Eskra murmurs a few words in Sylvan, aiming to protect Carageorn rather than aid his offensive capabilites.
They then fire off a crossbow bolt at the nearest mite.
A branch from the tree conjured by Carageorn spears the mite at the back, and the body slumps lifelessly to the floor. Its comrade manages to avoid the worst of it, only to receive a a bolt in the shoulder.
With only two mitflits standing, and one of them badly injured, they turn around and flee down the tunnel, screaming.
Nidintu scowls as the gremlins retreat, swiping at the marble-thrower with his axe as the little mitflit passes by. "You won't get away that easily, little fool!"
The edge of the axe scores a cut on the mitflit's back, but that only makes it run faster.
Roots sighs.
Let'em go Nidintu. He can go get the rest of them.
Xavin chases the two fleeing mitflits down into the torture cavern, which terminates into a deep crevasse. The chasm is a few yards wide and twice as deep, but tangled roots fill the entire area. The passage continues on the far side, and between the two ledges loops have been tied to serve as handholds.
The kobold prisoner whimpers pitifully at the sight of the elf.
Xavin stops the chase and motions the kobold in the direction they came from and then uses their blade to cut the little creature free.
Hurry, hurry they say in common hoping the kobold understands the way it is supposed to be going.
Nidintu follows Xavin down into the recently-vacated cavern, sparing barely a glance at the mites fleeing across the chasm before his lambent gaze comes to rest on the restrained kobold. Knowing the linguistic difficulties he faced with the kobolds of the radish patch, he wastes no time on words, drawing Amiri's dagger and slashing the roots that restrain the little reptile. This done, he moves to the other three, checking their wrists and necks to see if they are dead or simply unconscious, cutting their bonds if they still live. After moving back to the other room to collect the short sword from a defeated mite, he arms the prisoner with the mite's weapon, carving Erastil's symbol on a sliver of root cut free from the tree and trying to communicate with gestures that the kobold should present it to any along the path to the exit.
His work done, he addresses the others. "That one's in no state to fight, and these lands are dangerous. Perhaps once we're done here, we can serve as guards back to the kobold lands? If we're to make a land for ourselves alongside these people, we should probably get to know them, yes?"
Carageorn announces, "We must take flight, and take the fight to them! Savage them utterly, until none remains!"
Eskra shakes their head, "Cool it. Let's talk to those kobolds. There's glory in the silver tongue, as well as the bloodied blades."
The kobold tilts their head like a bird at Xavin, blinking. They don't seem to understand Common, but they understand well enough what to do when their bonds are cut and they begin to limp away as fast as they are able. At the sight of Nidintu-Bel they draw back, however, flinching at the sight of the mite sword.
They chirp to themself before peeking out and calling out the few words of Common they seem to know. "no kill Mikmek. no kill."
Unfortunately, the other three kobolds seem to have succumbed to whatever torments the mites subjected them to.
When the short sword is placed into the surviving kobold's hand, their eyes widen and the kobold squeals in delight. They point towards the chasm with it. "yes kill, yes kill!"
Using the tip of the sword, the kobold scratches a few lines on the floor of the cavern, depicting some sort of horned creature. Then they fall to their knees in front of it, miming reverence and supplication. Rising, they point to the east again, over the chasm.
Xavin sighs Does know one know the dragon tongue among us? In any case it seems we have already taken sides in this struggle and the right one perhaps, I do not think we would wish to tolerate torture in these lands. I will scout ahead and report on what I find.
Roots stumps behind Nidintu. The pouting Root leshy seems not to be enjoying his afternoon in the dank, dark dirt tunnels.
I may have insulted a family of earthworms once....they have long memories.
Xavin scouts ahead, peering into the chasm to spot a giant centipede curled up at the northern end of the crevasse. The creature seems to be sleeping and hasn't noticed him yet.
Everyone makes it across safely, although for Carageorn it's a close call. The kobold they rescued brings up the rear, clutching the mite short sword fiercely.
