GM

Hrud leads the way through the portal with weapons drawn, expecting an ambush, but keeping his eyes mostly on the ground. Despite the hardness of the stone floor, he can easily make out a few muddy footprints, mostly kobold, but a few larger reptilian clawmarks and some bootprints, all old and all heading, more or less, from the curtained passage ahead to the door behind him. He also spots a few dried bloodstains on the floor near the center of the room, beneath where the ropes are hanging.

Even through the dimension door, Donovan and Winona’s psionically heightened hearing picks up the sounds of numerous kobolds coming from above Hrud.

Donovan/Winona/Ryesha

Donovan grabs his largest crossbow off his back and rushes through the portal, scanning the ceiling for possible murder-holes. «Frantiska,» he calls back in elvish, «please inform our barbarous friend that there are numerous kobolds above him and he should expect unpleasant things to start falling on his head soon.»

Winona, apparently noticing the same thing but not understanding what Donovan is saying, turns to Lyra and the others. “Kobolds in the ceiling,” she says plainly.

Ryesha lets out a plaintive squeak, then tugs on Winona’s sleeve and whispers, “Up those ropes maybe?”

Frantiska

Frantiska steps through the dimension door behind Donovan, “Hrud, anjing wajah di langit-langit.” She turns her bow upwards and gestures with her eyes towards the three holes from which the ropes are descending and a visible gap in a large boulder that appears to have been laid across a larger hole. «Lyra, Donovan,» she says switching to elvish, «I can see their heat signatures through the holes, can we get a light up there?»

GM

As it becomes obvious, from the upward staring and crossbow-pointing, to the kobolds observing you from above that their concealment has been blown, they respond with a barrage of arrows from the half-dozen murder-holes concealed in the spongy lung-tissue of the ceiling. Dozens of small arrows rain down around Donovan, Frantiska, and Hrud. Three find gaps in Frantiska’s armor, but none manage to hit Hrud or Donovan.

Hrud

Not having anything that could reach the kobolds above, Hrud takes a risk and ducks though the curtain looking for cover.

Donovan/Winona/Rye

I can’t possibly hit them through those tiny holes, Donovan thinks, knowing that he’s far from a crack shot with the bulky crossbows. But! he thinks smiling. He releases his grip on the crossbow, allowing it to dangle from his shoulder, grabs the sheaf of scrolls from its case, and rifles through them until he finds the right one. This should do the trick! He points a finger at the large stone to which Frantiska is pointing, mutters a few incomprehensible syllables, then, says loudly, “UP!”

Winona, suspecting that Hrud must have seen some more accessible targets, pulls the larger flail off her back and rushes through the dimension door, across the room, and through the curtain after him.

Ryesha, tries to ignore the voice whispering in the back of her head about glory and the images of her gleefully slashing at kobolds with her knives. She shakes her head, but looks down and notices that she already has a pair of blades in her hands. She shuts her eyes tight, thinking no, kobolds are mean, we shouldn’t get that close. When she opens her eyes, however, she is standing right beside them…

Lyra

Lyra concentrates on keeping the doorway open, wincing at the hail of arrows. “If we can prop up the tapestry or some of those furs, they won’t know who’s standing where for the next volly.”

Frantiska

Frantiska winces as the first arrow strikes her in the thigh, exposing her to the second which catches her in the side, just below the ribs. She stumbles to the ground and tries to crawl back to the cover of Lyra’s dimension door, but the third shot strikes her in the back, right through her heart. She lays still, blood pooling on the floor around her.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit watches the hail of arrows and curses. He hitches his backpack up over his head, runs the few feet through the portal to where Frantiska is laying, and drags her bleeding body out of the kill zone on the off chance that she can be repaired.

Once safely through the dimension door, Yamtwit works furiously—breaking off and removing the small, barbed arrow heads, and wadding bundles of gauze and shoving them into the holes to staunch the bleeding. I can apply proper bandages later, he thinks. Once the wounds are at least cursorily plugged, he rolls her onto her back and checks her breathing and pulse, only to find that the shot through her back pierced her heart. [In proper Hollywood fashion] He beats furiously on her chest for a while, pumping in a futile attempt to restart the damaged organ.

