Shelter for the Night

Somewhere in Northwestern Tarlanor, 3rd March 1655

Thunder rumbled ominously as four figures made their way across the plains, and everyone could feel the rain in the air. Sent to scout out the lie of the land ahead, Gorfang the orc, Cheiron the centaur and Lynien the tiefling were accompanied by Bog, a peculiar wizened creature who doubled as the caravan's cook and healer. Their employer, Dagaren of Sulis, had allowed Bog to accompany them in order for him to search out ingredients both for meals and his infamous healing draughts. They'd been out all day and were now trying to get back to the toiling wagons before the weather deteriorated any further.

As they hastened back to the caravan's probable location, the storm broke, and hailstones the size of quail eggs began to pound them painfully. With even their darkvision confounded by the hammering downpour, they were unable to locate the caravan, and, cursing Dagaren's poor navigational skills, started to look around for shelter.

The landscape was pretty barren, but to their north were several stubby tors, which looked as if they might yield some sort of refuge from the painful precipitation. Turning their way towards them, they approached the nearest and discerned a cave or opening in the side of it. Shattered bits of scorched rock suggested that this had until recently been blocked by a boulder, but that this had been destroyed by lightning, either in this storm or an earlier one. Whatever, it promised some shelter from the painful hail, and they headed for it.

As they approached, they bcame aware that there was a solid-looking stone door in the archway of the cave, and realized that this tor had been partially shaped by the hand of man. In the mud just before the doors, eroding rapidly in the rain but still visible, the rogue Lynien found some tracks. They puzzled her, for they resembled nothing so much as rat tracks but were the size of Bog's. Then a memory surfaced. They were the tracks of Slitheren ratmen.

The finer considerations of what might be inside or who may have put it there were of no interest to Gorfang. Dismounting from Shamlakh the warg, he drew his scimitars and booted the doors savagely. Rather to his surprise, both doors flew open with a tremendous bang, revealing a large hall, eighty feet by a hundred or so, carved out of the rock inside. Heavy doors were set into each of the other three walls.

The room was already occupied. To the right, four furry humanoids were repeatedly and futilely bashing a baulk of wood against the door. Directly ahead, three more were gathered around the door in that wall, apparently trying to pick the lock. To the left, two slightly better-dressed and equipped Slitheren were standing and directing the other two groups.

Gorfang cleared his throat. "We want to come in here and shelter from the rain. Do you have any objections?" One of the ratmen to the left looked at him. "Yes, we do," he said in chittering Common. "We were here first - go away!"

Gorfang spent no more time on negotiation, but broke into a rapid and very loud run across the hall towards the largest group of Slitheren. Lynien nocked an arrow into her bow and stepped in and sideways to clear Cheiron's line of fire, but held her shaft to see what would happen next. Cheiron and Bog remained in the doorway, although Cheiron also prepared his bow.

The ramming ratmen droppped their ram with a crash and drew scimitars, sliding small shields off their backs and into position, ready for Gorfang's arrival. The three erstwhile lockpickers also donned their shields, but readied javelins to support their comrades with missiles. With a slight sigh, Lynien picked one and loosed her arrow. It bounced off the ratman's armour, but a moment later Cheiron's arrow, shot with the skill that was making centaurs famous as archers across Alair, tore completely through the creature, killing it instantly. The next moment, Gorfang was on the rammers, and his massive curved blades flashed. One ratman's furry head bounced across the stone floor, while the other stared in disbelief as his entire groin was carved out to spill his insides across the rock in front of him. A moment later a javelin tore into the orc's leg, but Gorfang was a fighting orc born and the wound didn't trouble him. Lynien called out to the ratmen to surrender, but to no apparent effect.

Cheiron pierced and disabled the arm of another javelin-throwing ratman, but Lynien's shooting wasn't impressive today, and her shaft went wide of the third one. A moment later, a javelin struck her in the leg as well, and she concluded that this wasn't her sort of fight. Stepping back, she moved outside the doors and removed the missile. Gorfang struck both of the remaining rammers, killing one and disabling the other. He coldly finished the wounded one off, sheathed his swords, and readied his bow. As Cheiron shot down the javelin-rat he'd already wounded, Gorfang sank an arrow into the chest of the last hale one. It turned, and fled towards the left side of the room, taking cover behind one of the stone pillars that held the roof up.

Looking around, Gorfang and Cheiron could see that the two slitheren leaders had apparently also taken cover behind the pillars. One peered out and Cheiron promptly shot it dead. Not slowing his headlong pace, Gorfang curved across the floor and headed at the last javelin-rat, who was vainly trying to extract the arrow from his chest.

From behind the pillars came a quavering voice. "Can we change our answer?" Gorfang didn't slow, and Lynien called out, "Do you surrender? Lay down your weapons!" There was a pause and then the second leader emerged, paws up but still with a sheathed scimitar at its' side. Cheiron promptly shot it, and then Gorfang arrived at the wounded javelin-rat. Armed only with his bow he didn't seem equipped to attack it, but his heavy spiked gloves were more than adequate to the job. His fist slammed into the ratman's groin, and the sound it made as it collapsed unconcious was enough to make anyone's eyes water.

With the prisoner secured, the companions moved in for the night. The bodies were heaped in a corner, and Shamlakh the warg went to investigate them. After persuading his master to remove the armour from one, the dire wolf made a handsome supper and then curled up near the door.

