Meepo's thin frame seems to relax slightly at Temerith's words, a hopeful twitch flickering across his frills as Nee offers more food. He huddles the tattered blanket tighter about his shoulders, nodding vigorously - "Yes, yes! No smash, no yell!" he repeats, visibly relieved. "Meepo likes friends. You not like goblins, yes? Goblins are bad. Wretched goblins!" His voice sharpens at the word, teeth flashing for a moment - too many and too sharp for such a small, trembling creature.
Then he straightens his shoulders - “If you find Calcryx,” he says to Nee, “and bring her back… Yusdrayl will give reward. She will listen to Meepo again. Meepo show you to Yusdrayl now, if you promise. Find Calcryx. Make it right.”
When Lanliss asks who gifted the tribe with Calcryx, Meepo tilts his head slightly. “Calcryx was gift to tribe,” he says again, with quiet reverence. “Not from person. Not trade. From dragons themselves. We kobolds are... heirs. Of dragons. This place, this old place - ” he taps one claw against the stone floor “ - is holy. Colony gift. Calcryx came to us. Small, but powerful. For us.”
His eyes drift slightly out of focus, his voice taking on a dreamy, half-chanted tone. “Old Yusdrayl… she knows about the forever-dragons. Their breath still lingers in the stones, she says. Meepo… Meepo just Keeper of Dragons. Just… Calcryx.” He seems to shrink a little, the fire gone from his voice.
Jacq's direct questions bring him blinking back to the moment. "Smaller!" he says, quickly. "Much smaller than you, big one." He holds his claws a couple of feet apart. "Calcryx is wyrmling. Baby dragon. Tiny. But sharp teeth. Cold breath. Angry."
When Nee gestures to the cluttered workbench and asks about the scattered items there, Meepo throws a quick glance at them - “Just things,” he says flatly, his voice tight. “Old things. Not important.”
“Meepo cares only for Calcryx,” he mutters. “And maybe... maybe warm floor, not cold.”
For a moment, something feral flashes behind his eyes. Then it vanishes, shuttered behind brittle energy as he straightens and clutches his tattered blanket to his chest like armor. “Come!” he says, voice cracking with sudden urgency.
Meepo scurries to the side of the chamber, where a few pitiful belongings are heaped near a torn sleeping mat. With ritual precision, he shrugs on a battered set of leather armor - stiff with age, repaired poorly in places with bits of wire and sinew. It hangs awkwardly on his wiry frame but seems to offer him a sense of ceremony. He slings a crude spear over one shoulder, then hooks a sling to his belt and grabs a moldy satchel, its shape sagging oddly as though it carries mismatched odds and ends. He pauses for just a heartbeat to cast one last look back at the workbench, then turns away without a word.
Blanket still draped across his shoulders like a war-cloak, Meepo leads the way. The corridor is narrow, the flagstones uneven beneath the party’s feet. Faint torchlight flickers from somewhere ahead, casting the kobold’s shadow long and spindly across the walls. He turns right at an intersection, and the space suddenly opens into a wide chamber - vaulted and echoing.
A double row of marble columns runs the length of the hall, each carved with the winding forms of dragons entwined in ancient battle or dance. Time has worn their edges smooth and dulled the artistry, but the reverence remains palpable.
Even before the group fully enters, movement draws their eyes - six small, horned figures in scavenged armor stalk the room in a loose formation. Kobolds - each clutching a spear and watching the shadows intently. As soon as they spot the intruders, the patrol reacts with sharp hisses and raised weapons.
“Stop! Stop there!” one snarls in Draconic, leveling his spear at Temerith.
“Meepo, fool, what is this?! Why bring them?!” Another spits, jabbing the air toward Nee, suspicion flaring in his crimson eyes.
“Who are you?” demands a third, voice higher-pitched but no less hostile. “Why are you here? Speak - now!”
Meepo flinches visibly, nearly dropping his spear. He opens his mouth, stammers once, then steps back behind the party, wide eyes darting between his tribe and the adventurers.
Dorian met the Kobolds gazes with an even flat look, not hostile, but straightforward no fear. He waited for Nee or Temerith to talk
Nee holds her hands out, one empty, the other bearing Jacq’s lantern. She thinks quickly, cognizant of Jacq’s imprecations not to forgot their own mission, but also aware these kobolds may take kinder to a mission that makes sense to them.
”Hear us! We come to see Yoosdrayel - and find Calcryx. We are not enemies. Our own people are lost, and we seek them here.”
