Ignoring the doors behind which we could hear things groaning, we decided to try our hand at the chittering doors instead.  Understandably, they contained spiders – big ones, with legs the length of my entire body.  There were five chittering doors, and we had successfully investigated three of them; two had webbing so thick over the walls and assorted crates scattered on the floor that we had no choice but to go in and look around for telltale grates or trapdoors, and the other door we had promptly opened and closed for the single reason that there was nothing other than a pair of spiders in the room and clearly nothing else of interest. 

"Do you really think the guy Mutanim let into the Challenge this morning was one of Callik's men?"  I asked as Dil slapped his hand on the door before us in a vain attempt to excite the spiders inside so that we could get a relative head count.

"I don't know, but I'd rather not take any chances."  The half-elf replied, frowning at the heavy door and critically listening to the chittering on the other side, "We haven't come across the guy yet, so that could give you an indication."  He added.

I nodded and was about to ask how he knew that the guy hadn't been one of the dead men we had already found, but then I remembered what had sparked this entire escapade: the guy Mutanim let in had been wearing red, the token color of Callik's men and the ex-uniform of Vengual's.  You'd think they'd all agree to wear black…red is so flashy for a group of thieves…

"Okay, there's only one spider in here."  Dil declared, unsheathing his sword and turning to look at me.  He raised an eyebrow and I chuckled, "What?"  He snapped.

I cleared my throat, "So how are you aiding the welfare of NeverWinter, Malkat?"  I joked in my best Aribeth voice, "Oh…killing spiders in a tavern basement.  You?"  I replied as myself and chuckled again.

Dil tried to keep a straight face then broke down and smiled, "It's best not to think about it."  He chuckled in dismissal.  He turned back to the door and tugged on the handle.  I raised my crossbow to shoulder-level and waited.

The door creaked open to reveal another heavily-webbed room that smelt of must.  The light from the torches in the corridor shone into the room and offered a peculiar sight:  as Dil had aptly estimated, there was indeed only one moving spider inside, but all over the floor lay the motionless forms of other spiders of assorted size.  They didn't look to have been harmed…they were just sitting there like ornaments on the walls, over old crates, scattered over the floor. 

Dil dashed into the room and I fired; the bolt buried itself in the large, grayish spider's leg – which was as thick as my arm –  and it shrieked as a small nova of ice formed around the circumference of the embedded missile.  I looked around suspiciously, positive that the other quiet spiders would spring to life suddenly.  But they didn't.  Good…we'd worry about them later.

Dil weaved over and around the crates on the ground like a gazelle, veering unerringly for the angry spider.  The creature hissed at the sight and reared-back, kicking wildly with its free legs in hopes of warding off its attacker.  It was at this point that Dil appeared to hesitate, his back turned to me, before bending to one side and flinging his free arm thrice.  It took me a moment to notice the hilts of three throwing knives, the light finally reflecting off of their polished surfaces, buried within the spider's abdomen.  Dil had knives?  Where? 

The spider shrieked again and fell onto its back.  Dil disappeared from my sight behind some crates as he followed the arachnid to the ground.  I saw a blade flash in the blink of an eye and then the half-elf reappeared, brushing himself off.

"Where'd the knives come from?"  I called out to him, my eyes still scanning the motionless spiders that continued to stand in silent vigil.  They were seriously creeping me out.  What was the matter with them?  Were they real?

Dil's eyes widened and he ducked back out of sight.  He popped back up again a moment later and sheathed his sword, "None of your business."  He replied pertly.  As he stepped over the dead spider and carefully made his way back to the door, he stopped behind a pile of dinner plate-size spider-sprinkled crates, "Come here."  He called to me, once again hidden from view.

I re-strapped my crossbow, "Oooh, oh…yes, master."  I replied cynically and picked my way over to the stack of crates a few feet away. 

When I reached Dil, he was crouched down in front of a weathered-looking trap door which he had pulled open to reveal a narrow steel ladder below, "No more spider killing for us!  Look what I found!"  He gasped triumphantly.

I crouched down opposite him, frowning at an inanimate spider the size of my fist clinging to the crate near my face, and peered down into the trap door.  It smelt like rot and old water – which backed the theory that this was the elusive entrance to the sewers that we had been searching for.  I turned a fake smile up at Dil and motioned to the ladder below, "After you."  I beckoned.

 The smell was worse at the bottom of the ladder.  We cautiously set foot on ground that was wet with sewage water, the thin brownish film like saliva in texture.  Before us sprawled a large area with a low, vaulted ceiling; a long trench in the middle of the floor guided rancid sewage water into a half-dozen pools that were interconnected by small stone bridges.   Crossing the bridges and weaving one's way over the central trench was the only way to reach the back of the room, where the trench gave way to the regular sewer construct – a murky green canal leading further off into the underground.

As I stepped down from the ladder, Dil squeezed my arm.  I looked over at him and he raised a finger to his lips, his eyes wide.  I looked around the room and saw what had alerted him: at the other end of the room, three men mulled about, idly conversing.  They wore red. 

Unfortunately, there was nowhere for Dil and I to hide, and the men took no time in noticing their two new guests.

One of the men cried out and pointed, alerting the two others, before dashing towards the first bridge in the maze that would lead him to our position.  The two other men promptly began shooting arrows.

