[DnD] Welcome to the Dungeon of Doom!

The dwarves and the big guy were awake and it was time to press on. I held my newly acquired wand out in front of me and lit up the tip with a spell. I moved to the tunnel mouth and peered into the gloomy passage. Whoever built this dungeon was not out to encourage wandering about so I had a good look about for traps before moving forward.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

The tunnel is steep enough that you cannot see the bottom, but everything that's visible appears to be clear of any hazards.

FELIPE NO

Seeing that the tunnel was apparently clear of traps, I edged down it, wand in hand, hoping that I would see whoever might be at the end of it before they saw me.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Bob edges down the narrow tunnel, alert for any danger. After a minute or two of crawling, the sloping tunnel opens suddenly into a sheer drop. Hesitating at the edge, Bob looks down to see the face of a kobold looking up at him.

The kobold is bent and withered with age; a rare commodity for its kind. It looks Bob over with a critical eye, then dons tiny spectacles from a pocket in a tattered cloak and speaks in a slow and unaccented Common.

"We have been watching you and your friends, Manslayer. We have no wish to fight you. I have talked with the others and I think we may have some common goals. Come down, and we will see the chieftain about—"

In the distance, a loud THUMP. Then again, and again, as the sound of splintering wood starts to accompany it.

A younger kobold appears next to the elder. The kobolds exchange a few alarmed remarks in their barking tongue, and the cloaked kobold's tiny fists clench. He looks back up at Bob.

"I must go to aid in the defense of the gates. We will tell you of our proposition afterward, should I survive."

He hurries off, and Bob is left staring down at the mound of dirt below.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

"LOOK OWT BEELOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW"

Argumentus comes sliding down the hole, sailing down a slip'n slide of rotting entrails.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The poor Kobolds were in trouble and it was up to us to save them! Anyway, I thought to myself, what's the worst that could possibly be down there?

"Come my minions!" I yelled, "To arms, let us give our aid to these noble creatures...". My rallying cry was cut short by the large, slithering mass sliding past me, narrowly avoiding knocking me into the hole. "Er, that's the spirit" I muttered, lowering myself gingerly over the edge of the hole before dropping to the bottom, rolling when I landed to absorb the impact and coming to my feet in one smooth motion, wand outstretch ready to deal icy death to anyone or anything looking the least bit beligerent.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Argumentus and the elf tumble out of the tunnel and into the kobold warren, their fall broken by a pile of loose earth just beneath. Beyond the open doorway, kobolds with spears and slings scramble back and forth in the hall.

With one great and final splintering, the rhythmic thumps cease, giving way to the unmistakable sounds of a pitched battle being gradually driven in the party's direction.

M

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Argumentus's nose flares at the sounds of battle. He moves to the passageway in order to look down the hall.

I was speaking idiomatically.

Not wanting to be last, Motsognir leaps down the tunnel after Argumentus.

Most amazing jew boots

I followed the others in the direction of the sound of fighting, peeking round the corner to see what was going on.

FELIPE NO

Motsognir slips down the tunnel, while Argumentus charges into the corridor with Bob at his heels. Kobolds of all ages are hurrying to and fro, but the halls are wide enough that you do not obstruct them (or they you).

Treat the kobolds as friendly; you can move through spaces they occupy.

The corridor splits east and west, though both routes turn toward the north again.

M

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

"Right, this calls for a tactical approach. You, the big guy, go that way, stumpy, you take the other corridor. I'll, er, stand behind you, I can fire spells just fine over your head." I shouted, attempting to marshall my troops. The Kobolds milling around were confusing me somewhat and we still had yet to find out what we were fighting.

I moved to the east, peering around the corner to the north.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Argumentus was confused about what way "that way" be. Since Bob was already rounding the corner, Argumentus addresses the nearby kobold.

"Hey doggy, where the fight?"

There's nowhere I can't reach.

The dwarf was roused by the sounds of battle. Once again Kord had called his number. And that number was not one, nor two, nor four. Five... was right out. In any case, he came bolting down the hall, his beard bouncing, throwing hammer in hand as he came skittering towards the sounds of battle. Taking quick stock he noted small kobold friend, whatever was making that commotion was probably an enemy. War it was.

Good. Goooood. Kord would not want his valor to come so easy.

Most amazing jew boots

Bob steps around the east corner. This hall leads directly into an open room where a heavily-muscled kobold is hammering away at an anvil. A charcoal brazier nearly as large as the kobold lies just behind him, and a dry heat pours from the room.

A few feet ahead of Bob, the corridor also branches off to the east. A nervous-looking kobold with a spear and a keyring stands in the intersection, glancing down the east corridor every few seconds.

The blacksmith and the guard appear to be the only residents not fleeing northward toward the ruckus. The halls are beginning to empty, and a peculiar flapping sound joins the overall clamor.

Argumentus accosts a passing kobold and inquires about finding the battle. The little creature looks terrified of the huge fighter and gesticulates wildly, pointing in several directions in succession; west, then east, north, then east again. The he flees.

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

I made a series of hand gestures designed to convey to the horde that they should fan out in front of me in the classic "Defend our glorious leader" formation. After a few moments of nothing happening, I glanced over my shoulder to see what they were doing. The sight of nobody there lessened my bravado somewhat and I shrunk back against the wall of the corridor. What was I doing? There was clearly some huge battle in progress and here I was charging to join it as if I was the mighty Celtic warrior and songsmith, Ronan the Barbarian.

I considered allowing discretion once again to triumph over valour but my curiosity once again got the better of me and I edged forward to where the Kobold stood in front of me to get a decent look into the open area ahead. Perhaps if I exercised the same caution sound every corner the battle would be over before I bumped into it...

