Awakening with a smile, we set out to take care of the day’s
adventures, folding and packing our equipment neatly, performing our ablutions,
praying, meditating and breaking our fast, (my darling husband is still shaking
his head at the bitter black liquid I swallow by the gallons every morning, or,
at least every morning when opportunity avails itself! He prefers the more
common drink of tea, although common may be a bit of a misnomer; we happen to
have procured a large amount of it during our year of restoring and guarding
the town from a merchant who had the audacity to infer we were not an honest
merchant town! Alma set him straight and his wares were forfeit as a penalty,
of which the town’s store took half and we scooped the remaining half in
payment; donating two weeks salary to the town coffers in order that we not
feel like thieves ourselves! I tease him I drink it to cleanse my palate after
my morning appetisers...)
Anyway, after packing up, we retreated back to the
hot-hell-hole we found, squeezed our way through the narrow passage discovering
a hewn shaft, rising in the corner some thirty feet straight up. With the
skills of an acrobat, my dear husband climbed the shaft with little difficulty
at all! (I’m sure he was showing off for me, the adorable goof!) Once up, he
firmed an anchor and tossed the rope down that we might all climb.
Remembering my last trip climbing, I held my breath as I
ascended the vertical shoot, surprising myself when I emerged at the top
without a scratch or broken bone! Hugging Kiril tightly, he kissed me in
congratulation; I know he was probably more nervous than I as I clung to the
rope.
Now, with the party at the top, we find ourselves in a small
room, maybe fifteen feet round? There are three corridors, or tunnels that
leave this room and it is much cooler up here!
Kiril starts down one path and we wait in the junction, for
his report or ready to aid if he calls.
Returning he quietly informs us the first tunnel ends in a room
with a sarcophagus, dull and empty. He moves down the next, and, returning he
whispers there are two large Gnolls guarding, or what appear to be guarding,
five or six collared slaves on leashes or something, affixed to the stone-wall.
Connie, immediately upon hearing that there are Gnolls,
ignores all other comments and, loudly clanging in her suit of armour, she
charges down the hall and burst into the room, axe high, ‘Lee-Roy Jenkins,’ she
shouts, baffling both the Gnolls and us, her companions. We exasperatedly
charge after her, a smile playing my lips, knowing my husband is frustrated,
but admiring Connie’s zeal!
A tight battle fought insides the confines of yet another
hewn room, taking care not to harm those huddling in the corner. At the first
opportune time I skid to a halt on my knees in front of the slaves and hug a
female. “Why are you here?” (Or some such inane banter, I don’t recall
implicitly – we were in a battle, remember?)
One of the Gnolls held a blade to one of the slave’s
throats. My husband didn’t hesitate and dispatched the Gnoll without a scratch
to the collared person in his arms. Val (still having trouble with his name; I
miss Valeros), however, simply by his proximity, became fodder for the
remaining Gnoll. He injured Val quite badly, requiring the healing skills of
Connie, who fortunately was standing right beside him.
Knocked to the floor, beaten and bleeding profusely, the Gnoll
holds his two hands up, dropping his scimitar in surrender. Connie coldly
kicked the weapon back to him and, in a low voice demanded, “Pick. It. Up.”
Val, speaking fast, calmed her enough to speak to the
treacherous Gnoll, although, when he stood and was asked to whom his loyalty lie,
his answer, “The Carrion King!” brought a comment breathed from our lips, ‘wrong
answer’ - which should have warned him as Connie’s blade flashed and removed his
head with a grunt.
Turning my body from the gore, (no matter how many times I
witness, or cause, that, I still can’t stomach the sight,) I hug the horror
stricken female in front of me.
We learned much from these human slaves, as I free them from
their bonds using a sharp tool called a kama which Val tossed to me, enabling me to. They begged to go
to their friends who had an underground movement destroying the ranks of the Carrion King from the
inside; how could we refuse? We gave them some water, let them take the Gnoll‘s
weapons and sent them on their way, with a promise to help them and securing
the same in return.
Backtracking we rambled down the southern corridor, this
time, unusually, I was behind Kiril, and not Connie, as normal – I’m glad I
was! As we rounded a corner an intersection, a pile of trash and a cloud
of stench stood barely concealing our presence from a huge Gnoll, who, blade
dripping fresh blood was lumbering our direction.
“Get out of the way, Verno! (husband)” I whispered frightened,
raising my arms and flinging them forward, the words mere murmurs as a globe of
fire exploded in front of the astonished creature; I’m not sure if he knew we
were there or not! I immediately set to charge to the back and allow my
husband, Val and Connie to dispatch this creature, Kiril shouting sternly at
me, “Mage Armour!”
Before either of us could do anything (and a testament to
the creature’s fortitude and will, or just plain cussedness...) he hauled me
into melee and a grapple, which, fortunately, as I am lithe and agile, (qualities
my husband enjoys,) and escaped his clutches relatively unscathed. He, however,
was not so fortunate and our party dispatched him to his hell, our blades, and
sweat, dripping.
Kiril, twice in a span of a few minutes, having been scared
for my safety hustled to my side, hugging me fiercely, while Connie and Val
searched the body and the pile of trash that I didn’t incinerate...
A quick kiss and tight hug, reassures Kiril I am okay, and
we turn to Connie and Val, who are relieving the Gnoll of a mountain of gold he is, err, was, inexplicably carrying.
o0o
