Hru, upon receiving no sign from the Iron Lord once again enters the fray completely diemboweling the remaing kobold with a cry of "Blood and Souls for Gorum!"
Hru finishes off the last of the kobolds.
Do supernatual abilities register through detect magic? What about spell like abilities?
"Well, I'm wonderin' iffin this is where the kobolds are sendin' their rejects. Were those lads seemin' ta be jus' a wee bit unusual to either o' yons."
IMO
"Yes, that was easy enough, perhaps we should push forward while our luck is still with us..."
The kobolds seemed to communicate with each other--or some other creature--telepathically.
As the last of the kobolds falls, there is a moment of silence and then seven tiny crab like creatures rip out of their necks and skitter down the tunnel away from you.
As the last of the kobolds falls, there is a moment of silence and then seven tiny crab like creatures rip out of their necks and skitter down the tunnel away from you.
As the last of the kobolds falls, there is a moment of silence and then seven tiny crab like creatures rip out of their necks and skitter down the tunnel away from you.
Hru was right in the middle of "hath loosed the faithful lightning of his terrible swift..." litany in thanks to Gorum when the creatures scuttle away. He gapes in open mouthed astonishment.
"I've never 'eard o' such things..." I say and then add, "May'ap we should be thinkin' o' protectin' our brains..."
The crabs scuttle down the hall and disappear amidst the rocks and rails. The tunnel continues for at least 50' but those with darkvision can see it comes to an end beyond the dark mouth of an open pit. The winches and gears suggest another elevator.
"What were those things," I ask no one in particular, "I'm 'opin' they're easy ta kill."
I motion down the tunnel, "Keep on eye out fer lurkin' 'orrors."
Then we proceed towards the second elevator with caution.
"What were those things," I ask no one in particular, "I'm 'opin' they're easy ta kill."
I motion down the tunnel, "Keep on eye out fer lurkin' 'orrors."
Then we proceed towards the second elevator with caution.
The elevator is at your level. The controls to raise and lower it are on the elevator.
Shocked at the emerging creature, Kelborn draws and nocks an arrow into his bow, albeit slightly delayed. By the time he can draw a bead on the creatures, they've already disappeared down the shaft.
Kelborn curses in Elven.
"What were those things?!"
"Well me lad," I say to Kelborn, "Is it bein' safe?"
I look down ward to see if I can tell how deep the shaft is.
"One thing ta be wonderin' is 'ow smart those little 'ead jobs are? They weren't fightin' too smart."
Kelborn does not see any indication that the elevator has been trapped. Looking down the shaft, Klyndak and Kelborn can see that the shaft descends about 100'. About every 20' or so a tunnel branches off deeper into the mountain.
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"Well me lad," I say to Kelborn, "Is it bein' safe?"
I look down ward to see if I can tell how deep the shaft is.
"One thing ta be wonderin' is 'ow smart those little 'ead jobs are? They weren't fightin' too smart."
"It's clear, your grace. Whatever those things were, they certainly don't enhance a warrior's capabilities, that's to be sure of."
"Shall we descend to the next level and see what we discover? What say you?"
"Aye, one level at a' time."
We enter the elevator and descend down to the first branch.
"Aye" says Hru who appears lost in thought, as if searching his memory of any legend or story regarding the creepy little scuttling things.
After a moment he adds "Who knows? They might be good EATING!! HOO-HOO!!" with a laugh.
As Hru thinks about food, he's delighted to see three large clusters of mushrooms hanging from the roof of the first tunnel branching off of the elevator/mine shaft. Or, well, they look like mushrooms until their brownish skins flutter back to reveal that they are more a cluster of eyes than a cluster of mushrooms.
1d20=15As Hru thinks about food, he's delighted to see three large clusters of mushrooms hanging from the roof of the first tunnel branching off of the elevator/mine shaft. Or, well, they look like mushrooms until their brownish skins flutter back to reveal that they are more a cluster of eyes than a cluster of mushrooms.
Kelborn will draw his bow and point it at the eye cluster, hesitating slightly to fire an arrow at the monstrosity.
Hru exclaims "Oh! now those mushrooms will go great in a crab sou...By Gorum! Are all dwarf holdings so infested!"
He tenses for the onslaught of these strange things even as he steels his will in oneness with The Knight of Swords.
At the rear of the group, I am too lost in my own thoughts to act promptly, but not so weakminded to be easily befuddled or enspelled.
The clusters of eyes blink and twitch and stare and roll around. You feel them probing your mind but are able to shrug it off.
Hru attacks attempting chop them like so many mushrooms.
He seems strangely lost in thought as he does so.
"This reminds me of the time when my brother sent to collect mushrooms in a spire stalker den"
Ranged Touch Attack: (1d20+3=6)
"Watch out Hru," I say, as I whiffle my telekinetic fist past him and into the wall.
A half a second afterwards, I realize I could roll a flaming sphere up the wall.
Hru's greatsword bursts several eye balls but barely cracks the hard carapace they surround. Klyndak's attack doesn't even damage an eyeball.
Hearing the King's voice and knowing that there's a strong likelyhood that if he says "Watch Out!" that he's about to open up a "coffer of arcane might" He leaps back and out of the way adopting a defensive posture.