GM

Teldicia pushes herself away from the wall against which she has been leaning heavily, takes a deep breath, and sprints into the room, leaping strait up to grab the lip of the hole made by Donovan’s levitation spell, twelve feet above, then hauls herself up into the passage with the startled kobolds.

Beyond the curtain, Hrud and Winona find an empty den. Two dozen piles of sleeping furs are scattered on the ground and a burned-out cookfire sits in the center of the room. The walls and ceiling are the same pock-marked, petrified lung-tissue as the room before, with a similar guarantee of murder-holes linked to the passage above. A few bats clinging to the ceiling, seemingly oblivious to the commotion from the other room, are startled by the light of Hrud’s hammer and begin flying about, swarming out the exit at the far end of the room.

Hrud

Hrud continues moving through the room, peaking into the next – ready to dash into it should any arrows come down from above.

GM

Hrud runs to the far exit, swatting the occasional bat away from his face, and looks out into a long corridor running to the left and right. The passage is rounded, with smooth walls, apparently an extension of the esophagus through which you had been traveling earlier, and slopes downward to the left and sharply upward to the right.

Hrud

Hoping that the passage to the right will lead him to the shifty dog-faces above, Hrud presses forward, eager to dish out some pain.

GM

The kobolds are startled by the rise of the rock and the sudden appearance of Teldicia and Ryesha in their midst. There are a dozen in all, huddled two a piece around six murder-holes, four leading into the first room, and two more over the room into which Hrud and Winona have run. Each has a bow in hand and buckets, filled with their short, barbed arrows sit beside each hole. They let out a series of alarmed, high-pitched, barking noises and then resume firing—three groups firing into the rooms below at Donovan, Hrud, and Winona, and the others turning to the more immediate threats.

Arrows rain down around those in the room below, one striking a grazing hit against Donovan. Ryesha snags one arrow out of the air, but takes a second in the wrist. Teldicia, just cresting the hole, takes two arrows directly in the chest. She slips from her perch and slams back down to the floor right by Donovan’s feet with a sickening thud.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit on seeing Teldicia fall bolts up cursing in his native tongue, “Youn lòt pèdiSe mwen menm woutpa gen okenn. Hay mèrdik!” He runs back through the portal, yelling to Lyra, “You just keep the door open missy!”, and quickly lays hands on Teldicia, praying fervently to his goddess.

Lyra

Lyra pulls a board out of the stack and throws it though the doorway towards Donovan. “Get that up there and fall back!”

Donovan/Winona/Rye

Donovan, now that he has a clear shot, reaches into his pouch and pulls out a handful of sand, throwing it in the direction of the hole in the ceiling and pronouncing the words to yet another sleep spell.

Winona pulls a brazier from her pack and holds it up as a makeshift shield, calling over her shoulder to the others, “Nothing in here but more snipers, but it sounds like the far passage is clear. Run for it!”

Ryesha’s face goes white when she realizes she is stuck up the hole, alone, and outnumbered twelve-to-one. She tosses the knives she is holding at the faces of the nearest kobolds, then runs towards the far room and dives headfirst through one of the holes, “Sister! Catch!” she yells as she falls.

Winona drops her flail and sticks out her arms to catch the falling Ryesha.

GM

Ryesha’s knives both strike home, one plunges into a kobold’s neck, sending it reeling backwards, clutching at its throat and drowning in its own blood. The second takes a kobold in the eye, blinding the thing and causing it to drop its bow. She tumbles through the hole into Winona’s arms just as Donovan’s spell goes off, causing eight of the remaining kobolds to slump to the ground, suddenly too drowsy to stand up. The two remaining kobolds, farthest from the spell’s origin, continue firing down at Ryesha and Winona, striking both of them as Rye lands.

Hrud rushes up the passage to the right, running uphill for a dozen yards before he is stopped by a deep pit. The light from his hammer illuminates a number of giant weasels at the bottom of the pit, quiet and peaceful in death.

Teldicia groans, open her eyes, and grabs the wooden plank that Lyra threw from where it had fallen next to her and tosses it up into the hole above.