Damn you Meepo, where’d you go!?! Nee wonders, looking around in a moment of confusion.
Stepping beside Nee Temerith does his best to not cringe at the aggressive attitude. He adds his own voice to Nee's.
"We are enemies to goblins, not to dragon-kin. We respect your people. We spoke to Meepo and learned that you seek Calcryx that was stolen from you. We offer to help your people while we seek our own."
The six guards tighten formation slightly after listening to Nee and Temerith, spears still leveled and eyes narrowed with suspicion. One hisses and jabs a clawed finger at the cowering Meepo.
“You brought outsiders through the Hall? Are you mad?” snaps a broad-shouldered kobold with a ragged crest. “You’ll answer to Yusdrayl for this, whelp!”
Meepo cowers behind Jacq’s leg, clutching his spear like a child might cling to a toy. “Meepo help!” he pleads. “They find Calcryx! Not smash!”
The guards bark and chatter amongst themselves, voices sharp and overlapping. Eventually, one of them - a wiry female with a notched ear - grunts and steps back. “Wait here. Yusdrayl will decide if you're liars.” She turns on her heel and vanishes through a side door, tail lashing once in irritation.
The others remain still, watching the party like a nest of wary snakes. Then, from the corridor behind, faint footsteps echo - slow, deliberate. Turning, the adventurers glimpse new figures in the gloom: more kobolds, partially obscured by shadow, weapons at the ready.
The group is no longer alone on either side.
Sweat trickles down Nee’s sides, the fear of being surrounded causing a spontaneous physiological response. She breathes in and out slowly, trying to master her thoughts.
”Meepo! Just tell Yoosdrayel the truth. Don’t make it complicated.”
Dorian continues to not let show on his face what is in his head. Hes like a coiled spring. one wrong move and he is ready to take it to the Kobolds. He stands rock still though.
Seeing more kobolds surrounding the group Temerith slowly moves to the center of the group. He pulls a tiny bit of sand from his pouch and waits, quietly humming a tune.
Jacq looks down at the little creature who is clinging to her knee. "You got this, Meepo," she says, hoping she sounds reassuring.
Meepo hears Nee's words and peers up at Jacq, eyes wide and uncertain. At her encouraging words, he shifts slightly - but instead of bolstering, he just… wilts. The little kobold shakes his head slowly, frills drooping. “Meepo… not good with words,” he murmurs, half to himself. “Only good with Calcryx…”
The standoff stretches - tense and brittle - between two species separated by blades and blood and generations of mistrust.
Then, at last, the side door creaks open.
The kobold with the notched ear reemerges, flanked now by the broad-shouldered male from before. She gives a sharp click of her tongue and gestures toward the party.
“You come,” she says curtly. “Yusdrayl will speak. No weapons raised. No tricks.”
The guards shift to either side of the carved hall, spears still in hand but no longer aimed directly at the adventurers. Behind the party, the watching kobolds narrow their eyes but do not advance further. The corridor ahead - past the columns of dragons - now beckons.
Meepo straightens slightly, clutching his moldy satchel to his chest like a holy relic. “This way,” he murmurs, then scampers forward, blanket flapping behind him like a bedraggled banner.
The narrow hall slopes gently upward, ancient soot-stained carvings of dragons flickering in the lantern light. At the far end, a pair of guards part with ceremonial precision, revealing a chamber just beyond.
The room itself is hushed - temple and throne room all at once.
At the far wall, atop a low dais of crumbled masonry and mortared altar-stone, a small figure sits in crooked majesty. Her red-dyed robes are stiff with age and grime, patched carefully but proudly. Tiny, curling horns crown her scaled brow, and her eyes gleam like chips of obsidian. Behind her, the altar rises into a broken relief of a rearing dragon, mouth agape - and clutched in its jaws, unmistakable even at a distance, is a glint of metallic silver: a key, wedged in the dragon’s fanged mouth.
Around the throne, six armed kobolds stand silent and still. These are not the rough guards of the entry hall - these wear polished scraps of armor, ceremonial harnesses, and etched bone rings on their claws. Their eyes track every movement. The figure on the throne lifts a clawed hand, and the air itself seems to hush.
“So…” she hisses, voice crisp and heavy with ritual. “These are the outsiders Meepo dares guide through sacred halls. Bold trespassers. Or bold supplicants?”
Her black eyes scan each of you, resting last on Meepo. He flinches under her gaze.
