Guild of Heroes
The adventuring party's footfalls echoed much too loudly for the rogue's liking. Drake, the halfling rogue, disliked Corran, the clumsy human wizard and the boisterous dwarven fighter who both claimed to be the leader of the party; they made far too much noise. The human monk, Rabid, he did not mind so much. Both moved as quietly as cats, scouting the terrain ahead. So far the terrain had proved to be nothing but miles of empty mine shaft delving ever-deeper into the earth's roots.
"Now this is where a true warrior is made" Berrant of Lockerhelm, the dwarf, boasted, "none of you silly humans or halflings would last a minute down here. Enormous purple worms! Ambushes of hobgoblins! It takes a true dwarf to fight off such monstrosities."
"And a true dwarf to attract their attention." Drake muttered under his breath.
Rabid passed him a knowing look, neither of the two warriors cared for brute strength; they both approved of a mind over matter approach.
"Let's move ahead," Rabid suggested, "They won't hear the dwarf if they're dead"
The two scouts moved faster forward, until out of earshot of the dwarf. Their feet not making a sound as they moved across the stone floor. The only sound was that of water dripping. Drake felt a clamping feeling in his stomach, a feeling that rogues get when danger is imminent.
"Quickly, in the shadows!" the halfling whispered.
After having known the rogue for a year, Rabid was used to acting on the halfling's hunches, which were often correct. He pressed his body into a crouching position, ready to spring up and fight if the need be, slowly edging back into the shadows. Their eyes scanned the darkness, trying to see the approaching enemy. Rabid gestured to Drake, and they slowly crept forward, alert and ready. Rabid's heart was beating like a jack-hammer, not even his monk training could stop the trickles of sweat he experienced when preparing for combat. Unexpectedly a giant puff of black smoke filled the mine-shaft. Rabid's reflexes saved him from being immersed completely in the cloud. He could not see how the halfling fared, but he couldn't do much to aid him until the smoke cleared. Out of the murk dove the halfling.
"Run!" Drake cried, "Darkmantles! We can't beat them without the element of surprise, We need to find the others!"
The set off quickly down the passage, Darkmantles floated closely behind, not ready to give up so rare a meal. Never had Rabid been so happy to hear the dwarf's boisterous voice.
"My uncle once slew fifty ogres with his bare hands, Our monk would probably just get stepped on by one. And another time, he fought with a full grown black dragon for fifty days, and after he- what by Moradin's hammer is that!?" he cried, finally noticing the unnatural black cloud foaming up the mine shaft in front of him.
"Darkmantles!" Drake yelled, diving for cover behind the dwarf's stout form "And lots of them."
"What the devil is a Darkmantle?" Berrant asked, trying to pry off the halfling which was now clinging to his leg.
"That!" the halfling pointed to a large black, stalagmite shaped creature hovering three feet above the mine floor. Little tentacles webbed with leathery wing-like membranes kept it aloft.
"That couldn't hurt anybody!" the dwarf shouted, drawing his urgosh, a nasty dwarven weapon meant for slashing, bludgeoning, and even stabbing.
Berrant charged at the beast, the halfling still clutching his leg, while Corran, the party's wizard, prepared a spell. Muttering strange words of the arcane, he slowly drove back the darkness created by the Darkmantles. Rabid turned on the spot, ready to face the beast with the aid of the dwarf. Bellowing a war cry the dwarf swung his urgosh through hard the skin of the first beast, neatly redirecting the stroke to fell the second as well.
"That wasn't so hard, it's like picking dais-" the dwarf's bragging was cut off as one of the Darkmantles dropped off the ceiling, slamming him hard in the head, and latching onto his face with muscular arms.