Donovan/Winona/Rye

Winona puts down Rye, yanks the arrow out of her thigh, and grabs her flail from the floor. “Run!” she says, and does just that, heading for the far exit.

Donovan, slips an arm under Teldicia’s armpit, pulling her the rest of the way upright and runs after Winona and Rye. «Lyra, we’re going this way! Blow it when we’re clear…»

Yamtwit

Yamtwit runs after Donovan and Teldicia, staying close on their heals, eager to ensure that at least one patient survives this skirmish. As he peels out into the hallway, Yamtwit yells, “Hruď, ngendi sira lunga?”

Hrud

“Punika cara metu. Kudu pindhah mudhun.” Hrud says, as he comes stalking back down the corridor, frustration on his face. “Apa asu-pasuryan isih urip? Bisa aku tekan wong-wong mau?”

GM

As you all run out of the room, you hear the high-pitched yapping voices of the two kobolds shouting something, along with some muffled, equally high-pitched grunts, as of someone being kicked awake.

Frantiska

As everyone’s attention is focused on the other room, Frantiska’s heart suddenly resumes beating. She coughs, flecks of blood spraying from her mouth, and raises an arm weakly. She manages to whisper «Lyrathwen…» and briefly clutches the hem of Lyra’s dress before her arm falls limp again.

Lyra

Lyra sinks to her knees next to Frantiska, hands shaking as she pulls wax stoppered sheep’s bladders from her backpack.

She remembers Frantiska lying in the road, leg twisted unnaturally, blood everywhere. No, Donovan’s memory, she reminded herself. But more importantly, his memory of the goblin handing Rant a flask, the buttery smell as Donovan turned around, and the healed, whole flesh when he turned back.

When it sounds like the awake kobolds have run over to their friends, Lyra speaks the command word for that board, then returns to fussing over Frantiska, letting the gateway close.

GM

There is a muffled BOOM from the small charge detonating. The kobold’s chattering speech trails off into screams, then silenced, leaving only the sound of small bits of stone and debris clattering onto the floor.

Donovan/Winona/Rye

Donovan runs out of the room and, seeing Hrud coming from the opposite direction, down to the left. “This way!” he says, then stops in his tracks. “I don’t suppose anyone has a way of getting in touch with Lyra to tell her which way we went?”

Winona and Ryesha both shake their heads. “Sounds like the bomb blew,” Winona adds, “We should go back and clean up the mess.”

“Hmmm,” Donovan’s brow furrows. “It’s clear that they know we are here. With this many murder-holes, they probably have some living quarters or something in the upper half of the body, closer to the spine.” He points down the esophagus, “We know that way should lead to the stomach…”

“Okay,” he finally says, “let’s go clean up any kobos that may be left and then see if there are any passages off of that upper chamber.” Donovan unslings his crossbow again and turns back into the room. “Rye, can you get up in there again and lower one of those ropes for the rest of us?”

“Maybe…” Ryesha’s nose and forehead wrinkle adorably in concentration. She vanishes.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit explains the plan to Hrud, “Terwelu cah wadon sethitik wis arep uncalan tali mudhun supaya kita bisa njaluk bantuan kanggo asu pasuryan.” He then turns to Teldicia, “You look sick lady. No more jumping in front of things with arrows, okay?” He draws a club and carefully skuttles into the room, taking pains to keep Teldicia behind him.

GM

Ryesha appears back in the upper chamber of the dragon’s lung, surrounded by kobolds, or rather, surrounded by the limbs, body parts, and blood splatters of exploded kobolds. A wide, smooth-walled passage, just large enough for her to stand upright, exits at the far end of the chamber, then splits to run parallel with the esophagus below. A ladder in the intersection leads up into the spinal column.

Donovan/Winona/Rye

Below, everyone hears a high-pitched shriek, followed by an “Ewwwwwwwwwww!” Ryesha walks over and looks down the hole, cautious of the still-levitating rock. “They’re dead…” she says with a mixture of disgust and relief. “There are two more passages up here, but they’re my size, so maybe a bit small for the rest of you.” She examines the three ropes, noticing that they are apparently meant for hauling the rock up, and have a good bit of slack. She runs the slack out through the already-provided holes, down to where a kobold could reach them from the ground, then ties off the ends to keep the rock from falling when Donovan’s spell inevitably wears off.

