Rise of the Runelords

1

Devin could think of any number of ways to locate Lyrie through her invisibility, but they all required time and coordination -- this dungeon had far too many doors, routes, and passageways, and Lyrie had the advantage of knowing them. He wasn't at all certain how Lyrie had gotten so far ahead of them -- he had been certain Amrynn would've encountered Lyrie in her progress down the hall. Lyrie had to have been on her hands and knees not too many moments ago, slowing her movements either to continue as such or to gather herself and stand. Amrynn had passed through any area Lyrie could've been in short of the corridor, so Devin was certain Lyrie hadn't doubled back on them. There was only one route in which to pursue, then.
Or... maybe Lyrie was particularly crafty and holding deathly still, pressed to the corner at the base of the walls.
He took a step towards the doorway, then paused, listening intently. Was that the soft hitch of pained breathing he could hear, or was it coming from Orik and Durriken? He didn't wait to find out, but drove his sword into the corner where he imagined Lyrie might be hiding - and was rewarded by a jagged scream of agony as his sword pushed through flesh. He drew his sword back, and was surprised to see that no blood appeared upon it - it seemed that Lyrie's magic was potent enough to hide that, as well.
Rhaina, reacting to Devin's attack even as she moved into the corridor to head off the mage's potential escape, drove her sword at the same spot, but her blade struck clots of hard-packed earth from the wall - Lyrie was a slippery one!
They could hear Lyrie sobbing helplessly with pain as she stumbled away, desperate to escape. The door at the far end of the room creaked open, revealing her planned route to flee.
Pausing at the double doors, their horrific engraving sending a chill through Amrynn (what foul creature could imagine let alone make manifest such grotesque images?). Such horrors it depicted!
Stepping to the double doors, keeping as best she could the images from her sight, she slipped close, listening, turning her head to set an ear to the door, not touching, yet allowing her sense to determine what, if anything may be on the other side.
Lyrie's pained scream startled Amrynn, and she spun back towards the room, wary forward progress halted by the cry. Devin she could see stood with his sword held at the ready, eyes looking about, head dancing on his neck as he attuned ears to the smallest and subtlest of clues.
A handful of steps and Amrynn was in the room. And she could see all eyes and heads turned towards the creaking door at the far end of the room.
Amrynn was the quickest to react. She darted across the room, longsword brandished. Frustration; she could feel her connection to the source of her power weakened for the day; she had drawn upon it verily and the well had run dangerously low. She could cast, though the manifestations were of little use to her or to her companions against Lyrie. Relying on the physical blade was all she could do. So if she could get to the door before Lyrie made it through she at least could do something. But the door was farther than she had anticipated and Lyrie would slip through before she could get there in time. Silently she cursed. Speeding her step, she rushed through the door herself, hoping to prevent Lyrie's escape.
Bergi tried to swirl to a stop on teetering feet, the heavy bugbear bow spinning a wide arc in the air. Then she saw that the safest course was to continue on, and she tiptoed lightly across the fallen forms of the men blocking her path. She -tried- to step on Orik only, but balance sometimes required less finesse than even she had.
Landing on the other side of the crumpled men, her eyes widened, and she let out a disgusted grunt when she realized Orik was unconscious.
“Ugh, oaf!” she said, pointing with accusation. “First amendment to the contract is that you don’t get paid for time spent unconscious!”
He wasn’t bluffing, or at least, she didn’t think he was. Both of the men were covered in the slick filth, and she presumed they wouldn’t keep laying in it of their own free will. The muck reminded Bergi of her own sorry state, bloody, wet and greasy. Her prestidigitation was still active though, and she took a few moments cleaning herself, starting at the top. Hair and head once more respectable, she pulled the delicate bow in her hair back into shape and grunted again at Orik.
The cleansing felt so good, that she continued on, working her arms and torso back into near pristine condition as she waited for Durriken and, hopefully, Orik to get back to their feet.
I'Daiin left his post in the open passage across from the stairs, swinging his sword at the door where Lyrie presumably stood, but he struck nothing, and was left panting again, still tired from his battle rage.
The paladin moved in the direction Devin indicated that Lyrie went and pitched her voice to carry to the ear of the group's Cleric "Father,We have need of your Lady's healing. Include Orik.We need him awake Try to get as many of us as you can."
"No! Not yet!" Devin growled, remembering the fight with the goblin king and how some of the goblins benefitted from that healing burst of energy -- it would be imminently frustrating if Lyrie was brought back to her feet again. They could finish this, now, but not if she was yet again reinvigorated.
"Rhaina! Amrynn! Shut that door behind you! Durriken, shut the one Lyrie just opened! Bergi, shut the door to the stairs! I'Daiin, step just inside, and shut that door!"
Devin moved swiftly east. He was tempted to try to dodge past Lyrie's invisible self and get into the short corridor to block her retreat, but he knew she was on her feet again, and within being able to see her, safely getting past her risked fouling together. He had to be satisfied with moving up adjacent to where he presumed she was, just outside the door, and cut in hard with his shortsword.
His senses attuned to the slightest shift in air currents around him, Devin had the satisfaction of striking flesh once more. The sound of a body hitting the floor was music to his ears.
Wincing as he put weight on his sore leg, Durriken made his way over the group ushering those to come closer, "Lady of Graves. We call upon your grace so that we might usher those who belong to you to their place of final rest."
Pharasma heard Durriken, sending her healing power soughing through the room. It did not heal all their hurts, but most of them, leaving only Orik still suffering from the terrible wounds Rhaina had dealt him.
"Hazard pay," he muttered weakly as he sat up, automatically reaching for a sword that wasn't there.
“Thank you, Durriken,” Bergi said and then cocked a sour eye at Orik. “And Orik thanks you too, even though it might have sounded like he was complaining about coin.”
After the stairway calamity, Bergi made sure that Orik had Bruthazmus’ bow. Heavy and nigh impossible to pull, she didn’t want to lose it. The weapon would still serve well on the wall of the Red Dragon.
Bergi continued to magically scrape away the filth that covered her. Water and grime and blood wicked away under her fingers and splattered the ground around her. She was about halfway done with the process now, and the pristine colorful picture of her upper half was in stark contrast to the dirty ragamuffin sketch of her bottom half.
“Where are we? Did she get away?” Bergi asked, swinging her lighted arrow around to try and see better what was going on in the crowded chamber.
"No," Devin stated with grim finality to Bergi's query. Devin shifted his weight to his rear foot and extended his other leg forward, hovering his foot above the floor and sweeping it as he pivoted, searching for Lyrie while keeping his sword ready. He shifted his weight, slid, and repeated the exercise, until he was rewarded with contact with her invisible body. So finding it, he knelt and ascertained her posture by touch and intuition, his brow furrowed and an angry, injured scowl upon his face.
Lyrie, sharing league with the goblins, who had beat him, taunted him, stripped him, and at the last -- weak, exhausted, spent -- had dragged him to their derelict throne room to die for sport upon the blood-stained dirt that passed for grout between the ill-fit stones. Some part of him still heard the echo of Lyrie's screams from moments ago, and recoiled at his own fervor and actions, but such reservations were but a shadow washed away by fires of retribution.
Devin drove his sword in once more to be certain of her demise.
Amrynn winced as she heard and felt Devin's blade sink deep into the invisible form. She felt she should feel pity for the woman. For Lyrie. Or grieve for her passing. After all, she was of flesh and blood, of fears and doubts, of fault and foible, involuntary as well as of her own construct. Yet she had caused so much pain and brought such grief of her own upon innocents that any such thought or glimmer passed without trace.
She stepped forward, longsword loose at her side and laid a hand upon Devin, upon a tense shoulder, softening, sharing, easing whatever pain he felt within. She knew him, knew the look upon his face; shared some it herself, in her own way, from her own independent history. Perhaps she saw some of his pain in the tight tangle of muscle of his shoulders, the depth and timbre of his breath, the flare of emotion in his eye.
“Devin?” she said.
Draw him away from her, from Lyrie. She was past; their path, for the moment, lead on. Thistletop was yet to be made safe.
Devin shuddered out a breath and drew his sword back. It felt a heavy thing, in his hand. His expression tightened; he only permitted himself to feel righteous anger at Lyrie. She was done. Amrynn's concern and touch upon his shoulder threatened that wall, and for now, he needed the wall's protection.
"I'm fine," he insisted, terse. He realized how clipped and biting his own words sounded, so drew another breath, turned to Amrynn, and assured her again, this time with measured calm, "I'm fine." There was an intrinsic apology in his tone for his snap, even if he couldn't put it to separate words.
Bergi winced as well and paused in her cleaning. More lurked behind Devin’s thrust than a simple, pragmatic gesture. The wee bard was grateful for Amrynn’s presence then. Whatever hurts Devin may have endured at Thistletop, whatever boils he needed to lance, his elven friend could share with him in a way the other’s of the company could not. At least yet.
“Very well,” Amrynn responded, not unkindly, if a little tersely in her own fashion. She innately understood the heat that burned within Devin. Still, she felt the sting of his tone, if not the words themselves. The thinness of her skin and the keenness with which she received his assertion surprised her. A little. Did she need his approval? Or his affirmation? Or for him to couch his words in soft wool? Possibly. Maybe not. She wasn’t sure. She’d have to look at that herself, later, when this was all over. And she would talk to Devin, too.
“How are we?” Bergi asked, resuming her prestidigitation. “Is everyone alright? Anyone in a bad way?” When Orik made move to speak, Bergi held up a hand toward him and then shook her head, intimating that she was aware of his plight but now was not the time.
Amrynn assured the halfling she was alright, a tight smile confirming such. “I am indeed fine, thank you.”
"I’Daiin? You okay?" Bergi asked. "You look like you’ve been mud wrestling with ogres."
"I am hale, little one," I'Daiin nodded, slapping Durriken on the back so hard that the cleric nearly fell over again. "Durriken's power has mended what scratches I had." He hefted Bruthazmus' head, grinning. "This monster put up a little fight, but as you can see, in the end he didn't get ahead."
Devin turned at I'Daiin's boisterous call, and turned green as I'Daiin raised Bruthazmus' severed head. Devin's eyes went back to where Lyrie's invisible body lay. He needed some air.
"There's one more goblin in the fort, in the tower. It's heavily wounded, but still dangerous." Devin looked about the room to ensure his words were heard, then he moved for the stairs to ascend and see to it.
Satisfied no one was in imminent peril, Bergi said, “Get that wand from her at least. I wouldn’t want anyone else using it.” Then she turned an eye to Orik. “Did Lyrie have anything else of importance on her? Powerful items, keys, anything we may need ahead?”
Orik sighed a touch mournfully, looking at the spot where Lyrie presumably lay dead. "I never had a chance to see what she carried on her, if you get what I'm saying. But," he added as Bergi's face darkened, "I know she had a spellbook, and she was always carrying some scrolls around. She had an everburning torch, too, though she didn't see fit to take it out when I told her." He shrugged philosophically. "That's life, I guess. Or death. You gonna take her back and bury her?"
Magic? Those tools used by mages caught Amrynn's ears and piqued her interest. “Where is the book?” she asked. She presumed not with Lyrie. But where? In Thistletop? And she itched for the cloak of invisibility to fade and for Lyrie to appear, prone and motionless upon the floor before them. The wans and the scroll would be of great interest to her; she could feel her fingers tingle even now.
"If she isn't carrying her book around, it'll be in her quarters," Orik told Amrynn, jerking a thumb at the open passage they hadn't explored.
“Devin,” she called, catching the half-elf before he disappeared. She smiled, softening some of the tension she had felt moments earlier. “Stay safe, and perhaps take Rhaina or I’Daiin with you? A single goblin is no threat to you, of that I am sure, though his arrow could get lucky and can kill as effectively as one from Bruthazmus’ mighty bow.” Whether Devin hesitated at such a suggestion, she flashed him a smile, assuring him, a faux-confidence in the certainty of the outcome should it be a straight battle between he and a simple goblin. “I should like it if you did.”
Upon Devin’s ascent up the stairs, she turned to Bergi and those who remained behind. “It is a good question this man asks,” she acknowledged, refusing to utter Orik’s name. “Does she deserve such a rite?” Death marked an important transition between one plane and another. And to the elves it was akin to the beauty of birth, to be celebrated and recognised as such. Yet, Amrynn wasn’t sure she entirely concluded Lyrie’s soul warranted such a gift. Lyrie had brought pain and suffering to them and to others prior. Was it petty revenge on her own part that wished denial of a proper passing to the halls of the dead? Possibly. Maybe the low heat that had gathered through the Thistletop Fort insertion, that even now faded from her blood, coloured her feelings upon the matter. Once it had passed she might view Lyrie’s needs in a more elven light. Perhaps...
I'Daiin padded past Amrynn, nodding as he did as he followed Devin up the stairs. He paused to hold the bugbear's head over Lyrie's invisible body. With a savage jerk he shook the decapitated bust of Bruthazmus, letting some drops of already coagulating blood adorn the unseen woman.
His stare was like that of a starving wolf around a fire. "Remember that these people are pure evil. This is no fight among Quahs, or squabble for territory, or even a sortie into Belkzen. Lyrie and the like intend to exterminate everything good, and warp the very blood that the Lifebringer has caused to flow in our veins. We need to destroy them, without mercy."
He then turned and rapidly followed Devin, still clutching the scalp of the bugbear, its dead gaze swinging this way and that, his longsword glittering in his other hand.
Durriken stood with his mouth slightly agape as I'Daiin shook blood from the bugbear head into the invisible form of Lyrie. As the barbarian padded his way up the stairs, Durriken said to Amrynn, "Remind me to stay on his good side." With that, the cleric followed the others up the stairs.
Bergi quirked an eye from I’Daiin’s passing comment back to Orik. “Does that answer your question?” she said in regards to Lyrie’s right to rites. Then the bard softened a little, finishing the cleaning up of her legs. “Listen. We won’t do wrong by her, but we won’t be going out of our way either. You at least understand the idea of morality and have sense enough to respect mercy in its varied forms.”
“Bend down here a moment,” she said, waving the giant human toward her. As she continued to speak, she wicked away the worst of the grime and filth covering Orik’s face and head. “I can assure you though, that as long as you’re in my employ, I’ll see to it that you get a proper burial.”
She released him from her motherly ministrations and said, “But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Bergi saw where people were headed and she called after them, “Um, I’m all -clean-. We’re not going up those filthy stairs again until the grease is gone.”
The speed with which Lyrie’s luck had turned seemed appropriate to the Paladin. She didn’t doubt that Devin had suffered here and likely Lyrie had been a part of that so she has been content to stand aside and give him his justice As he started to head upstairs Rhaina reached out to grasp his shoulder...Not to stop him,but gain his attention
When he turns to her,she speaks clearly “Devin,slow down and let us all assemble at the top of the stairs. I will bring Lyrie’s body and take a moment to assess our options. I do not want to see us get spread out all over this fort. We need to get some answers from Orik as to what else we face here,before we get split up again. OK? Rhaina moved to the spot where Lyrie fell and attempted to lift the body,intending to bring it with her.
Invisible or no, Rhaina found Lyrie's body easy enough to heft over her shoulder. The wand the woman had been holding clattered to the floor, appearing a moment after the sound was heard. However, the party found it less simple to ascend the still-slippery stairs. Instead, they waited a bit, and careful testing after a few minutes revealed the stone steps to have normal traction once more. What was more, some seconds later Lyrie faded back into view, her fine silk gown and dark cloak stained with the blood from Devin's vengeance. Orik didn't look directly at her; his handsome but stern face betrayed no other discomfort at her passing.

2

Between I'Daiin's raw strength (which proved useful in bursting open the barred trapdoor to the tower) and Devin's furious mien, they made short work of the wounded goblin hiding in the tower. It simply dove off the tower to escape them, dropping hard through the thornbushes below with a very final crunch. Wisdom was not a goblin's strong suit.
“Come on, we have a horse to free,” Bergi said to Orik. As they moved through one of the chambers with dead goblins, she said, “Grab one of those horsechoppers, please.” She waited to make sure that he maintained his full load of stuffs, shield, bow and pole arm. She didn’t want him too capable just yet.
Once finished climbing over the ramshackle barricades, Bergi motioned to the shed. “Use that horsechopper to pry open the door and then toss it on the ground and get clear.”
“Orik what is the creature in the shed that is so well secured.? It seems they were afraid of it: Rhaina said.
"Just a horse," Orik grunted as he levered a board loose from the door with the horsechopper. The goblin-sized weapon bent in his hands as nails popped free; the goblins had been serious about keeping the horse in the shed. "Ripnugget went nuts when he couldn't kill it. It stomped a few of the goblins flat." He nudged one of the decaying bodies lying in front of the shed with his foot. "So they shut it in here to soften it up. It's been in there a while now. Amazing it survived this long." The door shuddered as the horse inside gave it another kick. Orik whistled. "It's one tough horse, that's for sure."
Amrynn stooped to pick up the wand as it appeared upon the stone floor. She twisted it between her delicate fingers casting her eye about the item, feeling its weight, its balance, appreciating the delicacy of its manufacture. She nodded a couple of times, briefly, noting all these factors as a whole, before slipping it into the waist of her pants for safe keeping, and for a more detailed examination later, under more favourable circumstance.
She held what else she could of Lyrie's items; she had not brought a pack, favouring agility and freedom over the bulk of a rucksack upon her back; the dagger she could thrust though her belt beside the wand; the torch she could carry in a hand; perhaps the pouches she could hook over her belt for the moment; and the comb pulled at her womanly wants, a pocket for it.
Upon Orik's answer of Rhaina's query, and before they departed this section of the fort for the poor creature whose freedom they soon would grant, Amrynn had one of her own, one that pressed against her worry for the rest of the unknown inside Thistletop. “Who else resides here, Orik? That we should remain wary of? More goblins? Greater threats?”
And then another, as she felt the prick of the wand into her side where it was held at her waist. “And Lyrie's quarters? I should like to see them. At least the book of spells. Not a thing to be left lying around for anyone to stumble across,” she observed.
Amrynn glanced at the rest of the group, providing an opportunity for the rest to make their own observations and pose their own queries as they were wont.
Orik paused in his work to eye Amrynn. "Nualia's the real threat, here. If I were you, I'd clear out before she comes up here and finds out you've killed off all her allies. She's got a temper, and that woman just ain't right." He shuddered, looking over his shoulder as though he expected her to appear there. Whoever Nualia was, she had clearly impressed Orik as a threat.
"She's a priestess of Lamashtu. And she's got this... arm. It looks like something out of the hells. I don't know how Tsuto... and her eyes... damn. I'm telling you, she ain't right. She's got a real hate on for Sandpoint; I don't know why." He turned back to trying to lever loose the boards shutting the horse in. His wounds made it a slow, painful task. "But if you want a guided tour of our quarters, you got it. Just let's get out of here after that. She spends most of her time below, but she still shows up out here to eat and preach. Her and those weird dogs of hers."
“Orik,Bergi,hold a minute.If this is a horse why shut it in like they’re afraid of it and how would they get a horse up here anyway. I mean if they were going to eat it,why not fill it with arrows? And if we free it how will we get it off Thistletop?”
The Paladin made certain that they ceased freeing the horse and used one of the vantage points that Bergi had used to get a look at it. Something about the situation made her itchy,so she decided once she had a look at it to use her Detect Evil on what she “sees”
Orik was happy to take a break as Rhaina tried to see into the shed. She saw the same black horse that Bergi had; Sarenrae saw no evil in it.
"They dragged it through the thorns and over the bridge you cut down," Orik said, shrugging. "If you showed up by boat, good luck getting a horse down to it." It was true - the stair was impossible for a horse to climb down.
“Ok,I guess we should at least free it. Rhaina said. While we’re doing this and in case Nualia shows up we should finish getting healed as I’m still wounded and we should keep a watch on the room beyond so we have warning of her arrival. Father Durriken,if it pleases Pharasma,could you heal us?”
"Durriken," Bergi interjected. "Could you please include both Orik and the horse in your blessing, if you're able." She looked in at the horse and then pointedly up at Orik and said, "A little kindness can go a long way."
Then a big smile broke across the halfling's face. "As to getting our steedly friend down? I have two words for you," she danced in a circle, twirling and singing, "Feeeeathhherrrrr faaaaalllllll." She finished with a flourish and a bit of a wild look on her face at the somewhat maniacal notion.
Durriken nodded to Bergi and said, "Yes, let's hope that we don't have to tangle with this Nualia. If she serves Lamashtu she is not to be trifled with especially if she is undergoing some sort of metamorphisis or transition into a monster. She must have some favour with her goddess for that. " Then, the priest closed his eyes as spread his arms as he whispered a prayer to Pharasma for healing.
Pharasma lent Durriken her full support, and everyone felt refreshed as the deity's cool wind blew among them. Orik straightened, though he remained wounded - and the component pouch Amrynn had taken from Lyrie bulged and moved as Skivver moved about in it, meowing plaintively.
I'Daiin dropped the bugbear's head and squinted at Lyrie's belongings. "Bergi, we should burn that cursed little bag of Lyrie's. That's foul magicking. Rhaina, tell me it is just a horse. I can get it free soon enough." I'Daiin turned to pry the boards off the door where Orik had left off, then turned around to face the big man. "You will have to go to prison. If we set you free, we risk that you tell everything to Nualia, although I doubt she will spare your life. Can you guarantee you won't be trouble? I have had enough--" he kicked the head at his feet aside to give him a clear stance at the door, leaving it rolling and spinning in the dirt to wind up a few yards away, upside down, "--trouble, for a few hands of the Sun. I would dislike dealing with more."
"So you want my help until we get to town, and then you'll toss me in jail? Is that how it is?" Orik fixed a cool stare on the hulking Shoanti.
"You misunderstand me. You want my help. My help right now is not lopping your head off for being a sellsword for evil. But, since Bergi appears to have taken a liking to you, and she is a trusted friend, I shall recant. For now." I'Daiin finished this with a broad grin. "I offer this. Tell us where a tshamek-blasted crowbar is in this place and help us get this horse out, and all is forgiven." As usual, Shoanti ways were baffling--a threat of death in one instant, and one that certainly had teeth behind it--and then a suggestion to work together and presumably have a drink. Such were the customs of the Sklar-Quah...
“Cousin,I sense nothing evil in this ,but be cautious and step aside once you’ve freed it. As to Orik,he works for Bergi now and I think he clearly understands that helping us is truly in his best interest.” Turning to the mercenary ,she added “Where’s your Sword and Shield,Orik?”
"Shield's here. Sword's back in there," Orik said curtly, jabbing his thumb at the fort.
Devin kept clear of the efforts to free the mistreated horse from the boarded-up shed, opting to linger near the door to the keep’s foyer where he could keep a wary eye both on the main gate to the south and the far wall to the northwest. He winced as I’Daiin cavalierly kicked the severed head of Bruthazmus and looked away, some of his color paling beneath the dirt he wore. Keeping a trophy of the brutality of the fight didn’t sit well with him, though he appreciated the finality of being assured that was one opponent they would not be confronting again.
“If Nualia has some grander design, and we’ve cut down all those she’s surrounded herself with, and she’s undergoing some sort of ritual transformation… then isn’t now the time to strike at her? Delay works to her favor, not ours.” What wrath had colored him had similarly faded, and he now saw the motley fortification of driftwood and thorns as a mostly-vacant den, but one that still needed to be flushed and razed.
The thought of delving underneath the keep made him recall an earlier salient point, “That reminds me -- the mouth of the face on the north wall; just below the waterline. It has an ebb and flow of current. It’s large enough to pass through. Not that that bears first investigation, but important that you all know.”
Even I'Daiin's great strength was not enough to break open the boarded-up shed. Goblin-work or no, the thick planks holding it shut were too festooned with nails to easily lose their grip on the shed - no doubt by design, as the door rattled more than once at the horse's powerful kicks. It seemed it would require either more help, or a different approach.
“Amrynn,could this be reinforced with magic.? Rhaina said. Orik did say that Ripnugget was frustrated at not being able to kill it,which does seem pretty odd,that a group of goblins couldn’t kill a horse! Can you sense any magic on the shed or on the Horse?”
Bergi’s manic mien faded as the shed withstood every assault they threw at it. “Seriously?” she said, walking over to the nailed door and lending her considerable strength with no effect. She grunted once more against the boards and then stomped away.
“Phooey,” she said. “I don’t think the horse is magical, but this wood might be! I seem to recall Shalelu saying something about goblins hating horses.” Then Bergi turned on Orik. “And you just lost a bonus, mister,” she said, pointing for emphasis. She zipped back over to the shed and called inside, “Okay horse, don’t worry, we’ll be back.” Bergi then recoiled as hooves hammered against the wood. She stepped away but would not let her vision of riding a feather falling steed diminish. That was the stuff of song and story, and she intended to see it through to realization.
Taking her lead from both Rhaina’s suggestion and Bergi’s subsequent refinement of that notion, Amrynn felt for any infusion or remnants of the chaos that she both commanded and barely controlled. To detect the auras and aspects of the magics was a part of her, something which took barely a thought to summon. She examined the structure for any sign of the arcane, and indeed extended her concentrated search to the animal, despite Bergi’s assertion that it was probably bereft of such influence. Should she have the time, she focused her remaining attention to the room and to anything her skills might detect.
There was nothing.
Amrynn shook her head as she turned to the rest, her examination of the shed complete. “Magic is not at work here,” she said. “Simple mechanics only. And nails.” She picked at the edge of a board, giving it a cursory, half-hearted tug. “Lots of nails.”
“I think Devin’s right,” Bergi said. “We should finish this now. If we wait, Nualia could run or regroup or…finish whatever she’s undergoing.” The tiny girl shivered at that. “Let’s see it through. Now. Let’s end this.”
“A quick look in Lyrie’s quarters first?” Bergi said to Amrynn.
As the party regrouped, Bergi eyed I’Daiin and Orik and said, “And you two. Settle down. Sheathe your oats until this is over.” She danced a hairy stare back and forth between them and finished up looking at Orik, “You’ll get a real weapon when you earn it. For now, make do with your improvised string-stick.”
Amrynn nodded her assent to Bergi’s suggestion; determining the extent of Lyrie’s talent and tool did indeed interest her greatly. Yet the talk of Nualia caught her attention also. She had a nagging worry circling the back of her mind. She gave it voice.
“Whilst I understand the need to and the logic of staying Nualia and anything she might be doing, devilish or otherwise, Orik and Lyrie had pulled much from me.” She cast an irritated glance towards the mercenary. “The pool I draw my power from has grown low, and though I can yet drink from it, its potency and flavour has grown thin.”
She lifted the point of the blade of her longsword. “I can wield this, though it is a poor substitute in my hands for my faculty with the magics.” A vague shadow of worry harried her features.
“Against a supposed adversary as powerful as a possibly transforming servant of The Demon Queen, I would not wish to place us in jeopardy for the sake of a failed spell.”