"Follow me!"  Dil cried and tore off to one side, he too making his way over to the nearest bridge.

An arrow zipped by my face and I hurried after him, my eyes on the ground at my feet; the floor was wet, and I was not the most sure-footed thing on earth.  We darted straight for the oncoming man-in-red, meeting him on a section of floor between bridges approximately half-way through the room.

Dil and the attacker dove for each other at once, the slender rapier kissing a wicked-edged scimitar, the ring loud in the hallow sewers.  Their footing occasionally slipped on the slick floor; what I assumed to be Callik's crony tried incessantly to get Dil to turn his back to the archers at the back of the room, but Dil knew his ruse and nimbly countered his efforts.

I quite literally hid behind the pair and launched a volley of magic missiles at one of the archers beyond.  The purplish darts of light arched around the engaged swordsmen and drew together again, each assaulting its target in rapid succession.  The archer staggered back a few steps and reeled from the blows.

Before me, the man in red cried out as Dil's fist connected with his nose, effectively breaking it with an audible crunch; Callik's henchman slipped with the impact and fell onto his backside.  The two men had gravitated their fight to the edge of the nearest sewage pool, and my companion had just managed to get himself out of the vulnerable position.  Dil eagerly scrambled away from the slick, precipitous edge and spun his sword before moving towards his downed opponent.

The archers in the back, encouraged by the clear shot at Dil and I that they now had, plucked their bows full-tilt.  I immediately began chanting the words to a chain lightning spell, trying my best not to be distracted by the plinking of arrows missing their target. 

Dil fell upon his opponent like a rabid dog, smashing the man back to the ground just as he attempted to haul himself to his feet.  Hands ever quick, the rogue pushed the other man's head back and neatly slit his throat. 

An arrow grazed my neck; it felt like the blade of a very fine knife.  I stopped chanting and grasped my neck, ducking down to one side, gawking.  My heart was beating at a mile an hour as my fingers scraped the torn flesh right beneath my jaw.  The cut was not a deep one, thankfully, but it burned like a son a bitch.  I looked up to see Dil cast a furtive glance in my direction before he took off running for the nearest bridge, heading in the direction of the archers at the back. 

As the half-elf ran, he diverted the attention of the offending archers and I took the opportunity to pull off a lengthier spell.  As I chanted I couldn't help but notice the warm wetness that slowly trickled down into the collar of my robes; the sting of my wound was almost acidic in its intensity.  Nevertheless, I managed to complete my incantation and I triumphantly extended a finger to point ominously at one of the archers in the distance.  I muttered a single word and the man in question dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Dil reached the other end of the room just as the remaining archer realized that he no longer had any arrows left.  The look on his face was priceless, I assure you, when Dil tore after him.  The man held up his bow in an attempt to deflect whatever attack Dil could muster, but the wooden shaft was quickly taken out of the equation after a swift, simple sword maneuver on Dil's part.  For the second time in only a few moments, the half-elf drove his fist into another man's face; he swept his foot out beneath him after the impact and the last archer crumbled to the ground.

From the center of the room, I watched curiously as Dil brought the tip of his sword down against his opponent's throat and rested a foot on the man's chest.  I weaved my way over to them.

"Callik is down here, yes?  Where is he?!"  Dil asked the prone man.  I stepped up behind him and peered down at the hostage.

The man at sword's point sneered, "What's this?"  He asked, eyeing both my companion and I. 

Dil's eyes hardened, "I asked you a question!"  He snapped, nicking the man's throat.

The archer swallowed, holding Dil's gaze challengingly, "What's it to you?"  He spat, spittle flying onto the blade inches from his face.

"You see,"  Dil almost purred, leaning forward so that his sword traced a thin red line across the other man's throat, "I know you guys have Vengual stashed away down here and I don't happen to find that very amusing.  I am one of Vengual's lads.  The good guys."  He winked, though his voice remained chilling, "And we both know that the good guys always win, right?  So if I find Callik down here, I am going to eviscerate him."  He grinned, "And you, my friend, are going to lead me to him."

The man on the ground made a disgraceful sound, "You bargain with a man that has nothing to bargain with, jackass."  He snarled, "I'd rather die right now than help someone who's blind enough to support an old fool who's ego has eroded his judgment!"  He leaned his head back, fully exposing his throat in an invitation to death.

My eyes snapped over to Dil.  Oh my…that comment wasn't going to go over well. 

The rogue's eyes remained hard as stone as he stared down at his hostage; when he spoke, his voice was like ice, "We'll see who's blind."  He hissed and finished off the archer with a flick of his wrist.  He walked over to the edge of the room, where the trench ended and the real sewers began, and peered down.

I made a face, "I'm not swimming, Dil."  I voiced at length.

"There's a boat here, relax Kat."  The half-elf replied without turning; his voice had returned to normal.  He dropped down to one knee and started reaching for the side of the boat, which was quite hidden from my view.

I stepped over the dead archer and moved to join Dil.  Looking over the edge of the trench, I saw the boat in question; it was something of a rowboat, quite beat-up and with only one oar that was as long as a lance.  It was a small jump to the inside of the craft, and I briefly wondered how the men in red had managed to get out of the boat and onto floor-level.

"Are you alright?"  Dil asked, pulling me from my observations.  He pointed to my neck.

I nodded down at him and motioned to the boat, "Yes yes."  I urged, "Let's just get moving."