Past the crevasse, the tunnel opens up into a large cavern. In the center of this space stands a rickety table held together with twine, covered with a filthy checkered tablecloth and heaped with mounds of dirt, twigs, and gravel, apparently arranged to form some sort of map. At the edge of the map, weighing down a scrap of paper, rests a bloodstained ivory statuette of what looks like a crouching reptilian devil. A bulging burlap sack sits under the table.
Mikmek yells in triumph as they spot the statuette, jumping up and down as they point at it.
The statuette is not without its defenders, however. A particularly pustule-ridden mitflit is sitting astride an enormous tunnel tick the size of a bugbear. Four other mitflits stand ready at his side, including the two who got away earlier. The mounted gremlin wields a trident and shouts in Common. "It wassh a misshtake to come here! I sshshall cleave your flesshsh off your bonessh and feed your bodiessh to my pet. Onwardssh, Tickleback!" The large gap between his front teeth cases a whistling sound whenever he speaks.
Mikmek responds by unleashing a wordless scream and rushing forward with the sword raised. The kobold swings wildly, but the torment and the exhaustion must have taken their toll and the strikes miss.
Nidintu grins at the gremlin lord's words, raising his axe and charging forward to meet the mitflits' charge at Mikmek's side. "You can understand our tongue, then, little fool? Why don't you get a stepladder so you can say that to my face?" He tries to interpose himself between Mikmek and the gremlins to as great a degree as possible, hoping to shield the little reptile from harm. "I know you can't understand me, little friend, but you've been tortured - we can handle this for you." The massive cambion begins hewing at the gremlin leader, hoping to end the fight quickly.
Even atop his giant tick, the mitflit leader is easily within reach of Nidintu's axe blade, and the weapon carves a bloody line across his thigh. The mite shrieks in pain. A shadow of doubt crosses his features as he glances from Nidintu's horns to the horned statuette that Mikmek is so intent on recovering.
Deciding to rest their spellcasting muscles for a bit, Xavin instead focuses on clearing out some of the smaller miflits to keep from being overrun.
Roots looks like he is slower than most in the particular situation, but in reality, the Storm Druid is just gathering the storm!
'bout to make it rain!
With a well-placed arrow, Xavin finishes off the mitflit that had been previously injured.
Two of the remaining mitflits converge on Nidintu-Bel, while the third flings a few marbles at the rest of the group. The leader looses an unnerving cackle before raising his trident to stab at the lone foe standing before him. Surrounded by enemies, Nidintu-Bel finds it difficult to defend himself; a lucky blow from one of the mitflits finds a gap in his armor and the blade slices deeply into the warrior's leg. The pain from the wound distracts him long enough for the tines of the trident to stab into his midsection.
Eskra focuses for a moment, channeling more of their willpower into bolstering Carageorn’s offensive capabilities. His swords flare with magical power, and Eskra gives him a soft punch on the shoulder, ”Go and get ‘em, friend.”
Carageorn roars with battle-thrill, ”Yes, yes! They shall know the wrath of the thorn of the flowering vine! The briar-wood’s call beckons, and it demands your blood!”
He charges in, swinging twice at the mitflit between him and Nidintu.
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Excitement permeates the Root leshy's aura, as lightning crackles in his blue eyes!
The Druid then half-heartedly waves a vine hand in the elven fighter's direction.
Roots then dejectedly Raises his Shield.
Lucky Sons of...whatever has mites!
From the back of the group, Halrod attempts the difficult feat of planting an arrow or two in the mites while hunched over to avoid smacking his head on the cavern ceiling. Sadly, his bow gets tangled in the roots hanging overhead, fouling both shots.
Carageorn almost kills one of the mites with a well-placed swing of his blade, while Roots heals some of Nidintu's grievous injuries, sparing the mites his electrical wrath... for now.
The giant tick that the leader is riding lifts its two front legs menacingly as it attempts to bite Carageorn. Its hypostome latches onto the fey warrior, greedily sucking some of his blood.
Pushed away from the front line, Mikmek dances from one foot to another as they stab at the injured mite, but again their weakened state prevents them from landing a blow.