Rabid reacted with almost precognitive reflexes, his twisted his way from underneath a Darkmantle which had just dried to drop onto him, and dived towards the flailing fighter. One solid hit from the monk's palm stunned the creature long enough for the dwarf to throw it off of him. By now Drake had drawn both his kukris, exotic weapons which he had trained with, and became a whirlwind of death, hacking and stabbing using only his wrist's dexterity, rather than his arm's strength. Rabid ducked another creature and kicked it in it's soft underbelly flesh, causing it to sink to the ground. The heroes had so far faired well, sporting only small wounds, and had thinned the numbers of the Darkmantles to three. Corran cast a silence spell on of the Darkmantles, destroying it's echolocation abilities, rendering it blind. Drake dropped another one, with two kukri sized slashes drawing blood from it's tough skin. Finally Berrant dealt a crushing blow to the last one, cleaving through in an attempt to finish the last silenced one. However, the urgosh could not fell the flailing beast, which seemed bent on exacting revenge on the wizard who blinded it. It hummed towards Corran, despite the vain attempts of party members to bring it down or grab hold of it. Corran was already preparing a defensive spell, but the floating creature moved ever closer, preparing to slam it's stony bulk into the wizard's weak frame. Corran finished the last words of his spell just as the impact jarred his body. The magic missile sprouting from his fingers blasted off in a random direction, ripping into one of the tunnel support timbers. A bolt from the halfling's crossbow finally found it's mark before the Darkmantle could strike again, bringing it down with a thud. The ceiling groaned as the damaged supports began to buckle under the impact of the magic missile. Berrant knew the mine shaft could not hold up the weight of the earth above it very long.
"Quickly, up the mine while we still can!" he bellowed.
The party made a desperate dash back, hoping to get past the dust and rubble flooding in from above them. The monk knew he could make it, but would not abandon the slower halfling and the dwarf. He was paused on the threshold of this though as a large chunk of rock fell through, and thanks to his monk's sixth sense, he hurled himself out of the way.
"We'll never make it!" he yelled, "down the tunnel! Fast!"
The party dashed away from the collapsing rubble as tons of earth pressed down on the weakened structure like a giant's finger on a piece of straw. The party's torches extinguished as heavy coats of dust fell from the ceiling, and the party was plunged into darkness. The last thing to be heard before they drifted into the inky blackness of the unconscious was the bewildered voice of the dwarf.
"If we were in a dwarf mine this never would have happened!"
The adventuring party's footfalls echoed much too loudly for the rogue's liking. Drake, the halfling rogue, disliked Corran, the clumsy human wizard and the boisterous dwarven fighter who both claimed to be the leader of the party; they made far too much noise. The human monk, Rabid, he did not mind so much. Both moved as quietly as cats, scouting the terrain ahead. So far the terrain had proved to be nothing but miles of empty mine shaft delving ever-deeper into the earth's roots.
"Now this is where a true warrior is made" Berrant of Lockerhelm, the dwarf, boasted, "none of you silly humans or halflings would last a minute down here. Enormous purple worms! Ambushes of hobgoblins! It takes a true dwarf to fight off such monstrosities."
"And a true dwarf to attract their attention." Drake muttered under his breath.
Rabid passed him a knowing look, neither of the two warriors cared for brute strength; they both approved of a mind over matter approach.
"Let's move ahead," Rabid suggested, "They won't hear the dwarf if they're dead"
The two scouts moved faster forward, until out of earshot of the dwarf. Their feet not making a sound as they moved across the stone floor. The only sound was that of water dripping. Drake felt a clamping feeling in his stomach, a feeling that rogues get when danger is imminent.
"Quickly, in the shadows!" the halfling whispered.
After having known the rogue for a year, Rabid was used to acting on the halfling's hunches, which were often correct. He pressed his body into a crouching position, ready to spring up and fight if the need be, slowly edging back into the shadows. Their eyes scanned the darkness, trying to see the approaching enemy. Rabid gestured to Drake, and they slowly crept forward, alert and ready. Rabid's heart was beating like a jack-hammer, not even his monk training could stop the trickles of sweat he experienced when preparing for combat. Unexpectedly a giant puff of black smoke filled the mine-shaft. Rabid's reflexes saved him from being immersed completely in the cloud. He could not see how the halfling fared, but he couldn't do much to aid him until the smoke cleared. Out of the murk dove the halfling.
"Run!" Drake cried, "Darkmantles! We can't beat them without the element of surprise, We need to find the others!"
