To Break The World-Breaker

[Inspector Valin]

Sigrid has to suppress a shudder at the effects of Jen's toxin. The tiefling knows her chemicals but all the same, one that seemingly enhances the power of her demonic blood must be a recipe for disaster. Still, the alchemist is being professional here, and Sigrid owes her the same courtesy while they're working together. As such, she keeps her attention with Jen, nodding in response to her synopsis of the situation. "Anyone sneaking around risks provoking those dwarfs that still remain. But ringing the bell risks..."

Her musings are interrupted by the peal of the bell, as Gale gives the clapper a hearty wack. Because of course he would. The huntress sighs, concluding her thought quietly, more to herself than the party. "...attracting the creatures if they've overrun this point."

It's tempting to be angry with their new metallic companion, but somehow Sigrid can't quite find any real wrath towards Gale in her heart. It's the simple, logical thing to do: it takes a certain kind of paranoia to fear ringing a doorbell. Such as that of a maid who once got jumped by a wolfwere hiding behind a door. Instead of judgement, the elven gunner simply steps forward, casting her gaze across the cavern as best she can through the palisade, musket at rest but ready in her hands. "Well, let's see what happens. The area looks intact at a glance. An evacuation seems more likely than a slaughter, thankfully."

Spoiler

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(1d20+13)[29] Perception, looking for... well, anything interesting Sigrid can see from here.

[Admiral Squish]

The response is prompt. A small, hissing voice calls out in draconic. “Gethrisj mojka! Nomeno ui ifyoev jaxo thaczil!”

Before you can manage a response, however, you hear a second voice ring out, a much deeper, booming voice that roars out in draconic as well. “SI NYMUER WUX SVERN MOBI! WUX TEPOHADA DESTA ZHAAN, MOXT SKAV!” It howls, and with a panicked squeaking, you see a handful of diminutive humanoid creatures scuttle from the building nearest the gate, their eyes shining in the darkness as they scamper out of this building and flee into a dozen others nearby.

The source of the second voice soon becomes apparent as a frightening, heavily-scarred orc rounds a corner, enormous hammer gripped in one equally enormous mitt, face twisted in an angry snarl, eyes searching the darkness for movement. Seeing none, he spits a curse in orcish, seems to visibly calm down, then turns his attention to the group gathered outside the gate. He lumbers up closer to the pallisade, but keeps a good ten feet back, and looks over the travelers who rang the bell. “Upsides huntin’ bart? Bad turn. Bart’s buried, barts scuttled.” He tells you, in a deep, rumbling voice.

Spoiler: Draconic

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“Go away! This is short-tail land!”
“I HEAR YOU OVER THERE! YOU BETTER RUN, LITTLE VERMIN!”

Spoiler: Krake

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Undercommon translation:
"Surfacers looking for trade? You’re in the wrong place. Trading’s closed, traders left."

[Recherché]

Nie sme havrani ani útočníci. Hľadáme obchod a informácie. Jen snarls out in Draconic. Ak by sme boli útočníci, myslíte si, že by sme zvonili?

Leaning over to Krake she whispers Just go along with me?


And then faux-whispers to him loud enough for the guards to hear Keby sme boli útočníkmi, myslíte si, že by sme zvonili zvonček. Naozaj, ak budeme mať takýto príjem, mali by sme ísť priamo do mesta Drow ako miesto. Možno by sa viac zaujímali o zastavenie ostrých vecí.

Spoiler: Translation from Draconic also to be spread to everyone in the collective

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We're not vermin nor invaders. We come looking for trade and information.

If we were invaders do you think we would have rung the bell Really if we're going to get this kind of reception we should just go to the drow city as instead. Maybe they'd be more interested in stopping the sharp things.

[F Fungus]

Krake listened to Jen speak, holding his tongue. He addressed her through the void collective: "<I'll wait to see where you're going with this...But in my opinion, they're right to be paranoid, what with the monster attacks, and their usual distrust of surface-dwellers.

Also, I'd say we're here for information first, trade second. No trade's fine, as long as we can talk to someone.>"

[IZ42]

Adya mentally clicks her tongue, and chides Jen for her choice of words, "It is found ubwise to chide the host for asking questions of yourself. Sharp tongues and quick tempers have no place among cautious allies."