3

Orik led them below, down through the long passage beneath Thistletop, which jigged to the right before revealing five closed doors. The closest on the right, Orik identified as his own quarters. "That one's Tsuto's," he said, a sneer creeping into his voice as he jerked his thumb at the other. On the left: "Bruthazmus' first, then Lyrie's. The one at the end is Nualia's," he said, glancing over his shoulder uncomfortably, as if speaking her name might summon her presence.
Amrynn's hunger for knowledge led her to open the door to Lyrie's chamber. While the room was clean, and brightly lit by an everburning torch lying on the nightstand, its spartan decor made it uncertain whether it was actually lived in. A quick search of the desk, however, turned up the very tome Amrynn had been searching for. Beyond a few clothes neatly folded in a chest at the end of the bed, nothing else of note appeared to be there.
Devin thought he saw some of Amrynn's fatigue fade at gaining the tome, but he also recognized that merely having the book in her possession did nothing to replenish Amrynn's tap to magic; only rest would do that. There was risk entailed to them all in forging ahead, but it was in his nature to not leave a fight half-finished -- doing so brought an enemy back stronger and more prepared than ever.
"We need to press on," Devin stated succinctly, reiterating his point from the courtyard with far fewer words. "We cannot leave now; we have to find Nualia, if she's at the heart of this."
Amrynn held the book in the crook of an arm, delicate fingers wrapped about its spine, whilst she gripped the hilt of her unsheathed sword in the other. The tome felt heavy, physically, with thick covers and binding, holding stiff pages, but in its spirit also, if a material object, a book, could possess such a thing. The secrets held within Amrynn could not be certain she was capable of unlocking, even whether they were for the deciphering, by her. A matter for another time, though. Matters of more immediate and greater import were at hand.
“I found nothing else, save for the book, and the torch.” She juggled the ever-burning torch with the sword and the tome, handing the torch to any who might take it from her. She had enough to hold as it was. “It will be of use.”
The other rooms could benefit from a search also; Orik was in a position to indicate the most likely. She caught Devin's eye, acknowledging his words. Yes, her glance said, we should proceed, but wait, a moment only. It was a silent look, yet her message was as clear as if she stated the words aloud, such was the link she realised that had matured between them both. “A moment's time taken now could uncover a trick to turn the tide later.”
“It seems we lack the means to free the horse for the moment Bergi. Rhaina said. Besides it would seem we need to rid this place of Nualia and then figure out how we can get it off the island since our boat would not be able to carry it. Before we proceed I suggest we quickly take stock of useful resources such as Potions,Thunderstones,Alchemist’s Fire,etc,as well as how much healing Father Duriken still retains. The throwable items can be divvied amongst those whose primary talents do not lie in melee
The Paladin preceded the group to the stairs and secured Orik’s blade “I’ll hold this for the time being Orik and if we enter a fight the decision to give or withhold it will then be made. Trust is earned,and we are giving you the chance to do so”
"Do you know of her strengths and weaknesses, Orik?" I'Daiin crossed his arms and spoke in a low voice to the mercenary. "I expect her to be difficult to kill."
"If she has weaknesses, she didn't show 'em to me," Orik said; was it a residual shivver from Amrynn's magic, or from actual anxiety, that ran through him? "She's stone cold, man. Sacrificed a bunch of people to Lamashtu while all the goblins watched. Choked the life right out of 'em with that... arm she has. She even had Tsuto dig up a body in Sandpoint, and burned it to ashes. She said it was her father's, for his sins or whatever. Stone. Cold."
"That religion gives me the chills, let me tell you. I only ever been in the temple once, but once was enough. But she's not just some psalm-quoting priestess. She knows how to use that sword she carries around." Orik shook his head. "You'd think that her armor wasn't all that great, what with it being open in front to show those scars on her stomach, but it doesn't matter - she can cut you down before you get near gutting her. Maybe her goddess is watching over her. All I can say is, if you're going to fight her, don't face her alone."
Devin abided the preparations, heeding Amrynn’s glance and the general consensus. It was clear they’d be in a fight again all too soon.
“I’ve a few tricks, yet,” he contributed to the inventory of tactics. Opposite his shortsword, he’d taken one of his daggers absently to hand, and his fingers rolled it hilt over blade over hilt over blade as if it could both occupy his mind, imbue his patience, and keep him on ready edge. He’d felt the shadows he’d earlier gathered about himself lapse, but didn’t let himself feel their absence as fatigue.
So she had some sort of overpowered arm, and she wielded a sword, and she was a priestess able to throw prayers with effect. He ruminated candidate tactics. They outnumbered her, now; Orik had made no mention of thralls or attendants. If they could harry her, they might be able to keep her from drawing spells. And the best way to combat the arm and the sword was to stay out of reach of both. Polearms, then, perhaps. Or mancatchers. “The goblins – they have any sort of armory down here? What’d they use to catch and maneuver that horse? Polearms?”
"Yeah, I think they have one. Never seen it. They caught the horse with horsechoppers and clubs. It put up a hell of a fight. Must be combat trained." Orik grunted, leaning against the wall. Blood trickled slowly from his deeper wounds, but his stern face never cracked.
At I’Daiin’s prompting, Bergi riffled through her own rainbow collection of memories in search of any pertinent details surrounding the wickedness of Lamashtu, patterns, weaknesses, points of import. As she did this mental inventory, she held out her arms and wiggled her fingers to show Rhaina and the others that she wasn’t carrying anything of tactical import. Her diminutive size rarely allowed for such extravagances.
“He’s my contribution,” Bergi said, cocking a thumb in Orik’s direction. “As for my performances,” she added, clearing her throat to test, “I believe I can give you as much as I already have today before petering out.”
“Now, finish scouring around as quick as you can. I’Daiin, would you come with us?” Bergi asked. Bergi would then lead Orik and I’Daiin back into the main junction chamber with the stairs. There she stopped and pointed at the first closed door on her left.
“What’s through there?” she asked Orik. As he answered, she prompted again for each doorway around the chamber while the others searched the sleeping quarters.
Orik grimaced at the first door. "Ripnugget's harem. Bruthazmus took it over." He shook his head at the second. "I heard they had a torture chamber back through there somewhere, so I never went in. Can't tell you anything there."
The next two doors led to "the temple and war room, and Lyrie's study, and the stairs down," and "some kind of wriggly monster," respectively. "Lyrie is... was fascinated by that thing. Spent as much time staring at it as mooning over Tsuto," he growled. It seemed that this state of affairs had been a source of much frustration to him. The last door Orik shrugged at. "Nursery. Full of goblin rugrats."
"I'Daiin, don't kill. I'Daiin, fetch this. I'Daiin, knock down this door," growled the barbarian, rolling one eye down at the halfling bard. "Well, we do not slay infants. And we don't comport with goblin comfort women." I'Daiin tapped the longer weapon strapped to his back, a lucerne hammer meant to reach out and split armor with a swing. "I've just the thing for hitting a target without being touched by claw or blade, but I am sure Nualia is protected in some foul way. We need magic, or...is it silver? Iron? Something touches devils, or demons, or whatever she is changing into." He crossed his arms again, looked at Orik, and sighed. "I have an idea. We kill this wiggling thing and do it quietly. If, and only if, we can find Nualia, she either doesn't know we've slain the goblins above, or she doesn't care. That means she's either busy with some ritual, or she's armed to the teeth. Either way, if you lead one or more of us in as 'prisoners'...the others can spring out, bind her arms, shoot at her from afar, something." He bared his teeth in frustration. "That's my best idea. Ask the damn paladin; we simpler Shoanti would just throw fire at it, which probably does nothing." He finished with a low booming chuckle, all of his worries instantly erased with his joke.
Bergi’s countenance darkened as Orik rattled off what he knew about the various doors and subsequent crannies of Thistletop. The baser elements were worse than she imagined. She shuddered with a grunt at the thought of encountering the actual details. “Thank you,” she said to the mercenary after the banter trailed off, and she flipped him a silver coin. Then she turned to I’Daiin. “And you can always say no,” she said, nodding toward the fort’s personal chambers. “I just thought you’d fancy popping Orik here if he started to sass instead of sifting through the dirty underwear back there.”
"Not a bad idea at all," Orik mused, ignoring I'Daiin's joke. "Nualia has to come up to eat before long. If she doesn't know the goblins are dead yet, she will then. But right when she comes up, she and that ugly dog of hers will be vulnerable... at least, more than if you let her choose the ground she wants to defend. If you can surprise her, and rush her all at once... well, that's probably your best shot."
“Damn Paladin?,Rhaina grins fierily at I’Daiin “Haere noho i runga i tou hoari, tuane fetii”, “Excellent suggestion Orik,but I think it would be ,”We” who rush her. Your survival depends on ours now. If we fall,she will know you betrayed her ,so making certain she is dead and can’t hunt you down would certainly seem like you only choice,don’t you think,hmmn?”
Orik grunted. His position was precarious; he knew it well. "I'm not rushing her armed with just a bow, if that's what you're thinking."
Turning to the others,Rhaina said”Devin,you have a good head for planning these things,what would you suggest? I am the best choice to confront her.Her magic has less chance of affecting me and my Smite Evil will be very useful”
Devin asked three questions of Orik, "She exits, and retrieves her own food? No supplicants or attendants? Those double doors; those are the only route to and from her chambers?"
To Rhaina's inquiry, Devin shrugged and suggested, "Poison her. Leave her a platter of food and a container of ale, here," Devin pointed outside the monstrously-embossed double doors. "Simple and messy fare. She ingests it, she accepts it and goes back to her ward, or she pauses and wonders over it. In any case, we gain a brief advantage. She's not an opponent I can survey and plot against; this'll be fast and brutal, likely on both sides."
"The double doors? Those are to the temple. Nualia is down below, through Lyrie's research room. She's just down there all the time with her dog." Orik sounded tired; perhaps his wounds sapped his energy. "But yeah, she comes up to find something to eat. She doesn't trust anyone but Tsuto to bring her anything. Not the goblins, for sure. Little monsters would just eat it before she got it, and that's if they even managed to bring her something that wasn't totally disgusting. She won't eat anything left out for her. Too suspicious."
Bergi then winced as the notion of poison came to light. She realized Devin might wish harm to even the youngest goblin babes before he was through. They had to draw a line somewhere.
“The goblins aren’t important,” she said. “Nualia is uniting them. Get rid of her, and they cull their own numbers. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to. There’s no telling how long we’d have to wait for her to come up for fare, or what could happen in the interim. I say we go to her before she gets suspicious. Bold or bluff, doesn’t matter to me.” Bergi glanced around at everyone pointedly. “But I’m only one voice here.”
As talk turned to a plan the cleric spoke up, "I am concerned about this so-called wiggly monster. We do not want her to be able to join up with whatever that may be so any plan we create should have someone designated to keep her from running for reinforcements. Rather than everyone running about we should focus our energies on enemies one at a time or at least at priority list. "
Lyrie’s research room. The words pricked Amrynn's curiosity, touched her need for inquiry. What secrets and tricks one might learn there... She squashed it. Such distractions were for a later time.
Wriggly monster. Nualia. And now, apparently, she has a dog. A fearsome one probably. Amrynn sighed. Successfully negotiate one swinging bridge and another appears before you out of the mists, more rickety and less stable. And the chasm seems deeper beneath this second one.
“Durriken speaks sense. One at a time,” she opines. “Perhaps the question is which before the other?” For her part, Bergi’s summation was succinct and relevant; remove Nualia and their goblin problem might yet dissipate like a fog before a breeze. The wiggly monster seemed on the surface to be the lesser of their two threats. She said as much.
Bergi sighed. Disgust etched her lean and clean features. “I get what you’re thinking,” the halfling nodded. “I do. I can see checking it out, scoping the lay of things, wiggly or otherwise, but every obstacle we overcome -before- Nualia just softens us up further for when we have to face her.” She looked off to one side. Unseen ghosts stared back from the shadowy crannies. “We’ve lost so many people already,” she said. “I just want to see this done.”
Durriken rested his hand on Bergi's shoulder, his face etched with sympathy. "Loss of companions and loved ones is never easy but we shall see that they are properly avenged and can rest easy in the Lady's care. Nualia's time of reckoning has come. However, we must temper vengeance with caution and approach this fight carefully. Our resources are limited so must be dispensed wisely. "
The faces paraded past, a melancholy dirge if ever there was one, until one face in particular brought Bergi up short. She slapped her forehead. “Did you find my sword?!” she called to Devin, her tone clearly indicating she meant the one he lost.
Devin unslung a bundle he'd strapped across his back at some point in their explorations of the fort, and the commensurate battles to take it. He unrolled the ratty cloth wrap to reveal Hrolfr's sword, sheathed and intact. He let the wrap fall discarded to the fort floor and held the sword forward to Bergi in both hands. "One of the goblins in the southeastern tower was wielding it. I recovered it. It is undamaged. Thank you, Bergi, for its use when I most needed it."
Bergi’s eyes spiraled wide as Devin uncovered the blade. She launched herself under it and latched onto his leg with squealing delight. The halfling death grip only lasted a moment before she spun and took the sword from him. It was nearly as long as she was. “Strap it on, strap it on, help me strap it on,” she said, indicating she would wear it across her back.
Once settled there, the blade hung like a greatsword across her tiny frame. There was clearly no way her lithe limbs could wield it, but she seemed all the more tickled for having it.
"Nualia." Devin concluded after Bergi had accepted the sword back, voting with one word. Fatigue and delay benefitted their opponents; better to throw all they had at the crux of the forces, if they were going to make any attempt at all.
When it came to hunting down Nualia, Orik balked. "I'm not going anywhere near her with you unless I've got my sword," he said flatly, adding, "Some kind of healing would also be preferable. I don't know about you, but I don't want to end my life as an offering to Lamashtu." He leaned Bruthazmus' bow against the wall, and folded his arms in determination. Rhaina and Durriken had the distinct impression that Nualia made him nervous, for all his stoic expression. Nervous (perhaps even anxious?), and stubborn.
"Reasonable," Devin concurred, academically, with Orik's protests. While Devin wasn't a particular advocate of Orik's continued draw of breath, he accepted that Bergi had taken Orik under her employ and her responsibility, and that was good enough for him. He'd been in odder and more tenuous company, in his past.
Bergi had been too busy strutting around, admiring her returned blade to take in most of what had been said. Eventually the gazes and silence brought her up short and garnered her attention.
“Uh, yes, yes. Fair enough, but we’re crossing into some new territory here,” Bergi said. “This is the beginnings of trust, the foundation. Don’t meddle with it, or everything after is just a house of cards. Now hold still.”
Satisfied that Orik appeared to be at least willing to try, regardless of his underlying motivations, Bergi offered another olive branch. The notes came clear and quick from her throat, the song was jingly and manic, more chant than melody. Leeches and slugs and something about a troll’s severed tongue found substance in what amounted to a sing-song children’s yarn.
Bergi traced her tiny fingers along the worst of Orik’s hurts and coaxed them back together with the magical notes of her craft. She nodded at the conclusion, and said, “It’s a start. Still, take some care with the worst of those hurts.”
Crossing her arms and observing Orik as he moved, Bergi gave Rhaina the nod to return the mercenary’s sword to him. “I’d still like you to carry that bow,” she said. “Sling it, please.”
Bergi's song mended rent flesh where it was worst, but her gentle touch was not enough; still Orik remained badly wounded by Rhaina's expert blade. Kneeling laboriously, the mercenary looked Bergi in the eye. The tall man seemed earnest when he spoke.
"I'll take that as a gesture of good faith. Thank you. I think I can handle the rest," he told her. "You've got my blade in your service. I'll do what I can to take Nualia down."
Satisfied that he'd spoken his piece, he rose equally laboriously to his feet and accepted his bastard sword from Rhaina with a nod. He gestured with it at the harem door while he fished in his pockets with the other, bringing forth a small tin vial. "Ripnugget's wives seemed pretty addled whenever I saw them, but I still wouldn't leave any goblin at our backs. You want me to deal with them?"
"We are not. Here. To kill comfort women," growled I'Daiin. Tie them up, gag them, but we aren't evil, Orik. There is no point in spilling this much blood if it makes us as bad as these daughters of monsters. He joined Rhaina near the front of the line, ready to disable some fat female goblin drunkards.
"Easy, big fella. They're just goblins. But if you want 'em tied up, I'll tie 'em up. Anyone have any rope?" Orik asked, looking around.
“Concensus?” Rhaina was startled to discover she had spoken the word aloud,and looked taken aback for a moment til she recovered her composure “I have been listening to you all. From Amrynn’s concerns about dwindling magical resources,Bergi’s desire to see the threat to her home ended,Father Durriken’s advice regarding not wanting to face Nualia alongside the “Wriggly”,to Devin’s eagerness to achieve some closure with regards to those who attacked and killed the member’s of the caravan”. With a nod to the half-Elf”A desire I share,as well Devin,having been the other survivor of that massacre” And with a grin for the hulking Sklar-quah beside her”And then there is my cousin’s desire to simply get on with it”
“I spared Orik’s life because as a follower of the Everlight I look for the good in people. Rhaina looked up at the mercenary,his sword in her hand “You are still hurt;I can see that and despite having bested you,I know you are a more experienced warrior than I am,and yet you fear Nualia,don’t you? she asked as she passed over the sword“If I had more healing I would give it to you.”
"Hey, if you're not afraid of a follower of Lamashtu, you're crazy," Orik said defensively. "They're nuts. You can see it in her eyes. I don't know how Tsuto... Well, anyway, don't worry about more healing." He swigged the contents of his vial, and straightened with a deep breath of relief. What visible wounds he had suffered were mended, and he flexed his arm experimentally before gathering up Bruthazmus' bow and slinging it across his back.
“My friends.I assumed the role as leader after Quickfoot’s untimely loss,not because I am the best tactician,Rhaina nodded to Devin.”Nor am I the wisest of us”a look at the Pharasmite,”the Smartest”a smile for Amrynn. A hand laid on her fellow Shoanti’s shoulder”And neither am I the bravest and I do not have the biggest heart”,the Paladin kneeled before the diminutive Bard,and reached to settle the sword in a more comfortable position on Bergi’s back,before she stood to look at each of her fellows in turn
“But I am a good listener. Devin is correct we have the advantage of surprise and thanks to Orik,we have knowledge. But Amrynn and Durriken are also correct when they advise a cautious approach to dealing with Nualia and the creature of Lamashtu” She spat the word out as if it tainted her to utter it
“We must draw her out and away from whatever that hell-spawn she has with her down in her lair.She will be formidable enough without it and I for one would wish to know a bit about her dog. Orik,how can we get her to come up to us?I’m sure we cannot surprise her if we do,but I think our odds of succeeding are better if we face only the two of them.
"She'll come up when she gets hungry," Orik said, with an uncomfortable glance down the open northern hallway.
As to how to hurt creatures like the one Orik described; I bear a Cold Iron Longsword and I believe it would hurt such a creature just as a magic weapon might” Rhaina said.
She exhaled in a “whuff” “So to summarize the point of my long winded sermon”she grinned realizing that it did have that “feel” “We kill any weapon bearing Goblins,find out from Orik what he knows about her pet and how to get her up here,where we kill her.Then we find a place to rest,before heading down to deal with the creature below. My friends,if we fail or fall,then I fear so does Sandpoint.So let us make certain that we move ahead with all of our shared experience taken into consideration”
"All I know about her dogs is that she has two more in the temple, and all of them have the most spine-chilling, horrible howls you ever heard. Ugly, mangy monsters. Worse than the goblins." Orik glanced down the hallway again. "She probably ate before heading down to do whatever it is she does down there. Something to do with a Malfeshnikor, whatever that is. Is that the "creature" you meant? Still, she'll be back before too long. I don't know how much rest you need, but I'd still post a guard. It's not like she never comes back up for other reasons."
Rhaina was a woman of action, Amrynn could see. Yes, one to consider the good, the bad, the sensible and the irrational. Take upon her own deliberation these different matters and points of view and toss them about till something sensible fell out. But once decided, then act. Her father had done it and he would have recognised it in others as a sure talent for leadership. A skill to nurture and mentor, fertilise and tend till it blossomed into a fully developed flower to bedazzle and bewilder others with its sense and insight. Amrynn could see her father nodding in approval upon the conclusion of Rhaina's words. A soft sad sigh escaped her as Father blew apart upon the cold breeze of The Present.
“My command of the magicks is all but exhausted,” she said into the silence the followed Rhaina's question. “Save for a handful of minor incantations. Tricks at most.”
She gestured with a dip of her head to the longsword at her hip. “I have this, though I am hardly as accomplished in its wielding as I'Daiin.” She hefted her crossbow that sat in the crook of an arm. “And this can touch her from range, though the bolts may not penetrate whatever defenses she will have spun about her.”
She let an eye drop to Lyrie's spellbook she held in her other arm. “This is a treasure. Valuable later." Yes, later, like Quickfoot's own book that awaited her back in Sandpoint. "But useless now.” A frustrated shake of her head and a flash of anger in her eyes.
“I am but half the person I was when first we set foot upon this forsaken isle,” she said. Her eyes, the darkest grey, flicked to the mercenary, thoughts of his response and reaction to Nualia fresh in her mind. “Orik drained me. If Nualia is the equal of he then, should we choose to confront her now, I fear for myself and for us all if we are not the strongest we can be.”
Amrynn knew she was only the most recent of the Heroes of Sandpoint; had she even earned the right to call herself such? If not for the graciousness of Devin and their prior association would she even be counted amongst their number now? Did she have the right to draw the reins upon their chase? She was still newly-met and after all had not truly earned their trust, not as her, Amrynn, rather than she-who-knows-Devin. Did she speak out of valid concerns for the success of their encounter with Nualia or was it simple self-preservation on her own part that prompted such conservative feelings within? Perhaps it was her elven heritage forcing her to stop, slow down, think and consider. So many questions! Frustration indeed. She could feel that lake within her warming once more. She breathed, deep. Calm. Calm...
“But I stand beside you, my friends, entire or otherwise.” She swallowed, not wholly enthralled with the visions her next two words conjured. “Or fall.”
Inwardly, Devin bristled at the impracticality of binding the goblin harem; they could ill-afford to take responsibility for their well-being, but even more, they could not afford to let them free this early in the battle. At the end, then, they'd set them free, but not until matters of the fort were concluded. That might take more than a day, but the harem would survive that, even if they were uncomfortable. He spoke no objection, and offered forward the silk rope from his pack for the intended purposes. Devin resolved to stay at the door, sword out, as the harem was bound -- a small show of force, but not really intended to be more than prevention of escape of any goblin harem member who showed too much spine and was considering a dash to early freedom or resistance to the precautions.
Between all that had been spoken, Devin had settled into a plan. "We rest, then, in whatever position would keep us ready to ambush Nualia should she appear, with a two-person watch kept. If she grants us eight to ten hours' pause, we gain that benefit. If she does not, we have lost nothing by waiting for her to come to us, and gain having her on unfortified ground. Our first priority if she appears must be to cut off her retreat -- we only gain surprise once. Our second priority must be to delay or prevent reinforcements. Even taking her, alone, sounds challenging."
"Blocking her retreat means getting by her when she's only steps past the door." Inherently high-risk. "If that door opens in, a wedge at the floor will serve to start. If it opens away, we'll need to wedge the handle to the frame, or rope and spike it. Or alchemical glue, or magic. Some of the goblins had spearshafts and polearms that'd serve either purpose. We gather four of them and keep them at hand for the watch, as an early action."
Bergi seemed visibly more at ease with the sword in her possession and now that Rhaina had made the call. She listened to the shifting banter and appeared more content to let the chips fall where they may rather than drive directly toward Nualia. Perhaps Hrolfr’s blade finding its way back to her had something to do with that.
“Okay, clearly there’s still a bollywoggle to do,” she said. “Let’s try this. Amrynn, Devin, go back into the personal quarters and search them thoroughly. Orik, Rhaina, me and Durriken will manage binding the…comfort women.” A little shiver slipped across her tiny frame. “I’Daiin, you’ve got the hardest job. Keep an eye out here in the main room, an ear out for both squads and handle anything surprising that crops up.” Her tone wasn’t dismissive, she just knew the barbarian didn’t fancy bracing the harem attendants.
Bergi looked around for any objections, and if there were none, she wiggled her fingers and said, “Okay, let’s scamper.”

