathe. Sparrow looks around in the chamber and sees-- something-- at the bottom of the pool, but some investigation reveals that the possible shinies would take considerable time to dig out, and tools.
"We haven't got time, Markon," Sparrow informs the man, who looks disappointed but doesn't argue. "Come now, after all this, you don't want Hallod to get away?"
With that, you resume progress down the tunnel......
Several minutes of wary travel down a winding, natural cavern follow..... Regariel observes that at least the elapsing time means that whatever potion Hallod drank should have worn off. Small blessings. It only lightly dispels the tension of being braced at any moment for a trap.
But the tunnel starts to broaden-- and brings with it fresh air, the smell of greenery, water...
The tunnel you have been traversing opens into a cave, and you can see a forest beyond the cave’s mouth. The roots of a large tree block the middle of this entrance, as if the tree had grown into a hillside that has since eroded away. Beyond the tree is a large pond; a path around the water begins to one side beneath a curtain of moss hanging from the tree. The cave itself is piled high with two rows of neatly stacked crates and boxes.
A man is here-- the man you remember from the bar,. He stands on the far side of the room, by the tree, a crossbow aimed casually your way and a bottle in his other hand. A sneer splits his face just as surely as the nasty scar that runs down one side.
"Bort's lackeys, huh!? Took you long enough. Let's do this!"
He knocks back the potion in one go, and his muscles seem to swell a bit. A dangerous light in his eyes as he fires his crossbow...!
"UNGH!" Markon gasps as a crossbow bolt punches deep into his thigh. Hallod laughs, slamming another bolt into the crossbow's stock.
"You wanted to take it outside, little man! Well, here we are!" roars the man.
"Watch out for those tripwires on the ground!" Sparrow shouts, pointing at some not-very-hidden strings about six inches off the ground.
MArkon sets off at a rushed hobble, muttering a 'yeah thanks' to Sparrow as he works closer, teeth bared in a determined snarl for the man who just shot him. Sparrow looks concerned at Markon's already injured state but it's clear there's no stopping him. Markon pushes through, and gets close enough to swing...
His blade just manages to connect-- a relatively glancing wound compared to his own, but it connects. Sparrow looks alarmed, and mutters a spell quickly over Lilita.
Sparrow closes his eyes briefly, then shakes his head in frustration. "No, that future won't pan out," he mutters, and starts hobbling forward himself. He takes cover behind some of the crates.