Which Way Is Up?

The three heroes are victorious. King Ruugkar, the orcish tyrant has been slain, and the Rust-Tusk Clan is disbanded. But your triumphant return to the city of Hazelthorn is taking a little longer than expected... Perhaps you've taken a wrong turn? Your footsteps echo strangely through the winding tunnels. You haven't seen an orcish banner, or familiar bloodstain in ages. You wander through the labyrinthine caves, backtracking and struggling to remember landmarks amid the homogeneous blue-grey stone tunnels. You find a passage leading slightly upwards. A long trek through it, and it dips again lower before opening into a new cavern, so vast your light sources don't reach the walls or ceiling. You'd almost believe you were outside, in a pitch black night, but the stalagmites strewn ahead convince you otherwise.

In this new chamber, you can faintly detect the scent of fresh air above the dusty smell of earth. There may be a way to the surface through here. A highroad of sorts stretches before you forking into a 'Y' shape several hundred feet ahead, the flat, worn stone illuminated faintly by your party's lights. On either side of the road lie lower valleys pockmarked with crevices and jagged rock formations.

Your calm surveillance is suddenly broken as you hear a sharp *CRACK* echo across the black expanse, and the faint rumble of a caravan being driven at a crashing pace down the road ahead. It seems to be headed toward the center fork, possibly toward your direction.

Hiath had been introduced to you by the recruitment agency during the mission briefing. The words "Take this guy with you, by the way" was seemingly all that tethered you together with the scarce-worded warrior. He was a well equipped halfling of unassuming stature, with an expression that indicated neither enthusiasm nor objection. A long hair braid in brown brought life to an otherwise plain looking appearance of this white-skinned tiny man with blue eyes and absence of facial hair. While his paralyzing modesty halted him during negotiations, an impressive looking greatsword seemed to serve well in his hands in the application of orc subjugation.

Rabican sighs heavily as he looks over the hand-drawn map stretched out between his hands. "I don't understand it. The caves were simply enough weren't they? A left here and right there and straight on to the chieftains chamber - how do I mess that up this badly? We should have stopped hours ago - tried to retrace our steps. I guess cartography yet another thing that's no longer my strong suit eh?" Sighing again he makes to neatly fold the map away, stopping only to rub his eyes from the strain of squinting out into the murky darkness before them.

Brushing a few stray hairs from his face he turns to his companions are looks ready to say something when the crack and rumbling distracts him. "Hmm. Looks like we're not alone down here at least. May be able to get some directs." He walks to the side of the path the group currently occupies and watched for the caravan as it draws closer.

Ruck listens to Rabican's words and considers what could have caused them to take a wrong turn unwillingly in these tunnels. Conflict was never one of his strong suits, despite being something of a mercenary. Ambushes were even less appreciated, so Ruck decides to try and gain a bit more understanding. He goes down to one knee and presses his gloved hands to the ground to give Puck a better feel of what's coming through his tremorsense. "So, what can you tell me about what's approaching us?" he asks Puck in his best Terran. Sure, he could have used Common and been just fine, but it always seemed best when asking favors of Puck to do so on Puck's terms, as much as possible.

~SE++

"You're right. I should go and ensure that they stop."
I start jogging towards the tumbling sound, leaving behind any question of whether I fully understand the ramifications of my statement.

Hiath jogs a bit into the darkness. The flickering light from Rabican's ioun torch illuminates him for a stretch, fading before he slips into complete shadow. The jingling sounds of his chainmail grow inaudible a few moments after he leaves the light.

The droning rumble of the caravan is disrupted by a sudden crashing sound. Distant caves drone prolonged echoes of the sounds. Straining your eyes ahead to the fork, you can see the faint outline of a small figure, most likely Hiath, and a strewn wreckage before him.

I turn around and wave.
"Um, the vehicle appears to have crashed, Sirs. I can confirm the presence of two enormous spiders and a wounded rider."

Rabican shakes his head as he moves down the path towards the cart though, upon spotting the wounded figure amid the wreckage, he breaks into a short dash. "Hiath give me a hand over here - make sure those spiders aren't about to attack while I tend the driver." Quickly scanning the wreckage for the driver Rabican moves over to them and inspects there wounds, tending to what damages he can.

Ruck watches his allies run off into the darkness and once they are out of sight, he unhitches his left glove from his sleeve and lets Puck out into the darkness. "Don't go more than a mile," he says in Terran as he reattaches his glove to his sleeve. "Find us the way out of here and return to me. Move quickly, please." Once Puck is gone, Ruck will walk up to his allies.

~SE++

Rabican's inspection shows the driver is beyond help, but was killed only moments ago. The blood on her is unclotted, and the muscles are limp. A jagged knife is sunk several inches into her upper spine. Her skin is a pale violet color, and her short cropped hair is a soft silver. She is a drow, the cruel race of subterranean dark elves.

As Hiath looks for the spiders, he sees them skittering wildly away into the distance, over the jagged stalagmites, twisted leather harnesses still hanging from their hairy bodies.

The wreckage of the caravan shows the frame was made of a pale, semiflexible wood, with a fine black silk covering, now torn to shreds by the splinters of the whiteish timber. The wagon lays on its side, its various strewn contents veiled under the freshly tattered silks.

Having inspected the woman Rabican's hand instinctively moves to his flail. Standing up he scans what little he can see of the cavern from his current vantage and calls out to the others. "On your guard men! These wounds are fresh - her killers may still be close. Keep in the light!" While he waits for the expected ambush he slowly maneuvers himself through the wreckage of the caravan, knocking back the veil to see just what the drow was carrying that would be worth killing over.

Ruck takes out a wand and summons up three Fire Beetles that will move around the group thirty feet away in a circular motion for the next seven rounds, illuminating in a ten foot radius as they circle. He'll move with Rabican and keep his eyes on the patches of moving light for any indication of things to come.

~SE++

"If such is the case, would you prefer me to deal with them in any fashion, Sir?"
I will move towards the tunnel they arrived, submerged in shadows a tiny distance away from the group. These cavedwellers are most likely attuned to the darkness, but it should still be preferred to standing in the midst of light, as well as provide me the opportunity to intercept.

The three Fire Beetles spring forth from the aether, and begin to circle the group, their pale luminescence merging with and strengthening Rabican's light. The wavering lights hold back the pressing darkness, but it appears as a wall to your straining eyes. Your instincts sharpen other senses to compensate, and the buzzing silence is all that surrounds you. If there are murderers near, they wait in perfect silence...

Rabican tears aside the silk covering, revealing an assortment of mundane goods. Shattered clay jugs of water, their contents now settled among the uneven stone floor; a brown leather trunk, the flimsy latch broken, reveals dark cloth and leather inside. Your eyes catch notice of a thin paper journal laying under a short coil of braided rope. Perhaps it holds more clues.

As the seconds tick by without incident Rabican allows himself to relax a little. Noting the journal on the floor of the cavern he moves over and picks it up, flipping idly through the pages in the hope they are in a language he can read. As he thumbs through the book he again casts a gaze towards the caravans driver. "Such senseless waste..." He attempts to recall anything he knows about the funerary rites of the drow.