4

Thus split, the group went about their various tasks. While I'Daiin stood watch, Amrynn and Devin returned to the living quarters, brandishing one of the everburning torches Amrynn had picked up. They found Tsuto's chamber clean and well organized. A low dresser beside the door bore a stack of papers, weighted down by a large chunk of obsidian, while by the far wall there was a well-made bed.
A quick skimming of the notes revealed them to be primarily rough drafts of a plan Tsuto had to blackmail his father, and how he would use the Glassworks as a staging ground for an investigation into "the Catacombs of Wrath."
Amrynn dredged her knowledge of the framework of the schemes she skimmed. Their relevance for the immediate moment may have escaped her, she may not even recognise the link between where she was now, what she had become intimately entwined in with her fellow Heroes and what she saw before her, writ upon the page, yet she felt there was value in their retention. She flipped open the tome she held crooked in her arm, Lyrie's spellbook, and shoved the sheath of parchment within the pages of the tome, snapping the manuscript shut upon them. They were safe and secure for later study.
Devin, having caught the name and gleaned one or two bits from the page, nodded, and added, "Before my time, here, in Sandpoint. Heard a little about it, from the others."
Orik's room showed many signs of his occupancy, from the rumpled, unmade bed and articles of dirty clothing at the foot of it, to a half-eaten meal of bread and smoked salmon on the nightstand. Another everburning torch lay beneath the clothing, with its light mostly smothered by a wadded-up shirt.
“Devin?” Amrynn said, in a single word catching the half-elf's attention, directing it to the torch and asking whether it was of value to them.
"Definitely," Devin nodded, and extracted the everburning torch from the textilious debris. Another of the party would surely want that extra light; Devin couldn't afford the cost to his stealth.
Amrynn had spent much energy in their efforts since departing Sandpoint earlier in the day. She was not hungry, yet could feel the fuel she had taken aboard that very morn burning low. The sight of the half-eaten platter, whilst it reminded her of nutrition and sustenance, was enough to delay the immediate need to satisfy any personal requirement she might have harboured in filling her belly. A lip curled slightly in distaste at the partially devoured meal.
Nualia's chamber was larger than the others, if not by much. A fine bed, with silk sheets, stood against the wall to their right, while to their left, a desk and chair under a hanging lantern made a comfortable-looking study. No notes had been left for them to find, however.
"Silk sheets," Devin mused without innuendo. "For someone growing a claw for an arm, she's got finer tastes. Amazing they're not ripped." Devin's eye drifted appraising, thinking those sheets would be both lightweight and quite valuable. Not practical for the moment, though. They could stay where they were, but he made a note to gather them later before they left the keep.
Their last stop, Bruthazmus' lair, was a distinct contrast. There was a musty odor in the air, the unmade bed was covered with matted gray and black hair, and bloodstains marred the stone floor, while a morbid stack of birds' feet lay heaped on the floor by the side of the bed.
"Gah," Devin exclaimed distastefully. "I've sheltered in worse, but not by much." The smell just... permeated. He prodded about the room, using reach and extended feet more than leaning close to examine things as he had in the other rooms. He went so far as to lift and kick the bed over; if he could; rather than drop low to peer beneath it. From what he could see, he presumed Bruthazmus had been of the type to keep anything valuable upon himself, rather than toss it into a corner, here, and he was too straightforward to try to secret anything.
Amrynn could not escape the bugbear's chamber fast enough, though she paused a moment, laying a hand upon Devin's arm, letting it rest, pausing the young half-elf in his tracks. A quiet moment in the maelstrom of violence, nervous energy and shadowed fear that hovered at the fringes of her conscience. She gave Devin a small smile. We shall be alright, won't we, it asked of him. Nualia is a beast, a monster in her own right. We shall defeat her, yes? She spoke no words, though her questions, a silent plea for reassurance and reinforcement, a dispersing of doubt and misgivings, was as clear to Devin as if it had been spoken plain.
Devin would've preferred to muster a greater conveyance of hope in the sincere look he returned to Amrynn's silent inquiry, but he wasn't given to unfounded optimism. What he did reply with, however, was grim determination and mettle -- he would not see Nualia left at their backs, granted time to fortify and strike at her convenience. He'd been here, before. Not in this place, not specifically. But many like it. The only way out of situations like this was through. You never took half-measures, you never hoped for the best. You just threw all you could, and hold nothing back. Tomorrow had to be earned.
He considered Amrynn carefully, gauging that the hardships and trials he'd accepted may not be something she'd yet endured. "With all of us? Yes, I think Nualia's in serious trouble." It wasn't exactly a promise, but it was the reassurance he could offer from his brief experience with friends such as they were part of.

5

Bergi, Orik, Rhaina and Durriken burst into the goblin chief's harem to the squeals and shrieks of the handful of startled goblin women that had lain amid dozens of ratty cushions, lumpy pillows and rumpled dogskin furs heaped everywhere. The air stank of a nauseating mixture of vinegar and rotten flowers, and the fat and oiled goblins tried to escape, but between breathing through their mouths and the hideous goblin women's sleep-and-intoxicated grogginess and flab, the party had soon rounded them up and tied them without suffering more than a few scratches and disgusting bites that didn't break their skin.
The barbarian's nose wrinkled as various acrid odors seeped through the door. He crossed his arms and grinned I'd rather fight a brace of wrathspawn than deal with those stench kine, he thought to himself. It will be meet and good if this 'wiggly' monster is large. I came down from the plateau with the promise of large monsters, and we've seen none of those yet. Still he kept his sword well gripped in one hand, listening hard into the foul darkness of the understories.
The priest followed through with his appointed duties in silence other than a yelp when an errant goblin consort bite his hand. "That will be enough of that, young lady," he said through gritted teeth as he pushed up on her nose to get her to release. Finishing his final knots, he stood up with a huff of air, "There. That's a distasteful job done. Now," he said as he wiped his hands off on his tabbard, "Let's get to the business of dealing with Nualia and her wiggly monster friend." He then returned to the others reporting their task as completed.
"What is the plan now?"" he said simply.
The struggles with the harem goblins were brief but blistering. Bergi tried to calm and cower them as each situation warranted, but many were beyond reason, poorly treated and unwilling to extend an ounce of trust. The concept of compassion seemed entirely lost to them.
At one point she found herself smothered against a salty bosom, and the wrestling female was chewing and sucking vigorously on the sunrod which was tucked into the back of Bergi’s belt. After the buxom troublemaker had been subdued, Bergi scathed herself clean once more and fished out the magical length of rod. Grimacing at the gnaw marks, she pointed it maliciously at the offending goblin before tossing it away in disgust.
Back in the crossroads chamber, harem safely bound, Bergi looked left, then right, then left, then right again. “Torture, monster, torture, monster,” she grumbled. Finally she gave up with a shrug and left it for I’Daiin to decide their next course. The barbarian bore the brunt of their passage most times. Best for him to choose his own poison when he could.
"I was bored standing there. Nothing attacked," grumbled the large Shoanti. A wolflike grin peeled his lips back to show his teeth. "Monster, obviously. But we need to be quiet, Bergi." He looked like a laugh was slowly crawling up from his belly to escape his mouth...attacking a giant monster in an echoing underchamber quiet, and a chanting wee squeak of a bard besides...I'Daiin barely kept his chuckles imprisoned.
Rhaina participated in the necessary “cleaning up” of the Goblins and once that was done she spoke to the group “So the plan is to hold off on killing the “Wiggly” until we’ve dealt with Nualia,Yes?”
Rhaina looked at the half-elf and Devin could see(and hear) her eagerness to battle the Lamashtite”Where do you see us waiting Devin? I will take the first watch as I have the better resistances to her magic and with another of our company with us we should be able to hold her attention for the time it takes for the rest of you to respond” Does that fit with your Tactics,my Friend?”
"Uh," Devin paused, looking between Rhaina, I'Daiin, and Bergi. "I believe that plan they're landing on is to see to the 'wiggly' monster, now." Devin waited for confirmation of that from I'Daiin.
Bergi was still plucking and preening the worst of the goblin bits from their sojourn into the harem. The halfling knew she’d be visiting that room again in her nightmares for sure. “Yeah, your cousin is looking to grapple with something larger than a bugbear,” she said to Rhaina. “You two sort it out, but I’m pretty sure we’ll spy a better ambush spot closer to the stairs.”
She crossed her arms and eyeballed the two giant Shoanti, waiting to see which would ultimately choose their path.
“Cousin,We need to deal with Nualia first.She is responsible for the “Wiggly” and for the Goblin attacks on Sandpoint and the Caravan.” Rhaina said.
Grinning at the Barbarian’s eagerness”I promise you.Once we’ve dealt with her and we’re ready,you can get first crack at the monster.OK?” “Devin,please set us in position ,before she shows up and surprises us”
The elven maiden stood to one side as her comrades juggled their options amongst themselves. The confines of the fort, now they had descended into its bowels, though deeper they could plummet, chilled her spine, and she shivered. Or maybe it was the thought of confronting the disciple of Lamashtu or the 'wiggly monster' without her magic. Without ALL her magic. She had spells, yes, yet they were but cantrips really. A balled up piece of parchment would be of greater use to her and to them should Nualia appear.
Rhaina had expressed faith in Devin to apply the lessons he had learned upon the streets to their now. She took a step towards the half-elf, bringing herself closer to him, to his presence. She placed her trust in him also. “Set us safe, Devin. I know that you will.”
"I'll try," Devin offered, at his best effort, "but I'm a bit out of my depth. Group tactics," he gestured about, and shrugged, indicating he was brushing the limits of his expertise.

6

Orik led them deeper into the belly of Thistletop, past the foreboding doors of the Lamashan temple, and the farther he went, the more carefully he moved. After easing open a creaking goblin door to a chamber, he waited, his eye twitching at the noise as the armored party followed him in. He didn't comment, nor could he very well have done so, with the clanking his own fine banded mail made.
While he waited for everyone to crowd in, those in front couldn't help but notice the crude drawings that covered the lower four feet of the walls in mud, blood and paint. Most showed goblins engaged in some sort of violence against humans, horses, or dogs. However, one stood out among them; three times the size and complexity of the others, it decorated the wall facing them as they came in. It showed Thistletop from the side, the goblin stockade perched atop it like a crown. There was a cave in the center of the image, inhabited by an immense, muscular goblin with snakelike eyes and dogslicers in each taloned hand. If the scale compared to the rest of the drawings was to be believed, this goblin must have been at least thirty feet tall. In the bluish, flickering light of their everburning torches, it seemed to shift its weight and leer at them menacingly.
"That has to be figurative," Devin scowled after taking a too-long look at the depiction of the giant double-wielding goblin, stacking a mental wall over the possibility of it being below and cementing the wall with gathered confidence. "Cute that goblins equate might with height. Guess we keep feeding their self-inferiority."
Moving on, they entered a room with a large table, surrounded by chairs. A slate board to their right was covered with scribblings in chalk - all over five feet off the ground - but the map of Sandpoint that had been carefully inscribed on it left no doubt as to the purpose of the chamber - this was doubtless where the recent raid had been planned.
"War room," Orik confirmed in a whisper. He pointed across the room. "Lyrie's research room is through there. So is... she. I've never been down where she goes. Can't tell you anything about it." Then he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the last door, by the slate. "That leads up."
Devin moved at a purposeful, slow pace about the room, minding the scribblings. Not so much for the words; he expected to barely understand any of it, but his mild studies might yield something; but more to get an understanding of what the planners had felt their strengths or cruxes of attack were to have been, what they felt Sandpoint's weaknesses may have been, and what they saw as their objectives -- if anything less than the eradication of the town.
There were smears of chalk and nicks in the slate from where grubby hands had tried to erase the writing, but since the bulk of it was higher than a goblin could reach, Nualia's planning was easily deciphered. However, it did not describe a previous raid on Sandpoint, but a later one. There was nothing so specific as a plan of attack, but the notes read that once "the whispering beast is tamed," there would be a second raid on the town, one that incorporated not only additional goblin tribes culled from as far as the Fogscar Mountains to the north, but also something referred to as "sinspawn," who would invade Sandpoint from below.
Close examination of the notes revealed that the final assault was scheduled for only a few weeks in the future. Final, it was suggested, by the thick, underlined crush of chalk against the slate. 'Sandpoint will burn.'
An idle word from the silver-haired Shoanti, Rhaina, and a vague wash of memory coalesced within Amrynn's mind. She touched the stiff short shaft she had stowed about herself; Lyrie's wand. How could she have been so thoughtless? Here she was fretting over her dwindling connection to the chaos from which she drew order, when upon her person was the very thing she needed.
Pulling the small shaft free she twisted it once more within her fingers, just as she had upon stooping to collect it from beside Lyrie’s still corpse.
Summoning the small cantrip, that determined the nature of the chaos, she whispered the words that ordered the magic. With concentrated focus she pulled the clues together that might determine the wand and its purpose. She had heard Lyrie speak a word. The wand’s Command. A part of the puzzle. She resolved to take short minutes to solve the rest, as she should have earlier.
Bergi’s eyes widened as they delved deeper into the bowels of Thistletop. She hadn’t thought anything could be less comfortable than the nettlemaze, but she was beginning to rethink that notion. She was grateful to have Orik as an impromptu guide. His presence, albeit tenuous, helped to diffuse some of the surprises of what lurked around the next corner.
“Up where?” she said, moving to open the door he had indicated as leading upward. She tried to open the door a crack and peer into its general direction. She didn’t think fresh air awaited her, but she at least wanted to be sure.
"Back up to the fort. There's a door to the exercise yard, but it's been barricaded. Bruthazmus was expecting some kind of trouble from you there." Orik said.
“This is an awfully cramped spot to hole up,” she said, and the fact that the comment came from someone under three feet tall emphasized the truth of it. “And I don’t like backing up. I’d rather not give her multiple paths to choose from. Let’s look into Lyrie’s study.”
I'Daiin shrugged. "You all seem quite eager to rush in to death with Nualia. So be it. Are we even ready to do so today? I am wearied from the battles. I might be better as a poor archer with Bruthazmus' bow this evening." He grinned at the thought.
"I guess if anyone can draw it, it'd be you, big guy. I sure as hells can't." As Amrynn examined the late Lyrie's wand, Orik pushed open the door to Lyrie's study room.
Amrynn's smooth elven face cleared as the mysteries of the wand cleared before her eyes. “Ahhh,” she sighed. “Clever.” Suddenly the threat Nualia posed them seemed lesser; she felt greater, stronger. Confidence, where once it had seemed pale and wan, returned to her spirit; her shoulders squared and her chin rose.
Orik had opened the door to Lyrie's study. Longsword safely in its scabbard at her hip, Lyrie's spellbook in the crook her arm, Skivver, seemingly have attached itself to her in the absence of its late owner's demise, twisting about her ankles, at her turn she followed the mercenary through the door.
It was empty of people, but crowded with a large wooden worktable in the middle of the room, its surface cluttered with scrolls, books, stone tablets covered with dense, spiky runes, and fragments of carvings that appeared to have been chipped off of statues or bas-reliefs. To the right of the door, a floor-to-ceiling set of wooden shelves sagged with picks, shovels, brushes, lanterns, and other equipment one might expect to see at an archaeological site.
At first blush, there appeared to be no other way out of the room. However, Orik pointed at a section of the wall across from the door, and on closer inspection, it became apparent that it was meant to be a hidden door. Its efficacy as a safeguard was somewhat lessened by the fact that it hung slightly ajar, opening onto darkness.
“Darkness opening onto darkness,” she observed. Whether she referred to the lack of warm pure light this far into the bowels of the construct or the shroud of cold evil that blanketed the fort was indeterminate. Perhaps she referred to both. It mattered little. Her reflection felt appropriate for the moment.
She cast an eye about the table, letting her fingers play over the scrolls, examining their contents, letting her curiosity and experience lead her to any that might be useful. “Rhaina,” she whisper-said, the quiet and oppressive silence of the deeper fort seemed to Amrynn to make the act of speaking any louder a reckless act. The elf extended an arm, two everburning torches offered to the warrior-woman. Amrynn juggled the spell book and Lyrie's wand in the other. She was feeling overwhelmed; too many things to carry upon her person. She needed to divest herself of something before she managed to weigh herself down completely.
“I have no need of these.” It was true, the dark played no tricks with her sight as it did with a human's eyes. “Perhaps yourself, I'Daiin or Orik can make use of them? Else they stay here, I fear. It seems a waste.”
I'Daiin accepted the torch from Amrynn with a nod. "I didn't think elves could see in the dark," he grunted. "Not that kind of darkness." He inclined his chin towards the hidden door. "Someone's been digging and delving." He grabbed a pick and a shovel, looking to see if there was a way to bar the door. "Or we can use that table, once you literary types have picked through it." His grin was friendly enough, but the Shoanti returned his attention to the door, clearly ready to skewer anything that emerged from it.
Devin kept his voice low; more than a whisper, but intentionally modulated to minimize its travel. He spoke as much with his hands as his words.
"If this is the only route she has up, and she'll come up eventually, she'll pass down that hall," Devin pointed east, back through the series of rooms and short corridor, to where it turned south, and met back with the oversized embossed double doors. "Four in the stair up to the yard; one always watching through the cracked door. Nualia passes through the war room to the southeast. The four cut her off from behind once she's through the short passageway. The other three rush from the south. She'll be trapped and pressed from two sides, with three in her face and four in the wings at range, in that ten-foot-square room."
Granted, his first choice was to ambush her right at the double doors, but he had concerns she'd find a way past to one of the four routes out of the trap from there.
“That sounds like an excellent plan my Friend,let us take our positions and begin our wait and watch.May the Goddess smile on us all” Rhaina said.
Bergi was shaking her head as they talked about a plan, about the ambush. She didn’t want to, but her head shook none the less. She seemed to be the naysayer a lot of late, and the role didn’t suit her. That fact didn’t change the way of things though.
“The dogs’ll smell you,” she said, her nose wrinkling up. “Gads, -I- can smell you, and I’m not even trying. Probably why she has them. Keep the gobbos from doing exactly what we’re planning.” She shrugged an apology.
"Maybe, maybe not," Devin shrugged, not having a better answer for it. "If it becomes a drag-out fight, at least we're picking the spot."
“We can still give it a go,” Bergi added, “though I’d prefer three to the stairs and four to the hall, but that’s dabbling in honeysuckle when the hives are overflowing. Either way, I’m thinking those puppies are going to make trouble.”
Bergi waggled her nose in thought. “I’Daiin, Devin and I on the stairs? We’re the quietest of the bunch and can maneuver through tricky spots.” Again she shrugged, just a suggestion.
Devin nodded. "Put one of the everburning torches in Lyrie's workshop and mostly shut that door. Wouldn't be unusual for one to left, there. When someone comes into the war room, the opening door will spill that light, making it easier to catch Nualia's approach."
As they moved to separate, with him, Bergi, and I'Daiin concealed on the stairs behind the northeast door, Devin paused to give a parting, serious-but-well-wishing glance to Amrynn, Rhaina, Durriken, and Orik south of the square room to the east. He mustered enough confidence to nod; though they couldn't know all that they would shortly face, they knew why they were doing so, and it's necessity.
"Rest in shifts," he advised, at the last, "if Nualia makes no appearance, at the least, we regain our strength. Eight hours we wait; no more."
Amrynn nodded, accepting Devin's advice. It was sound, and she had though to enact the same. She felt a modicum of comfort with the short rod in her possession; the wand. And she could draw still upon her magics. She was not as helpless as she had first imagined. She fancied the weight of the memory of the two shafts violating her flesh had drawn upon her the darkest of conclusions for her and all their fates. Yet, with a sound plan, good souls to carry it within their capable grasp and the thwarting of the dire future of Sandpoint cradled in their own hands, she felt optimism germinate within her heart. We can do this. We /can/.
With the strong-willed Shoanti, the stoic Durriken and the mercenary as companions, the elf accompanied them to the spot Devin had planned. The hour was not late; far from it. Yet she herself had expended much in these past handful of hours. Rest was required, blissful, practical respite. It could only serve them well.

