Braxton notices that some of the barrels and containers have remained sealed, and will likely be good when you open them. They appear to have had a sort of paste applied to the edges, making sure the contents don't spoil too quickly. Valuable resources indeed!
Unfortunately for the party, no one notices the swarm of cockroaches hiding amongst the food crates until they rush out of out of the relative darkness. A vertibale tide of cockroaches sweeps out from under the barrels and crates, flooding towards you in a rush of sound.
Thanks to her training as a guard, Ankha reacts immediately once the cockroaches swarm out of hiding. “Watch out!” she warns, raising her polearm instinctively against the threat. But she quickly realizes that ordinary weapons are of no use against a foe so numerous and small. Her brain races to recall what she knows about such insects; a moment later she relays a solution.
“Apparently garlic doesn’t work against cockroaches. But light does. Quickly now, everyone back outside!” Setting an example, she hurries back out of the building and into the bright midday light.
Dolgrin had done extensive research on cockroaches at one point, enough to consider himself an amateur entomologist. He agrees with everything that Ankha says and begins high tailing it out of the building. "Just as they young lady said, out now!"
Once he is again in the (hopeful) safety of the sunlight, he bends down to grab a handful of sand as he hums and whistles an incantation to bring the lot of the cockroaches to sleep.
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The swarm unfortunately gets a chance to move over Ku'Hania before she can flee. It crawls underneath her, the many small mouths biting and gnawing at her.
Then, everyone is able to leave the house safely. As Ankha said, the cockroaches don't leave the safety of the darkness and quickly disappear back under the crates and other containers.
“Is everyone okay?” Ankha asks after they have all have gathered outside. “It’s a pity leaving the food to the roaches, but we can worry about that after we figure out where everyone went. Shall we explore the Tool House next?” Out in the bright sunshine, the alchemist’s voice resumes its cheery disposition. Assuming a positive response, she walks to the next building in their circuit and opens the door.
Dolgrin huffs and puffs before returning. "Mmmm. I was able to respond swiftly and get away. But are you all right, Ku'Hania?" he asks, seeing some angry bites on her skin. He had not studied much about medicine, so that was an area he couldn't help much.
After catching his breath, Dolgrin offers an insight. "Insects of the Battaria clade such as those we just interrupted have circadian rhythms and rest, but don't sleep like we do. If we want to explore that building, we may need to remove the roof to banish the shadows within. But until then, aye, the tool house seems reasonable."
Fleeing outside while frantically trying to stomach as many roaches as possible in horror and disgust, Ku'Hania conjures some water to wash off her lower legs, trying desperately not to scratch at the dozens of tiny bites.
"I'm fine, but that was... unpleasant." the shamaness says with clear disgust in her voice. "Yes, let's go on, but with a light source ready this time."
The dwarf nods, understanding that the half-elf's statement was likely underselling her discomfort.
"My spear requires both hands for effective use, but perhaps someone can hold a torch," Dolgrin says. "We should be able to craft one from the materials around camp."
The tool house door opens easily. The contents of this building are useful but unremarkable. Hanging on the wall from hooks and nails are an assortment of tools, such as hammers, handsaws, hatchets, machetes, trowels, and the like. Various other implements, such as makeshift ladders, barrels of tar, and shovels are stacked or otherwise arrayed about the room. Absent are tools and implements that would pertain to or be exclusively used for blacksmithing, as they are most likely in the open forge area you noticed earlier.
Even a single quick glance at the tools gathered here is enough for you to realize that if the colonists had moved, they would have needed to take these tools for their survival. In fact, the second ship sent was counting on these very tools existing here and did not bring their own copies.
Outside of the tools (of which you can find just about any basic one you might require), there is a wooden box with the label "Emergency Only" etched into the wood. It appears to have a small simple lock on it.
“Maybe Braxton could hold a torch? He needs only one hand free for his rapier.”
Inside the tool house, Ankha pokes around a bit but her attention is quickly drawn to the “Emergency Only” box. “Well, I guess it’s more and more clear now that the colonists didn’t move of their own volition. Which still doesn’t tell us what did happen to them.” She points at the wooden box. “Should we try to open it, either by picking the lock or by smashing it open? I think losing all the colonists counts as an emergency, don’t you?”