“You walk our halls. You speak to our guards. You live still. Speak, then - who seeks audience with Yusdrayl, heir of the flame, Keeper of the Dragon Throne?”
Dorian tucks his hammer into his belt, but makes sure it can be pulled easily then advances, behind his dragonkin guides.
Temerith walks forward slowly in response. He has his arms spread wide with his empty palms clearly visible. He stops ten feet short of the throne unless he gets direction to either stop sooner or advance farther.
"I am Temerith Faurian, a traveler new to this area along with this group of friends. We were hired to find some lost children that came here."
"We met Meepo. We prefer not fighting with possible friends. Goblins are enemies. Kobolds are possible friends. Meepo spoke with us. He mentioned a dragon that was taken by goblins? We offered to help if he could tell us about the goblins."
"So maybe we could help? We just need information, where to go, where not to go. So we fight the goblins and help our new friends. And maybe we find the children as well? OK?"
The silence stretches a beat longer. The kobold guards twitch slightly, their clawed feet scraping softly on the stone, glances flitting from Yusdrayl to Meepo and back again. The air smells faintly of sulfur and dust.
Yusdrayl regards Temerith for a long, unreadable moment - "You speak... more wisely than most your size," she says at last. "So few remember that strength is not the only way forward."
She shifts on her crumbled throne, her red robes rustling. One clawed hand gestures lazily at Meepo, who straightens with visible effort, eyes wide and hopeful - "Meepo has claimed you as allies. That is no small thing. I allow you to proceed - on one condition."
She leans forward now, voice rising slightly as she addresses the room, clearly speaking for the benefit of all present.
"The dragon wyrmling - Calcryx, blood of frost and fang - was stolen by the goblins, vermin who defile the sacred stones beneath us. Return our dragon to us, and your passage through our domain will be unchallenged."
She raises a claw again before any can speak - "Meepo shall go with you, of course."
The guards shift again, almost imperceptibly, as if released from some silent tension.
"And when your business here is done, you will leave us be. These halls are ours. The Dragon Throne has spoken."
Yusdrayl straightens, regal once more atop her fractured dais. Meepo glances back toward the party, tail twitching nervously.
"What say you, would-be dragon-friends?"
"Thank you. That is quite a compliment from one of power such as yourself."
Temerith considers his words before replying, then speaks a clearly as he can. "We agree to all of that, but must add one condition as well. As I said, we came here to seek children that shouldn't have entered. They have been missing for a few days and their parents are concerned. We will seek your dragon, to be returned to you. But we must also find out what happened to the children as well. Humans value their young as all races must do to survive. If we do not find them others will invade your halls. If we complete this mission we will inform the humans that they must stay out!"
Jacq speaks quietly to Meepo. "See? You got this."
Nee stands still, watching this…Yusdrayl, and finding the Keeper of the Dragon Throne…impressive. She nods in assent as Yusdrayl makes conditions, and nods again when Temerith makes clear that the kobolds wish to be left alone is completely contingent on the rescue party succeeding, and extracting the children safely.
Dorian whispers to Nee. Ask her highness if shes seen the 4 of them. certainly they came through here.
Nee nods at Dorian’s prodding, and stands a little straighter, trying to seem, if not powerful, in case that threatens the throne, then at least not…cowed.
”Great Yusdrayel, I am Niamhaiofe Cu. The Dragon Throne bestows great honour on our group, and would that we come to prove that gift not just wise, but equally beneficial. In that vein, I must ask - for Temerith has spoken of those we seek - what can the Dragon Throne tell us of them - have they been seen in this, your realm?”
Yusdrayl’s claw taps once against the worn arm of her throne as Temerith speaks, and then again, slower. Her eyes half-narrow - measuring. “Mm. Words, words, so many words,” she murmurs, not quite to herself. “You would make a fine priest, little one. Or a nuisance.”
But after a moment, she inclines her head ever so slightly. “Still, the point lands. And the Dragon Throne hears it.”
She shifts again, robes rustling like dry leaves. Her gaze moves now to Nee - “The others - yes. Four pink-skins. Young. Too bold. Too loud.” Her snout wrinkles in faint disapproval. “They passed this way. Meepo remembers. They fought the goblins. Then… nothing. They did not return.” - she raises both hands slightly, as if to signal the limits of her knowledge. “We do not go much beyond the lower chasm. Not in numbers. Not now.”