The set off quickly down the passage, Darkmantles floated closely behind, not ready to give up so rare a meal. Never had Rabid been so happy to hear the dwarf's boisterous voice.
"My uncle once slew fifty ogres with his bare hands, Our monk would probably just get stepped on by one. And another time, he fought with a full grown black dragon for fifty days, and after he- what by Moradin's hammer is that!?" he cried, finally noticing the unnatural black cloud foaming up the mine shaft in front of him.
"Darkmantles!" Drake yelled, diving for cover behind the dwarf's stout form "And lots of them."
"What the devil is a Darkmantle?" Berrant asked, trying to pry off the halfling which was now clinging to his leg.
"That!" the halfling pointed to a large black, stalagmite shaped creature hovering three feet above the mine floor. Little tentacles webbed with leathery wing-like membranes kept it aloft.
"That couldn't hurt anybody!" the dwarf shouted, drawing his urgosh, a nasty dwarven weapon meant for slashing, bludgeoning, and even stabbing.
Berrant charged at the beast, the halfling still clutching his leg, while Corran, the party's wizard, prepared a spell. Muttering strange words of the arcane, he slowly drove back the darkness created by the Darkmantles. Rabid turned on the spot, ready to face the beast with the aid of the dwarf. Bellowing a war cry the dwarf swung his urgosh through hard the skin of the first beast, neatly redirecting the stroke to fell the second as well.
"That wasn't so hard, it's like picking dais-" the dwarf's bragging was cut off as one of the Darkmantles dropped off the ceiling, slamming him hard in the head, and latching onto his face with muscular arms.
Rabid reacted with almost precognitive reflexes, his twisted his way from underneath a Darkmantle which had just dried to drop onto him, and dived towards the flailing fighter. One solid hit from the monk's palm stunned the creature long enough for the dwarf to throw it off of him. By now Drake had drawn both his kukris, exotic weapons which he had trained with, and became a whirlwind of death, hacking and stabbing using only his wrist's dexterity, rather than his arm's strength. Rabid ducked another creature and kicked it in it's soft underbelly flesh, causing it to sink to the ground. The heroes had so far faired well, sporting only small wounds, and had thinned the numbers of the Darkmantles to three. Corran cast a silence spell on of the Darkmantles, destroying it's echolocation abilities, rendering it blind. Drake dropped another one, with two kukri sized slashes drawing blood from it's tough skin. Finally Berrant dealt a crushing blow to the last one, cleaving through in an attempt to finish the last silenced one. However, the urgosh could not fell the flailing beast, which seemed bent on exacting revenge on the wizard who blinded it. It hummed towards Corran, despite the vain attempts of party members to bring it down or grab hold of it. Corran was already preparing a defensive spell, but the floating creature moved ever closer, preparing to slam it's stony bulk into the wizard's weak frame. Corran finished the last words of his spell just as the impact jarred his body. The magic missile sprouting from his fingers blasted off in a random direction, ripping into one of the tunnel support timbers. A bolt from the halfling's crossbow finally found it's mark before the Darkmantle could strike again, bringing it down with a thud. The ceiling groaned as the damaged supports began to buckle under the impact of the magic missile. Berrant knew the mine shaft could not hold up the weight of the earth above it very long.
"Quickly, up the mine while we still can!" he bellowed.
The party made a desperate dash back, hoping to get past the dust and rubble flooding in from above them. The monk knew he could make it, but would not abandon the slower halfling and the dwarf. He was paused on the threshold of this though as a large chunk of rock fell through, and thanks to his monk's sixth sense, he hurled himself out of the way.
"We'll never make it!" he yelled, "down the tunnel! Fast!"
The party dashed away from the collapsing rubble as tons of earth pressed down on the weakened structure like a giant's finger on a piece of straw. The party's torches extinguished as heavy coats of dust fell from the ceiling, and the party was plunged into darkness. The last thing to be heard before they drifted into the inky blackness of the unconscious was the bewildered voice of the dwarf.
"If we were in a dwarf mine this never would have happened!"