"This certainly qualifies as an emergency," Dolgrin concurs. "But let's only resort to smashing if you can't get it open otherwise."
Luckily for the group, Ankha is able to get it open relatively easily. Inside are two vials of alchemist's fire and a swarmsuit.
There is a crowbar, but it isn't neccessary to open the box.
"Oooh," Dolgrin muses, looking at the suit. "I could put this on and probably explore the storage room without too much difficulty. Any of us could, really, but ideally someone who could move quickly, see well, and not be overly bothered by creepy crawlies."
Braxton fishes an ioun torch out of his pocket and sets it to floating about his head, the semi-magical stone casting a cold light. "Mayhaps we just burn the entire structure down. The food seemed already lost." The sailor suggests. He is no stranger to cracking open a cask of ships biscuits, only to discover a barrel full of stowaway bugs, but that does not mean he likes them.
“That might be just a wee bit hasty,” Ankha responds to the sailor’s ‘burn-it-all-down’ suggestion. “I think I saw some barrels in there that are still sealed and haven’t been spoiled by the bugs yet. We could drag them out and store them in another building instead—I think our ship would appreciate us salvaging some food for them.”
She picks up the swarmsuit and hands it to Dolgrin. “You’re probably the best one to get the food, and to explore the storage room for any clues, since you can see in the dark. But perhaps you should take Braxton’s ioun torch with you, to help keep the roaches at bay, just in case?” She glances over at the sailor to see if he agrees.
“Meanwhile,” the short human rummages around in the tool shed, grabbing a crowbar and a ladder, “I can try to pry off a bit of the roof, to let more light into the storage shed.” She looks at the vials of alchemist’s fire, then at Ku’Hania. “Do you want to take those? They might be really helpful later. Or even now, if we wanted to kill all the cockroaches. But we can just let them be and grab the unspoiled food, right?”
"Well at least the suit will provide the protection to check the storage room out properly. We've found a few things in unexpected places so far." Ku'Hania chimes in. "We should probably save these for something worse." she replies to Ankha, taking the vials and storing them in her backpack.
"I can also conjure lights, it's just that the roaches caught me by surprise before I realized they were needed."
Dolgrin chuckles ruefully. "Hasty indeed. That would burn away potentially valuable clues of what happened here."
As the consensus seems to be moving in his direction, Dolgrin nods dutifully and begins removing his lamellar armor so that he can don the swarmsuit. "I'll take whatever light is offered, whether floating above my head, held in my hand, or glowering from a hole in the roof. I'll do my best to be quick, too. About the only thing I can ask is, if it seems like they start getting through the suit and I stop moving, please come pull me out before they devour me alive."
As Dolgrin dons the swarmsuit, Ku'Hania further ensures his safety, conjuring a quartet of softly pulsing blue lights, that bob and float around him as if in water, surrounding the dwarf.
Dolgrin discovers that there is quite a bit of food left preserved here, enough for at least a few weeks for the new wave of colonists. A good sign for the immediate future of the colony. Alongside that, he finds an intricate teakwood box, about a foot long. Inside is a well-crafted wand carved from the same material as the box.
Other than the food and the wand, there isn't much else of interest in the store room.
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The roaches were persistent, but the suit mostly held up. The hardest thing is trying to ignore the fact that he was absolutely covered: a far different experience than the days with his experiments many years prior. Then, the furthest would be that his lower arms and hands would be covered, and usually then covered in chemicals to deter bites and stings. Scale alone could not account for the difference. When Dolgrin stumbles back into the sunlight with the teakwood box, a few roaches clinging to his suit, he pitches into the sand and wrenches the helmet off. He loses the remnants of his lunch from the ship, breathing heavily and itching at a couple of spots where the cockroaches had managed to bite through. Through the heavy breathing, he holds up the box and wand.
"Good food, not spoiled by the roaches," he gasps. "And a wand."
The dwarf catches his breath leaning against a nearby rock, asking for just a few moments before he feels ready to keep moving.
