With Mytharis emboldened by Heironeous’ statue, and the rest of the group happy for the short reprieve, the team of adventures turned back around, heading further into the goblin lair.
The first stop for the adventures was the goblin “barracks.” Barracks by the loosest definition, the collection of beds were covered in mud, mold, and far less savory things. In almost complete darkness, the group was attacked by a few of the more stealthy goblins.
Murdoc Sticknee decided Drogan could uses a boost and then quickly dispatch the goblins. He used his arcane prowess to enlarge Drogan. Unfortunately the room was already too small for Drogan to stand up in at his normal height, grown to a dozen feet in height in the span of an instant, Drogan was crushed and all but stuck. With Drogan’s abilities hampered, the bulk of the fighting fell on Broken Tooth and Mytharis, though Murdoc eventually added a small being of pure fire to help the group out. Luckily the goblin proved little challenge, even with the group at less than full force.
With the goblins vanquished, the group headed further down into the depths of the cave. They discovered a room of discarded riches and chests of treasure. However, Drogan had barely entered the room when the group descended into chaos.
Murdoc found himself in the center of the room, being drawn down into the earth as if standing in quicksand.
Drogan was attack by a fleet of spiders, from all corners of the room the descended upon him and there seemed no end of them.
Mytharis, reaching back for his blade as he entered his room. Grabbed a vicious viper instead, Mytharis threw it to the ground and ran back up the path.
Broken Tooth stood there, watching his companions go crazy, there was no sinking sand, only a man stepping up and down on a level surface, no spiders, only an old man swinging his staff wildly, and no serpent, just a discarded sword. The rest of the group had barely began composing themselves when the culprit descended.
A basidirond. A plant like entity with a central stalk and an inverted bell cap of a flower filled with dangerous, mind-affecting spores. Four stalk leggings kept the creature up, and an array of tendril whips warned the party to keep their distance.
The party set itself upon the creature. It’s whip like appendages sending dangerous spores through the air, burning the skin and lungs should the attacks strike true. However, between Broken Tooth’s magical assistance, an flaming orb courtesy of Murdoc, and the savage strikes of Drogan, all that was left was a powerful finishing strike by Mytharis, sliding under the entity and bisecting it.
The party hunted deeper into the caverns, slicing goblins, goblin dogs, and anything else that stood in their way. At the of their journey, the party found the most deadly match yet. The first, an orc of untold physical strength. It mattered not however, Murdoc’s wand of laughter saw the orc brought down, and Drogan and Mytharis finished the butcher work. But, in the shadow of a shadow, the true might existed. A female orc with untold strength of spirit, all but hidden from sight, used its magic to cause the most powerful blow of all, a strike from Mytharis upon Drogan, almost laying him low.
Broken Tooth, with his queer type of knowledge, unleashed a burst as if from the sun itself into the room. For an instant, the orc’s invisibility shimmered, but an instant was all Broken Tooth needed, as he threw his lit spear into the flesh of the creature. And that too was all Murdoc needed. Once more his wand of laughter shot out into the void, and stuck true. And again, Drogan found himself in the occupation of the butcher.
The High Way Men arrived from the caverns exit, and was the massacre that had taken place. The High Way Men guided the party out of the caves and back into the light. They granted a boon as well, in the form of a signet ring “H.W.M.” that the eldest one bestowed on Murdoc.
The party picked out a spot to camp and began setting down for the night. Broken Tooth and Murdoc had clearly proven themselves this day, and Drogan’s blade was as deadly as even. Mytharis was filled with doubt for the first time since he could remember.
He was a knight of his order, the Sword of Heironeous, blessed by the high priest himself. He had passed his seven trials earlier than anyone, and had decades of fighting left in him. With the sight of Heironeous’ statue, Mytharis should have become an avatar of his deity, but heretic magic and foul plants bested him in his mind.It was during this unfortunate period of self-loathing that Drogan walked away from the camp and pulled out figurines of his gods, and Mytharis was none the wiser.