Exploring Fort Skulnar

An accounting by Arian.

Arian took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. She wasn’t sure if this was what Jaroo had sent her for, but she finally felt, for the first time, that some progress had been made. They had set out to do something—and they had done it. Well, at least partly. They had come looking for bandits, not orcs, but certainly they had managed to clean out a nest of proverbial vipers. Fort Skulnar would take some serious cleaning before the stink of its previous inhabitants could be washed away.

At least the brutish orcs had left behind a decent amount of supplies: barrels of wine & beer (Greeba had already been eying those, as had Wisteria and Gorlock), boxes of salted meats and fish, even bolts of cloth. They hadn’t even finished exploring yet and there might be more to find.

 

“Shall we explore the rest?” asked Arian. “Perhaps…together?” Their luck had, until only very recently, been very bad. It seemed prudent to stick together. She had heard too many tales of adventures gone awry when this simple rule wasn’t followed.

 

“Good idea,” said Greeba, and promptly kicked open the nearest door.

 

A wolf, likely from the same pack that had been used as guards, cowered in the kitchen, head and tail hanging low. The room had seen better days, but they had been long ago. A large soot-stained fireplace dominated one wall. Toppled tables were surrounded by broken crockery and rusted utensils. There was nothing that had been spared the ravages of time or abuse, including the frightened wolf.

 

Arian rushed into the room behind Greeba. There had already been enough death for one day. The half-orc seemed to agree.

 

“Don’t be afraid, good wolfie,” she cooed.

 

As if by common agreement, the berserker and the druid both tossed bits of meat to the wolf at the same time. Arian spoke to him in a low soothing voice, taking care to not move to fast. It would be best if she could get him to trust her. The wolf looked doubtful for a moment but then his hunger took over and he bent his head to the meat.

 

Arian slowly approached, keeping her hands where the wolf could see them. It flattened its ears in a sign of submission, perhaps smelling that she was the Great White Wolf he had seen earlier.

 

She smiled. It was going to be okay. She gently scratched behind his ears, because all wolves itched there. She knew it from experience. “I’ll call you Shaggy,” she said. He licked her hand and then finished gulping down the meat.

 

“Mayhap we shouldn’t kick any more doors down, at least not before I see if I can sense if any more evil is about,” said Thibault from the door.

 

“Very well,” said Greeba.

 

The paladin closed his eyes for a moment, channelling whatever energies he needed to get a sense of what lay around them. “There is no good nor ill within range. Well, that is, except for Tiffany.” He flicked off a bit of imaginary dust. “Ah, the divine sense is useless here if the foes are under total cover.”

 

“Can Tiffany scout ahead for us?” asked Greeba.

 

“Only if someone can open the doors for her first,” said Gorlock. “You’re the only one man enough for that, Greeba.”

 

The half-orc sighed and went on to the next door. It was swollen with rot and damp, but she was able to force it open. It opened into what must have been some type of pantry. Sagging shelves started at waist height and reached almost to the ceiling. Dust, cobwebs, and rotting mouldy food covered the shelves. It had been left for so long that mushrooms were growing along the floor.

 

Arian took a peek, letting in a bit of light. The mushrooms looked to be the only salvageable foodstuff in the room. A sudden scurrying and a flash of whiskers – “Shaggy! Do you like rats?”

 

Needing no more encouragement or perhaps because he was still hungry, the wolf charged into the room to attack the giant rat. He pinned it to the floor, but not before it managed to get in a bite of its own and draw blood. Thibault rushed in and finished off the filthy rat with a good blow.

 

“It’s just a rat. Calm down,” said Eamon.

 

“Good boy, Shaggy.” Arian gave the wolf a pat and another morsel of dried rabbit jerky. Even though he had been wounded, it had been a good training opportunity.

 

“I don’t like rats!” said Greeba, thinking back to earlier days when the rats had nearly proved too much for them.

 

They moved on to the next door. Inside was more debris—smashed and broken barrels and the remains of some unfortunate soul.

 

“Shaggy, we shall cleanse this place. If you see any more foul creatures like that rat, let me know.” She gave him another pat. “There are treats galore in it for you.”

 

Thibault examined the skeleton. Man-sized, it lay on what remained of its mouldering leather armour. The skull was half-shattered.

 

Arian looked over his shoulder at the sad scene. “We should bury them properly before we leave.”

 

Wisteria took a peek over her shoulder. The man had long been dead. She couldn’t sense any lingering spirit. Or, if there was one, it was being quiet.

 

“Did you hear that?” asked Greeba, motioning to the door to the west. “Scampering? What could it be? More rats?”

 

“Several, by the sound of it,” said Arian, cocking her head to listen.

 

“Shall we go for it, Greeba?” asked Thibault.

 

“Surely,” she said, tigheting her grip on her Warhammer.

