The adventurers find their way back to the surface, too exhausted by their ordeal and elated by their reward to notice the subtle change of mood on the streets of Cinderfall, the usual bustle of the city replaced by something more animated and sinister at its edges.
They spend the evening going from tavern to tavern, looking for clues. Eventually, a wizened and gap-toothed ne'er-do-well gives them one, his eyes widening when he spots the flash of the arcane amulet fragment beneath Kyre's cloak. "There are stories of a place hidden in the sewers from which dark and dreadful powers seem to emanate," he eventually admits, and claims to be able to provide a more precise location for a price. When pressed he adds, "A journey into the slime and muck of the Cinderfall sewer system awaits you. What unclean foes are lurking there is anybody’s guess."
Suddenly a huge hand clamps on Kyre's shoulder. As he tries to wriggle away, a short, wide man steps before him, while well-armed underlings hold the pirate captain's companions at bay. "We're told that you have recently obtained something of... value," the mob-boss says menacingly, staring pointedly at the fragment of the dark amulet dangling from Kyre's neck. In response, the Fleetmaster kicks wildly, but is instead pushed to the ground, the ogre-heavy weight of the thug behind him driving the breath from his lungs.
The sounds of fracas come from all around him, and he sees his allies also pinned in desperate struggles of their own. He catches a flash of steel, braces for the inevitable, and when it doesn't come, he hazards a peek through squinting lids. He is surprised to see familiar fur-trimmed boots and an enormous axe scything through the air as his friend the Darkoath Champion lumbers to their aid, clearing a swathe before him with the flat of his axe! Grinning as he comes.
The unexpected reinforcements cause the villains to break and run, and the Chieftain charges after them, sparing a moment to heave the Tenebrael Shard to his feet but not so much as pausing for a greeting.
The party stares after him, shocked by the rapid turn of events, until the Mistweaver says, 'We should get out of here, and down below, before there is another attempt to thwart us. It seems we have more enemies than we knew."
***
The Chieftain returns to the shattered tavern, but the satisfied smirk on his face slips when he finds his friends gone. The few remaining patrons scatter when they see him, including the scraggle-toothed informant, but the barbarian closes the distance in three long strides and grabs the fleeing miscreant by the collar. "The pointy-ears," he growls, "where did they go?" A few short jabs to the face remind the informant of the pain to come for misinformation. "Ah! Oh! Stop!" the man cries, and points. "they... they went down t-to the sewers! Stop hitting me!" The Chieftain drops his victim in a crumpled heap and strides to the nearest sewer entrance.
He strides confidently into the mouth of a strange tunnel which has been carved out off a sewer passage. Pungent mushrooms grow along the inside of the damp cavern walls. The narrow tunnel opens into a wide cave, though it’s so low in places that he has to crouch to keep from scraping his head on the ceiling. Just up ahead he can hear the pattering of little feet on the stone. "Elves, hang on!" The chieftain bellows, charging into the dank hole. "Help is on the way!"
He charges headlong into a mob of scuttlings, swinging wildly; the skittering creatures dodge his wild swings, though one of them squeaks and flees through a small hole in the wall. The rest attack gamely, but only manage to bury a single arrow in the warrior's broad shoulder.
His eyed adjusting to the gloom, the Chieftain is better able to pick his targets, and he mows them down like so much chaff, chasing the last one into the corner and skewering it pitilessly. With a low rumble, the hole in the wall crumbles shut. The barbarian stares after it for a moment, considering his options, then shrugs and throws the sole door open.
He steps through the doorway and almost falls right over! The roughly-hewn tunnel slopes sharply downward, the stone floor slick and slippery. Ahead through the darkness he can just make out a pair of little eyes and a massive mouthful of razor sharp teeth. Some sort of monstrous squig-like creature has taken up a semi-permanent residence here. It seems that the sharply tilted slope is used as a feeding shoot for the hideous creature!
Gingerly testing his footing, the barbarian quickly determines that the slope of the passage would amount to a deathtrap for him. After a moment, he moves to the midden wall where the Scuttling fled. Yanking on an old thigh bone protruding from the mass, he is able to open up a hole large enough to force his body through.
He pushes himself through to find a small room filled with enormous mushrooms, exhaling great puffs on noxious vapor. It doesn't seem to bother the goblins, though...
Charging heedlessly, the barbarian slices and dices the scuttling guards until ichor runs down the walls. Before he can stand back to admire his handiwork, though, more Scuttling spring out from cover, brandishing ebony blades! But they soon meet the same fate as their kin.
Rummaging through the dark soil, the barbarian retrieves a tattered sack containing something shiny. Or more accurately, a large number of shiny things. The barbarian grins to himself and ties his loot to his belt.
Squaring his shoulders, the Darkoath Chieftain heaves open the exit door. A veritable swarm of scutlings, led by a Moonclan Grot, crowd the room, perched atop a great mound of pilfered purses and money-pouches. Gold glints in their green fingers, and they hiss angrily at the sight of an interloper.
Grimly, the Darkoath Chieftain hefts his weapons and charges into their midst. First one of the greenskins falls, then another, but the weight of bodies and arrows prove too much, and he eventually succumbs.
Much later, the barbarian awakens in a Cinderfall gutter, battered and bruised, purse emptied. Dejected, He hauls himself up off the ground and begins limping towards the Chapel.