“Are you all right?” Ankha bends down and looks at Dolgrin, the expression on her plain face mirroring the concern in her voice. She helps brush away a few of the insects, then quickly steps back, away from sudden, forceful expulsion of vomit. “That’s an excellent idea,” she nods with cheerful approval at the sight of the dwarf’s lunch, “most people eat far too much. Overeating leads to all sorts of health problems, and eventually death. You should feel much better now.”
Acting as if the bard should be perfectly fine now, she peers curiously at the wand. “Have you any idea what it does? It’s definitely a useful find, along with all the good food you discovered. If the barrels are still properly sealed I suppose we can just leave them there for safekeeping.”
“But you should rest for a bit first,” she adds upon noticing the dwarf’s labored breathing. “Try to hold your breath,” she advises earnestly, “overbreathing leads to death as well.” The well-intentioned (but not particularly helpful) alchemist waits patiently for Dolgrin before continuing their systematic investigation.
Dolgrin laughs lightly at Ankha's ministrations. Was this how he sounded to other people? He nods when asked if he's all right. No need to worry the girl.
Ku'Hania gives Ankha an odd look at the suggestion that the forceful vomiting was anything other than a reaction to being swarmed, and rather something healthy or normal. When she comments of breathing too much leading to death, the shaman shakes her head.
'She definitely shouldn't be in charge of anyone's health once we set up the colony'
Gesturing as she draws upon her magic, she conjures a few gallons of water out of the air to wash away the remnants of Dolgrin's unpleasant experience, reducing the obvious signs of their presence, should anything be following them.
Dolgrin gives a weary thumbs-up to Ku'Hania. Some dwarves would probably feel embarrassed to receive such aid from someone with elven heritage.
But Dolgrin had courted an elf, Seldalphon, for a few years back in Almas. That sort of experience tended to banish any remaining cultural taboos held by the old-world fools in the Five Kings Mountains.
This L-shaped building is constructed of mud bricks on a wooden frame. The western portion is of the structure is enclosed by four walls. This section has a single open window on the south side, with a canvas curtain hung across the opening. The single entrance is a wooden door, standing slightly ajar, on the southern end of the eastern face of the building. A ten-foot extension connects to the building on the east side. This extension has only a northern wall and is otherwise just a roof sheltering the space below, which is open to the outside. Underneath this cover is a forge with an exhaust flue directly above it, a worktable covered in metal scraps, a small tub of black water, and a partially sheltered anvil.
A closer look into the outer area of the forge reveals a smattering of blacksmithing tools and pieces of metalwork, such as weapons, tools, or farming implements abandoned halfway through being forged or repaired. The water in the tub is filthy with soot, ash, and charcoal residue. A quick look at it indicates that it has only been about a week since the forge was last lit, not a month like the rest of the things you've seen used.
"Hmmm," Dolgrin says, observing the recentness of the forge's activity. "Well now this is curious." He drags his finger through some of the black and gray residue, rubbing it between his fingers and smelling it. "Yes, no doubt, this has been used recently. A week ago, I think."
Dolgrin had not done nearly as much metalworking as some in his clan. And Riordi had done the bulk of the forging in their experiments, gods rest his soul. But a dwarf was no true dwarf who could not recognize the signs of smithing, or so his papa had said many years ago.
"So someone is still here, still alive, and still using at least this. Who and why--unknown. Not to complete those--" the dwarf points to the unfinished and broken tools, "--but for some other cause. Shall we look inside?"
The dwarf shoulders his weapon and nods ahead, expecting to carry on with their usual marching order.
"Or the smith was among the last to leave...or fall prey to whatever happened." Ku'Hania comments.
"Smiths are hearty folk," Dolgrin responds with a wistful smile.
Ankha pokes around the forge, examining the various weapons and tools scattered about. She interjects respectfully after Dolgrin’s observation. “Well, actually, there doesn’t have to be anyone here right now—they could have left a week ago, as you say. Though that’s still a couple weeks later than the last journal entry we found, so this might be our best chance of finding some more recent clues.” Buoyed by the thought of uncovering more about the missing colonists, she chats amiably while heading inside to explore the rest of the building.