Donovan goes over to the door which was recently blocked by Lyra’s dimension door, opens it and yells down the stairs. “Lyra, we’re all clear up here.” He then turns back to the others, “So…Esophagus, Trachea, or Spine? I’d prefer not to be crawling, but it makes sense that they would put the important stuff in the passages where they would have a greater advantage. But, given that everything is carved from organs, the stomach is probably the biggest room, which might give us the advantage if we can lure them into a mass confrontation there…”

Winona just shrugs, “Whatever dearie…”

Frantiska

A minute after the butter has done its work, Frantiska groans and opens her eyes again. She sits up slowly and notices a trickle of blood still issuing from the arrow-wounds. She presses her hands over the injuries, a blue glow surrounding them, and looks up at Lyra. «Thank you Lyrathwen. Remind me not to walk into obvious traps in the future…» She stands up slowly, replacing her bow on her shoulder and pulling out her shield and shortsword.

Lyra

Lyra stands and smooths her skirt. «I … had intended to take you back to the village to recover from your injuries under the care of the healer there once you were stable. But if you would prefer to continue, the area above should be safe now.»

Yamtwit/Frantiska

Yamtwit looks up at the hole, sighs, then starts climbing. “Donovan, the trachea stops here, right? If we’re in the lungs?” He pulls himself up into the messy higher chamber then calls down through the hole. “We know the spine was linked to the murder-holes over those pits. If you’re heading for the stomach, it probably makes sense for a couple of us to go this way, run parallel, and make sure you don’t get shot at from above again…” A scowl crosses his face, “Of course, we’re not really the best ones for dealing with that. Can we get a couple of Lyra’s bomb-boards?”

Meanwhile down below, Frantiska stretches a bit and takes a test swing of her sword. «I’m fine, Lyra, and, much as I may dislike many of them, I could not live with myself if I abandoned our companions when they were in danger.» She looks around. «Do you have sufficient strength for us to rejoin the others, or will we have to backtrack and find another route up?»

Lyra

Lyra nods, reopening the portal into the room in the same location it was previously.

Donovan/Winona/Rye

Donovan looks up at the goblin, trying to suppress his instinctual thought to never split the party. “Alright Sir Cheeseater. Just don’t stick your necks out more than necessary. Remember that in those close confines we won’t be able to get to you in a hurry if you get into trouble.” Seeing the Dimension Door open, he turns and looks through it at Frantiska. “FRAN! I thought you were dead…again…”

Winona looks up at Ryesha, “Stay out of trouble Bunny. We’ll meet you in the guts. Don’t be afraid to scamper if you need to.”

Ryesha looks down and shrugs. “You always said I needed more field practice…” she whispers, barely audible to anyone save Yamtwit. “Come on Mr. Yamtwit, I guess we’re going this way.” She pulls her knives out of the pair of kobolds she killed, kicks a stray leg out of the way, and heads for the passage.

“Oh!” Donovan says, “Lyra, do you have some boards that our little friends could take with them?”

Lyra

Lyra steps into the portal, and allows it to close after she and Frantiska are both through. “If we use more, we won’t be able to fully collapse the hill, but being able to deal with the kobolds should take precedence.” She holds up one of the boards. “Glowing arcane symbol on one side, triggering words written on the other. Please make sure to note it before throwing it, and as I mentioned earlier, several places are not structurally sound, so please take care where you are detonating it.”

Yamtwit

“Just a sec Bunny-girl! Be right behind you.” Yamtwit reaches down and grabs the board. “Thanks!” He stops and thinks for a moment, “Can I get two?”

Lyra

Lyra passes a second board up to Yamtwit.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit grabs the board, says another enthusiastic “Thanks!” and runs after Ryesha. “So, Bunny-girl, are we doing this the team-sneaky way?” He tucks the two enchanted boards in his pack and grabs one of his clubs.

Hrud

Hrud begins making his way down into the lower regions of the lair, straining his ears for any sign of a kobold response to the explosion that occurred.