She smiles at the Orc, her Ioun Torch framing her head in an amber silhouette as she bowed slightly. "Nadmaya, warrior. Do you perhaps speak common so that I may converse with you?"

[Inspector Valin]

Sigrid has no desire to take the fore in talking with the Orc. Still, the cry that preceded his arrival has left the elven huntress intrigued. She takes a step back, relaxing her grip on the musket and eyeing the apparent new master of the trading post curiously. "You have an interesting set of friends back there."

Spoiler: OOC

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(1d20+12)[31] Sense Motive to try and get a feel for the Orc's relationship with the probably-Kobolds. I'm not sure if he's legitimately angry at them, or is trying to protect them from whatever strangers might be about.
(1d20+11)[16] Linguistics, to communicate in Undercommon with Common.

[Admiral Squish]

The orc rolls his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. “Upsides jaw lazylizard, don’t mind to jaw deeptalk…” He mutters in annoyed undercommon, before fixing his gaze on the cloaked woman. “Wux re persvek wer xuut goawy. Wer kak-sthyri tepoha shio zulf. Vur si jahus tsruvonir sva wer xsio petissei.” He replies, then smirks. “Doi tiric ti selgtarn ekess ve sjek wux wanna gethrisj vren wer ingoeth riika ui|ulph uraci. Sia kobtish sultanic sva nomeno portam.”

Spoiler: Undercommon

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“Of course surface-dwellers would speak dragon, but not bother to learn undercommon…”

Spoiler: Draconic

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“You’re in the wrong place. The traders are gone. And I was yelling at the damned kobolds.”
“Doesn’t matter to me if you want to go lick the drow *****’s feet. My job ends at this gate.”

[Inspector Valin]

Sigrid laughs at the mention of licking drow feet, shaking her head and smiling at the Orc, "I'll admit, that doesn't sound like a good time to me."

The gunslinger refrains from openly commenting further, but her thoughts echo over the telepathic link. "He's probably a guard, hired to keep the outpost safe while it's been evacuated. The Kobolds are his weak spot. They likely snuck in under his watch, and that grates on him. If we could get them to move on..." She leaves the thought unfinished. Perhaps Krake could deal with his scaled kin?

[Recherché]

Zyak svaust ilroevi kulti tenpiswo? Wux usv wer petisse?
Jen tries to sounds confused and apologetic even as she smirks slightly. There's something satisfying about spreading a little chaos and for once she doesn't have to tamp down on it. It's not like there can be any harm in it right? And there are other people to stop her if she goes to far.

Spoiler: Draconic

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So just a quick question but who exactly is in charge here? The orc or the kobold?

[MesiDoomstalker]

Gale delayed somewhat, trying to follow the conversation a few seconds behind the words actually being said. As Jen began taunting the Orc, Gale finally picked up on the conversation's flow and turned towards his ally. Jen,
there is no need to antagonize this man. He is our only source of information at the moment. Gale turned towards the Orc, clasping his hands together. He spoke pleasantly though its doubtful the Orc understood a word. I apologize for my companions brashness. We are only here for information. Do you know anything of the 'sharp things' that have supposedly attacked here?

Spoiler: Diplomacy

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(1d20+9)[29]

[Admiral Squish]

The orc narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on his hammer for a moment, then turns away from the barricade, swinging the weapon up to rest on his shoulder as he begins to walk away. "Wux tepohada desta charis wer riika tepohaic ghulsvetch." He calls back toward the group.
Then the warforged speaks, and he pauses, turning back to face the group again. "Sharp things? Jawin' round what creep the softbodies to scuttle?"

Spoiler: Draconic

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"You'd better hope the ***** has bathed."

Spoiler: Undercommon

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"Sharp things? You talking about what made the (civilians/weaklings) nervous enough to run?"

[MesiDoomstalker]

Gale's mouth-slit brightened to a smile as he nodded his vigorously. Yes, those! If you please, what do you know about them?

Spoiler: Diplomacy

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(1d20+9)[20]

[Admiral Squish]

The orc shrugs. "Eyed 'em 'fore. Squad of 'em swiped third gate. Deeperfolk been scuttlin' up for a spell, when they eyed 'em they creeped and scuttled, what creeped the softbodies and they scuttled. Dark since." He explained, simply.