I was speaking idiomatically.

Bob steps into the intersection with the nervous kobold. To the north lies the busy blacksmith, banging away on a battle-axe much too large for his size. To the east is a brief corridor leading to an iron-barred gate. Behind the bars, a hulking lizardman stomps about in a crude prison cell.

The reptilian man-monster is easily twice as big as Argumentus in the midst of a crab binge, and seems more than capable of tearing any of the kobolds in half.

"Stay away from the prisoner!" barks the guard. "Very dangerous!" He takes a step toward the gate, protectively.

The smithy is scattered with the blacksmith's tools of trade, and half-finished weapons lie here and there. He finishes hammering on the axe blade, and places it in a nearby bucket with a set of tongs. He wipes his brow and looks up from his work, noticing Bob at last.

"You there, tall and useless. If you're not going to kill anything, at least take some gear to the gates." He sizes Bob up and sighs, then grabs a finished axe from a bench and dumps it into Bob's arms. The wooden axe handle is inscribed with many tiny runes, and the weapon feels much lighter than it rightfully should be.

"I'm sure you can find somebody to take it off your hands. Now get out of my sight, I've got a work order a mile long."

The smith turns back to his work, once again ignoring Bob.

M

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

Argumentus knew which way the first was, rounding the western corner and entering the room.

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Never one to ignore the advice of a small, scaly creature, I kept myself well clear of the massive lizard. The blacksmith handed me an axe, thinking me perhaps unarmed at present. I was never a big fan of axe fighting, it's generally a messy affair given the difficulty of using the things to block but I held on to it, imagining that the giant human or one of the dwarves might find a use for it. It was surprisingly light so did not really encumber me.

I continued moving cautiously to the north, my desire to help out these little creatures tempered somewhat by the lack of any meaningful backup as yet and a nagging feeling that there was more going on here than initially met the eyes. The calm demeanour of the blacksmith made me suspicious and never let it be said that an elf rushed into a situation unprepared for the worst.

How ya doing, buddy?

Taking the west fork down a brief corridor, Argumentus finds himself in a makeshift kitchen. Half-finished meals lie where the embattled kobolds abandoned them, and a roast... something is still suspended on a cooking spit over a fire. Unattended, the roast beast has begun to blacken badly on its underside. The smell of meat, unfortunately, attracts other visitors.

Three leathery creatures with multiple wings and elongated probosces flap into the room, resemblant of some foul cross between a bat and a mosquito. Initially they begin to settle on an uncooked side of meat lying idle on a table, but Argumentus, covered in blood and significantly more odorous, is a much more tempting meal. They swoop toward him.

Horrible Things 20, Argumentus 12

The first of the creatures misses its mark, smashing its face into Argumentus' armor. The other two find vulnerable flesh and sink their needles in, drawing the precious blood from Argumentus' body.

5 damage, Argumentus is Grabbed.

Oblivious to the swarm assaulting the human, Bob attempts to move further north through the smithy. But there's no way to do that! There's only a wall there. How awkward.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

My eyes had been deceived in the dim torchlight and what I had thought to be a doorway was in fact a wall. I made some pretence of admiring the smith's work to cover my error then ran back down the corridor I had arrived from, hoping that the horde hadn't got themselves in too much trouble in my absence.

Run back towards Argumentus

There's nowhere I can't reach.

Argumentus desperately struggles to break free of the grip.

Strike west creature, cleaving into north creature
Attempt escape shifting one square south

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

I'm not sure if Zeph got his connection up yet, so I'll cover for him until he shows

Fescue finally descends to join the party, fashionably late. He realizes at once from the noise that he's got himself into another unpleasant situation.

Bob turns back to the fork in the route, seeking to rejoin the party. He reaches the intersection and realizes Argumentus is nowhere in sight. The sounds of violence are now only a few yards to the northwest.

The little monsters continue to drain Argumentus' blood even as he thrashes away at them.

10 damage, Argumentus 18/15

Cleave (Warhammer) 15 + 7 (hit): 8 damage; cleave for 4 damage

Though it's something awkward to strike at creatures while they're attached to you, Argumentus deals the bloodsucking freaks a ringing blow.

Gritting his teeth, Argumentus grabs hold of the monsters' feeding tubes and rips them from his flesh. While the beasts are discombobulated he takes a step back out of the room, roaring in pain.

Gabriel 23, Fescue 18, Critters 15, Argumentus 8, Bob 6, Motsognir 5

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

The dwarf ran past the mage, happily accepting the gift of the battleaxe as he past. Rounding the corner, he slid away his warhammer and equipped the axe, stopping in the center of the U bend and calling out to the large human.

"What is it lad? Demons? Monsters? Gully Dwarves? Elves? Beholders? Packer fans? Demons?"

He readied himself for anything.

Take axe
Equip Axe
FULL DEFENSE

I was speaking idiomatically.

Gabriel camps the hallway, readying himself for the mysterious threat.

Fescue moves around the corner with his crossbow, ready to fire on the first hostile thing to come into sight.

One of the creatures lunges directly into Argumenus, latching onto him once more.

1 damage, grabbed

The second beast rounds the corner in search of easier prey. Fescue plugs it with a bolt as it comes into sight.

6 damage

The creature's flight still carries in into the the thief, and it has little difficulty puncturing though the gaps in his leathers.

1 damage, grabbed

The third latches onto Argumentus as well. If only he didn't smell so sanguinely delicious!

2 damage, grabbed... even more?

Argumentus 15/15, Fescue 25/8

Argumentus at bat

M

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?