7

The wait was long, or maybe it only seemed long. There was nothing to do but stand in the cool darkness, no sunlight to measure the passing time. Boredom was as much an enemy as fatigue, down there in the dungeon of Thistletop; dulling senses, fraying nerves.
No one was sure how long it was before Devin and Bergi heard a sound, and shushed I'Daiin, who was on the level above them, muttering under his breath about the privy-stink.
The voice that spoke was beautiful, the voice of an angel, husky and intimate. "Lyrie, are you- blast it. Where is she?" Peeping through the crack of the door opening, Devin saw the cool blue light of the torch they had left flood the room as the creaky goblin-rigged door swung open. What stepped through was no woman, but the largest, ugliest dog Devin had ever seen. Mange-ridden and scorched as though having escaped a fire, its black eyes glittered with hatred.
Devin shuddered and winced -- silently -- leaning back from the angle he'd gained to spy through the door just for an opportunity to see the owner of that /voice./ Gah. One hand, nevertheless, was still raised in caution to Bergi and I'Daiin -- hold, no movement. Nualia wouldn't seek the stairs that she knew were blocked -- she'd proceed down the corridor to the cellars' interior, even if she was suspicious of events. Then they'd move in behind her, block her escape.
The hound-like thing halted just beyond the door, sniffing the air. Just as Bergi had predicted, a low rumble, dripping with menace, filled the room.
If he'd had less presence of mind, Devin would've verbalized the vile curse that sprang to mind at the beast's sensitivity. Using the rumble as a moment's audible cover, Devin shifted back, away from the seam of light, and put his back to a wall opposite and below Bergi on the stairs. His shoulders steeled and he gave Bergi a solemn you-were-right look. The daggers that had appeared in each hand spoke bitter conclusion that this was going to be a fight sooner than he'd hoped. Devin glanced up the stairs to I'Daiin, wordlessly bidding him to hold; Nualia may still move down the corridor. Devin tilted his head just enough to see a sliver of Nualia in the gap of door to frame.
"What is it, Yarmash?" A figure stepped into view - the most breathtakingly beautiful woman Devin had ever seen. Her snowy white hair and cool, violet eyes seemed to glow in the light of the torch as she looked around; her perfect lips stretched in a frown. It took a moment for him to even register her armor, a black breastplate with no midsection, baring her stomach. Her belly was scarred with four ragged claw-marks. Then she shifted her weight, bringing her left arm into view. Armor and silk-smooth skin gave way to rough corded muscle and sinew unlike anything he had seen; it looked inhuman even without its baleful reddish tint. Thick veins pulsed beneath that hide, and black claws scraped the lintel as Nualia warily scanned the war room. "Bruthazmus?" Her hand - her human hand - went to the hilt of the sword on her back.
Bergi’s mouth hung open as she caught glimpses of the horrific pair as they padded into the room. For a second, the halfling faltered. Goblins and unsavory humans were one thing, but these…abominations were hard to even look at, let alone conquer.
Then a mountain of Shoanti flesh was closing on her from behind. Bergi spun and shook her head at him, trying to get a grip on one of I’Daiin’s thighs, but she might as well have been trying to grapple an avalanche. He brushed passed her and walked straight into the maw of Lamashtu.
I'Daiin stepped into plain view of the infernal canine and its warped mistress. "Lyrie and Bruthazmus are DEAD!" he barked in a baleful tone, his muscles rippling into the battle trance of his ancestors as he fixed the burned hound with a gaze that should have scorched it to ash. Lifegiver protect us...even my cousin who sees some Qadiran pixie in the Sun. I may not survive this.
Bergi’s heart swelled with pride, and hope, as I’Daiin not only confronted the menacing pair directly, but called them out! She held her breath with stunned surprise and pressed herself against the wall, willing herself to become invisible.
She was uncertain how to proceed and sought Devin’s intent in the dim light.
Devin was stunned speechless and struck dumb by I'Daiin's unexpected charge and challenge, punctuated by the near-shattering of the wooden door at his passage. Wide-eyed, he sought Bergi's intent in the dim light, and saw a mirror of his own what-the-hell?! expression. Devin's arm tensed and one of his daggers slipped from a grip by its hilt into fingers pinched at its blade and point, readying a throw.
Something held him back, though, and he knew he was forfeiting the brief moment's opportunity to bury a blade in Nualia or Yarmash before they could react. Somehow he knew that whatever happened in the next moments, one dagger's length of steel in either wouldn't make a difference either way. The floor was suddenly and unequivocally I'Daiin's.
Before Nualia could react to the Shoanti's appearance and bold declaration, her dog snarled a warning at I'Daiin - but it didn't attack. Bristling, it stood where it was, glaring at him with gimlet black eyes.

8

Time passed. Slowly. If Amrynn had been a dwarf, she would, she had heard, have innately known the passage of time, closeted from the sun, underground. Yet she wasn’t, so she didn’t. Thus she fidgeted, nervous energy plucking at her nerves, teasing anxieties.
Inactivity had cooled her blood and chilled her skin; the air within Thistletop was still, and silent. Her breathing came softly upon the air; she heard and felt the same for those that rested beside her. It was almost peaceful. Almost...
Waiting was something Durriken was familiar with. Much time in the temple had been spent waiting for ceremonies to begin or for councils to convene. Still, this was different. No one was going to try to kill him at a council meeting or funeral service. This led the cleric to idly clasp his holy symbol for much of the time as he quietly prayed for a positive outcome for the group.
Amrynn knew not how long it was before the sound of voices, soft, gentle and wafting, carried to her ears. Her heart leapt, unbidden and of its own accord. She was apparently not as relaxed as she had convinced herself. They were muted and low, from afar. She recognised not the timbre or tone or modulation; someone new. Nualia. Her breath quickened, mirroring her heart.
And then another voice. This one as familiar to her as any. I’Daiin’s gruff deep baritone. It commanded and it demanded. It was also unexpected. Was this part of the plan? That Nualia be confronted there? So far from the four that crouched at the top of the stairs? She looked to Rhaina and Durriken and Orik. The question filled her almond-shaped eyes.
As I'Daiin issued the challenge Durriken rose to his feet, preparing a spell of blessing for those he was with. The battle would be enjoined imminently now. He awaited the word to spring the trap.
Rhaina knew that she should have expected I’Daiin to try something like this,but she was still very impressed by the very Shoanti tactic SHe whispered to the ones behind her “He is trying to taunt her forward,be ready,and Orik;if you help us throughout our fights here I will do all I can to simply let you go when we leave,OK?”
Orik's answer was so soft, it was a strain to hear. "You got it, lady."
Rhaina drew her last remaining Mage armor potion and after drinking it will take a 5’ step diagonally forward to her left

9

Nualia leaned against the doorframe, sword held loosely in one hand, the other, gnarled and red, touching the golden three-eyed jackal head that hung from her neck. The blue light behind her illuminated her hair like an angel's halo. Casual though her posture was, I'Daiin's years of fighting told him that she could take a fighting stance in an instant. "Hold, Yarmash. Lamashtu, give me strength," she prayed, annoyance in her voice as she gazed at I'Daiin with cool amethyst eyes. "Another would-be hero. What exactly do you think you'll gain, here? Besides the ire of a Goddess." Her claw-tipped fingers dropped to trace the scars on her belly, leaving faint scratches on her skin. "Lamashtu doesn't take kindly to insult."
The horridly ugly, burned dog snarled at the Shoanti, still wary of the bristling barbarian. Nualia, however, met his furious gaze without flinching. Her laughter was like music when he backed away, down toward the room where their trap was set. "Going so soon?"
I'Daiin returned her laugh, two octaves lower and on far more brutish instruments. "I've hidden Bruthazmus' head in your stinking dungeon. Which will you find first, his ugly face or my sword in your guts? You may trip over your witch's corpse as well; I burned her until she looked like your dog. She screamed for mercy, but I have none left to give." I'Daiin pointed his sword and moved back, his eyes never leaving the infernal pair.
"Come and get me, you empty-wombed whore of dust. I am no hero--simply your death." And then the barbarian was around the corner, vanished away.
The sound of belligerent discourse wafted through the stairwell, sound and accent and pitch more than discreet words and sentences. Yet the tone and the modulation spoke of threats, counter threats, mocking and defiance. Nualia was about.
Where Amrynn stood, she could not see the woman-demon, or so Amrynn imagined her to be. Yet her contact with the evil creature was inevitable. Amrynn knew instinctively that her own protection was paramount. She was not the brawny, thick-skinned soul that I’Daiin was, and she had not the armour Durriken embraced. She required protection, of her own devising and summoning.
A whispered word, a tug of the arcane, and she gathered the magics about her, shaping magical armour about her body, an invisible shield to protect her from the worst of the evil woman’s efforts.
"Lamashtu grant me grace," Nualia muttered, exasperation in her tone. Raising her smooth, husky voice once more, she called out after I'Daiin, "Why do we need be enemies? I have worked with a Shoanti before. His name was Jagen, and he gave his life to protect me. Such an honorable man. His deeds will long be remembered. Did you know of him? Why not join me, and grant glory to your Quah?"
The barbarian's deep laugh echoed through the dark hallways. "A wonderful idea! Die on my blade, and your deeds shall also long be remembered. We may even stick your skull on a tree as a warning to other demons!" I'Daiin gave Orik a grin and a raised eyebrow and slipped past the mercenary, leaving him and Rhaina to the front line. Quietly as he could, he drew his hammer.
Devin barely dared breathe. I'Daiin's gambit to enrage and lure Nualia wasn't succeeding; Nualia possessed a wit, a diplomacy, and a mind to match her appearance (save for that arm). Until the situation committed one way or another, however, Devin was willing to wager on the small chance it would yet be successful, and so he continued to hold position, ready to jump and attack should Nualia venture near the stairs, but not yet giving away his and Bergi's position.
"Thinking always was Jagen's weak spot, as well. It appears to be a common problem among Shoanti." The warmth leached from Nualia's voice, leaving it sharp and cold as razor steel. "Lamashtu, protect me from this idiocy! Yarmash, check the stairs." She gestured with her wickedly serrated sword toward the spot where Devin and Bergi were hidden.
"Any Shoanti who enslaves themselves to a twisted hag like yourself deserves death," spat I'Daiin from the darkness, "And I see you've surrounded yourself such intellectual giants like goblins and bugbears." I'Daiin then speculated with great jocularity on Nualia's concuspicible role in the goblin harems at some length, concluding with some pointed questions regarding her relationship with Yamash.
Amrynn strained to hear the toing and froing of words as they drifted up from the thick darkness below. Strands and scratches of syllable found their way to her sensitive ears, though the snatches of conversation gave her no hint of strategy or plan. Only that Nualia and I'Daiin traded pleasantries with each other.
She looked to Rhaina and Orik, searching for more, unsure whether they, her allies, could make sense of what transpired below, hoping for their own insight. Their faces were lost in the darkness, offering no enlightenment.
Her palms sweated, her heart thumped, a droplet of nervousness traced a chill tickling path down her spine. The word that would activate the wand danced across her lips, waiting.
She took a deep breath, calming herself. And another. Waiting was always the worst...

10

Devin's eyes held mirth, and his smile was resigned, his chuckle silent, a moment shared with Bergi alone via a significant glance. This was to be it, then. Devin raised one readied dagger solemnly aloft at his center, point high in a salute to Bergi.
Then he burst into motion.
In one preliminary twist from hiding, the first dagger flashed with a promise to draw first blood from Yarmash. Devin had no time to observe its success, and was already bounding into the room, barely planting one foot before sprinting south, hooking a hand on the doorframe, and whipping eastward down the hall.
He was halfway down the hallway before he pirouetted and sent a second dagger streaking over Yarmash's head, aimed for Nualia.
Thrown from around the corner of the stairwell, his first dagger thunked solidly into the table in front of the monstrous hound. The second, however, drew a line of blood as it passed through the rounded edge of Nualia's exposed midriff.
Bergi always thought of herself as ten feet tall. That she was only a quarter that size was never punctuated quite so clearly then at the moment Devin burst into action. The wiry man vanished on his long legs before Bergi’s momentum even carried her through the door frame. She realized instantly that she wasn’t going to be able to match his pace. The safety of the party was beyond the reach of her legs, well, not without running, but running was something she would not do in front of this hag.
With almost comical grace, Bergi instead reached out and pulled the door closed. As the darkness of the stairwell enveloped her, she uttered a small prayer to Desna before singing the lilting tune which brought light to the hilt of the dagger at her waist.

11

I'Daiin's taunting arrival at the door gave Amrynn's heart cause to leap. Movement till it was identified could easily have been friend or foe; fortunately it was the former. Sighting the Shoanti's tough skin and equally hardened demeanour brought a relieved smile to her visage. A glance beyond his shoulder and she caught naught sight of Bergi or, worryingly, Devin.
“Nualia?” she queried the barbarian warrior. “What of her? Is she alone? And what of...Devin, and Bergi?” She had to know.
The words of magic played about her mind, ready to be assembled and uttered in a moment. Delicately balanced in her fingers the wand Lyra had so recently called her own. She had thought to use the wand upon Nualia's appearance, should it come, though now that I'Daiin had joined them, perhaps what news he brought might give her reason to belay such a decision.
And snaking about her ankles, Lyra's former familiar, the cat. If it sensed danger, of any manner or type, it appeared to take no issue with the thought.
Yarmash, still shaken by I'Daiin's mad glare, was a moment late in scrambling after Devin - but its speed in doing so made up for its tardiness. It lunged and caught the half-elf's leg in a vicious grip just as he cleared the doorway to where the others stood, hauling him back in powerful jerks, and while Devin managed to keep his feet, he felt a surge of dread. What power of evil possessed this charred, coal-eyed hound? It was like a smothering blanket cast upon him, the certainty of malicious will behind those too-intelligent eyes. Was the pain he felt truly in his body, or was it his soul he felt being ripped by those wicked teeth?
Skivver yowled in a rising howl of fright, scratched Amrynn's ankles, and took off the other way.
Realizing that battle had been joined, Durriken moved forward and called on Pharasma to bless them all. A chill, not unpleasant, settled on the party in the hallway; Pharasma had heard her faithful's call.
Rhaina found herself disappointed that she would not be able to get to Nualia for the time being,but the dog was a threat that needed to be taken care of
“Devin,move back after you attack the dog and I will take your place” That said, her Greatsword swung in a compact arc between the Half-Elf and his foe,aimed for the head of the foul beast “Dawnflower guide my sword!”she added hoping to keep Nualia’s attention focussed away from Bergi
Rhaina swept her blade in a deadly pattern - but the darkness was tricky to her human eyes, and she couldn't see the small cues that would tell her where the dog intended to move, or much of anything else. It managed to avoid her attack, if only by the smallest of margins, and its rumbling snarl sounded like laughter - but surely it was not intelligent enough to mock its enemies?
Orik sucked in a breath, then strode out behind Devin, brandishing his sword. "Fall back," he agreed. "Let it in."
Nualia, who had turned toward the light leaking from behind the goblin-made door to the stairs, snapped her head back towards the party. "Orik?!" Her smooth voice was incredulous. Shaking her head, she finally moved forward, every step the stalking move of a predator. "I should have known better than to expect more. Lamashtu, show me your favor!" A sense of malice that blurred the air settled about her for a moment, then was gone - at least, the blur was gone. That heavy malice remained, like a heavy blanket, making it harder to breathe.
Lamashtu had heard her chosen vessel, as well.
"I got an offer I couldn't refuse," Orik said with a shrug, his voice steady, if only just. "You know how it is."
"I think you know what my next offer will be," Nualia said, her voice cold and steely. Devin could see her face, dimly, by virtue of his inhuman eyes. It was an emotionless mask. Her eyes were black pits in the darkness. She touched the medallion at her throat.
"My offer still stands, devil-woman! Your head, removed from your body. If you want we can sew Bruthazmus' head on your shoulders. It could be an improvement," called out the barbarian, laughing in the darkness, still moving back in the halls of the dungeon. His strength was sapped, but he could still fight. This will be a glorious death, either hers or ours, he thought to himself.
Devin took the opportunity to duck away from the slavering dog and withdraw down the hallway where the others stood. A trail of blood-drops marked his path, for those with eyes that could see it.
Bergi held fast to the door, pulling, listening for the claws, waiting for the scrabbling attempts of the demon dog to get in. Yarmash, the demon queen had called it. A lovely name, if a name it was. Like the sound that was made when you stepped on a rotten piece of fruit.
No sound came, for her anyway. The hallway nearby was rife with engagement, and Bergi loathed not knowing what was going on. Hated it so much, she changed her mind and risked a quick peek into the room beyond, demon dog or no. She could almost feel its hot breath as she pressed an eye against the crack. The room was empty, but only just.
Still, she sensed her moment and chose to move rather than remain potentially trapped in the stairwell. Muffling the worst of the light with a flap of her cloak, she crept around the far end of the table, clinging to the shadows.
There were none left in the dark corridor who could see what Yarmash was up to, but the clatter of long claws on the stone abruptly stilled. Rhaina heard its jaws click shut inches from her face; her magical armor had saved her from disfigurement.
"Someone raise a torch," Orik said urgently, his voice strained.
Reaching into his component pouch, Durriken found a small firefly. Speaking a prayer to Pharasma he touched the insect to his shield. The bug disappeared in a flash leaving a glowing light upon the cleric's shield. "It is time to end this before we are picked off one at a time."
"Your fate is sealed," Nualia told him with cool calm, the icy evenness of her silky voice belied by her blazing eyes. They gleamed like amethysts, lovely to behold - had they not been filled with such madness.
Yarmash, too, was revealed by the light - hanging in the air above the doorway! No natural beast was this. Crouched in midair as if on solid ground, its evil growl raised the hair on their necks.
A joyful and merry laugh broke the silence following the errie growl and an equally light hearted voice followed ”If that is the best that a slave to the “Whore of the Abyss” can do ,then we have little to fear from you or your malformed servant,Nualia .Sarenrae’s light shall cleanse this place of your foul influence” Rhaina said.
In a sotto voice to Orik”I will bear the brunt of her magic ,step to my left and help me finish the dog” The Paladin stepped fearlessly into the doorway ,her greatsword raised to strike at the creature floating before her,and with a wink to the Aasimar,she swung it down upon Yarmash,muttering a prayer to Sarenrae to protect her friends from the malign influences
Her sword struck true, and a gush of blood too dark a red to be natural spattered the floor beneath the hovering dog. It snarled in pain and fury, those too-intelligent eyes locked on her. It would have cause to regret that; Orik stepped up as he had been bidden, and put his swordsmanship on display - this time in service to the party. He stabbed his sword deep into Yarmash's body, and its scream sounded almost human, eerie and hair-raising.
Durriken’s shield flooded the area with light. And what it revealed took Amrynn's breath away. Two things in fact.
Devin dripping blood. A limping, scratching retreat that coloured her voice with cred. “Devin...” she moaned. She thought the worst, imagined even more.
And the great dog. The one called Yarmash? Floating! In the air. No beast of this earth could perform such a feat. Not without help; dire, evil help. And those drooling slobbering jaws were mere inches, probably less, than Rhaina’s face.
She reacted instinctively and without thought. Up flashed Lyrie’s old wand, the word of action leapt to mind and lips. “Rusva i' goth!” slipped from her mouth. Within the space of a heartbeat arcane force is summoned from within the short magicked object, sent upon its way towards the hovering beast-dog.
The wand's effect was no kinder to Yarmash than it had been to Rhaina. The huge dog jolted as though struck by some ethereal hammer; the sound of cracking bone was apparent to all in the small room. Bleeding and battered, Yarmash yet hung in the air, but now, imagination or perception detected fear in its evil gaze.
However, there was no fear in Nualia's eyes. Only madness dwelt there, insane fury blazing all the more when set in her impassive face. She stepped forward beneath Yarmash, unconcerned with the blood that fell to stain her perfect skin and hair. She was like a terrible, beautiful statue come to life, malevolent purpose fueling her.
"Lamashtu take you," she breathed in unholy reverence, batting away Rhaina's sword and spitting her upon her own wickedly serrated blade, driving it in to the hilt with unnatural strength before twisting it free. Her sword clove through the paladin's magical protection in a shower of pale, protesting blue sparks, finding a chink in them as unerringly as had it been of natural make.
Orik swore and drew back, his stern face paling as he looked upon what Nualia had wrought. For the terrible wound was not all that she had gifted to Rhaina. Loathesome, green-gray reptilian scales erupted around the wound, spreading over her skin as Nualia drew back. They grew more fine as they swept outward, until they became fine as fish scales upon her face and hands - odd, but not so awful as one might expect when touched by the goddess of monsters. Perhaps Sarenrae had heard Rhaina's prayers, and mitigated the deformity that boiled outward from her deep wound.
"When I'm done with her, I'm coming for you, Orik," Nualia said serenely, her tone as casual as had she been discussing how many apples to purchase from a street vendor. Blood ran over her beautiful hand and deformed claws both as she raised her sword to a guard position.
"Shit," Orik said succinctly, tearing his gaze from Rhaina to Nualia. Sweat beaded upon his temples and lip.
"Orik, step back," said I'Daiin quietly as he moved through the ranks of the heroes.