Meepo nods rapidly, eager to support her claim. “T-true! Goblins grow bold, too bold. They creep up, raid, kill. Take Calcryx. Too many for us.”
The guards remain still, but their stillness is predator-quiet. Not relaxed... Ready?
Nee’s eyes sweep the room - the ceremonial armor of the guards is mismatched - scraps of bone, twisted bits of metal, smoothed scales. One bears a necklace strung with what looks like small teeth, filed and darkened with age. Their harnesses are decorated, but more than decorative: the way one tightens their grip on a spear at the mention of the children suggests practice, not nerves. One kobold has faint, reddish stains at the corner of his mouth. Old. Dried. Not blood, necessarily - but the detail lingers.
Yusdrayl speaks again, oblivious or uncaring. “Go with Meepo. Seek the wyrmling. Seek your lost ones, if they still have breath. But remember - your welcome ends when your task does.”
Meepo practically leaps to his feet, scurrying to the party’s side with a breathless, “This way! This way!”
Silvash turns and follows heads out with the others. Nothing to add but glad to have a direction to go in.
Dorian looks at Yusdrayl for a bit, then turns heading out of the throne area noting under his breath... But remember - your welcome ends when your task does.”...a fine point that.
"Wow! She seems pretty reasonable!' Lanliss exclaims to the others as they follow Meepo out of the room."
Temerith bows to the kobold queen. "Our thanks to the Dragon Throne then. Our task ends when we defeat the goblins and return the.... your dragon. And bring our younglings out so they cannot bother you again, if they still breath."
"Meepo will lead us to where the goblins are. Thank you!" He waits as the others exit and takes his place at the rear.
"She was more reasonable than I expected," Jacq replies to Lanliss, which is true enough.
"Temerith, Nee, remind me to have you around next time I need to negotiate my bar tab."
Meepo scurries ahead, stubby legs pattering with urgent energy as he leads you back the way you came. The crimson light of Yusdrayl’s chamber fades behind, and with it, the illusion of hospitality.
The stone corridors feel closer now. Tighter.
At each junction, at every turn of carved rock or worn masonry, you sense the eyes. Meepo’s kin is trailing you - skittering in your periphery, disappearing when glanced at too directly. A high yipping laugh echoes once through a nearby hall, quickly cut off. Something answers it. You can’t tell how far.
Back in the chamber where you first found Meepo - the broken cages, the scattered bones - he turns to face you. His claws fidget with the edge of his belt. His wide eyes search your faces, nervous and eager in equal measure.
“Meepo friends ready?” he asks. He points with one claw toward the northeast door. “This way. Goblins this way. Calcryx too, maybe. We sneak, yes?”
He tilts his head, looking hopeful. Or fearful. Or both.
Silvash shrugs at Meepo "I can sneak but most of these can't. I'll sneak up front with you if you want though."
Nee nods to Yusdrayl in acceptance of the Dragon Theon’s demands. And then looks back to give a wink to Jacq, as if to say You got it!.
Nee smiles, a lopsided feral grin.
”Ready Meepo. Let’s get your Calcryx.”
Temerith nods at Meepo but then speaks up. "Except not all of us can see in the dark. I need at least a little light or I'll stumble over any little loose pebble...."
Jacq simply nods to the others and prepares to follow, going slowly and carefully. She keeps her longbow at the ready in case a fight is soon to break out.
As Meepo pushes open the northeast door, a blast of cold, stale air washes over you from the deeper tunnels. The passage beyond is unlit, plunging quickly into darkness beyond the meagre light filtering from the room you just left. The air grows heavy, carrying the faint, earthy scent of damp stone and a subtle undercurrent of decay that seems to cling to the very rock.
Meepo, true to his word, scuttles with surprising agility into the gloom, his whispers guiding your path. "This way, yes, this way," he murmurs in a reedy voice, his eyes darting from side to side, constantly on alert for goblins
The passage is uneven and rough-hewn, a stark contrast to some of the more worked stone you've encountered elsewhere in the citadel. Your footsteps, even muffled, seem to echo unnaturally in the confined space.
After navigating a short stretch of this dim tunnel and through an open door, the faint light you carry reveals a rectangular chamber. The air here is colder, emptier. There is no light source apart from the one you carry, and the silence here is broken only by the drip of unseen water somewhere in the distance.
The floor beneath your feet is gritty with rat droppings, crumbled flagstone, and nameless stains. It's a lonely chamber, clearly uninhabited for some time, yet bearing the unmistakable signs of past occupation.