“Say, have any of you heard the gossip about extending one’s lifespan with mechanical parts? I guess it’s sort of like how a hook will last longer than a hand—or at least it can be replaced if it gets rusty or worn—or like a wooden leg, except the idea is to replace an internal organ, like your heart, with a mechanical device.” She gazes at the forge and the unfinished items, as if contemplating constructing such an object right then and there. “Supposedly there’s a scientist in Absalom who’s close to making a breakthrough.” The alchemist speaks casually, as if the most natural thing in the world is to replace one’s heart with a hunk of metal.
Inside the smithy building, the space is divided between personal living quarters and an indoor tool storage and work area. A pungent animal smell lingers in the air and a tussled pile of blankets on the wooden cot is soiled. The room is in a state of disarray, with tools such as tin snips, pliers, and files carelessly strewn all over. A few normal sized weapons and pieces of armor are strewn among the debris.
Standing inside, seemingly awaiting your entry to the forge proper, are three small angry looking beings. They hoist small spiky spears and launch them towards the first two to enter the building.
One spear thunks into the door frame, but another catches Braxton in the torso. Luckily his armor absorbs some of the blow. "That's not how you welcome guests!" The sailor strides forth and returns the favor, landing a telling blow on one of the goblin-looking creatures.
Braxton's strike elicits a cry of pain from the goblin, and it looks like it's hurting a lot but doesn't fall. The trio of goblins converge on Braxton, stabbing and poking at him.
All three are so caught off guard by the intruder that their spears go wide.
With a little tut-tut, Ankha wrinkles her nose disapprovingly at the stink of animal, the mess of tools, and the general disorder in the room. Her face lights up in surprise when she notices the strange humanoids—Finally someone to talk to!—but darkens with a gasp when a spear injures Braxton. Fortunately his quick quip and daring dash into battle parry her worries, and she quickly follows suit, rushing in with her polearm raised for attack.
“And didn’t your mothers teach you to clean up after yourself? This place is an absolute mess!” The alchemist slices her fauchard down, in a low, sweeping motion aimed to knock one of the creatures onto its back.
Dolgrin moves into the room and looks askance at the goblins. At least he thinks they're goblins. But what kind? Did that awful smell have something to do with it?
In either case, he hefts his much larger spear and stabs it into the one nearest him.
Seeing Braxton surrounded, Ku'Hania moves quickly to give him some room, briefly easing the pressure by sending a blast of water slamming into one of the goblins, knocking it back.
Braxton easily parries the crude weapons of his opponents. "Hah! Not such easy prey when I'm aware of you, am I?!"
Ankha and Ku'Hania unfortunately miss with their respective attacks, but Dolgrin and Braxton both strike true, ending a goblin with each hit.
Dolgrin knows they are, in fact, goblins, but doesn't know much else about them.
The last goblin makes a run for it, making its way through the crowded battlefield and leaping through the open window surprisingly quickly.
"If we track it to wherever it is running to, we might find out something about what happened here." Ku'Hania says moving outside.
Braxton tries to follow the gobbo out the window, but is stymied by the bed.
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Dolgrin uses the momentum from his spear to spur him along and run outside after the goblin. Tricky thing that it could get away.
The old, salty dwarf wasn't as hateful of goblinoids as some of his kin, but there was a latent tendency there from having grown up hearing stories that spurs him along.
He doubted he'd be able to keep up, but he was at least willing to try.
Ankha gives Ku’hania a quick nod of acknowledgment as she races out the door and after the small greenskin. "I don't suppose any of you know how to speak Goblin?” Churning her short legs as fast as she can, she closes in to within reach of her fauchard. Extending her polearm, she prepares to trip the small creature if the opportunity arises.
"Fraid not, lass," Dolgrin says, maintaining his breath as best as possible as he hustles along. "Never saw the need."
As the three members of the party make their way outside (and Braxton tries his best to do so), two more goblins standing atop the roof reveal themselves from their hiding spots and launch spears down at the party.
Anka will be struck by a spear, but the one aimed at Dolgrin flies past him.
The one that was fleeing turns to throw his spear as well, but luckily for the alchemist this one misses.