Spoiler: Undercommon

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"I saw them before. A group attacked the third gate (described in a not particularly threatening way). People from deeper down have been running here for a while, and when they saw the creatures, they got scared and ran, which scared the (weaklings/civilians) to run. Nothing since then."

[MesiDoomstalker]

Did you see them yourself? Did you see how they moved, or attacked? Is there any corpses we could take a look at? Where is this 3rd gate? I apologize for so many questions.

[Admiral Squish]

"Sure 's shrooms, aye. Skittery things, wall-crawlers, zip as a blink. Jumpers, too, 'fore they spat the sharps, couldn't eye 'em. Once eyed,
they rushed, swipin'. Minded they'd be bones, but they were real hardbodies. Not too hard, tho." He recalled with a smirk, subtly flexing his arms. Third gate's over." He added, gesturing across the chamber to another gate, similar to the one you're at. "Bodies got dropped deep." He added.

Spoiler: undercommon

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"Oh, definitely. Fast, jumpy things that could climb on walls and move very fast. Ambushers, too, before they spat the (projectiles), we couldn't see them. Once they were spotted, they charged, clawing. Figured they'd be (weak, scrawny, fragile), but they were (tough, solid, resilient). Not too tough, though."
"Third gate is over there."
"We dropped the bodies deeper into the caves (usually accomplished via lava tubes or other vertical shafts, a common method of waste disposal)."

[MesiDoomstalker]

Gale bowed slightly towards the Orc. Thank you, Sir, for your assistance. We will let you on your way. We may return in time but for the moment we will be attempting to examine a corpse. Where is this hole you disposed of them in?

[Admiral Squish]

The orc gives you directions for how to go around the settlement to the dumping chute, which is outside a different gate. Before you can ask further questions, however, there's a clatter of metal from a nearby building, and he turns, just in time to see a trio of kobolds scampering out into the darkness, one of them clutching a double-armful of cookware. The orc gives a roar in draconic, promising acts you don't feel comfortable translating through the collective, and then charges off after them.

Following the orc's instructions is not terribly difficult. The tube is located down a side-passage. It appears to normally be barricaded by stalagmites and stalactites much like the gates, but the spears of stone are withdrawn, leaving it open. The tube itself is an irregular, gently-twisting vertical tunnel, perhaps five feet in diameter, that appears to be melted through the stone, partially intersecting with the naturally occurring tunnel you stand in, continuing both up and down well beyond the range of sight. You can catch a whiff of something... deeply unpleasant, but it's not overpowering.

[MesiDoomstalker]

Gale peers over the precipice studying it. I have an idea. If the hole is not too deep, I can call upon a servant of Orena to retrieve a corpse for us. Allow me a moment. Gale retrieved a coin from his pouch, and spoke a word of praise. The coin began to glow and he quickly tossed the glowing coin down the shaft. He watched it tumble and fall and as it pinged and clinked against the gentle twists out of sight, kept his ear out for each strike till it silenced. After it fell silent, Gale churned calculations in his head to estimate the shaft's depth.

Spoiler

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(1d20+12)[17] Perception
(1d20+12)[17] Engineering

[Admiral Squish]

It's quiet, apart from the coin, and the surfaces are hard, so you hear it clearly as it tinks and tumbles down the shaft and out of sight, growing more and more distant. Two... three... you can no longer see the light. Four... five... six and seven... ... ... There's only silence after that.
Between the two of you, and the echoes that make it hard to pinpoint the distance, you estimate the shaft to be between 75 and 100 feet deep. The silence thereafter seems to mean it reached the end of the tube, though whether it entered some larger cavern or simply landed in a pile of soft refuse is up to debate.

[treecat_sphinx]

M'hurahk swings off of Princess and gives her a rub on the crest. Stay. I'll be right back--promise, he says. Remembering that Sig and Krake had both been friendly towards Princess, he turns to them and says: Please watch her while I'm down there. She can normally take care of herself pretty well, but she can be a bit too loyal sometimes. You may need to wrangle her a little bit if something...untoward...happens. Next, M'hurahk retrieves rope from his companions, and ties it around his waist. He uses the wall for footholds as he attempts to climb hand over hand down the rope, keep himself alert for any signs of danger on the way down.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Climb: Take 10 until I can't. Perception: [roll]d20+12[/roll]

[Admiral Squish]

As you descend the gently-spiraling shaft, the smell grows worse. It's not just coming from below, but all around you, rancid material having built up in the ridges of the winding tunnel, deposited by dumped waste of almost every sort. However, you've washed raptors that have rolled in fouler things, so while it's certainly gross, it's not intolerable. The shaft is long enough to make you wonder if you have enough rope, but your worries prove groundless as you see the walls on one side falling away.