 

“Shaggy, with me,” said Arian. “You’re wounded already.” It would do them no good to lose a new friend so quickly.

 

Greeba and Thibault burst through the door and into the room together. The small chamber was mostly empty, save for two sagging and rotting beds against one wall. A pile of rotting debris had been piled up and around them, as if someone had just shoved everything there to get it out of the way. A glint or two from the rotting mess held hints that something worthwhile might be hidden inside. Beady eyes glinted back at them. An entire mischief of rats.

 

Everyone else rushed forward as well, including Elia. “Touch of the Grave!” she thundered, the words coming out beyond all proportion what one would expect from such a slight girl. A ghostly skeletal hand appeared and lunged for one of the rats, but missed. Arian cast infestation on the same one, but it dodged. Lucky rat!

 

She moved out of the way so someone else could have a try. Xarius swept up, his cape flying, and fingertips flaming with a firebolt. Swish-zow! The rat exploded. Bits of toasted rat splattered Greeba and Thibault.

 

Rather than scaring the rest of the rats away, the death of one seemed to anger them. Three rats leapt for the paladin at the same time and managed to inflict some damage even though his armour.

 

Gorlock cast Sacred Flame, causing one of the rats to squeal in pain.

 

Wisteria took one look at Thibault, covered in scratches, and cast Cure Wounds upon him. The paladin smiled, feeling as good as new. “Thank you, Dame Wisteria!”

 

She laughed. “No worries! You owe me a carafe when we’re next at a pub!”

 

“With pleasure!” he said, skewering a rat. Eamon joined him, punching at one of the giant rats, his fists pummelling its side. Arian joined in a Frostbite cantrip, hoping this time she would hit her mark. The rat squeaked, its fur suddenly white with frost.

 

Realising it was the last one standing, the rat turned and scurried through a narrow rathole in the wall.

 

“Scaredy-rat!” Arian called after it. No matter, they would get it sooner or later, and then she’d turn it all into rat jerky for Shaggy.

 

Meanwhile, Sirondar had wandered off on his own. “There’s some stairs and soot over here, hm,” he called.

 

“And possibly some shiny things in all this muck,” said Thibault, using his heel to dig into the rotting mess.

 

“Ah, let me see,” said Elia, digging around and not even minding the smell of the rat’s warren. She pulled out a black velvet pouch, jingling with a bit of coin.

 

“There’s another door over here, too,” said Arian, opening it to reveal a narrow room full of dusty but empty weapon racks. The only thing on them were layers and layers of cobwebs and dozens upon dozens of small spiders. She didn’t recognise them, but she didn’t like the look of them either. “Spiders...lots of them. Mayhap we should leave this room for a good cleaning later.” She shut the door again.

 

Greeba had gone on to another room. This one had been a bed chamber, the only light coming from a high slit window. An open copper birdcage lay upon the floor. Bent, but still salvageable.

 

So many rooms! “Perhaps we should see if we can officially take over this place - it has good bones and many possibilities,” said Arian. They had discussed it a little earlier; there were many political implications but it would be nice to have a place to call home.

 

She went on to the next door and opened it to more brokenness. Ruined chairs, a table missing a leg, the remains of a bed frame, scraps of cloth. “The orcs certainly didn't do any housekeeping.” If they did stay, it was going to take a lot of work. She poked around, pleasantly surprised when she uncovered a worn quiver holding four masterwork arrows fletched with pure black feathers. Maybe it was good that the orcs hadn’t bothered cleaning up.

 

Shaggy, following behind, growled at one of the unopened doors. Once opened, a rat charged forward but didn’t make it far. Gorlock caught it with an eldritch blast and it exploded. Another rat burrowed deeper into the debris and disappeared.

 

Another room full of rotting furniture and smelly bedrolls. Perhaps where the pig orcs had slept. It certainly smelt of them. They turned to go when Arian spotted a suspiciously loose flagstone. Underneath was a small mouldy pouch containing some coin. Not a massive treasure, but every bit helped.

 

Sirondar cleared his throat. “Er…still…there’s a small door here as well…”

 

“What, is it for dwarves?” asked Greeba.

 

“Or wolves?” asked Arian.

 

“And the stairs here go down a long way…hmmm.”

 

Greeba joined Sirondar and looked at the wee door. It was big enough to go through, just a bit narrow. She shoved at it. It juddered but then gave way to a small room. Inside, a strange reptile-thing hissed at them.

 

“Oho!” said Greeba. “Hello tweety!”

 

Arian joined her, slipping through the narrow door into the now crowded room. It was a drakeling, probably a cave dwelling one – still small, just a baby. She made some clicking noises in the back of her throat and it calmed down.

 

Greeba offered it a drumstick from one of her many pockets, making Arian wonder exactly how much food she had hidden about her person. Perhaps the stories she had heard about orcish appetites were true. She was definitely learning a lot from her companions.