12

Bergi hugged the wall with equal parts hope at remaining hidden and disgust at what she might be brushing up against. The shadows favored her though, even if the slime didn’t, and the melee scrolled into view as she cleared the primitive table. Dim lighting, difficult to see, but the ugliness she heard and felt was answer enough as to how the battle went.
‘Ugly, nasty, beasts,’ her mind barked in disgust. ‘What they need is a little dose of beauty. Something to brighten this horrid place up a bit.’
The wee halfling coaxed as much distance as she could from her legs, getting her as far away from this mistress of horrors as possible before she risked using her voice. When the song came to Bergi’s lips though, it dazzled like a firefly orchestra chasing the steamy loins of summer. With a fervent kiss, she blew the magic from her palm and then did something she often did not. She prayed, beseeching the fates to be kind to those opposing this abomination.
A gust of gold-glittering wind blew from Bergi's kiss, growing to a cloud that enveloped Nualia and her dog in sparkling light. It coated the two from head to toe, making them incongruously beautiful living statues.
Nualia half-turned Bergi's way, opening her encrusted eyes to give the halfling a warning look, her exquisite beauty only increased by the golden sheen upon her, covering the horror of her arm. Those amethyst eyes blazed with a madness no beauty could disguise. "The messengers' daughter. You may receive a message to take back to the Sheriff, if you live."
Black spatters fell unnoticed upon her gleaming coating from above, as the wounded Yarmash prowled thin air, snout wrinkled in an evil snarl. The burbling growl that trickled from his lips sent the feeling of cockroaches scuttling up the spines of all who heard. Thick black blood welled forth from his cuts, though too slowly to pose a true threat to him. He lunged down once more at Rhaina, but the lovely Shoanti's defenses were in place, and Yarmash's dark teeth only skidded across her invisible armor.
Durriken reaches for his holy symbol and utters a prayer to Pharasma once again calling upon her healing magics.
In a stunning display of grace and focused determination, Rhaina rallied after Durriken healed her, beating Nualia back - and stabbing her in her exposed abdomen, blood flying as she jerked the blade out, feinted - and then gashed Nualia's horrific arm.
Surprised and wounded, though only a strangled hiss escaped her ruby lips, Nualia brought her sword up to a guard position again - just in time to face off against Orik. Inspired by Rhaina's puissance (or maybe just afraid he couldn't retreat), he showed yet again that he was a skilled swordsman, and strong to boot - he nearly threw Nualia back with the force of his blow, and his blade ran red. Nualia ground her teeth audibly, sucking air between them, but still nothing changed the impassive mask of her face.
Steel was not sufficient shield against magic, either. Once more Amrynn spoke the mystic word that she had heard Lyrie use, and Nualia was rocked back by an unseen blow.
Wiping blood from her nose with her hand before clasping her sword once more, Nualia turned her mad eyes on Rhaina. "Your blood is wasted outside of a sacrifice, Sarenite, but Lamashtu is gracious - this hall will do as well as an altar." Rushing forward with startling speed (especially considering her terrible wounds), Nualia cut Rhaina down with unholy strength, the Shoanti's greatsword falling from fingers gone limp as she fell to the stone floor.
Nualia's face never changed. "Your turn, traitor," she said pleasantly to Orik. Blood dripped from the wounds in her belly, highlighting the claw-marks there. The taut red flesh of her demonic arm bled black.
Orik looked grim, but said nothing. He had cast his lot, and now he was going to take the consequence of it. Eyes fastened on Nualia, he kept his blade ready between them.
I'Daiin said nothing, focusing his steely gaze on Nualia. With deadly grace, he maneuvered over his fallen Shoanti 'cousin' and opened his arms as if to embrace Nualia, then sprang forward like a panther.
Dropping the weapons in his hands, I'Daiin grabbed at Nualia. It was a suicidal move; Rhaina's blood and limp body between his feet was testament to that. No one could have expected it - nor did Nualia, as I'Daiin's mighty thews closed around her. Even her serrated bastard sword carving into his thick hide didn't stop him.
"Yarmash!" she spat in command, and the floating dog-thing growled in response, ready to obey.
“Rhaina!!” Bergi screamed. The wee bard had thought she would break into song to bolster spirits, to turn the tide, but the servant of monsters was too swift, too powerful. Bergi instead reflexively raised her bow to fire on the wicked scion, but I’Daiin was in the way, and Orik too. The shadowy melee was a morass of limbs and lives, and she hesitated.
The Shoanti were fearless and flung themselves with abandon into harm’s way. That both served and hindered those around them, and the brutality of it always caused a hitch in Bergi’s throat. That hitch was enhanced by Orik’s willingness to stand his ground. Good for him. And where was Devin dammit? She needed that nimble bugger over here, on her side of the fight to harry and harass. Yeah it was tight quarters, but she was pretty sure he could slip through a keyhole if he really wanted to.
‘Not now. Focus,’ she reprimanded herself.
Bergi strained against the pull of her bow, and then realized there was a better, safer target for her ire. She raised her aim slightly and let fly her arrow toward Yarmash, that writhing, stinking mass of flesh hovering above Nualia.
Her arrow clacked against the stone of the hallway, drawing a glance back from Yarmash. The hideous, charred hound bared black teeth at her in an almost audible promise: soon.
Even as she loosed the arrow from her bow, Devin appeared once more, as though summoned by her thoughts. Darting forward and twisting to avoid the combatants and get past them, he displayed every ounce of dexterity that Bergi had suspected him of, avoiding Yarmash's horrid bite as he flipped onto the glittering stone behind Nualia.
Yarmash opened its red-rimmed maw wide, and the sound that emerged was of almost indescribable horror. It was every mother's scream at the death of her children; it was every man's despair at the senseless ending of his life; it burrowed through marrow and planted fear in the hearts of all who heard. Yet - the Heroes of Sandpoint were made of sterner stuff than the average person. Amrynn recalled the fury that bubbled ever beneath the surface, and brought it forth to safeguard her from the hellish hound's baying. Bergi thought of those who needed her, and stood steadfast. I'Daiin ignored the sound entirely, laughing in the face of its terror. Durriken threw his faith about him like a cloak, and was comforted by Pharasma's word. Even Orik proved too gritty to send aflight, though he ducked as though something wicked had flown overhead. Of all the Heroes still standing, only Devin's soul was laid bare by the evil sound. It flayed conscious thought from him, only jagged fear rising through his thoughts. He turned, his sharp goblin blade falling from nerveless fingers, panic writ large on his face as he prepared to flee.

13

The mass of bodies farther down the hallway prevented Durriken from getting involved directly. As Rhaina fell to a vicious attack from Nualia, the cleric immediately called upon the power of Pharasma once again to grant healing power to the group. Their cause was just and the enemy most vile. It was imperative that the Heroes of Sandpoint win this day.
Wounds closed and vital energy was refreshed as Pharasma's cool wind answered Durriken's call. Encouraged by I'Daiin's successful tactic, Orik drove his sword into Nualia, though she writhed in the Shoanti's grip. Another spatter of hot black blood rained over the three as Amrynn again thrust her wand at Yarmash above them, his evil snarl a strange reward.
Nualia was mad, but no fool - she knew her time was limited if she did not win free. Twisting in I'Daiin's grip, the gold-glittering madwoman wrenched herself away, her emotionless face a stark contrast to the howling chaos of insanity in her eyes. "You are carrion in the maw of Lamashtu," she said, her voice showing the first traces of anger that her face did not as she backed away.
"Oh, I think she'll chew you up first, you slippery fishwife," said the barbarian, grinning through bloody lips. I'Daiin's stubbornness was unparalleled, and rather than change tactics, he lunged for Nualia again, seeking to grapple her, uncaring of her slashing sword.
Again Bergi thought to evoke her song for inspiration, but emotions rattled across her face with comical ease. Marvel at I’Daiin grappling Nualia. Anger at her missed shot. Glee at seeing Devin work past the villains. Horror as Yarmash’s howl coursed through them. Disbelief at Nualia ripping free of the massive Shoanti. Dismay at noting that both Devin and Nualia might flee in her direction.
Whatever song she had entertained faded as Bergi gave ground reflexively and shouted, “No! Don’t do it. Stay where you are!” Tiny fingers slipped into her component pouch as she prepared to hinder anyone who fled her way as best she was able.
The first time, Nualia had been unprepared for I'Daiin's mad rush; this time she expected it. At the last moment, she thrust her sword forward, and it caught the brave Shoanti in the chest. Still, he did not waver from his course, and crushed her in another bear hug. Muffled, from somewhere in those meaty arms, her sultry voice rose. "Yarmash! Kill!"
Devin turned, and Bergi saw on his face that he meant to flee. Quicker than quick, she sang a snippet of song, lobbing a pat of butter at the floor ahead of her. Devin's boot came down, slid out from under him on the suddenly slick surface, and deposited him on the floor with a sharp whoosh of breath.
Yarmash had snapped at Devin reflexively, but its real attention was on I'Daiin. The loathsome hound lunged at the Shoanti from above, but I'Daiin wrested Nualia back and forth like a rag doll as he twisted and turned, avoiding the beast.
"That loathsome dog has got to go, " Durriken said as he as he concentrated on the spell he was about to cast. In a flash the ethereal dagger of Pharasma appeared in the air next to Yarmash, silently slashing at the devilish creature.
Guided by Pharasma's hand, the spirit-dagger flew true as an arrow, lodging in the hell-beast's neck. The next thing they knew, I'Daiin was wearing Yarmash's charred body as a hat. Black blood gushed painfully hot over his neck and shoulders.
Orik took the momentary pause in the Shoanti's movement to stab Nualia again, gritting his teeth with the strength he put into the blow. This close, I'Daiin could see the unnatural growth of skin over the wound, leaving a scar more faint than the claw marks - it didn't heal the wound, but kept her guts from spilling out.
Amrynn's plundered wand jabbed at the beautiful villain, whose nose cracked with sudden force. Even in her extremity of pain and near-defeat, Nualia's face registered nothing. "May your children be stillborn, and feed the goblins," she hissed at them.
She didn't try to escape again. Instead, she tried to saw her blade through I'Daiin's body to reach his heart. But the blade was lodged between his ribs, and without leverage she was unable to budge it. Some of her unnatural strength seemed to drain from her then, though her demonic arm bulged as she wedged it between her throat and I'Daiin's arm.
"Lamashtu is powerful," she sighed, still struggling.
I'Daiin fought back savagely, ignoring the reeking bath of Yarmash-ichor that coated him, seeking to pin Nualia in a tighter grip. "Your goddess has abandoned you, infertile barren tshamek dungheap. No one will sing your songs," he rasped, blood leaking from his side, every movement a stabbing pain.
"And someone help me grab this she-devil!" he added! "Damned outlanders, didn't you ever pile on someone as a youngling?"
Bergi had surprised Devin, but she knew he’d be up and nimbly running on his merry way in no time. She couldn’t restrain him. She didn’t want to hurt him. The hound was dead, but Bergi didn’t know what Nualia was capable of. That witch could split in two and a monster emerge from her insides for all they knew. This needed to end, and soon, and they needed Devin here.
Bergi stepped up into the war room once more, positioning her tiny frame in the doorway with arms and bow extended to take up as much space as possible. Maybe she could keep him from running too far.
“It’s dead, Devin! Fight it!” she shouted. “Or go hide on the stairs if you must!” She flailed her arms, warding him off and trying to direct his attention to the stairs where they hid before this whole mad dance started.
Then Bergi broke into song. Finally. Inspirational notes keening into the gloom. Notes of wonder and magic, of joyous camaraderie and wishes fulfilled. This menace must end here, now, for all of Sandpoint.
Whatever the hellish dog had touched in Devin, it showed no signs of releasing him. Desperate to escape, too panicked for rational thought, he scrabbled for purchase where there was none, flailing and flopping on the stone floor. However, Bergi's sweet music emboldened the rest of her friends.
Durriken nodded with satisfaction as Yarmash plummeted from the ceiling and landed on I'Daiin. Not that he had intended that particular landing spot but it was good to get that creature out of the way. Still, he was unsure what magics Nualia might have in her possession so he allowed the dagger to continue to plunge into the carcass of the dog creature to ensure that it did not rise again to harass the party. With the spiritual weapon automatically continuing its attack, Durriken released the last of his healing surges, hoping to revive Rhaina as well as take some of the wounds that I'Daiin was suffering while grappling the demonic looking woman.
"I thought I did a pretty good job at dogpiling you, I'Daiin" Durriken said trying to lighten the mood despite the dire situation, "Surrender, Nualia, Lamashtu cannot save you from certain death if you continue to resist."
"There is no surrender. There is only Lamashtu." Nualia's words were both venomous and exalted, in an unholy admixture.
Rhaina came to lying beneath I'Daiin, while the other Shoanti narrowly avoided stepping on her as he crushed Nualia down, pinning her to the floor.
Rhaina’s return to consciousness was quite confusing for a moment until she straightened out who it was that was stepping on her and why "E hiahia ana koe ki ahau ki te werohia ia ranei te tauturu mau koe ia?" “Not looking too good Nualia. Sarenrae can redeem even a soul as lost as yours” ”Finish her Orik,if she doesn’t surrender”
"She's too dangerous to let surrender," Orik grunted, stepping past I'Daiin and Nualia. He glanced at Bergi, then rammed his sword into Nualia's neck.
"Lamashtu is gr-" Nualia's shout was cut short as her windpipe was severed, and she began to choke on her own blood.
Fury coursed through Amrynn’s veins. And panic. And fear. All mixing and swirling together as hot emotion barely constrained. Yet she must restrain it, keep the heated passion and fire reined in and focused. Her new friends were helped not if she could not. And Devin, poor Devin; she could see the panic and fear that drew his face in ugly lines of panic.
“Devin!” she called, frantic worry dripping from the name.
Nualia was the threat the group faced. A dire threat she was and the foul demon-woman could not be allowed to live; whatever good resided within had been sucked and spat from her by Lamashtu. Nualia was but a husk of what she had been, Amrynn was certain of that, long since devoured from within by the evil that was the Demon Queen. She had to die.
Yet Devin faced his own danger. She could feel it. Feel the dread and terror shining from him like the rays of a dark sun. But she couldn’t help Devin till Nualia was finished, once and for all.
A hot shout of a word and she sent another blast of force from the wand at the demon-woman.
Devin, I will help you, soon, she thought as the wand vibrated beneath her fingers.
Whatever dark purpose Lyrie had imbued the wand with, it was now turned against a greater threat. One last invisible thump of Nualia's body, and her hands, one lovely and soft, the other hardened red demon-flesh, fell from I'Daiin's throat; the mad glare in her eyes remained, but they stared at nothing.