The shaft opens up into a sizable cavern, perhaps thirty feet across, with a few feet of still, obviously fouled water on the bottom. You can see the trash pile directly below you, forming a mound against one wall, rising from the water. Atop the pile, the glowing coin rests, a beacon of light in the otherwise pitch-black room. Its light illuminates much of the room pile, and your sharp eyes manage to pick out what looks like a spike-covered leg sticking out from under some garbage. Then you notice the light shining off the green flesh of some large, tentacled creature, laying half-submerged in the water at the edge of the pile. Luckily, it does not seem to notice the light, or you (it doesn't actually seem to have eyes you can see) and neither does it seem to be moving.

[treecat_sphinx]

M'hurahk clings to the rope pondering his options for a moment. He decides that making noise is contraindicated, given that keen hearing seems a likely way for a creature without eyes to sense its environment. He thinks about making a lasso and snaring the corpse that way, but he realizes that he doesn't have nearly enough rope for that to work. Just as he reluctantly reaches the conclusion that he has to abandon the task and return to the party, he remembers that Adya has given him the ability to communicate with his companions telepathically.

The shaft opens up into a cave...maybe 30 ft. across. What looks like the leg of the Sharp Thing corpse is mired in a mound of garbage on the cavern floor. Unfortunately, there's also a creature down there. I've never seen one before, and I don't want to go any closer to the floor until I know what it is, or at least that we have a contingency for getting me out if it proves hostile. It doesn't seem to have spotted me yet, so maybe I've got some time to describe it. It's big, and it has huge tentacles for arms. It isn't reacting to the light from the coin Gale threw down here (as a matter of fact, it doesn't seem to have any eyes), and its flesh is green. Have any of you encountered such a creature?

[treecat_sphinx]

Assimilating the knowledge that floods into him from the collective, M'hurahk says: Hello, down there. My friends and I would like to offer you a delicious chicken leg in return for that tough, hard to digest thing over there. He gestures towards the corpse. You don't really want that thing slicing up your innards on the way through, do you? What do you say?

Spoiler: Diplomacy

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(d20)[1]

[Admiral Squish]

You see a tentacle that was laying flat atop the beasts's head twitch, then raise, the clubbed end turning to face you, and you see dozens of irregularly-placed eyes dotting its underside. The eyes blink, bleary, then clear, as the creature stumbles to stand on three stumpy legs, it's long arm-tentacles rising from the water, barbed, suckered clubs on the ends trailing foul water as they suddenly reach for you, the creature's sharp-toothed maw opening wide to let out a roar... the tentacles stretch toward you, reaching, grasping hungrily... only to stop just barely short of reaching your dangling form, the barbed clubs barely grazing your toes. The creature, frustrated to find its prey just out of reach, lumbers forward on its stumpy legs, wading through the water and beginning to climb up onto the mound of trash, seeking to higher ground to reach you better.

[IZ42]

Adya grunts, grabbing the rope and hoisting it over her shoulder. She then tugs and pulls on it, pulling up M'hurahk as quickly as she could. She knew not what was in that garbage heap, but nothing good ever came out of a roar that large, regardless of environment.

Her mental voice is sharp in the minds of her companions, "Hold to the rope as tightly as possible, little goblin."

[Admiral Squish]

With a mighty yank, the goblin is lifted up into the shaft, just as the creature below gets into position to reach where he was a moment ago. As the beast stands atop its pile of garbage, it stares up at you with its eye-tentacle, watching you rise higher and higher out of reach. Seemingly giving up, the beast keeps its eyes on you as it turns and tromps back into the water, and just as you round the tunnel bend and lose sight of the thing, you see it settle back down onto its belly, half-submerged in the foul waters of its lair.

You emerge from the shaft once more, perhaps shaken, but unharmed.