 

“It’s a wee little baby!” Arian called out to the others still outside the room.

 

“Hm, where’s mama then,” asked Gorlock, peeking in the door.

 

 Arian noticed a smashed vase with a bit of cloth tucked inside it. She used the end of her staff to poke at it. A gemmed dagger of black steel rolled out of the mouldy cloth. It glimmered darkly.

 

“Ooh, I’ve found something,” she said, holding it up. “But I’m not sure if I should touch it. It’s pretty, but in a dark and terrifying way.”

 

Greeba’s eyes gleamed, seeming to reflect the dark shimmer of the dagger. Dark green malachites decorated the hilt of the slim straight blade.

 

“Maybe Wisteria can tell us?” asked the half-orc. Something about it seemed holy…or perhaps unholy. “Or Thibault?”

 

While they came forward to inspect it, Arian took out a waterskin and a bowl and filled it for the drakeling. It seemed thirsty and hungry. The drumstick Greeba had given it was already gone.

 

Thibault’s eyes lit up when he saw the dagger. “Ah,” he said, “ I have seen such things in books! It’s a cold enchanted dagger made to kill the demons of Narfell.”

 

“Yes, and it is pretty for sure,” agreed Wisteria. “And tempting!”

 

“And yours, then,” said Thibault, picking it up and handing it to her. “It looks like something you could put to good use.”

 

Just then, Tiffany returned. Gorlock had sent her off to search any places she could get to without having to open doors. “Hi Gorlock! I searched the tower - no monsters, just blood and some supplies upstairs.”

 

“Blood?” asked Wisteria.

 

“A blood smear across the ground yes. And it smelt of wolf!”

 

“Hm, good job, Tiff. Can you fly down these stairs next?”

 

“You want me to fly down those stairs?” The sprite sounded a little doubtful, but dutifully went down, only to return just a few moments later. “I couldn't see anything! It's too dark!” Her sparkly skin flushed. “Sorry!”

 

“I can see well in such dark places,” said Greeba. “I’ll go. So long as it isn’t a magical darkness you’re talking of.”

 

“It’s just really dark! I could hear running water…”

 

Sirondar looked concerned. “I shall stay upstairs then? I cannot see in the dark, friends.”

 

“Shaggy can stay with you.” Arian bent down to the wolf and gave him a scratch under the chin. “Shaggy, can you stay here unless I whistle?” Surprisingly, it seemed the orcs had at least done some rudimentary training. The wolf sat in obvious obeyance of the command.

 

Eamon pulled out some goggles he had been given at the monastery and put them on. They made his eyes appear huge. “I’m ready,” he said.

 

They descended the steps, leaving Sirondar and Tiffany near the stairs where there was some dim light.

 

“This feels quite large,” Arian whispered.

 

A lone fire beetle lit up a small area. There were mushrooms and fungus growing all around. As Tiffany had said, there was the sound or running water to the east.

 

They crept forwards, listening for any other sounds. Arian found herself next to Elia. “Elia, did you hear them talk of this place at all?”

 

“Hm…yeah…”

 

“And what did you hear?”

 

“Velzz said there was an escape route down here if anyone stormed the fort. And he'd take me with him if that happened…”

 

Arian wondered again at what relationship exactly Elia had had with the half-orc and how she had come to be his captive.

 

“…and feed me to the giant bats.”

 

“He…wasn't very…nice. Sometime, you will have to tell us how you wound up with him.”

 

“Sometime…” Elia said quietly.

 

They had reached some water. A waterfall sounded close by. It looked to be three feet deep by the edge. Thibault saw the flicker of white cave fish as they swam by.

 

Across the other side of the rushing water was the flicker of another cave beetle. A small rocky outcropping was in the middle of the stream. It looked just big enough for two to stand upon; three if they were very close and everyone had brushed their teeth.

 

Thibault pulled out a rope and handed an end to Greeba. He carefully crossed through the water to the middle. The water, at its deepest point, came up to his shoulders. Greeba passed the rope to Eamon and joined Thibault. They repeated the process again, with Thibault carefully passing all the way across.

 

As soon as he had reached the other shore, a large drake suddenly rushed out of the darkness at him and leapt upon Thibault with razor sharp fangs and claws. It had the same colouring as the baby drakeling they had discovered earlier.

 

“Sirondar!” yelled Arian as loudly as she could, “bring the baby down -- RIGHT NOW!” There was no vengeance like a mother separated from her cub. She cast Healing Word on Thibault, who looked shaken from the attack, as well he might.

 

“You have a strong voice, Arian! Impressive for an elf!” said Greeba.

 

Knowing it was probably useless, but hopeful just the same, Arian addressed the drake. “Please calm down, mother, we found your baby.”