14

With a hand on Durriken’s shoulder(whether to steady herself or simply connect with the Priest);Rhaina’s eye’s went heavenward for a moment,her voice carrying clearly “Thanks and Praise to our Gods and the spirits which watch over us(with a nod to her Cousin)for this victory. Well done to everyone,this was a victory for us all.
I’Daiin,if you and Orik would make certain that Yarmash and Nualia don’t rise.I’m thinking that we can use their corpses to perhaps demoralize and perhaps drive away the remaining Goblins. Any thoughts on that Sir Vandercaskin?
All of you please keep your distance from Devin til the fear that Yarmash’s howl caused has passed. Rhaina said. If we try to restrain or talk to him he may be able to get up from Bergi’s greased floor and likely hurt himself. Amrynn,please cast your Elvish gaze down the corridor to our rear so we don’t suffer from an ambush.” Her gaze moved gently to the Sorceresses eyes”I have seen fear many times before and Devin is in as safe a spot as he could be.Please watch our flank while we gather ourselves Bergi ,please keep watch on those stairs for the moment.
She leans heavily on the Pharasman Priest,her voice hoarse.”Thanks to Pharasma for our lives my friend. Might she be able to spare anything to get me little more on my feet should we still have a fight ahead of us?” And with that she leans against the east wall dividing her perception between the two corridors
I'Daiin arched an eyebrow, rising painfully. "Your paladin code is getting stretched about, comporting as you are with uncouth folk such as I," he said with a grin. "Orik, Rhaina has the truth, through--we should chop these bits up and scatter them, and burn them besides. Hoi, Nualia!" he said to the dead demonling. "Your Mother failed you, and you've died forgotten. May your soul wander without rest." Singing a hearty Shoanti working song, he began to divide Nualia into fragments with merry gusto, using his longsword with short hard arcs.
"Amrynn, Bergi, this she-devil must have some magicks we can use, yes?" I'Daiin showed little distrust for magic items, seeing as how they had saved his life several times since joining the Heroes.
Orik didn't disagree with I'Daiin or Rhaina, but half-turned to give Bergi a questioning look. It wasn't that he was squeamish - he just didn't want to risk his pay, and he had a hard time picturing Bergi doing such butchery.
"I'd prefer if her soul didn't wander here," he muttered. With Nualia downed, he seemed considerably relieved.
“Whoa Cousin.This is not the time and certainly not the place to do what you’re planning.We can’t burn her here and she’s easier to carry as is,don’t you think? Please just make sure they are fully dead. Rhaina said.
Orik,it is my understanding that a God such as she worshipped (and Rhaina turns and spats ,showing her disgust)has little love for followers that fail her. She was granted gifts,and she wasted them.Her soul is claimed and the demon whore she served is not a forgiving mistress. Do you agree Father Durriken?
As to why Sarenrae wouldn’t question my actions as a Paladin;I gave each and every one of those who served her a chance for redemption ,but only Orik showed enough wisdom to take me up on my offer. Having refused me and given that they served both an evil master and an equally dire purpose,the Dawnflower does not require her faithful to show mercy. I’m not in fighting form right now and Devin has yet to fight off the fear,and we have to stay where we are until he does. We need to keep our wits about us and be certain that we are ready should something else come along.”
As Rhaina came to him for healing, Durriken nodded and placed his hand upon her shoulder. He prayed to his mistress to grant healing and a warm glow passed over Rhaina's body, stitching together larger wounds and lightening darker bruises. As the discussion of Naulia's fate continued, Durriken said, "She made her choice when offered redemption. She forfeited her soul to her god who will show her no mercy."
“Gimme a bit,” Bergi said, ending her song. She was still sifting and shuffling her feet, keeping an eye on Devin, making sure he didn’t harm himself. There was a little consternation in her tone and on her face. It was over, and she had missed it. Well she was here, but it certainly didn’t play out as she had imagined. Not hiding in the dark, half a stanza, standing guard over this frantic eel flopping around on the ground.
But, no. That wasn’t fair. They all had done their parts, however big or small, bloody or not, greasy or otherwise. The others seemed to have matters well in hand, and it truly seemed that Nualia was gone. That was all that was important. The safety of Sandpoint.
Devin finally gave up on trying to flee, or perhaps he had just played himself out. Bergi gave it a few more moments, waiting to see some sign of reason in him as he wheezed in the slick. When he gave her the high sign, she waved a hand through the buttery mixture and spoke the word of release, dismissing the troublesome grease. She crossed to Devin, and when he waved her on, she continued her tiny legs moving her toward the bloody, glittering hallway.
Bergi stood looking down at Nualia for a time. Both her beauty and her menace remained palpable even now. “We should leave her intact,” she said. “She was not always the monster she became. There are those who will want to see her…regardless.” Her mind wandered to Tsuto, but it did not linger there long.
Instead her gaze shifted sidelong to Orik, and she offered him a respectful nod and a smile. “Whatever doubts I may have harbored are gone,” she said.
Orik grunted acknowledgement, and turned to answer Rhaina's previous question. "Yeah, we can lay out their corpses and show the goblins. Don't think it'll scare 'em off for good - the ones that lived here were pretty proud of their fort, and bragged about it - but it should make 'em less eager to be on the island with us."
Once they had all caught their breath a bit, Bergi sung a snippet of song, a calling of the magical curtain, and she scanned the two corpses for any sign of magical energies.
Amrynn watched with satisfied horror as Nualia’s twisted, beautiful mien grew slack; her body at once graceful and grotesque falling limply to the floor. She held her body tense and hard for a moment, then another, waiting for the deformed creature to rise once more, held in thrall to her demonic mistress. Yet she didn’t. She remained gutted upon the stone floor.
Amrynn relaxed, allowed the breath to seep from her in a long quivering breath. Thank the gods, she thought. The bitch was dead. The danger had passed. For the moment, at least. Rhaina’s words touched her mind. She pulled her eyes from the damaged and dead form at their feet and to the equally beautiful Shoanti.
Amrynn nodded, dully. She felt tired, fatigued, as the heat in her blood slowly dissipated. “Of course, Rhaina.” So doing she turned her eyes to peer into the gloom. And set her ears to listening also, for good measure.
Amrynn heard only the waiting silence beyond where the party stood, under the gaze of the giant goblin drawn on the wall in blood. Yarmash's body showed no hint of magic, but Nualia's fairly glowed. The evilly serrated sword lodged in I'Daiin's chest, the fallen demon-woman's strange, midriff-less breastplate, and the amulet she bore around her neck on a thong together with a golden three-eyed jackal's head all showed signs of magic. Nualia had also carried a very fine bow, though it held no trace of magic.
On closer examination, her amulet was engraved with a seven-pointed star familiar to Bergi.
Orik warily poked at Nualia's corpse, then shrugged and began rifling through her belongings, looking for treasure.
Seeing the nasty serrated sword sticking out of the barbarian, Durriken approached I'Daiin and knelt beside him. After inspecting the wound, Durriken looked him in the eye and said, "This will hurt," before yanking the blade free. Dropping the blade to the floor, the cleric quickly placed his hands over the wound and uttered a prayer once more summoning Pharasma's healing power.
I'Daiin flinched and grunted at the sudden reappearance of the blade, feeling it saw at his ribs and muscles upon exit, then relaxed as the healing began to knit flesh and bone. "Rrr...damn, that thing hurt. Thank you, Durriken. Your Lady of Graves is a handy one." He began to collect bits of Nualia and wrap them in a cloak. "That sword could come in handy," he said cautiously. "It isn't cursed, is it?"
“I don’t think so,” Bergi said to I’Daiin. “At least, not in the way you’re thinking.”
As Rhaina looked around at her companions.noting Devin’s return to sanity,she absently gave the Lamashtite Priestess a kick,noting with pleasure the complete lack of response. The speaking aloud,but with to no one in particular”You almost had me Bitch,may you rot in Hell”
“Welcome back to us Devin.Thanks to Bergi’s usual quick thinking you didn’t get in any trouble from that dog’s howl. As I had been saying.I feel we should gather up the two bodies and gear and head back up to the surface immediately,to discuss where we go from here. I plan to display the bodies of Bruthazmus,Lyrie,Nualia and Yarmash in order to put some fear into the Goblins and then perhaps look at either staying the night here or heading back to Sandpoint Not much,if any healing left so taking on all that much right now seems foolish to me. Orik are there any other ways into this complex from the outside other than the stairs down from the top?”
“I can’t carry anyone,” Bergi then added. “But I can light the way.” She pulled her still glowing dagger and held the light closer to Nualia’s face. In the brighter glow, she studied the items on the leather thong a bit more closely, using a tiny hand to stop anyone from removing them from Nualia just now.
“That’s a Sihedron medallion,” Bergi said with a bit of awe. “We should leave it on her for now. It will keep her from decomposing too quickly. Once we get her back to town, we can decide what to do with it.”
Bergi’s nose wrinkled up at the other trinket, the jackal head. “I’d say that’s something belonging to Lamashtu. Best left alone for now as well.”
The wee halfling rose from her crouch with a sigh. She scanned the area once more. “Orik, can you use that thing?” she asked, motioning to the giant sword. “Even if not, would you please carry it for now? Thanks.”
Bergi moved out in front of the group, next to Amrynn, ready to guide them forward and back up into the light. She nodded behind them and said to Amrynn, “Go on. Go check on Devin.”
Amrynn smiled graciously to the brave wee Halfling. “Thank you,” she whispered, for Bergi’s ears only. Bergi understood, and Amrynn knew instinctively that this was so. She kept an eye out for her footfalls as she negotiated the blood- and flesh-strewn floor. Slipping on Nualia’s or Yarmash’s gore was a small victory she would not afford them.
“So our big choice is whether to hole up here or not?” Bergi asked. “Holing up, we risk whatever’s still here. Head back, we risk goblins moving back in. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I’d rather stay here, rather than deal with getting back in.” The look on Bergi’s face as she glanced around at the horrific structure surrounding them spoke volumes.
“So, like Rhaina said, Orik. If you had to hole up here, where would you do it?” Bergi asked.
The young elf held a hand upon the half-elf’s arm. They had both survived, they had all survived. For that she was grateful. There had been more than one passing moment when she had feared they would not. Feared the worst. The margins had been slim between victory and possible defeat. The consequences of any single event dancing to a different tune could, for them, have been tragically different. Better that they not be contemplated. So she didn’t. Instead she waited for the mercenary Orik to address Bergi’s echo of Rhaina’s question; she couldn't help but acknowledge that a part of her still didn’t completely trust the man...his allegiances shifted like the sands of the desert. For the moment, thought, she swallowed her misgivings.
At the edge of her attention she heard a sound perhaps? Was that the gentle mewling of a cat? Somewhere out there within the labyrinthine meanderings of the fort?
Orik finished looting what was left of Nualia, not seeming overly concerned with her dismemberment. "The sleeping quarters are probably the best place to stay. I wouldn't like to hang around with the rest of Nualia's dogs still lurking around, though." He accepted Nualia's sword, swinging it a few times approvingly. It spattered the walls, but it wasn't really much of a difference from what the goblins had already drawn all over them.
Devin was understandably quiet after his ordeal, and perhaps nursing his wounded pride along with his bruises.

15

Nualia's dismembered body dripped through I'Daiin's cloak as he hauled her up to the front doors of the fort. There, beneath the gigantic, stinking wings pinned to the wall with daggers, the party gathered as Rhaina and I'Daiin went outside.
Displaying Nualia's dangling head, and Bruthazmus', made the goblins stop shooting arrows with ropes tied to them at the island. They huddled for a minute at the exit of the bramble maze, conferring and occasionally poking a head up to peer at the adventurers. Finally, the goblins hauled their ropes back up and vanished back into the thicket.
Rhaina reached for and accepted Bruthazmus’s bow from Orik ”Gonna see if I can draw it.If not we’ll work out,whether to keep it or sell it.The medallion looks best for I’Daiin
Since you’ve decided to work with us Orik ; and because without you we may have not done so well against Nualia,you have my word as a Paladin that I will testify to the Sheriff and the authorities and ensure,to the best of my ability that your record is clean going forward.So for the time being we stick together and in the morning finish the job here,before returning to Sandpoint.
Durriken,Amrynn and Bergi need a night’s sleep to recover their magic so the rest of us will split up watches,2 to a watch if we can swing it. I’m wondering if one of the rooms up here might not be a better spot to hold up in ,what with the dogs downstairs.I say we light a fire so the goblins know we’re here.That should keep them away. Any other issues you can think of Orik?”
"Appreciated. I guess dealing with the smell of goblins isn't so bad for one night. Can't think of anything to speak of against it, so long as Nualia's ghost isn't going to haunt us." Orik handed over Bruthazmus' dark bow with no argument. Its pull proved too powerful for her, however.
With no arguments from the group they set about choosing a defensible room .They closed the main gate and watched .
“Food,” Bergi said, glancing at Orik. “We’re going to need something to eat and drink. Where are the stores around here? Please tell me there are stores here? Something, anything, edible...within reason.” The look of disgust on Bergi’s face materialized once more at visualizing what there was to eat in Thistletop.
“I have 3 days of rations and a waterskin,that I can contribute,and I’ll help you get more if it’s here,Bergi” Rhaina said.
“Orik, you’re with me then,” she said after the man responded. “And one other? We’ll grab some food and tighten things up before tucking in.”
Bergi then set about getting Orik (and any helpers) to pile most of the war room furniture in front of the door Nualia emerged from. Then they would track down whatever food and water they could find. Bergi made a point then to check on Horse, offering whatever edibles seemed appropriate to the animal, playing it a tune, and bonding with the steed a bit before heading back inside.
Durriken looked around the butchery with a grimace on his face. "Foul creatures," he said simply before moving into the room to gather several of the smaller bones from the more humanoid remains.
He left the room without saying a word and continued searching the fort with the others. When they returned to the courtyard, he found and open spot and began to lay the bones out in a spiral formation. At one end of the spiral removed a small piece of parchment and laid it carefully under one of the bones to hold it in place from the gusts of sea air. At the other end of the spiral, he placed a second piece of parchment in a similar fashion to the first.
Removing a small blue prayer book from his pouch he opened it to a marked passage and began to speak, "A life begins and a life ends. The balance is maintained and all who pass beyond the veil enter your care. Accept these unknown to us but known to you. Free their energy to sustain the well of life to begin anew."
With the passage finished, He pulled a black scarf from his pouch and began to walk slowly around the spiral, dragging the cloth over the bones until the scarf reached the centre of the spiral. Suddenly, a spark of blue light flashed from the centre of the spiral and swirled out to the tips consuming the bones and the parchments in a blue fire and leaving nothing behind, not even the hint of ash.
Once they were holed up, Bergi would play an occasional light tune, buoy spirits as she could, and offer her prestidigitation services if anyone wanted to clean up a bit.
The Paladin offered her blanket to either Amrynn or Bergi.”It’s not much but better than the floor”

16

Before settling down to rest through the day, the party went exploring in the fort. They were looking for food, but what they found destroyed their appetites. In one of the dark rooms of the fort, there was a foul-smelling butchery that was a horrifying affront to all the senses. Haunches of poorly smoked meat hung from hooks along the ceiling, or lay heaped in and atop crates. In some cases, the meet seemed to be dog or horse, but in many other cases, the meat had all-too recognizable features, like hands, feet, or grimacing faces. Rhaina recognized some of them from the ill-fated caravan.
A quick check showed the other main areas to be a barracks for the goblins and a hall leading to the other tower, and the yard. The doors to the yard had been barricaded. In the barracks, six poorly-constructed bunk beds, little more than hammocks slung from rickety frames, stood along the walls. Each was heaped with a vermin-infested blanket and a lump of straw to serve as a frustrating pillow.
The only areas the party hadn't seached were what smelled like the latrine, and a room where the door was nailed shut. Then they returned to the yard, which at least didn't reek as much of goblins and goblin dogs thanks to the fresh air, though they had to be careful where they stepped.
They rested through the day, with Rhaina keeping an eye on Orik.
After all have awoken and she’s taken time for prayers; Rhaina approached the mercenary and handed him a steaming cup as she took a seat facing him “Here;it seems pretty good.Goddess knows I’ve had worse. I’m guessing you’re a touch peeved Orik ,that I kept my eye on you. I trusted that you wouldn’t hurt anyone. However,I did think it was possible that you might feel that you’d fulfilled your obligation and take off”
She waited a moment for him to respond,her eyes taking in the remainder of the group”We’ve had losses even before I arrived and since as well.They trust me with the responsibility of leadership and I take their and your safety quite seriously. Can you give me an idea of how many dogs and other foes might still wait below?.And could you remind me where her “Beast” is? Also I wondered if there is a way out from one of the lower levels?”
Orik grunted, giving Rhaina a flat look. Then he shook his head. "She had two of those monster-dogs in the temple. There's some kind of wriggly thing down the hall opposite. But if by 'beast' you mean that thing Nualia is - was - looking for, I've never seen it. It must be down below. Never gone down there." He shrugged. "The only way I ever got out was up the stairs."
I'Daiin perked up at the idea of stalking something large. "We should see if it has a lair. If so, we scout around to find it. If it wanders---and it could do so if it's hungry...then we should track it. Perhaps we leave some food as bait." He flicked his eyebrows. "Shoanti don't actually just mindlessly charge in all the time, you know." He then returned to a semi-doze.
Durriken rejoined the others and said, "Should we dispense of the creature below? If we want to ensure this threat is over, we should not leave anything behind."
”I think we should deal with the Wriggly and the Dogs.Then go back to Sandpoint and let them know of the progress.They deserve to know. Then tomorrow we would go into the thicket and hunt down the Goblins. Nualia was searching for some time for what is below.We need a more thorough rest before taking that on I think.” Rhaina said.
Bergi and dirt floors were old friends. Sunbeam filled barns, and sticky orchards, and muffled deadfalls, and moldy tavern cellars, she’d sawed wood in them all. So despite the rank smell and the nightmares, none of which survived her awakening, the wee Halfling rested well enough and rose with a spry step. She immediately trilled a few notes and refreshed a source of light in the thick darkness of Thistletop.
Nualia was gone. They had done it. Had saved Sandpoint. Well, maybe that was a bit hasty, but they had made it safe for now, anyway, and Bergi’s heavy heart was lighter for the new promise that lay ahead. She hummed some scales as she went about helping with splitting the meager fare they had among them, ensuring everyone was as hale and hearty as she could, in spirit at least, if not in body.
When talk arose of Durriken summoning the healing energies of Pharasma, Bergi approached Orik and said, “How are your hurts coming along? If you’re still suffering…” She nudged him toward Durriken, and got the priest’s attention in the process. Her winning smile reminded them all that Orik was in their employ for the time being and should be included in such group efforts.
Orik didn't smile, but he did nod to Bergi. "Thanks, but I'm all right. Just a bit stiff, and hungry."
Once the party prepared to move on, Bergi sighed. “We should check on the goblins we have tied up. The harem?” she clarified. “I’m thinking we should probably…let them go. Down to the beach where they can make a swim for it.”
She looked around at the reactions of her comrades. “At the very least,” she added, “it’s the direction we’re headed. If I remember correctly, the door to the squiggly thing isn’t far from where we had them trussed up.”
“Yes of course Orik should be included,but I had thought he was already healed. That sounds like a good idea ,but maybe we wait until we’ve dealt with the squiggly. I’d hate to be caught between it and something else that the harem girls led to us” Rhaina winks at Bergi”You ok with that? Besides if I remember we also have a horse to save and it might be easier if we made just one trip down to the beach”
Bergi exhaled and nodded. “I just don’t want to forget them in all our kennying about. No one should be left to rot the like, even those nasty bits of meat.”
Oh, that did it. Mention of the word meat set her stomach to growling, and she pressed a hand to her stomach to stave off the worst of it before twirling her fingers in the air. The message was clear enough, ‘Let’s get this underway and done with.’

