The bridge spanned the crevasse before them. A rope
bridge, somewhat rickety, the ropes frayed and the wood old. Mytar’s joking
manner reappeared. ‘Don’t look down kids,’ he winked. Below the chasm reached
at least 30 feet deep, the rock fading into darkness below them, and a cold
aura surrounding the group. The gnome was unable to keep the cheerful outlook,
this crevasse sucked the happiness into it. Everyone looked worn. Blood caked
Thespus’s axe, which he held tightly, his knuckles white with strain. Ragnar’s
head was bowed, in sadness, and respect of those they had killed. While it was
necessary, it was apparent that the weight of their lives hung on him. They
weren’t goblins, they were people. They had lives, experiences, feelings. A
grim look passed across his face, and then his look returned to stone. Even
Slagathor, careless, fun-loving, almost childish, seemed somewhat disturbed.
Not necessarily by the effects of death and harm, rather something else
troubled him, but even he knew not what it was.
The marched on, arriving unto the wooden door described
to Mytar. He pressed a finger firmly to his lips, and quietly opened the door.
The emerged into a room full of potions and glassware that smelled heavily of
different herbs and plants. ‘Don’t touch anything’. Slagathor looked longingly
at the components and potions, while Mytar continued, ‘not yet at least.’ A
small brown creature scurried out from under the table in the centre of the
laboratory, startling the party, who let fly a few missiles, to no avail, it
scurrying into the adjacent room. Wary looks were exchanged, and the Gnome
snuck up to the door and peered through the keyhole. He briefly caught a
glimpse of a figure wearing long robes, holding a transparent staff, before no
longer he could see a thing.
Darkness emanated from the door, engulfing the room.
Ragnar grabbed what he guessed was his gnome friend, and the party fled the
chamber, however not before Mytar loosed a bolt of fire into the laboratory.
They dashed down the hallway, while the darkness faded, and fire prevailed,
followed by a booming explosion. Mytar glanced behind him in glee and saw the
door crash into the opposite wall, smouldering. They looked across the
crevasse, and saw the robed figure scurrying by, glancing about him nervously,
when a smaller figure dropped from the ceiling onto it. The party got not to
watch the scene, as they heard shouts from the hall behind them. A group of
ruffians spilled into the corridor. ‘Who are you?’ one of them demanded. Mytar
simply held up a hand. ‘We are here to help. Glasstaff explicitly said to
return to the common room, where he would meet with you shortly. We are to look
after this issue. Understood?’ The ruffians threw each other puzzled looks,
until finally one nodded and they retreated out of the hall. The gnome’s three
companion’s stared at him, mouths open with surprise. ‘May the odds be ever in
my favour,’ he grinned, ‘don’t we have a wizard to attend to?’
The party rushed back to the cavern, where they heard the
horrifying crunch of bones and slurping of a creature eating raw meat. They
shined their lights on the creature hunched over the body, and they were
greeting by a single, massive eye, and a cackle. ‘Nothic.’ It leapt at them,
clawing at Thepus’s face and armour, until Ragnar grabbed the creature and
threw it to the ground. The party hammered at it, weapons flailing, arrows
skittering across stone and it’s armoured hide alike, until finally Thespus
beheaded the creature, and it toppled into the crevasse. Mytar was the first to
volunteer to venture downward, and so he was lowered by the others. The floor
was even colder than above, his breath visible upon exhaling. He muttered a few
words and clicked his finger and his vision changed to a deep shade of purple.
‘Necromancy,’ he breathed. He wandered over to the body of the nothic. The foul
monster lay broken upon a rock, it’s head sat beneath it. He waded his way
through the bones littering the floor, passing a body, which seemed fresh,
uneaten, but definitely not alive. The hair was tied back into a ponytail, and
a dull silver ring hugged his finger. Mytar’s face fell. He muttered a quick
prayer and continued. A small wooden chest sat near to the body, upon opening
yielded a small hoard of coin, and a blade that shined magically. True to the
tales, Talon was as brilliant as they had foretold. A blade that had slain many
a monster by the hand of legendary knight Blackhawk, was now in his hands.
Mytar shed a single tear upon seeing the beauty that was this blade, and
returned to the party with a heavy pack. Slagathor was the only one that
noticed that Mytar’s pack was dripping somewhat, and curiously peered over the
side of the crevasse. It may have just been a trick of the light, but he was
sure that the nothic’s eye had gone missing.
The door burst open and a dwarf stood in the doorway. The
ruffians glared at him until the continued their game of cards. ‘Glasstaff will
be here shortly!’ he called. ‘I am to entertain you in the meantime!’ The thugs
raised their eyebrows in confusion, to be met by a maul, shortly followed by an
axe, arrows and a legendary blade. Blood coated the tables, chairs and weapons,
before the party marched sternly onward. There was but room they had not
explored, though they feared it not. The charged through the door, and slew the
bugbears that resided within. Once the small battle was over, the companions
cheered. A small goblin peered out from behind one of the beds within the
barracks. Thespus raised his axe to fell the creature, but Ragnar raised his
hand to stay the blade. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded of the goblinoid. ‘I-I-I-I
a-a-a-am-m D-d-d-d-droop’ it stammered. ‘Why should I not slay you where you
cower?’
‘D-d-droop can help.’ Ragnar’s face turned to curiosity.
‘How?’
‘D-d-droop kn-kn-knows p-places.’
‘Like the location of Cragmaw Castle?’
‘C-c-c-castle?’ Droop pondered. ‘Yes! Droop knows
castle.’
‘How do we get there?’
‘W-w-well…you…go through the forest. Th-then when you get
to…er…big tree, yes, big tree, you go…suth…yes, suth…then pass more trees…and
you there!’ Ragnar looked hopelessly at the goblin. He turned to the party, ‘I
think we need a guide.’ The group groaned but reluctantly allowed it. Ragnar
turned back to the goblin, ‘where to first Droop?’
‘Er….’ Droop racked his brains then looked
half-hopefully, half-confused. ‘Thundertree?’
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