 

Gorlock directed Tiffany to lend Thibault some help as well, and the paladin’s wounds closed up as the sprite touched him.

 

“Thank you, lovely celestial!” he said, always the gentleman, even when his life was in danger.

 

“It was Gorlock, really!” smiled Tiffany.

 

Eamon pulled out his longbow and readied it, not wanting to attack a mother who was probably looking for her lost child, but willing to do so if needs must. Xarius did the same, readying his magic missile spell, but holding them in so that the glowy missiles simply swirled above his raised palm, ready to be released.

 

Meanwhile, Sirondar had rushed up the steps as soon as he heard Arian yell. He managed to grab the drakeling and bring it down the stairs with him—but he was still across the cavern. He had also grabbed a lit torch, the flames illuminating a round bubble of light around him. “We're coming! It's bloody dark down here!” yelled the knight, hoping they could hear him.

 

“We can guide Sirondar,” said Elia, and sprinted back the way they had come.

 

“Baby drakeling, if you can hear me, come say hello to your mum!" Arian tried to keep her voice steady and non-threatening. She was loathe to kill a creature that was likely looking for its young, but she would attack if she had to.

 

“Get ready to retreat quickly in case it turns sour with the Drake,” said Thibault.

 

And sour it did seem. The drake plunged into the water after the paladin and lunged at him.

 

“Hold on, Thib!” cried Greeba.

 

He nodded grimly and cast some healing upon himself. He was determined to stand fast so that the drake could not reach his companions.

 

“Run, Sirondar, run!!” shouted Arian. Would they be able to convince the drake? Could they reason with it? Or was it just a dumb beast who would attack them no matter what? She racked her brain for anything she could recall of the creatures and tried to pull some meaning from its frenzied lunges. She could not detect even the glimmer of understanding from its eyes. It had seen them holding back, but still it attacked. There was nothing for it. Maybe it would stop when Sirondar appeared with the drakeling, but maybe it wouldn’t. But would Thibault be able to hold out that long?

 

With a sigh of resignation, Arian cast Moonbeam upon the creature. Shining moonlight beamed down upon its dull scales like ghostly flames, lighting them up like gemstones. If it stayed put, it would feel their burn.

 

Eamon, having come to the same realisation, shot at the drake. His arrow struck true, followed soon thereafter by four magic missiles from Xarius. The flames of the moonbeam spell burned the drake’s skin and dazzled its eyes, unused to any light. It shook its head and drew back, splashing out of the water and back into the darkness.

 

Sirondar came running up, the baby drakeling following after him happily. It seemed at home in the caves.

 

“I brought the baby! So, what now?” asked Sirondar, huffing from his exertion.

 

The warlock was in a foul mood. “We could gut it and leave the entrails.”

 

They all turned to him, aghast.

 

“Or I could gut you with my new dagger and leave entrails for the baby drake to eat,” said Wisteria.

 

“I am sure Gorlock was joking,” said Thibault.

 

“One would hope,” said Greeba, trying to pet the baby. It snapped at her good naturedly. They all stared at it. It did look at home and happier than it had appeared aboveground.

 

“Maybe we should leave it here for the mother to find?”

 

“I’ll try taking it closer to the shore and get it to call for its mother. Perhaps…you should all move away. Just in case.” Arian convinced the drakeling to go with her and prodded it gently until it made a shrill trilling sound like a baby bird. A very large baby bird. There was an answering, but much louder, trill from the other side of the water, where the darkness was deepest.

 

The drakeling plunged into the water and swam across.

 

“Tell your mummy that we fed you!” called Arian after it, knowing it wouldn’t understand but hopeful that it would, at least, remember their kindness. They caught a glimpse of it – and three others the same size! – reuniting with his mother before they all disappeared further into the caves.

 

“Hmmmm,” said Thibault, “We need to barricade the cellar door so that none of these little bundles of joy comes back again to the Fort.”

 

Meanwhile, Gorlock, unwilling to be surprised by anything else the caves might hold, sent Tiffany on a scouting mission. She returned with news, none of it particularly good. Giants bats up the river cave, and giant apes of some kind as well, who seemed to be guarding something. And a mess of old goblin bones at an abandoned camp.

 

Nearer where the stairs were, they also found a pair of winged statues, possibly Damaran, likely from when the Fort was first built. Gorlock stopped in surprise when he saw them. One of them looked very like his pact Mistress.

 

“I do have a feeling we may have stumbled upon the site of an ancient temple,” said Wisteria.

 

“And we need a long rest before we do any more exploring,” said Greeba.

 

“Shall we just block off the stairs for now?”

 

They all agreed upon the plan as the most prudent course of action. They were tired. They all needed a rest and there was already much to busy themselves with just cleaning out the spaces they had already uncovered above ground.  

But, of course, nothing ever quite goes to plan.