GM

Hrud turns into the left-hand passage, which continued to slope steadily downward. Hearing the skuttling of numerous feet and the high-pitched barking voices of kobolds up ahead.

After about ten yards, the smooth, rounded walls begin to widen steadily for another ten feet, before ballooning out in all directions, opening into the vast gallery of the dragon’s stomach. The ground slopes even more sharply here, but steps have been carved into the side of the stomach wall, leading down to the “floor” below, where a deep pool of acrid-smelling water has collected. At the far end of the pool, another set of stairs leads up towards a similar opening, presumably to the dragon’s bowels. About half-way up the stomach wall to Hrud’s left is another, smaller opening, covered by a tight-fitting, hinged door, apparently made from a large, ceramic pot lid. A pair of ropes attached to the lid-door string back through holes drilled in the wall just above it.

A wood and metal walkway with flimsy-looking, rope railing has been constructed around the circumference of the upper portion of the stomach, about twenty feet over Hrud’s head. Numerous side passages lead off from this walkway, carved into the walls. Hrud can easily hear kobolds moving about up above, but none are visible from this angle.

The stairs lead directly down into the pool, and back out of it on the far side. The walkway looks like it might support Hrud’s weight, if he was careful, but it also looks like if he grabbed on and shook it hard he could bring the majority of the thing down.

Frantiska

Frantiska hurries through the room and into the passage behind Hrud. She looks around the stomach, somewhat impressed by the kobolds’ ingenuity in renovating the dragon corpse. Seeing the walkway and hearing the kobolds, she carefully holds her shield over her head, before examining anything else more closely. She points at the ceramic-capped hole on the left-hand wall and taps Hrud’s shoulder. “Hrud, saya pikir itu adalah ‘Fundamentum’. Itu yang akan membuat napas asam naga,” she says, trying to explain dragon anatomy in her imperfect Erakic.

Donovan/Winona/Rye

Ryesha turns on Yamtwit, her eyes blazing and her nose scrunched up in a way that is simultaneously frightening and adorable, “DO. NOT. CALL. ME. BUNNY-GIRL!” Her momentary outrage turns to a sullen whimper, “It’s bad enough that Sister Winona calls me that. She’s my superior, so I can’t stop her. But as for you and the rest of them, my name is Ryesha. Sister Ryesha if you want to be formal, or even Rye is fine, but don’t call me Bunny.” She spins on her heel and turns down the left-hand passage, her eyes giving off the faint, tell-tale glow of infravision, but somehow more pink than red. “Let’s just see where this goes before everyone gets too far ahead…”

Below, the others fall into step behind Hrud and Frantiska. Donovan walks slowly, crossbow in one hand the his other arm around Teldicia for support, under her armpits and tantalizingly close to her breasts. Come on Don, focus, a kobold shooting gallery is no place to be thinking about the ladies… he tries really hard to keep his unwholesome thoughts to himself, hoping that telepathy was not one of the gifts that Teldicia got from the virus.

Winona clanks up behind Hrud and Frantiska in her armor and looks down at the pool of water. “There is no way I’m going in something that smells that bad,” she says, adjusting her glasses. “Can we get up to that catwalk? It’ll probably intersect with where Bunny and Yammy will come out…”

Lyra

Lyra follows, brow furrowed in consternation as she looks around. “Ah. Does anyone else find that ceramic aperture covering alarming?”

Frantiska

Frantiska turns to Lyra, “I think that leads to the dragon’s fundamentum…the source of it’s breath attack. I suspect that the odd choice of doors and the smell of that water means that the kobolds may have found some way of harvesting its secretions. Going up seems the best course of action…” Frantiska takes out her bow and a wood-biting arrow, stringing a strong, but lightweight thread through the eye of the arrow. “Does anyone have rope?” she asks. “Hrud, tali?”

Hrud

Hrud shrugs off the loop of rope off his shoulder he’d been carrying prior to walking through Lyra’s magic door into the kobold ambush and hands it to the elf.

