The portcullis slammed closed, there was a shriek from this wizard we’d agreed to meet with. . . .and in my delerium as I woke, in this damp, musty prison cell, I swear I saw. . . skeleton bones? Walking without bodies toward us?
Surely that part was just my mind waking from. . . whatever was done to us to place us in these cells.
The cells, however, those posed their own problem.
Why were we captive? Something about that book, no doubt. These. . . odd tomes are going to bring us no end of trouble.
We’ weren’t alone. The two dragonborn, the odd gnome, and Sander, and myself. We’re under guard – though. . . looking at their postures, they’re not particularly well trained. If we weren’t in these cells I suspect I could have take all three of them on alone.
A few moments of milling about as my companions and I regained our senses, and before I much knew what was going on, someone had opened their cell with. . . fragments of bone in the sand lining our cells?
That must be why I had dreamed of bones.
I took my cue from the others, forcing open my own cell, just as the Dragonborn started to chant . . . and . . . froth at their captivity. A flash of light and heat later, and the first of the kobolds had fallen.
It would be foolish, in the future, to aggravate Trogdor, it seems.
The other Kobolds, in a panic, ran for a door across the room – a door it seems their now dead companion held the key to.
It didn’t take long for us to end our captives. My companions were able to regain their posessions from a locked chest, and we headed back up the stairs the kobolds had been trying to flee up.
I have to admit, it felt nice to have my quarterstaff back. I must be careful not to become overly-reliant on it, however. Master Mowongshi would be . . . unhappy. . . were I to become to dependant on tools other than myself for my defense.
Then again. . . what use is a tool if it can’t be used?
I needed to focus. We took a quick rest, and explored our goods – it seems that ALL the tomes Sander brought with us were missing. Including that odd bag of his. How he fits not just 2-3 books, but at least an entire shelve’s worth in there. . .
Logically, Sharbat had to have taken the books from us. Though, if he wanted to peruse them he only needed to ask. . .
Sander was driven that we needed to get them back. Trogdor seemed quite upset at the indignity of having been held captive. Ar’Teryx seemed to think this would all make a good story or song. And (JOSH’S GNOME). . . well. . . he just seemed not to want to be alone down here. For someone so gifted with healing wounds, I’ve never seen someone so. . . squeamish about blood. How he’ll get those bile stains out of his tunic. . . .
We opened the next door at the top of the stairs, only to find more kobolds, and a goblin.
Almost before I could set myself to engage the nearest foes, the dragonborn had charged into the room, lighting tables on fire, flipping the room nearly upside down.
The fight was short lived. We pressed on, finding a couple of storage rooms. . . and then we made a mistake.
We’d waited too long and made too much noise. A couple rooms later, we’d given our captives the chance to set up an ambush against us. Firing crossbows from behind upended tables. . . it was. . . difficult getting close enough to them to make the fight fair.
Alas, I don’t recall much of the fight, there is a moment where I’m afraid to admit I was no longer conscious. I’m told the dragonborn pair worked wonders on clearing the room, and it seems I have the gnome to thank for waking me from my. . . slumber.
Though it was a mistake before to sit and wait, my injuries left us with little choice. I sat in meditation for a bit, until some of my strength returned, and wanted to take a moment to record our struggle.
Where is this Sharbat, and what does he want with Sander’s tomes?
What will he do if he learns of the things in “my” tome?
We should move on. . . .
A dragonborn bard dancing onto a table to lethally taunt his enemies.
A golf swing critical strike against a fire using a maul to splash it into a kobold.