Hearing the King's voice and knowing that there's a strong likelyhood that if he says "Watch Out!" that he's about to open up a "coffer of arcane might" He leaps back and out of the way adopting a defensive posture.
Kelborn lets fly with an arrow and then, thinking of fire, he reaches into his pack and pulls out a flask of oil.
Kelborn's arrow slices a few eyeballs off of a cluster and scrapes the carapace beneath them.
You feel the tendrils of an alien thought caressing your mind but are able to shrug it off.
For DM:
As Quarrel begins to respond to your warning, your attention begins to dimish. You hear the pounding of hammers and recall flashes of your youth. You hear Quarrel say something about stew and its ingredients.
Orlan blinks...then stares dumbfounded as he sees multiple Quarrel's in front of his eyes...all of them swaying. Or is he swaying? It's hard to tell. Finally, the dwarf's eyes roll back in his head and he pitches over backwards.
Heat.
From the forge.
The sound of a hammer ringing on steel.
'Have I gone to meet the Forge-Father?' Orlan wonders. He mumbles a short prayer to Torag.
Voices.
Loud, boisterous, and some of them drunk.
Raised in song. The songs of his ancestors.
'A mead hall?' Orlan's thoughts seem pulled in a thousand different directions, but he recognizes the music and atmosphere of a dwarven celebration. The words to the familiar song tumble from his lips as well.
Faces.
The bearded folk.
The sight of them working side by side.
'The shapin' o' the Spires,' Orlan thinks, 'And the diggin' o' the mines beneath 'em.' His own hands clench and move as if wielding his stonecutting tools or a trusty iron pick, wanting to work alongside them.
'Where am I?' he wonders.
Pulling the necessary components from my spell pouch, I cast a flaming sphere underneath the eyes, and then send it rolling up the wall and onto the threat.
The flaming sphere, the great sword, the refusal of these humanoids to surrender their fragile minds to the colony has led to a shift in tactics. The carapaces crack and tear open, ripping some of the eyeballs apart as they do. From each spring a trio of crabs. A few other crabs--those that recently fled the no longer useful kobold corpses--drop from the shaft walls above you. A total of 14 of these fleshy white shell-less crabs rain down on you.
For DM:
Spoiler:Orlan blinks...then stares dumbfounded as he sees multiple Quarrel's in front of his eyes...all of them swaying. Or is he swaying? It's hard to tell. Finally, the dwarf's eyes roll back in his head and he pitches over backwards.
Heat.
From the forge.
The sound of a hammer ringing on steel.
'Have I gone to meet the Forge-Father?' Orlan wonders. He mumbles a short prayer to Torag.
Voices.
Loud, boisterous, and some of them drunk.
Raised in song. The songs of his ancestors.
'A mead hall?' Orlan's thoughts seem pulled in a thousand different directions, but he recognizes the music and atmosphere of a dwarven celebration. The words to the familiar song tumble from his lips as well.
Faces.
The bearded folk.
The sight of them working side by side.
'The shapin' o' the Spires,' Orlan thinks, 'And the diggin' o' the mines beneath 'em.' His own hands clench and move as if wielding his stonecutting tools or a trusty iron pick, wanting to work alongside them.
'Where am I?' he wonders.
Okay. That should be enough to get Orlan's little trip down hallucination lane started. Let me know what else his vision brings.
Orlan:
One hundred dwarves marching south--journey to the spires from the north, a returning home from exile, led by a Foehammer king.
Wandering clans.
Dwarves without strongholds.
Unforgiving mountains.
Running battles with ogres and orcs for caves too small and tunnels to unsafe.
A bridge across the gorge, atop the spires.
A mismatched army of dwarves preparing to repel a horde of stone giants.
A human leads them.
The giants come crashing forward.
The bridge explodes.
The dwarves cheer and push back the few who made it to the unbroken span of bridge.
Dwarves in chains in the hot sun ... moving stone ... preparing a road ... a whip to their backs.
For DM:
One hundred dwarves marching south--journey to the spires from the north, a returning home from exile, led by a Foehammer king.
Wandering clans.
Dwarves without strongholds.
Unforgiving mountains.
Running battles with ogres and orcs for caves too small and tunnels to unsafe.
A bridge across the gorge, atop the spires.
A mismatched army of dwarves preparing to repel a horde of stone giants.
A human leads them.
The giants come crashing forward.
The bridge explodes.
The dwarves cheer and push back the few who made it to the unbroken span of bridge.
Dwarves in chains in the hot sun ... moving stone ... preparing a road ... a whip to their backs....
"Daaahh!" Orlan finally snaps to and quickly sits up. Then, with a pounding in his skull, he eases back down to the grass. "By Torag!" he mutters, "What in Droskar's realm happened?" He looks around for Quarrel, checking to see if the bugbear is still with him. And the dwarf can't help but wonder how long he was out.
Hru prepares to strike but the scuttling creatures are quicker!
For DM:
** spoiler omitted **
Orlan:
When you entered the cave the sun was still out. It's dark now and Quarrel isn't anywhere to be seen. He left more soup though.
"Brace yerself lads," I say with some trepidation as the little monsters flow towards our position.