Xavin drops their bow, draws their flyssa, moves up to stand next to Niditu and attacks the green mite.
Nidintu glances back apologetically at Roots. "Believe me, Roots, if I could stop them from stabbing me, I would." He turns back to the mite leader, a ferocious scowl on his face as he begins to distribute pain to the leader and his mount. "And you, little fool, had best choose your next words wisely - they'll be going on your gravestone." The massive pitborn brings his enchanted axe up in an incredibly powerful strike that slices into both the gremlin lord and the giant tick attached to Carageorn.
Roots starts humming Queen....
Xavin injures one of the smaller mitflits, while Nidintu's axe sweep almost decapitates the giant tick and further wounds the leader.
"No, Tickleback! You will pay for hurting my presshsiousshs baby!"
Shrieking in fear and pain, the two lesser mitflits unleash a storm of blows against Carageorn and Xavin; one of them manages to lunge past the fey warrior's defense and stab him in the leg.
Making good on his threat, the leader stabs another deep wound into Nidintu-Bel, undoing all of Roots' healing work and then some. Apparently out of marbles, Uurch throws some darts at Eskra, but neither of the projectiles reach them.
Roots is seen blocking his line of sight to Nidintu while tossing lightning at the Tick and Red mitflits!
Looking great Nidintu!
The Root leshy then cast Guidance on the about to be worm food elf....
Somehow, the mitflit at the front completely avoids the zapping from Roots-Sink-Deep, but the giant tick convulses and then falls limp.
"What? No no no! Tickleback, my darling! You sshtupid pile of sshtickssh!" The incensed mitflit leader brandishes his trident at the leshy.
Halrod tries to silence its shrieks with an arrow.
Eskra tries to hurl a bolt of fire at the leader of the mites but can't quite connect with it.
Carageorn, for his part, swings twice at the leader, roaring with fury at the injuries that the mites have dared to inflict upon him.
Wrong-footed as he is by the loss of his mount, it is a simple thing for Carageorn to cut down the mitflit leader, who falls with a last half-finished curse upon his lips. Seeing this turn of events, the other mites seem distinctly demoralized and about to flee.
Xavin attacks the green mite again.
and then casts Scatter Scree under the green mite and one space behind it to keep it from effectively running away.
You evoke a jumble of rocks in the area. The scattering rocks deal bludgeoning damage equal to 1d4 plus your spellcasting ability modifier to creatures in the area, with a basic Reflex save. The ground in the area becomes difficult terrain for the duration. A creature can Interact to clear a square of this scree.
Nidintu swipes at the two mites near him, but his attention is focused on the table and the statuette lying on it. "A fine strike, Carageorn. When that mite-lord saw my family resemblance with that statue there, he nearly wet himself, did you see?" He gives a laugh that turns into a pained cough - one hand goes to the rather severe puncture wound in his side as his black blood gushes from the wound. "Damned fools - they've ruined my favorite shirt, they have!" He scowls ferociously at the furthest mite - the one with the best view of him. "Run while you can, little fool! I'm still alive enough to cut your head from your body and kick it half a mile!"
Nidintu's first axe strike kills the frontmost gremlin, while the two surviving mites run past Carageorn and Nidintu, fresh cuts and bruises on them from the scree.
Can we please block off the entrances next time? Xavin bursts out with frustration.
With a bit of difficulty, Nidintu manages to focus on one of the surviving mites as it runs past him, sending the mite on his way with a swat from his greataxe. "You're not getting away that easily!"
Roots grins at the retreating mites!
Halrod sends a couple of arrows after the fleeing mites and between those, Nidintu's axe and Roots's magic, the two fall dead.
Mikmek barely notices the downfall of their tormentors, busy as they are cradling the statuette on the table. The ivory statuette depicts a crouching horned devil and holds down a piece of dirty paper. Written in charcoal in Undercommon, the paper consists of two columns, one labeled Us and one labeled Them. The "Us" column lists only two things: "kobold statue" and "lots of spears and coins". The "Them" column lists "magic dust," "lots of coins" and "shiny big ring". A burlap sack under the table contains the mitflits' treasure.