17

Once they were ready, they headed below with Bergi's light and Orik's directions to guide them. The fort was even less appealing at night; the psychic relief the sun had brought dwindled to nothing as they moved through the dark recesses, and then down the stairs into the dungeon.
Faint squalling came from behind the closed doors, but the party turned to their right, moving past the horrific temple doors and down the long corridor before them.
I'Daiin was in front; when he thrust open the door at the end of the hall, he found himself looking into a large natural cave, complete with stalagtites. Ahead, he could see a thick curtain of vines and nettles, hanging down over a wide opening overlooking the Varisian Gulf.
The floor of the cavern seemed strangely polished and smooth. The tunnel branched off to his left.
Bergi bobbed and weaved her head, trying to see past the forest of legs that stood between her and the darkness ahead. She inadvertently conked her head on a protuberance from the door behind her. Turning with an angry smirk, her face went pasty slack when the horrific visage loomed over her and she remembered where that door lead. She shied from it and put a steadying hand on Durriken, more than ready to urge him forward and away from the wicked looking portal and the temple beyond.
Brandishing his sword, I'Daiin ventured alone into the strange cave. The tunnel to his left turned left again after a few feet, obscuring what lay in the darkness beyond. As he stepped forward, the others followed him to the door, allowing Bergi to move away from the troubling temple doors.
Suddenly, one of the stalagtites thrust a hitherto unseen tentacle out through the hanging vegetation. The cry of a gull was cut short, and the bird was pulled into the cave, accompanied by a hideous sucking sound. But then the stalactite seemed to realize I'Daiin's presence, and the hapless bird dropped to the floor, strangely withered.
Slithering on a bed of wiggly tentacles, the monster looked less like a stalactite and more like a leathery squid, with a squat body the size of a rain barrel with eyes running all around it. Two longer tentacles, one thick and muscular and the other (which had speared the bird) lithe and tipped with a bone stinger, emerged from either side of it.
Rhaina wanted to use Sarenrae's Sight to determine whether what they faced was evil, but couldn't while keeping an eye on the hallway - and the thing in the cave wasn't in sight of her.
Orik ventured forward a few steps, eyes flicking over the withered corpses of a few seabirds that lay here and there. He paused behind I'Daiin, trying to get a glimpse of what the barbarian had seen.
Amrynn was distracted by Skivver's reappearance; the cat twined itself between her legs, yowling plaintively.
Glad to be away from the temple doors, Bergi crept along in succession at her place near the rear of the party. As the tentacled horror had a late night snack, the halfling’s face soured in disgust at the sucking sounds.
“Lovely,” she said. “Does anyone speak tentacled suckery, or should we just kill it from here?”
Durriken looked at those in front and said, "I don't think it's friendly. Perhaps we should go on the offensive?" He waited for those ahead of him to move further and waited to see whether he would need to provide either offensive or defensive support.
“Offensive,” Devin stated his intentions succinctly in a half-vote, and moved to follow I’Daiin. As soon as he spotted the tentacle nasty clinging to the ceiling, he took advantage of their recent rest and his refreshed repertoire and sent a Ray of Enfeeblement at it. Academically, he was curious if its adherence to the ceiling was a function of some sort of clawed strength, but thought he’d find out momentarily.
The level of light in the dim cave was more than sufficient for his sharp eyes. However, to his astonishment, the ungainly thing sucked itself in, avoiding the coruscating ray that he had directed at it.
Bergi readied her bow and cast the usual trill of notes which brought forth illumination, this time upon the arrow she had loosely nocked. There was a strange popping noise as the barrel-bodied thing moved, slithering forward across the ceiling on its short tentacles. One of its long tentacles whipped out at Devin, but the agile man's reflexes were sharp, and he flipped away from the attack. A strange smell, like fish and mould, filled the cave.
Rhaina spoke up from the back rank “Devin,can you tell if there is access to this room from the south? If so Amrynn and I could move round and come up from below”
"Can't see it from here," Devin replied tersely.
Orik peered down the side tunnel, clearly worried about a second tentamort appearing to distract them from behind.
Well, they weren't going to win this with Devin impeding everyone else's ability to get into the fray. The lofty ceiling presented a practical issue, as did the thing's reach. "Hope these things are solitary," Devin muttered and moved around to the southeast. He kept his shortsword out, ready to lash at the next tentacle that took a swipe at him, but otherwise didn't press, taking a momentarily-more-cautious approach. Light on his feet, Devin ducked and twisted to move past and to the southeast. A veritable forest of tentacles descended to grab and stab at Devin, but with inhuman grace (and liberal use of his goblin shortsword) he slipped past every one, ending with his back to a cave wall and another passage to his left.
“Tentamort stingers are poisonous,” Devin cautioned, after dodging the tentacle’s attack.
“Tentamort?” Bergi said. “Blech.” She shook her head as she sifted and sorted the myriad ditties and ballads that swirled in her memory. Maybe somewhere there was a snippet that could help.
The musical sashay brought notes to her tongue and words to her lips as she began singing a low, thrumming march, bringing rhythm and power to all those around her. The acoustics of the cavern ahead weren’t great, nor was the ball of slime-suckery descending upon them, but the tiny wind instrument made the best of her surroundings to amplify her gift.
I'Daiin sheathed his longsword, reaching over his shoulder to draw his long-handled lucerne hammer. "We will see how well the thing fares against good steel," he growled.
As the creature comes into a space where the priest can get a better look, Durriken decides that getting in close with that might not be the best strategy. Concentrating on his magic, he whispers a prayer to Pharasma and pulls a small dagger token from his pouch, tossing it into the air. In an instant, a familiar ethereal dagger floats towards the creature and begins to silently stab at it.
Pharasma's divine dagger flew in to jab and cut at the tentamort, and it spent precious moments trying to strike back, but its every swipe passed harmlessly through the manifestation of Pharasma's will.
Devin finishes up his cave-wall-interrupted entrance by jigging to the west, tucking into the narrow passageway to gain partial cover from the tentamort.
“It’s solo,” he called back to report. “Room’s big enough for a party. Tight-squeeze passage leading off to the southwest.”
Devin rejected the far-too-easy taunts mixing tentacles, sucking, and the tentamort’s dubious lineage – something he was uncertain it’d understand anyway, and then what would be the fun? He busied himself with transitioning from shortsword to bow, that he might shortly overcome the tentamort’s ceiling-clinging height advantage.
“Ok Thanks Devin. Amrynn,I’ll leave it up to you,but I’m going down and around. Come with me if you wish to or stay and hope you can get a line of sight on it. Durriken,Bergi,:Myself and perhaps Amrynn are going,keep one eye on your back.” With that the Paladin left the party’s flank heading down through the stair room to the door on the eastern wall and beyond
Amrynn hurried after her, casting a glance about for the white cat as she went. It was just as well that she followed Rhaina; the paladin had run straight into the inky darkness, but Amrynn held the everburning torch they had confiscated.
Bursting through the eastern door, they found themselves before a cave heaped with crates, barrels, and mounds of miscellaneous refuse piled against the walls. The crashing surf echoed in a hollow fashion, proving there was indeed a passage to the tentamort's cave.
Bergi continued to shuffle forward as space allowed, she’d creep by Durriken if the situation warranted, but she planned to stay behind Orik. Continuing her song, she maintained it in a low, percussive backdrop, almost an afterthought of another simple task put before them to be managed.
Raising her arms, she leaned as far to the right as the cave permitted, seeking a point of attack. When a particularly effusive drum of notes came from her, she loosed her glowing arrow at the tentamort, adding the thrum of her bowstring to the song. If nothing else, she would at least shed some light in the area.
Unable to catch sight of the tentamort, she fired an arrow that hit a stalactite and fell to the floor, lighting the cave brightly enough to banish the shadows.
I'Daiin raised his lucerne hammer, and with a cry he thrust it at the ugly monster. His swings took on the same beat as Bergi's song, but the thing's swirling tentacles fouled his blows, and he couldn't do it serious harm. Durriken's dagger, however, sliced one of its tentacles in half, and the limb fell twisting and curling to the floor.
As though it had not understood that it could not strike the thing, the tentamort continued to swipe at the dagger fruitlessly.
Shortsword sheathed and shortbow in hand to ready, movement to his south prompted Devin to double-take as Rhaina came into the rough-hewn storeroom. Though the razor-tipped arrow had snapped to her direction, its point just as quickly shifted low and away rather than be loosed to fly. With nary an apology for the near-friendly fire, Devin shifted eastward and drew bead upon the tentamort’s clutching body upon the ceiling. Full breath in; half a breath out; and the freed bowstring punctuated time with Bergi’s song. In time with the music, the arrow punched deep into the thing's barrel-body, and a sound like steam from a kettle piped briefly at the crescendo.
"What's happening?" Amrynn queried Rhaina, a bit breathless as she tried to squeeze through the twisting passage behind Devin. Rhaina, herself only just having scraped through a moment before, had no answer.
Blunderbusses. Blundering blunderbusses even! Bergi couldn’t see a thing save for big man asses and thick legs. Her song took on fervent chords, issuing orders with notes of authority.
“Throw some eyeballs down that passage left, Orrrik,” she sang. Not her most promising choice of lyrics, but the operatic trill of his name scored easily above the melee.
"Hey, I don't have dwarf-eyes," Orik grunted, but he obediently moved to the side, sword ready.
Squeezing by Durriken and past Orik as the mercenary tried to slide toward the nearby passage, Bergi finished her advance with a grand jeté, her bow and arrow poised almost comically to fire. Then leaning to her advantage, she released the projectile with a relishing twang.
One of the thing's flailing tentacles slapped the arrow out of the air, it would seem by accident, as it slapped at the ethereal dagger.
"Set it on fire! The splash won't bother me," shouted the Shoanti barbarian as he took a step back, wary of the tentamort's reach, and swung again with his hammer. "Damn thing is tougher than it looks! When are we going to fight a _decent_ large creature that doesn't look like a sack of vomit?"
The hammer struck a tentacle, but it only bent and gave way, absorbing the impact. However, another tentacle fell twitching to the floor as the dagger continued to slash and saw at the nest of writhing appendages.
As though it couldn't believe that it couldn't fend off this attacker, the tentamort continued to slap at the dagger; it was beginning to seem a bit comical.
“Curious! It’s pressurized!” Devin observed and called out, having noted his arrow’s impact and the resulting venting from the wound. “Or that was how it cries in pain with challenged linguistics,” he granted.
Thinking the exercise duly academic, Devin stepped to the right to give Rhaina room to move in, herself, and sent another arrow up at the tentamort. “I’Daiin; get in here and come play with it. Just stay light and hack off the next tentacle that takes a swipe at you, but give the others the shot.”
When Devin's next arrow sank in to the fletching in one of the tentamort's central eyes, the high-pitched whistle hurt their ears. Sluggish blood dripped from the arrow as the thing's tentacles thrashed.
Rhaina and Amrynn came out from the narrow tunnel they had navigated, both reaching for their own ranged weapons.
“Sprooooing, zwip, fweeeeeeee!”
The bow draw, the release, the screech of the beast. Bergi picked up on the sounds and mimicked them cleanly into her refrain. Shifting and twirling around I’Daiin with her delicate ease, her hands continued through the motions as her voice further focused her allies.
“Sprooooing, zwip, fweeeeeeee!”
Bergi loosed another arrow at the body of the tentacled sucker and hoped for the best. The notion of buttering the thing had crossed her mind, but she couldn’t convince herself that bringing the writhing mass onto level ground with her was such a good idea.
However, good idea or not, down it came. Despite I'Daiin blocking her view, she manage to fire a shot that landed close to where Devin's deadly aim had targeted. The tentacles ceased to wave so frantically, and hung limp; with the sound of a thousand suckers tearing loose, the horrid thing smacked into the floor like a sack of lard, its myriad tentacles twitching and curling.
"Ha. Well, I would have dropped the hammer and poked at that gigantic bladder with a pokey sword," said the barbarian. He slung his hammer and indeed, poked it with his longsword. "I don't suppose this thing carried anything useful." The thing grabbed weakly at him with dying strength, but a few jabs of his sword later, it fell loose, and its twitches grew weaker and smaller.
"I'm certain you would've," Devin confirmed with a nod, all truth and no barb to his words. Another arrow had appeared against his string, its head having just tracked the thing's plummet. Devin's sighting eye narrowed suspiciously as he mentally counted five beats before relaxing the string. With the arrow held low, Devin's eyes went back to the ceiling, looking about carefully for anything else waiting in the nearby wings.
No other monster appeared from behind the stalactites or stalagmites; this cave, at least, seemed clear.
“Unless there is something else back here.Lets stay vigilant while we look around,shall we” Rhaina moved over to the opening on the right and looked out to see what the access to the water looked like Reaching out with her bow to shift aside the hanging vines and moss, she revealed a stunning view of the Varisian Bay, with the water crashing against the sheer cliff far below.
“Fweeeeeee, plbbbbbbbbbbbb.” Bergi’s song trailed off with her raspberrying tongue as the beast died on the floor. She quirked an eyebrow and watched it finish its undulations.
“Lyrie was entranced with that?” She cast a questioning eye toward Orik, he being the one who had stated the late spellcaster’s interests. The wee halfling shrugged and slung her bow, pulling another small arrow from her quiver.
Orik shrugged, his face a mask.
Familiar lilting tunes escaped her, and motes of light resembling notes whirled up from the broken arrow on the floor and embedded themselves in the arrow she now held. Holding the light aloft, she eyed past Orik down the unknown tunnel beyond, already prepared to move on. She had no intention of sifting through tentamort feces and gull feathers, no matter the treasure.
She licked her lips and popped them together lightly a few times while she waited, sending tiny percussive pops down the corridor ahead. The arrow twirled idly in her hand, once, twice, a third time.
Nothing popped out to menace her, either. Dozens of strange dead bodies lay scattered about the cave that had served as the tentamort's lair. Most were sea birds and ospreys, but there were six dead goblins there as well. Each body was literally skin and bones, as if all of the interior organs and muscles had somehow been drained away, leaving behind skeletons draped with leathery, slowly rotting skin and rusty armor and weapons. Some seemed less ruined than the rest, but she would have to sift through the mess to get a better look.
Devin returned the arrow to his quiver and replaced the bow in its sheath at the side of his pack. "Suppose this means there's little else but to delve the more-ominous areas to the west, and below. Ready to be about it when you are." 'You' being a general term he applied to all, indicating he had no further business in this cave to attend.
Bergi coughed and tried not to breathe. This rotten rock. She was pretty sure she’d be tasting goblin in the back of her throat for months to come. She noticed no one was in the immediate vicinity, so she cleared her throat and spit to the side in astonishing contrast to her preened visage.
Better…a bit. She pulled in a cleaner breath of air from the hallway over her shoulder and leaked out a few archaic notes, crystalizing a bit of the weave before her. She gave the mess before her a cursory sweep with her enhanced vision before returning to the remainder of the troupe. She also panned her vision around the cavern where the tentamort was now beginning its decay.
What was that, gleaming beneath the rot? Unbelievably, what appeared to be a pile of doghide armor held the telltale glint of magic about it.
Bergi scoffed a disgusted, almost petulant, grunt. She walked over to Devin, paused, and then pointed. When he looked but didn’t move, she rolled her eyes and waved him to follow. She picked her way across the filth, stopping only once, briefly, at a sickening crunch underfoot. She hopped the last few feet to her destination, attempting to shake off whatever it was that had stuck to the sole of her boot.
She pointed into the muck again and sighed. “There’s some armor here, hide or some such. It’s radiating magic. Right, that piece there with the--” Bergi swallowed thickly and turned her head. “--clumps of hair woven into it as decoration.”
The wee halfling took a few steps back and a deep breath. “I just thought you might want to have a look, since they’d knickered most of your kit when we found you.” She held up a wagging finger and said, “But I’m not looking at it a stitch longer until it’s been properly cleaned. Glugggh.” Then as an afterthought, she motioned toward Amrynn and said, “Or even better yet. Have your girlfriend look at it. I’ve about had my fill of goblin hoodoo.”
More than satisfied with her cursory search and offered aid, Bergi shuffled off and said, “And yes, let’s be on with it. We’ve still got one of those--” She shivered. “--dogs to deal with downstairs.”
A chuckle felt good,and Rhaina’s smile directed at Bergi’s humor was a genuine one “No worries,my lil debutante. We barbarians are used to muck and dog hair. Real nice suit,but it looks a bit small for Devin,but I do think I know who it would fit” and she held it out for the Bard’s “Close up” appraisal
Bergi’s face squinched up as Rhaina retrieved the magical armor from the muck. Her eyes popped as the paladin swung it in her direction.
“Blaaah! Don’t even!” Bergi barked as she hopped backwards with repeated, delicate ease. Magical notes crept across her lips as she reflexively began to prestidigitate away some errant flecks of whatever sludge had flown her way. Her face was sour as she kept running her cleansing hands over her gear.
“It’s bad enough I’m still wearing this goblin druid’s monkey suit,” she mumbled and groused as she worked over Gogmurt’s salvaged armor and cloak she wore. “Still smells of vomit and venom.”
“Look, I just meant that Devin might hock…that,” she said, pointing and shooing the filthy dog armor, “toward something more akin to his dance card. Either way, decide and let’s be on our way.”
Bergi then moved off, heading toward the room that lead to the temple, though she intended to turn right away from the wicked shrine. She swung her head, motioning for Orik to follow her.
Devin's initial revulsion at the soiled garment shifted to something a bit more practical as Bergi's prestidigitation purged it of the clinging foulness, leaving only its fashion and constructed foulness to persist.
"If it's enchanted, and it can size itself to the wearer... I'll take a gamble on it, yes. We haven't met the worst of what's down here, I'm sure. If it'll turn a fang or a blade, it's worth it." If there weren't any particular objections, Devin was willing to accept the armor and see if it'd resize to fit. "Hopefully it's not some sort of enchanted lure for predators..."
He similarly resolved that the armor would end up back in his pack before they got within sight of civilization.
For a wonder, the armor did indeed appear to be able to loosen enough to fit Devin.
Bergi held up her glowing dagger and flicked away a few last bits of filth from Devin in his new armor. She stepped back and assessed his overall appearance.
<“A bear’s ass never looked better,”> she quipped in the toothy goblin tongue, giving Devin a smile and a thumbs up.

18

"Don't leave threats at your back if you can help it," Devin cautioned at seeing Bergi avoid the temple door. "We should at least look; know what's in there."
Devin stepped up to the temple doors and tried them. The doors, with their horrifying depictions of the birth of monsters, drew open when he pulled. Stone fonts containing frothy dark water sat to either side of the heavy doors, and twin banks of stone pillars ran the length of the long chamber. At the other end, shallow stairs rose to a platform about two feet off the ground. The walls surrounding the platform were lit, barely, by hanging braziers that emitted glowing red smoke, giving the place an unnerving crimson lighting that threw the bas-relief carvings of countless monsters feasting on fleeing humans into lurid display. A black marble altar stone, its surface heaped with ashes and bone fragments, squatted before a statue ten feet tall. The sculpture depicted a very pregnant but otherwise shapely naked woman who wielded a kukri in each taloned hand. She had birdlike taloned feet as well, a long, reptilian tail - and the snarling head of a three-eyed jackal with a forked tongue. The left kukri flickered with a fiery orange light, while the right one glowed with a cold, blue radiance.
"That's exactly what you shouldn't have done," Orik hissed at Devin. "Close it and let's get out of here!"
Devin's eyes were occupied taking in an appraising sweep of the room from the threshold, and he didn't yet respond aloud or in action.
“Well I say let sleeping dogs lie,” Bergi said. “For now at least, and if you chuck another tactical euphemism at me, Devin, I’m going to show you where to sheathe it. I have enough trouble managing these Shoanti berserkers all the time, looking for mayhem.”
The rancid environment, their lack of proper sleep, but probably more so, the ever present hunger was gnawing on the diminutive bard’s pleasant mien. She crossed her arms and stood stock still, waiting for the others to finish their search of the temple.
Bergi glanced at Durriken standing nearby and attempted to engage in normal, polite, non-murder-temple conversation. “That was a nice bit of fancy with your lady’s blade back their, Durriken,” she said. “Saved us a raft of headache to be sure.”
"The lair," grunted the hulking Shoanti, sniffing the air. "D'you suppose that thing will come to life and attack us? Any more 'pets' around here? Or can we steal those kukris, dump our night soil on that thing, and get the night-blasted Hells out of here?" As usual, his sword was out. "Cousin, please do that ridiculous detection of evil you explained to me," he said to Rhaina. "If anything in here isn't dripping with evil. Burning ghosts and bonestorms, this place." "Although," he said thoughtfully, "my mother did carry me in the womb while she was shaped as a bear. Different circumstances, I suppose."
“Shoanti Berserker(s)?” Rhaina looked waaayyy down to the lil Halfling “Must be that Bardic imagination of yours,hmmn”? she quipped as she ran her hand through her tiny friends hair,mussing it slightly.
With a grin she turned to the open door,her mood darkening she peers in,ignoring Orik’s plea ,she spat onto the floor. “A demon whore’s temple.She is even more hideous than I had imagined. Devin,Let us pause here a moment and gauge the dog’s numbers before we proceed in and give them room to get around us.”
Devin, having just turned a sideways glance to I'Daiin at his recant implying his mother was some sort of shapeshifter, and rounding to Rhaina at her mention of the counts of dogs -- he saw none in the temple, but took it as inference of the supernaturally intelligent hell-beast they'd tussled with earlier in Nualia's company, and the presumption it had siblings about -- looked back into the temple. He noted that the wings of the raised platform at the western end were beyond sight from here.
Rhaina reached into her pouch and tossed in an underhand motion a few coppers high into the air,landing about halfway to the horrific statue.
“That should draw some attention”as they clatter noisily on the stone floor
"The only bear I saw was my mother," said I'Daiin with a grin. "Spirestalkers and emberstorms, now those are large things to deal with. You're thinking of that absentee Hrolfr. Berserkers are Northern types."
He waited, sword out, for Rhaina's coins to have any effect. "I hope she doesn't take that as a respectful offering," he joked.
I”Daiin looked up at Rhaina,just in time to see her left hand perform an exceptionally rude gesture in his direction Loose translation,something like “Your mother was a goat”
The frothed water from the fonts in either corner, and the persistent smoke from the braziers, was enough to ward Devin from entering unnecessarily. Whether those were indications of minor enchantments, or evidence that the temple was tapped into something darker and persistent, he was satisfied for the moment in knowing approximately what was beyond the doors. He watched and waited as Rhaina's handful of coppers arced and scattered across the temple floor.
"Little cause to risk it further; I'm satisfied that there's nothing moving about in there of its own accord, as of yet. I want to check that western door off the entry hall, see what's beyond it, too. Then I'm game for the stairs down."
Bergi had started to move off at Devin’s acquiescence, but then she drew up and ran a palm over her face when he mentioned going back further. She turned around and stomped back, which was largely ineffective at her less than thirty pounds.
“To the torture chamber?” she asked. Then turned to Orik, “You did say that was the way to the torture chambers, right?” Then she spun back to Devin, “Let me guess, you’re looking for a big hulking goblin in black leathers with wicked instruments who just now might think about following us and deviling us the pointy end of his ninnyhammer?”
The thought then crossed her mind that maybe Devin had spent some rather unpleasant time at the hands of the goblins in the very chamber he now sought to search. She fell utterly silent at the notion, appreciating that perhaps he had a more painful agenda to complete.
Bergi nodded once, solemnly. “Sorry. You’re right. Go ahead,” she said. “I’m just ready to be done with this pit.”
As the last coin rolled to a standstill along the stone floor, a low, rumbling growl echoed through the chapel. At the far end, a creature stepped out from behind the altar. Its hide was blackened and burned as though it had come from the fires of Hell itself, and its eyes glowed a dull red, like banked coals. The doglike thing bared black teeth at the party, and Orik muttered something blasphemous under his breath.
"Is it petty of me to feel vindicated?" Devin posed rhetorically, one corner of his mouth curling up in a grin as the threat stalked out of hiding.
As the Barbarian passed her the Paladin gently laid her hand upon his shoulder relieving him of his fatigue and closing the last of his wounds “Show the puppy how a Shoanti deals with vicious mongrels ,cousin”
Rhaina passed her bow to Orik and dropped her quiver ”You are likely better with this than I am.Can you put a few in the beast for us,Orik?”
Orik cursed under his breath again, but accepted the bow. Picking up the quiver she had let fall, he put it on, then drew and nocked an arrow. "I'll do any shooting from out here. I don't think a goddess would like me killing her pets in her own chapel, much less a crazy-ass goddess. If you ask me, we ought to shut the doors again and get out of here."
Amrynn scoffed, raising her new wand. "What he has not the courage to do, I will gladly help with."
"I don't lack courage. You lack reason," Orik growled. Amrynn scowled back at him, thrusting her wand forward. Rhaina, standing in front of her, felt nothing, but the monsterous doglike thing snarled, jerking back as though struck.
"'Ware your tongue, goblin-sworn," Amrynn hissed at Orik.
Devin sized up the room and the beastie. He pulled his sword to hand, took a step forward into the black chapel, then paused, light on his feet, getting his balance, watching the thing's approach. The shadows swirled about him; tricks of the light from the braziers. Something about the way the hellish creature was waiting for them gave him pause. Stretching his senses, he heard a faint scrape from above... and, yet more faintly, the sound of panting.
Bergi held her tongue. She’d been tossing too many barbs lately, and this was not the time to further her wit. Finding a safer location to watch the melee from a distance, she offered to no one in particular, “Mind its movement. Have some fickle tricks they do.”
The tiny halfling sighted down her drawn arrow, waiting to see where and how steel and claw would play out.
"Second one; above!" Devin called warning even as he brought his sword up to guard high and raised his eyes to search the smoky darkness.
Bergi’s eyes flipped upward at Devin’s warning. She tracked along the length of wall she hid behind, searching into the gloom of the temple, but she couldn’t make out the hiding beast. She frowned in frustration.
“Well aren’t you a dirty little fur burglar,” she mumbled. Just how many of these damn dogs were there?!
Instead of finishing her notes of protection for Durriken, Bergi tightened her pull and held her breath, waiting. If that mongrel poked its head out, she wanted to be ready.
"Ho, beast, we killed your litter-mate Yarmash! You're welcome to join him," said I'Daiin with a laugh, drawing out his longsword. I'Daiin charged forward, heedless of the second hound Devin had warned of. His sword drew a line through the first creature's blasted flesh, though not so deeply as it should have. The thing's hellish hide protected it somewhat from I'Daiin's strength - just as I'Daiin's did from its bite. Nonetheless, the doglike thing leapt into the air and savaged his arm, even as the other one came charging down through the air to snap at him from behind, biting deep into his shoulder. I'Daiin managed to keep his feet under him despite the two horrid monsters dragging him this way and that. Lamashtu looked on in silent judgement from behind the altar, the infernal light of the braziers casting all in horrible red light.
Impressed by her cousin’s courage Rhaina chose to throw caution to the wind ,drew her Greatsword and charged the nearer hound to draw it’s attention from I’Daiin
“Durriken,these beasts are formidable.Please focus attention on keeping us up and fighting,if you would? In the Dawnflower’s name,Die demon!”
She flew into the temple like an avenging angel, and even though the helldog tried to duck behind one of the columns holding up the ceiling, Rhaina struck it a powerful blow, slicing a deep gash in its char-blackened hide. The thing snarled at Rhaina with black teeth, murder in its burning eyes.
Orik sent one of Rhaina's arrows at the first hound, but in his care not to strike I'Daiin or Devin, the arrow missed its mark. Amrynn's wand was more effective - the dog snarled as it was struck by an invisible fist.
"More to kill!" shouted I'Daiin gleefully, even as the hounds harried him. "I---can---hold them!" His wounds oozed, but his smile was bright even as he lurched under their attacks.
He was clearly not holding them.
"Aren't most Shoanti legends about deaths in battle?" Devin tucked in to the north well and advanced to meet the same hound Rhaina had just charged and was half of the pair already surrounding I'Daiin. His token amount of preparation appeared to be paying dividends; Devin pulled the shadows to himself and lashed at the hound with supernatural proficiency guiding his sword's edge.
The shadows seemed to flow along the floor like smoke after Devin, twisting and curling. Whether it was some supernatural quality they had to aid him, or Devin's own skill at finding just the right spot to sink his blade, his keen goblin-thing shortsword came away coated with blood that gleamed black in the red light, despite that it hadn't sunk as deep as it should have. The beast didn't yelp as an ordinary animal might - its unnatural stance in the air only shifted to guard against these new threats as it rumbled a warning growl.
Bergi zipped over and filled Rhaina’s void as the paladin moved to engage. Peering around the door jamb, she watched the macabre dance of figures in the forsaken temple. Raising her bow, she followed the rhythm of the movements and let fly her lighted arrow at the creature furthest away.
She, too, missed in her efforts to keep from skewering I'Daiin, but her arrow's clean light fought with the evil reddish glare coming from the braziers, pushing back their ugly flickering and stilling the seeming shifting of the hideous bas-reliefs.
“I’Daiin! All merit to the Shoanti bravery! Step to your east and help us down this one; get out from between them; practice your two-weapon fighting later.” Though his sword didn’t waver, Devin shared a grim look with Rhaina – if I’Daiin fell before either of the hounds did, they’d have to make a defensive retreat to the doors.
The huge Shoanti's war-grin broke for a moment and then reformed in a grim line. "Bah!" he spat, but moved back to attack the canine that Devin and Rhaina were engaged with. In a split second, he was deep within his battle trance, and struck at the beast with his longsword.
Rather than slicing through the beast as it should have, his sword slammed into it with the crunch of snapping bones. It snarled, twisting in the air to push off the wall and find its stance in the air once more. As it did, the other circled around to snap at him again, but its evilly black teeth found no purchase on his armor.
The one I'Daiin had beaten leapt higher into the air, out of reach of those below. Opening its maw like a dragon preparing to breathe fire, it let out a bone-shaking, utterly horrendous howl. It brought to mind every defeat, every bit of despair, every evil in their lives, and promised that such was the least of what was to come. In their minds - all but Rhaina's, protected by Sarenrae's gentle touch - were conjured imaginations of what awaited them in the grasp of mad Lamashtu, such horrors as their minds could devise and some they had not imagined. Yet each of them rode out the storm of hopelessness and fear, courage and the flickering flame of hope keeping them where they were when their legs wanted to flee from under them.
As the first dog all but fell from her first blow Rhaina prepared to finish it”I’Daiin”she shouted “Cousin use your Cold Iron sword .The hounds don’t much like the metal” She sensed the morale amongst her fellows was not at it’s best.She had seen no sign of spells from Durriken or Amrynn
“Take heart dear friends.Saranrae’s and Pharasma’s blessings are stronger than this demon whore’s hovel. Fight on,we have them on the run! And with that the Paladin broke out in a rousing hymn of praise to the Dawnflower’s might,her voice strong and clear resonating off the walls of the room
A low rumble underpinned her song, and dust sifted down from the arching vault above; the mad goddess didn't appear to appreciate Rhaina's hymn to Sarenrae in her sanctum. The statue seemed to shift in what reddish light remained, its eyes following the heretic.
The paladin ran forward to slice at the hound still within reach, but in her fatigue, her swing was a fraction too slow, and the monster managed to twist aside.
There was a clatter from outside the chapel as Orik dropped Rhaina's bow and ran for his life, as though the hounds were after him alone. In his fright, he pushed past Durriken and scrambled into the cave behind him.
Amrynn cursed him, but her gaze didn't waver as she took aim at the hound high in the air. Its head snapped to the side, and it toppled to the ground; Amrynn brandished her wand triumphantly.
"Nice try," Devin glared at the downed hound as he shook off the ill effects. He balled and fist and backhanded it upwards, splaying his fingers open to release a writhing ball of darkness towards the other hound's snout. Rather than advance and giving the hound the opportunity to pounce on him, Devin moved south, tucking in behind one of the columns on the opposite side of the room for partial cover. The wily thing spun in the air, twisting up and over the shadowy globule. Devin could swear that he saw a sneer on the creature's fire-blasted face, though surely that was impossible.
Bergi pulled another arrow to her bowstring and drew. She sighted down its length, but then lowered the weapon in disgust. These beasts were otherworldly, resilient beyond her ken, and she had never felt her diminutive size quite so poignantly. Her weapons would not harm them. Her tricks and cantrips would only harry or delay with minimal effect. Even the light she cast into this dark temple waffled with sullen and unsavory notes.
She couldn’t even bring herself to raise her voice within such unhallowed halls. Lamashtu reigned here, and to defy that mistress of monsters carried unseemly promises for the future.
Bergi waited. Her eyes flicked down to the floor and traced the outline of the door. She couldn’t seem to force herself across the threshold. Even if she could, what good would she be against these beasts twenty or thirty times her size?
She instead withdrew into the corner and prayed to Pharasma for mercy for those she called friend and guidance for her own wayward heart.
I'Daiin winced at Rhaina's words. "Did anyone tell me the _last_ time we fought one of these beasties? ...are they the same beasties? Whelps of Yarmash? I'm no zookeeper."
Knowing that he carried no cold iron, he stabbed at the hound's gut with the sword he had pried from the monstrous goblin-thing, and though the blow pushed the evil creature into the air rather than running it through, still it pierced its hide, and the dog snarled and leapt higher into the air as its companion hellbeast had - but with more cunning, for it also moved behind a corner of the chapel, hiding it from Amrynn's deadly wand.
Gaping wide, it too howled its howl of despair. If anything, this dreadful baying so close on the heels of the last was even worse - terrors brought recently to mind were a shade darker, fears that much more heart-constricting - yet, still the party stood firm, their courage enough to overcome even this. All but Amrynn; what horror the hair-raising howl had raised in her was unknown, but Bergi could see her begin to gasp in mounting fear.
The notes were all wrong. Bergi shook her head. Discordance surrounded them. Even in the wake of Nualia’s demise, Lamashtu’s power was strong, ringing wicked from the tongues of her beasts. She heard Orik’s hammering footsteps in flight. She felt the shadow descend over Amrynn, wind and wings urging the lithe woman away.
Bergi summoned the song in her heart, trying to gain strength, to share it with the others. “Amrynn, wait, hold on,” she pleaded, but she knew Lamashtu was too powerful here.
"Fine, we can play that way." It'd take longer to finish the hound while it stuck to the air, but while in the air, the worst it could do was howl. It couldn't otherwise strike them, but they could still strike it. Just came down to a battle of wills. Devin briefly debated scaling the east face of the column the best sheltered behind, then dismissed the idea; while he might gain the reach, he'd be fouled and unable to land any telling blows.
Rhaina's weapon had laid a telling blow on the last hound, and that hatched a plan to gain the needed reach... "I'Daiin, put a hand and a foot to the column and boost Rhaina to strike it down!" I'Daiin had the strength; Rhaina had the grace and balance. They'd need both to gain just enough reach that the ceiling plus the beast's mass would be just a bit too much for it to ward completely away from half the upraised length of Rhaina's sword.
“Good plan but I’ll need to switch to my Cold iron longsword as my smite evil only functioned against the other dog” Rhaina said.
Devin sent another acidic glob swirling towards the beast, lest it let its divided attention lapse. Almost as though it had expected such a ploy, the doglike hellbeast swerved to the side in thin air, avoiding the glob with contemptuous ease. However, for that moment, it wasn't looking down...
The notes that slipped from Bergi were muddled and slight, yet they carried enough of the Weave to set her bow alight. With the glowing weapon held steadfast in her hand, she turned and prepared to follow Amrynn and Orik into their fear driven tunnels. Someone had to watch over the frightened wanderers, even if it was the slightest of halflings. The others were strong enough to deal with Lamashtu’s kin for now.
She slipped away from the door, running as fast as her feet would carry her after Amrynn. She was aided in that Amrynn had dropped her torch with supernatural fire along with her wand, and was forced to slow in the darkness. It seemed Orik had suffered the same problem in the tentamort tunnel - he was only just emerging from the passage to the storage cave when Bergi reached the corner, while Amrynn's light steps echoed from the stairwell, her elven eyes having given her the advantage on the first leg of her flight.
The mighty Shoanti barbarian did as Devin had asked, knitting his hands together to form a stirrup for Rhaina to use. Jumping up into it, the lovely paladin was launched up at the hound, swinging her cold iron sword as she arced through the air.
Yet again, it was as though the beast had understood their preparations. It dodged to the side, bouncing off the wall - but Rhaina had been prepared for that. She sliced the blade against its hide as it rebounded... only to find that it did not pierce the hound's blasted flesh! As she fell to the dais, it leapt out of Rhaina's reach - and kept running, circling around the two Shoanti and heading for the open doors!
As it appeared in the opening, Durriken fired a bolt at it from his crossbow together with an invocation to Pharasma, but like Rhaina's cold iron sword, the mundane wood did no more than bounce off its infernal charred hide. It landed on the cold stone of the floor and scrambled after Bergi! The halfling turned her head at the noise, only to find the black-fanged hellbeast bearing down on her!
Devin suppressed the urge to make a snarky, apropos quip at Lamashtu's expense and saved his breath for the sprint into the moving fray. From what he'd seen so far, he may have the only blade that could reliably penetrate the hides of these things.
Though he wasn't as fast as I'Daiin's raging feet, Devin dug deep and blasted into the small gap I'Daiin's charge had left, coming right up behind the hound to slash into it with his enchanted sword...
Adrenaline fired his veins as he cut at the devil-dog, and it spun in rage as he scored a line across its back - not the deep wound it should have been, but painful enough all the same, if the beast's snarl was any indication.
As the monstrous hound barreled into sight and crashed down the corridor after her, Bergi screamed. Not the planned evocation of song, but the unbridled shriek of terror that comes with watching a nightmare twenty times your size materialize with intent to consume you. The note was shrill enough to almost exceed the range of normal hearing and raw enough to hint at the fraying of delicate vocal chords.
Adrenaline, and terror, had a way of reshaping reality though, had a way of wiping away all the clutter and crystallizing priorities. So as Bergi keened and thoughts rocketed through her mind, ‘Holygodswhathappenedwherearetheytherewerethreeofthemwhyisitcomingafterme IthinkIcanseeitsspleenI’mgonnapissmyselfenjoyeatingthatyoumangybastard what’sgonnahappentoOrikohwhataboutHorseIdidn’twant ahdkvvbljshjshvjg------,’ the crashing noise bled into a white backdrop of static and the chaos faded to a single point of understanding.
The dance.
This was simply the dance of life until death chose to cut in.
Bergi didn’t have any more time to ponder this singular thought though. But she _was_ a dancer, and she did what called to her core.
Leaping strides took her not down the hall as expected but to the wall nearby where first one foot and then the other pushed her light frame upward. She jumped with her momentum into a vault that carried her clear of the corridor, split leap legs splaying outward as she twirled through the dank air.
The shriek changed to song mid-flight, and as Bergi landed with a flourish, she spun her glowing bow to finish the incantation. A wave of golden glitter blasted backward into the hallway behind her.
Fabulous!
The hell-beast shook its head and blinked away a crust of golden motes from its burning eyes, its black teeth promising Bergi a world of pain for her daring. It might have been more effective if it wasn't otherwise covered in glittering dust like a child's toy.
"to the Hells with that dog! We save Bergi!" I'Daiin snarled, foaming at the mouth, and rushed out into the hallway, his eyes rolling at the sight of the menacing...glittery...beast. He dropped his magic sword with a ringing clatter and drew and swung his long hammer in one savage, fluid motion. "Die!" he howled, not particularly eloquently.
Eloquent or not, his hammer swung past Devin to smash into the hound. It had bones nearly as strong as steel - nearly. I'Daiin's furious hammer-blow pulverized its ribcage against the unyielding stone of the wall, and it dropped before it could retaliate against either Devin or Bergi, the fire in its eyes gone out. Its evil-smelling black blood spattered the walls (and Devin), and pooled on the floor.