Frantiska

Frantiska ties one end of the rope to the string, loops the string back so that she has about 30 feet of slack on either side of the loop, and fires the arrow into the catwalk above. She then pulls on one end of the string, hauling the heavier rope up and through the eyelet of the arrow, ties the two ends of the rope together to form a dangling loop, then pulls the loop until the large knot is tight against the eyelet to keep the rope from shifting. “Apakah anda ingin pergi dulu?”

Hrud

Hrud climbs the rope, trying to move as smoothly and evenly as he is able, afraid that his weight might bring the walkway down.

Once on the walkway, he moves to the edge of the room, wanting to be off the rickety structure sooner rather than later.

GM

Hrud hauls himself up onto the walkway and finds himself face-to-face with a trio of spear-wielding kobolds standing in one of the many side-passages. The nearest kobold yells the time-honored signal, “Bree Yark!” and dozens of the tiny creatures come rushing out onto the walkway from the other holes bristling with bows and spears. The three spear-wielding kobolds rush Hrud as he stands on the edge…

Hrud

Despite the odds, Hrud finds himself elated at the opportunity to smash more skulls – the dog-faces repeated ambushes serving only to annoy the barbarian. Drawing his broadsword, he rushes to meet them.

Donovan/Winona

Seeing the swarm of kobolds coming pouring out of the many upper passages, Donovan rifles through his collection of scrolls, and, aiming for the largest pack of them he can see, casts ice knife.

Winona suddenly feels deep regret over her religion’s prohibition on the use of projectile weapons. She briefly considers grabbing the rope and trying to pull down the catwalk, then remembers her inability to discuss tactics with Hrud, Suddenly she has a mental image of Ryesha squaring off against five kobolds. “Bunny’s in trouble,” she says. “I can’t do much here…I’m going to check on the little ones…” She turns and runs back to the last chamber and begins climbing up the ropes. Fighting while crawling has got to be better than getting shot at by things I can’t reach, right? she thinks.

---

Meanwhile in the upper passage

GM

Rye and Yamtwit turn the corner into the passage and immediately run up against a small pack of kobolds who have been standing there quietly. So quiet, in fact, that the two smallest party members realize they can hear no sounds at all, neither the talking of their companions below, nor even their own footsteps and breath. Five kobolds stand glaring at them in the silence. The first four carry spears and are arrayed for battle—two kneeling abreast in the narrow corridor, with two more behind them, creating a miniature version of a pike hedge. The fifth, behind them, is rather terrifying for a kobold—old and withered, with scores of bone piercings in his ears and eyebrow ridges, his arms are painted blood-red up to the elbows and a big red ‘X’ is painted on his bare chest.

The four guard-kobolds hold their ground while the fifth stands very still, locking eyes with Yamtwit and staring at him intently.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit opens his mouth to yell for reinforcements, but no sounds comes. “Mèrdik grenpe kobo trankil,” he mutters soundlessly to himself, somehow unable to look away from the creepy old kobold with the red hands. He walks slowly backwards towards the corner, keeping up a steady string of curses, and maintaining eye contact with the creepy kobold. As soon as he can hear himself again, he quickly incants the words of a shillelagh spell.

Ryesha

Rye screams at the sight of the kobolds, then freaks out even more when she cannot hear herself scream. She whips the two knives she is holding at the nearest kobold guards. She really wants to run, but images flash through her mind of her standing triumphantly atop a pile of dead kobolds and Sister Winona praising her and calling her by her proper name and not some lame pejorative. She knows the thoughts are not her own, but decides she doesn’t really care. She takes a half step back to have more room to throw and draws another pair of knives.

GM

Rye’s blades strike home on the kneeling kobolds, one burrying itself in the chest of the kobold on the right, who collapses to the ground bleeding profusely, the other hitting the left-hand one in the causing it to drop its spear. The two kobolds behind them leap over their wounded friends and charge at Ryesha, spears lowered. Rye easily sidesteps one spear, but, in the narrow passage, has no way of avoiding the second, the point of which ends up buried deep in her side.

Behind them, the old kobold crosses his arms over his chest, along the lines of the red ‘X’ tattoo and continues to stare intently at Yamtwit.

Yamtwit

As the old kobold continues to stare at Yamtwit, the goblin suddenly feels very dizzy and unsteady on his feet. His hands begin to shake, his joints ache, and his body feels as if it is responding a good bit slower than his thoughts.