[F Fungus]

Krake gave the goblin a once-over, making sure M'hurak was unharmed from their rough retreat. "Glad you're safe," he said in Undercommon, a tinge of genuine concern seeping through.

"Glad the otyugh didn't knick ya, tryin'a fight down there would've paddled the tideslicks <a farce, a comedy of errors>. Wait, hang on." (Krake translated his Undercommon to Common via the void collective's auto-processing.) "Sorry, sometimes I prefer to use my real jaw. So, what'ja do to rile it up so much, anyway? They're usually moss in a tidepool <slow-moving, inconsequential>."

Upon learning what exactly happened with the chicken offering: "HAH! I..." Krake doubled over laughing. "Can't believe you actually...hahaha! The absolute madman, he actually did it!...you knew I was joking, right? Or at the very least, I wasn't expecting to be taken seriously."

After he calmed down, he asked a question, though more meant for snark than actual inquiry. "So...? What did ya learn down there....?"

Spoiler: Undercommon metaphors

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"Paddled the tideslicks"--certain areas of the Deep Realms are flooded; others are very slippery and damp, but not submerged. Attempting to paddle a boat on "dry" land can only go wrong in a very silly way.

Spoiler: OOC

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Krake never made a post in IC saying he had a chicken leg. I did in OOC chat, but I didn't do it IC. But given that M'hurak said explicitly "My friends and I would like to offer you a delicious chicken leg", I'd like to assume that Krake said it via the void collective: "assimilating the knowledge that floods into him from the collective". If M'hurak didn't actually know Krake had a chicken leg, it might've been more of a Bluff since M'hurak would be lying (contextually), and he could say any other kind of meat (steak, mutton, hampuck). Overanalyzing...

[Inspector Valin]

"That otyughs do not care for chicken?"

Sigrid manages to say that with a completely straight face. She'd kept her musket trained on the hole as their goblin friend was being hefted up, but now lets it rest by her side as she considers the situation. "If we can retrieve the corpse, I can try to find out more information from it with a little dissection and some testing. But the otyugh will pose a problem." The elven huntress grimaces as the hole, seemingly annoyed by it. She looks at M'hurahk quizzically, "Did you see any sign of an alternate entrance to the cave? This is not the most ideal way to enter a monster's lair. Though perhaps if we could fasten the rope to something, we might rappel down together?"

Perhaps an impractical thought. The proper use of rope in scaling sheer surfaces was something, somehow, had never been needed in Sigrid's life up to now. Such is the way of a monster hunter

[Recherché]

And there it is. When the goblin goes down alone he’s a brave hero and when Sigrid goes volunteers to go down by herself she’s doing no wrong, but when I volunteer to do the exact same thing I’m tainted and evil. And while the others might not participate no one is ever going to call her out for it.

Images of her claws slicing through Sigrid’s throat and ending all her problems well up in Jen’s mind before she pushes them down.

Because of course they’re all complicit. While they might not hate you as much on the outside they won’t help you when the Elven bitch decides to cut your throat. And they’ll happily vote on your fate without giving you a say in it yourself.

Looking down at her hands Jen sees a tiny trickle of blood. The result of clenching her fists too tight with claws too sharp.

Because in the end you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t

Then why not let yourself be damned for something actually worth it. Something fun. A whisper reaches up from the back of her mind and Jen pushes it down. The bile in her throat has risen far enough that she wants to vomit. She wants to run. She wants to attack. Anything but stand here helplessly while they decide her fate. Stand here helplessly she must because anything else will prove her a threat or a coward.

Well maybe one other option. Maybe its dangerous but at this point Jen can’t bring herself to care that much. Live or die at least it’s a release.

So while the others act as her judge and jury Jennet begins her climb down. No rope. No harness. Just her and the job. And @#$% them if they find her unacceptable, the &$#@%s that claim to be her team.

[Inspector Valin]

Sigrid takes a few seconds to realize what Jen had done. Once she has, there's a look of thunder on the elf's face, "Fool! Damned, wretched, stupid fool!"

There's no time for further planning, or discussing battle strategy. Instead, Sigrid makes a run for the rope, taking a second just to be sure that one of the party had a firm hold of the end before beginning to rappel down after the errant Tiefling as quickly as she can. Whatever she might think of Jen, the alchemist will not throw her life away in a fit of pique!