As the final mite drops, the Druid begins gathering mud and leaves.
Stand still, Nidintu. This will barely hurt a lot.
The Root leshy seems to have found a few worms too.
Xavin breathes a sigh of relief. Apologies for the outburst. I just did not feel I was up for another alarm raised. I do suggest we rest and recover before we see what else is here.
Eskra heads over to Roots. Though only Carageorn was wounded in the fight, it seems the fey warrior's wounds are mirrored on Eskra's body.
"Oy, Roots, we're hurt too. Mind patching us up?"
Nidintu winces as Roots begins tending to his wounds. "My thanks, friend - this is no place to die."
Once the worst of his injuries are bandaged, he moves to the table, glancing over the sheet before shaking his head. "Can't read a word of this script. Maybe battle-plans against the kobolds? Linzi might be able to read the tongue - she's a scholar, after all. She might even be able to talk to little Mikmek here." His aureate eyes linger on Mikmek cradling the devil statuette for a moment. "Looks like these kobolds worship devils or some such." He shrugs. "Can't say I approve, but still, so long as they aren't hurting anyone, can't see as how it's my business how they worship."
After some investigation, he uncovers the gremlins' treasure, rifling through it before shaking his head. "Svetlana's ring's not in here, friends. We should search these caves for a treasury, but it's also possible they lost it somehow. Either way, I think we should make sure little Mikmek here gets home safely, sooner rather than later."
Roots looks up to smile at Eskra.
Of course! Just let me gather more supplies
The Root leshy digs up another few wiggles, a creepy-crawler and even an orange peel.
Frowning, Roots spends a bit of extra time.
Mikmek perks up at the sound of their name and chitter something in Draconic.
Once everyone is healed up as much as the leshy's naturopathic medicine allows, they are ready to advance deeper into the caverns underneath the sycamore tree.
The next cavern seems to serve as a common room, with haphazard piles of broken beds, chairs, wagon wheels and an assortment of worn, tattered and dingy objects clutter the space. A crookedly propped row of bookcases buckles against the far wall, the shelves filled with bits of bone, feathers, and dried centipede legs. Old window frames, cracked and splintered, dangle from the wall like works of fine art.
Six mitflits occupy this room, and if they haven't heard the battle down the hallway, the awful racket that they are making explains why. Two of them are mauling a pair of shabby stringed instruments, while a third is banging a stick against an assortment of old helmets, pot lids and a big cauldron. A fourth is blowing air in a hollow centipede leg, making high pitched sounds that set the teeth on edge. Another pair is huddled beneath a ragged sheet, holding up a book with torn pages as if reading from it - the book is upside down.
Mikmek yells at the sight of them, preparing to charge fearlessly into their midst!
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Nidintu grins as Mikmek puts in their unintelligible two cents. "Our little friend there talks a lot, yes? Probably a scholar or a philosopher or something."
The massive pitborn hefts his axe as the gremlins ready for battle. Whatever Roots packed his wound with seems to be working, and the warrior appears hale and hearty despite his recent brush with death. He strides forward to meet the mitflits' charge, sending gremlins flying with massive sweeps of his axe. At the sight of the drumming gremlin, he smirks. "Ha! Looks like these little fools really can't carry a tune in a bucket!"
Eskra feels a tug at their psyche. Carageorn, as always, with a wordless phrase that translates in their mind as, "Hold up, I got this."
Doubtless his phrasing would have been more wordy, but Eskra smirks nonetheless.
They murmur a few words in Sylvan and a glowing shield spins into being in front of Carageorn.
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Carageorn laughs with violent delight as he sees the cluster of mites.
"Yes, hahaha, their songs are nothing compared to mine!"
He belts out a stanza from some fey opera, a song of bleeding hearts and death, and his heart being like a sparrow's nest. It makes no sense, but then again, neither does Carageorn usually.
He moves up to the mitflits and, instead of slashing at them as is his habit, gestures dramatically to the empty space above them.
As if on cue, a log appears from empty air and crashes down onto them.