Yamtwit stumbles backwards from the intense gaze, tripping over his own feet, and tumbling the shillelagh out of his hands. Growling he clumsily hauls himself to his feet and charges the kobolds assaulting Rye, swinging for the benches with the magical club, but the blow goes whistling harmlessly over the kobolds’ heads.

Winona/Rye

Winona hauls herself, heavy armor and all, slowly up the rope and into the passage above. Her face wrinkles in distaste at the splattered kobold parts and she strains to hear where Bunny is—disconcerted that her psionically enhanced hearing cannot pinpoint them. I need to practice more, she thinks. Grunting she crawls on hands and knees towards the only obvious exit, her helmet scraping on the low ceiling. I’m not going to be able to swing a damned thing in these tunnels, she thinks, but at least I can be around to heal Bunny if she needs it. She rounds the corner and stares in amazement at the silent play of combat being enacted ahead.

Ryesha, flinches away from Yamtwit’s wild swing, a little unsteady on her feet herself from bloodloss. Seeing the kobolds ducking, her hands, seemingly of their own volition, driven by Kisakhavar’s bloodlust, interpose themselves directly in line with the kobold’s necks, causing the kobolds to impale themselves, the short blades burrying themselves up to the hilts in their dog-like chins. Winona’s eyes widen at the sight of timid ‘little sister’s’ brutal tactics.

GM

The old kobold with the tattoos grins maniacally when he sees Winona and waves a hand. Winona, Ryesha, and Yamtwit’s ears are suddenly assaulted by the screams of the wounded and dying kobolds, as sound returns to the space. The old kobold chants a few words in his own harsh language and stretches both hands skyward, “Yangın ve ağrı ve bıçak ve ölüm, elimi gel! Kötü küçük yarı-kız üzerine tıp ve o cehennemde çürümeye olabilir!” A long blade-like tendril of flame appears in his left hand, and the right jabs a finger at Ryesha, causing a sudden feeling of disorientation to come over her.

The last kobold guard standing, or, more specifically, kneeling, yanks the knife out of his arm, then picks his spear up with his good hand and hurls it towards Yamtwit. The throw is wobbly and weak, but still sufficient to hit the staggering, unbalanced goblin. He pulls a club from his crude belt and backs slowly away, still keeping himself between you and the old kobold.

Winona/Rye

Ryesha’s shudders as the fell magic grips her along with the crushing knowledge that she cannot possibly harm the scary old kobold sorcerer. Hearing the scrape of metal on stone behind, she turns to see Winona crawling around the corner. “Sister! Help!” Her hand reaches involuntarily to her bandoleer for another brace of knives. No, that’s not going to work! she thinks, more to her cloak than herself, and instead yanks a flask of sleep gas out of her pouch and throws it at the kobolds.

Winona’s thoughts on watching the fight are more along the lines of, why can’t it be hell hounds or Tanar’ri or something else easy to deal with? She crawls forward and does what she can to at least keep her smaller companions alive while they fight the witch doctor, placing a mail-clad hand reassuringly on Rye’s back and casting cure light wounds.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit glares angrily at the old kobold, sure that his sudden clumsiness must be his doing. He hefts the shillelagh in both hands over his head and charges, knowing that in his current state caution is basically pointless.

---

Downstairs…

Frantiska

Frantiska almost grins at the sudden appearance of exposed targets at good range. She shoves her shield back towards Lyra with her foot as she drops to a kneeling position, “Lyra, do you mind being my shield-bearer?” Her elven-made bow comes up, four arrows on the string at once, and sends all four streaking towards the kobolds on the far end of the walkway.

Lyra

Lyra checks for murder holes overhead that will need to be avoided as she scoops up the shield, as much hiding under it as wielding it. “The tunnel will give us some cover from the walkway overhead, and I don’t see any murder holes in the tunnel itself.”