19

Devin wiped demon-dog ichor from his eyes and drove his sword down through the fallen dog’s skull; he wanted no equivocation as to the permanence of its fate.
He looked up; glanced around furtively; looking after the route Amrynn had likely taken, with Bergi following to assist. He shared only a grateful nod with Bergi before turning and running back towards the other dog in the chapel, intending to put his sword firmly through that one, as well.
Seeing and having heard I’Daiin’s victory cry Rhaina knew the other dog was dead.She was willing to leave this accursed place for now and as she passed the other canine corpse she delayed long enough to dispatch it. She moved through the doors and gathered them with the intent of closing them for the time being.
Seeing Devin heading her way she turned to the warrior”The other one is dead.Not sure if we should be searching that foul spot,but if you wish to I will accompany you in and perhaps Father Durriken will come in as well. Father I am interested in knowing if there is magic of any kind on that abominable statue,can you assist me?”
Bergi stood frozen as her eyes gaped into the glittering hallway. She couldn’t move, could barely breathe, hoping beyond hope that what she had heard was her salvation and not some malicious trick of the ear. Her heart skipped a beat when Devin emerged briefly from the murk, and she let out a lip flapping sigh of relief.
His searching gaze brought her immediately to attention though, and she nodded thanks and acknowledgment in kind as she fled at top speed in an almost comical stage right. As she bounded up the stairs, her clear voice rang out throughout the fort.
“Amryyyyyn waaaaaaaiiiit!!”
Visions of the lithe sorceress hurling herself from the cliff face crashed into Bergi’s mind, and the wee halfling pushed on as fast as she could as she recited the notes and rhythms of an incantation.
Run though she might, Bergi's short legs could not keep up with Amrynn and Orik's panicked flight from the dark, even when she dropped her pack. However, with the bridge missing, both her companions swerved into the briar tunnels, where they were slowed by the goblin-sized passage - and Bergi was not. She closed on Orik as they passed close to the fort's piled-wood wall, still shouting for the two to stop. Heedless, they pelted past a precarious corner at the very edge of the island, where the slope dropped off into the churning surf below. Neither of them fell, and Bergi drew her courage up and ran full tilt after them, trusting her fine balance to keep her from slipping over the edge.
I'Daiin's exultant shout had barely finished ringing when he noted that Bergi had scampered up the stairs. "What in the Hells...?" I'Daiin hurtled after them, not understanding what had happened. "Bergi! Who has fled?"
“Everybooodyyy!!” Bergi’s faint voice drifted down to I’Daiin as he gave chase.
Ahead of Orik, Amrynn's steps finally slowed as the tide of fear in her heart drew back. However, by then the briar tunnels had opened up by the side of the fort, and Orik shoved past her, running into the open towards the slippery stair, and certain death. Bergi pursued, hollering red-faced for him to pull himself together. Instead, he threw himself down the steep goblin stair, and Bergi reached the edge of the island just in time to see him slip on the oily mess and go shooting out over the drop!
Bergi didn’t sacrifice further time or wind as she hurtled after the panic stricken. She was still busy thanking Pharasma that they had cleared the fort as much as they had or danger might yet have swallowed them all, when her heart almost burst with joy as she saw Amrynn draw up safely. For Bergi was pretty sure, that if they lost her, they would very likely lose Devin as well.
“Dogs are dead. Your safe,” she blurted out as she pelted by the elf after the still fleeing Orik.
Then Bergi slipped into that delicious quicksand of seconds when terror, adrenaline, and the tightrope of death all collide. The last few feet she slid before reaching the edge to watch Orik plummet to his doom were filled with crystalline snippets. A riffle of cloud cover that reminded her of her mother’s braid. The swooping arcs of carrion eaters overhead as they formed their kettle. The fiery chuffing of a surprised horse still trapped behind the walls. The brittle wind shearing up the cliff face and yanking at her fringes.
And the understanding which dawned in Orik’s eyes as the curtain of panic was withdrawn, revealing to him the final act of his life’s play.
Bergi held his fate in her hand at that moment, but she did not hesitate. She was not a god and neither cared nor wanted to serve as this man’s judge. And she knew that his face, that dawning finale, would haunt her if she did not act when she had the means to save him. Plus, a life debt was no small thing.
The notes raced from her tiny mouth on feathered wings and wrapped Orik in a downy cocoon of the weave.
“I have not yet released you from your contract!” Bergi shouted down to the slowly falling man. “But I would recommend shedding some of that armor!” She pointed at the water below him for emphasis. Then began descending the staircase to follow up on the protection of her charge.
I'Daiin came to the edge of the island with Amrynn to see Orik frantically divesting himself of his armor and flinging it at the stairs. He just managed it before the waves engulfed him.
Bergi had instructed Orik to toss his armor towards shore as he fell. She wasn’t about to try catching the smelly, heavy gear, but if he could get it to dry ground, she did all she could to stop it from tumbling into the water below.

20

While Devin saw to the final rest of the hell-dogs, Durriken joined Rhaina to examine the looming statue of Lamashtu, looking for the telltale trace of magic. Indeed, the glowing kukris the statue held emanated with magic, along with their baleful fiery and cold light.
Devin pulled his shortsword clear from the second hound's skull and wiped it clean before returning it to its sheath. He looked uneasily back towards the door the temple, in the direction he'd just come from, where he'd left Bergi to go after Amrynn, and Orik. I'Daiin has clearly joined that pursuit, and they'd gained a large lead from Devin's split attention. He had to trust Bergi and I'Daiin would see to Amrynn's safe return; to divide further would be too great a risk. He couldn't in good conscience leave Rhaina and Durriken in the temple, not that either would bid him stay for their welfare.
He kept silent counsel. As much as he had a proclivity to explore the altar for secreted caches and catches, he stepped just outside the temple door and took up a vigil there, able to see a bit down each of the passageways north, east, and south, but also in sight of Rhaina and Durriken in the temple. A dagger found its way to his hand, though he held it inobtrustively back with the blade tucked along his forearm; a learned habit while waiting and observing.
“Durriken. Let us leave this dour and malevolent place and seek our fleeing comrades.” Seeing Devin Rhaina signalled that she wished to close the doors “Devin,can you think of any way to bar or lock these doors.I would not have the unwary wander in?” Did you happen to see which way Amrynn and Orik went,btw?”
Some time later, the three Heroes and a shivering, dripping Orik returned to the dungeon below the goblin fort, finding Devin, Durriken and Rhaina brainstorming how to block the bas-relief doors of the chapel to Lamashtu shut. The ornery white cat, Skivver, reappeared, meowing indignantly at Amrynn for not having brought suitably fine treats to beg its forgiveness for existing at the same time and place as the hell-dogs that had frightened it with.
Muffled wailing came from behind one of the unopened dungeon doors.
At recognizing it was Bergi, Amrynn, and Orik that were returning, Devin's dagger returned to its sheath with but the smallest glint of steel. What started as a few unhurried steps towards their approach to close the gap accelerated to a brief rush, arrested with relief only at seeing Bergi's clear expression and Amrynn's unharmed appearance from around the corner. Not rudely, Devin slipped past Bergi and Orik to meet Amrynn. His hand reached and clasped hers in affirmation of her return; his forehead briefly resting to hers betrayed the concern he had held in check. Everything was well, again. Back to it, then.
"Best if you sit this one out, Orik...you've proved yourself sufficiently. Build a fire. Where's that horse again?" I'Daiin's musings grew a little less focused as he turned to listen to the wailing. "Can anyone tell what in the Hells that is?"
Devin glanced towards the wailing door with a skeptical eyebrow. He'd had his recent turn at opening a random door and opted to leave the pursuit of the next to another. Democracy or validation; take your pick; but whatever was now wailing hadn't elected to do so when the party had been embroiled in combat several times over in the halls outside. He recalled the passageway in the giant's mouth, outside, under the surf at the rocky edge of the island, and wondered if the tide might occasionally go out far enough to permit the wind to whistle through it, and maybe a well or some oubliette connected to that passage, beyond the door.
Devin shook his head to I'Daiin's question; he didn't recognize the sound out of hand; but his perceptions were keen, and survival-honed. Devin stepped closer to the door and -- without touching or opening it -- listened intently for a few moments to divine any details he could of the wail.
More than anything else they'd encountered so far, the implications of that sound drained the color from Devin's face.
"I'm practical, but I'm not that cold," he said aloud. "Babies. Goblin nursery, maybe." He glanced towards the stairs, contemplative, thinking maybe they could hurl some type of cord to the goblins across the gap left behind by the sundered bridge, then draw a rope across with the cord, then send the babies across in some basket. He shook his head, dismissing the thought; the goblins had probably left long before, for greener pastures or reinforcements, and arranging the transport of the young ones across the gap would require more cooperation from the goblins than he could imagine receiving.
Well, it was necessary to know the extent of the challenge.
Standing against the wall to its side, Devin reached to the door to open it, throwing the door inward or outward (however it swings) to clear the threshold. When nothing exploded forth, he ducked a quick look into the room beyond.
The smell was appalling, but not as appalling as the sight that met him. Tiny bodies wriggled and shook the bars of a set of rusty cages, little goblin eyes blinking at them in the sudden light. It seemed there were three goblin babies in the "nursery," hungry and crying snot.
Devin recoiled from the sight, though he wasn't quite certain if that was due to what he saw, or the implications of it. He drifted away from the wall, evidently deciding that no imminent threat lurked within the room, waiting to attack.
He reasoned aloud, figuring out candidate courses of actions even as he spoke. "They can't be with us, not as we go deeper. Maybe we give them some food and water for now; take them with us, later. Once we've cleared the dungeon out. Return them to their kin, somehow."
"Perhaps we could relocate the harem here, barricade them in with supplies and let them care for the young. " Durriken said.
"When we're done, here. Release them all, together," Devin reasoned through, nodding; the goblin women would tend to the babies, and getting back to a tribe would be their issue to address. He eyed the cages the babies were kept within, skeptically. The goblins had to have a reason for keeping their young this way -- they might be dangerous in their own right. "For now, food and water for both, separately; we'll be out of here within one day more, I hope."
Once they were about the goblin young dilemma, Bergi stepped up next to Devin and pulled the nursery door shut.
“Stop opening doors,” she said. “And you’ll stop finding problems.” The words weren’t so much reprimand as they were advice. She hadn’t met a hound yet, flying or otherwise, that could open a door. Well, there was old Grunge out on Master Hamaroon’s farm, but that wasn’t so much opening a door as chewing off the handle. She didn’t think locked up goblin babies were much more likely to have success at it. Well, with the opening part, not the chewing part.
“If you don’t think those little beasts would start gnawing your tenders the moment they could, you’re wrong,” she said. “Leave them for now. We need to get about our business. In case you’d forgotten, we’re tired and hungry too. And some of us are getting a sight cranky.” She turned and glanced through the walls of Thistletop toward the distant stairway downward. “Let’s go down and flesh out the rest. We can worry about nurse-maiding the enemy afterward.”
Devin shrugged and made no move to reopen the door, accepting the chastisement that their time and resources were limited, and their objective incomplete and intolerant of distractions. He gestured up the north hallway, ready to delve the stairs down to Nualia's sanctuary.
“I am not unmindful of the needs of the goblin children, but we do not possess any means to succour them, so placing them with the goblin women might present more problems.” Rhaina felt torn. The teachings of the Goddess were clear about giving aid to the innocent, which the babies certainly were. “As soon as we have examined Nualia’s lair I believe the idea to send the women and children to the men is a good one. It will occupy their time and make clear the reality that Thistletop is no longer their home."
"Amrynn, Orik, are you well? Can we count on you going forward? If so then let us proceed below. Devin will you take point, or do you have a better idea?” Orik nodded, though he looked at his armor with disfavor as he tried to wring out his padding. Amrynn lifted her chin, assenting with lofty pride that Devin knew must be commensurate with her embarrassment at having fallen prey to her fears.
Devin nodded, "Let's go."

The Second Cycle