A single closed door looms before you.
Any actions?
Dorian looks at the door and then at the rogue. Wanna look this over ...in case. Then to the others he says ask Meepo if he knows whats on the other side.
Silvash nods to Dorian and then carefully and quietly approaches the door and examines it.
+1 vs. traps
Jacq eyes the rat droppings in the glow of the lantern. "Great, more rats."
She tries to assess how likely they might encounter either more big rats or a swarm of normal size ones.
Nee follows along with the group, unsure if this “alliance” is such a thing, or merely a cessation of hostilities that will necessarily eventuate. For now, she tries to favor Meepo with a smile here and there, again, unsure how she feels about the kobold. He seems…pitiful, even wretched, but those in vulnerable positions are often wont to make the most of terrible situations, and often in … wretched ways.
Arriving at the portal shakes Nee out of her musings. She swings Jacq’s lantern high toward the door.
”Meepo. Where are we? What is on the other side?” she asks their guide.
With a shrug, Meepo answers Nee’s questions, explaining that he isn’t very familiar with this part of the tunnels - it’s a “disputed” area between the kobolds and the goblins, as he puts it.
Jacq suspects there are likely more rats nearby, both the common and oversized varieties. She also notices some recent tracks - rat prints no more than a day old - disappearing into the dark.
Silvash finds no traps on the door, and with a nod, Dorian steps forward and pushes it open with a low groan of ancient hinges.
Dust and odd bits of stony debris and rubble lie scattered on the floor. An ornate fountain is built into the eastern wall. Though cracked, tainted, and dry, the fountain's carving of a diving dragon retains its beauty.
A relief-carved stone door stands on the western wall. The carvings show skeletal dragons, and inscriptions above the door read 'Tana Aman Heka Men'.
To the North looms an opening, leading into the darkness.
Actions?
Temerith looks ahead as best as he can, glancing around the taller members of the team. "What does that sign say?"
Silvash reads the inscription and says "It says 'Channel good, open the way' in Draconic. Can anyone channel positive energy?"
Temerith frowns. "Odd that it would want positive energy channeled with skeletal dragons on the door...."
"Could be a magical trap?"
Silvash reads the inscription and says "It says 'Channel good, open the way' in Draconic. Can anyone channel positive energy?"
"...
"...
"...
"...
"...
"...
"Oh! Me! I can do that!"
Temerith frowns. "Odd that it would want positive energy channeled with skeletal dragons on the door...."
"Could be a magical trap?"
Lanliss stares at Temerith, wide-eyed. "A trap? By channeling positive energy? Are you sure? I mean, if it was negative energy, I could see that being a trap. But this is holy energy from Fharlanghn!"
Nee frowns at all this talk of…stuff she doesn’t…understand. She stares glumly at what might be a diving shardle on the fountain and turns about to look about the grimy, sad chamber.
”Jacq - any tracks of goblins or…people?”
Silvash shrugs and counters with "May it is to prevent skeletons from forming? I don't know. I just know what it says."
Jacq shrugs at Nee. "Most recent tracks are rats wandering through about a day ago. So we should take care not to disturb nests. But I'll double check."
She checks for passage by anyone else.
"If there was anyone who passed, all the rat poop's covered their tracks."
Jacq notices the same day-old rat tracks, but also month-old tracks as might have been made by three or four humanoids moving across the area to the north. A more careful observation shows her also that several Medium-size, booted humanoids moved through here within the last six months.
Temerith's detection spell reveals that the fountain emits a mild magical aura of the Alteration school. The door shows no signs of magic.
"Oh. Nope, that's definitely a boot print. Maybe a month back or more. Went north."
Temerith shrugs. "I'm not sure of anything. I'm just saying that a door carved with skeletal dragons and a sign saying to channel good is strange. And there's transmutation magic on the fountain."
"Since the tracks lead north, it doesn't look like it matters much?"
At Temerith’s words, Nee takes a decidedly hurried step to the side away from the fountain.
”Well we don’t know whose tracks, or particularly anything else about them. I admit, it might be *simpler* to just head North rather than getting involved with…whatever we think we need to do to…whatever we think might happen with this door.”
Nee flashes a wry grin.
”But I’m curious.”
Then, focusing her gaze on their kobold guide, Nee waves Jacq’s lantern at portal and fountain.
”Meepo - what *are* all these carvings about?”