Bog started a fire with the ratmen's shields and the abandoned ram, and announced dinner in ten minutes, before handing flasks of Boom-Boom to Gorfang and Lynien. Both were familar with the stuff and swigged it straight down, feeling their hurts disappear as the warm glow spread from their stomachs.

While they waited for dinner, they explored a bit.

The hall had once been decorated and carved, and though time had eroded most of it, the remaining decoration looked religious in nature. The script looked like clawmarks in mud, which made it Krultac; none of the party could read it so the nature of the text remained a mystery.

The three doors were locked, but Lynien was pretty sure that the locks would provide little obstacle. She was also sure that despite the ratmen's efforts, none had been opened for several hundred years.

The ratmen themselves had been equipped with studded leather armour, scimitars, shields, a couple of javelins, a few silver coins, some rations, and - in one case - a tatty map showing the tor with the word 'treasure' optimistically scrawled on it. One of the javelin-rats had a set of thieves' tools, at which Lynien turned her nose up, but Gorfang pocketed them; he'd forgotten to get a set.

About this time the prisoner came around. Gorfang loomed over him and started to ask him why he and his ex-comrades were here. It emerged that they had purchased the map in the backstreets of a town - probably in Tarlanor - and had come here seeking treasure. The idea that - if maps were being sold - the treasure was probably long gone seemed a surprise, but it rallied intellectually and pointed out that the inner doors had not been unlocked or forced since the place was built, so the contents were probably still there.

Lynien selected the centre door, and unpacked her blacked but clearly superior kit of tools. In what seemed no time at all, there was a heavy click, and the door was unlocked. She pushed it open to reveal a long passage, driven straight back into the rock and disappearing beyond the range of their darkvision.

Cheiron suggested that Lynien should go first, as the expert on traps, but she wasn't keen and recommended that the ratman should be sent first. The prisoner was deeply reluctant, but Gorfang took hold of the arrow still jutting from its' chest and twisted. The amount of pain resulting indicated a degree of professional training, and the ratman capitulated almost immediately.

Nervously, it picked its' way down the passage, Lynien and Gorfang following cautiously a safe distance back. Cheiron, Bog and Shamlakh remained in the entrance hall.

After around a hundred and fifty feet, the passage opened out into a smaller chamber, forty feet or so square. This contained weathered stone slabs, drained by gutters in the floor, and a circular hole in the ceiling, from which depended a dangling rope. Rain falling through indicated that the hole went all the way to the outside. The passage they'd entered by continued through and out the other side.

Emerging from the corridor were two large humanoids.

They were hobgoblins. Normally, hobgoblins are bigger than orcs, but in Gorfang's case this was not true. Their attitude revised itself fairly rapidly from aggression to caution, and they did not attack immediately.

Gorfang and Lynien rapidly established that these creatures, too, were here to raid the supposed treasure of the tor, which they discovered was called Hightower. However, their nerve had broken at what they'd found, and they'd not gone any further.

The northern passage led to an obvious burial chamber, with an armoured lizardman body on a slab clutching a morningstar. The body was far less dusty than the rest of the room, and suspiciously well preserved. Bits and pieces of broken armour and weapons were scattered in the dust around the slab. The conclusion was fairly obvious; whoever was buried here was quite capable of defending his grave goods.

A deal was struck; the hobgoblins suggested they team up and split any profits fifty-fifty. Gorfang stepped forwards across the threshold - and the knight sat up.

Retaining its' grip on the morning star left-handed, it reached down and picked up a spear, which it hurled at Gorfang. With a flash of light, the spear suddenly accelerated to a speed beyond that possible to a thrown weapon, giving him no time to dodge. The giant orc staggered as the weapon creased his skull, and black blood rilled down across his face as the wound opened. He'd had worse, though, and continued his charge, striking a moment later to reelease a great cloud of dust and flying embalmed bits. Lynien and the hobgoblins split up, moving one each side to flank their opponent. Lynien in particular had no intention of attacking the monster head-on! Although it had no vital organs to target, her skills were best suited to attacking from behind and she made the best of this, piercing it right through with Balacalantar.

Converging on the zombie from all sides, the allies struck and dodged. Gorfang took another wound - the blow of the morningstar was like a falling house, and a lesser creature would have been knocked over - but fought on doggedly, finally delivering the fatal blow and slicing the revenant in half. It collapsed in a heap of dust and rusty armour, and the morningstar bounced towards the orc. He promptly stoppped it with a foot, bent, and picked it up.

Lynien's eye, meanwhile, had been caught by a slender dagger which had been belted on the zombie's hip and now protruded from the ruins. Un-noticed by anyone, she bent and picked it up, slipping it into her backpack.

Lost among the dust of the chamber were assorted coins and gems, about 250gp worth, and these were gathered and bagged. Gorfang expressed no interest in them, and Lynien was about to pocket the lot when the hobgoblins objected.

"You got that," one pointed out, indicating the morningstar, "we get that," he pointed at the bag of coins in Lynien's hands. Gorfang began to argue, and Lynien knew that her green comrade wouldn't do that for long without hitting someone. Artfully, she 'changed her mind' and handed the bag to the hobgoblin, ignoring Gorfang's expression. Mollified, the hobgoblins split the money, pouched it, and turned to leave.

As they did, one bumped into Lynien. He glared suspiciously at her, but as he still had his pouch, shook his head and continued out of the room, followed by his friend.

Gorfang lifted an eyebrow - and Lynien held up the other hobgoblin's pouch, with half the money. "Better than nothing," she grinned.

Session date: 4/4/2008