GM

Despite their “ambush”, the kobolds are surprisingly slow to react. Donovan’s ice knife slams into the chest of one kobold with exceptional force, leaving a large gaping wound, then explodes, freezing another three in their tracks. Nearby, four more go down with arrows protruding from their chests or between their eyes. Hrud easily brushes aside the flimsy spear-thrusts of the kobolds charging at him with his hammer, then takes off two of their heads with one swipe of his green-bladed sword. Teldicia, apparently having not needed Donovan’s support as she led him to believe gives him a wink as she leaps into the air, grabs the edge of the walkway, and swings her legs over, kicking the third kobold menacing Hrud solidly in the chest and sending it sprawling back into the passage from whence it came.

Three more spear-wielding kobolds, apparently undeterred by the death of their companions, charge along the catwalk towards the big barbarian. Two lunge for his middle, but Hrud easily backsteps, only to have the third shove the spear between his feet, sending Hrud toppling from the walkway. He hits the sloped floor of the stomach below then slides down the side into the acrid smelling, but harmless, pool of water at the bottom.

The other kobolds still on the walkway begin firing at Lyra, Donovan, and Fran below, but most of the small, barbed arrows clatter harmlessly off of the large shield that Lyra holds over them.

Hrud

Angry (and a bit disoriented) at being removed from the fray, Hrud splashes to his feet and grabs one of the small spears dropped by the kobolds. In a huff, he flings it towards the walkway, very nearly hitting Teldicia due to his wrecklessness.

Donovan

Donovan grins stupidly at the wink from Teldicia, stares slack-jawed at her panties disappearing over the lip of the walkway, then, not taking his eyes off her, casually tosses a handful of rose petals in the direction of the kobolds shooting gallery and mutters a few words.

Lyra

Lyra continues to use the shield to protect Donovan, Frantiska, and herself from arrow fire.

Frantiska

Frantiska’s catches Donovan’s upturned face and lewd grin out of the corner of her eye. Someone has to do something about that lecher, she thinks. She dips the limb of her bow behind his knee and sweeps his legs out from under him, toppling him into the pool with Hrud. She quickly swings her bow up and knocks an arrow, but the tripping maneuver leaves her balance off and sends the shot flying wide.

GM

Donovan manages to get his spell off before he is dumped in the drink. All of the remaining kobolds on the walkway, as well as Teldicia, suddenly slump and fall where they stand.

Donovan

Donovan rises of out the pool, spitting and spluttering with soaked pantaloons and water dripping from his hair. He spares only a brief glance back at Frantiska, sure that the beautiful elf woman must have been saving him from some terrible attack, and tears his broadsword and stiletto from their sheaths.clumsily, ready to defend himself against whatever horrors must be lurking in the pool. He looks around the gallery, noting that none of the kobolds are moving, then lowers his weapons a little. “Did we get them all?” He walks up a few steps, shaking water off of his soft boots. “Judging by their reaction, I’m guessing the living quarters, and probably any treasure are up there…” he gestures towards the catwalk with his stiletto, then sheaths it.

Hrud

Hrud moves back over to the rope and returns to the walkway, dispatching the remaining kobolds – and giving the dead ones an extra poke for good measure. He nudges the snoring green-haired elf with his toe as he passes her.

---

Upstairs…

GM

As Yamtwit charges by to get at the old kobold, the kobold guard smacks him in the back of the head with a side-handed swing of his club. Yamtwit stumbles forward, but still manages to land a solid blow on the old witchdoctor, knocking the ancient kobold backwards onto his rear. There is a sudden cracking and hissing noise as Ryesha’s flask of sleeping gas breaks on the ground near their feet, then sublimates into the air. The kobold cough and splutter a bit, but seem fine. Yamtwit, however, feels suddenly very lightheaded. He yawns widely and faints, unconscious to the ground.

The two kobolds let out exultant cries, loud enough to be heard echoing through the upper tunnels to the stomach gallery below. The injured kobold makes a small jump into the air, bringing his club down on Yamtwit with the force of his body weight behind it. The witchdoctor then stabs down into Yamtwit’s back with his flaming sword, searing a hole right through the poor goblin.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit snores peacefully, oblivious to the beating he’s taking. He snorts a little when the flaming blade pierces him, but then just rolls over, still breathing contentedly, hugging and cuddling his shillelagh like a plush doll.

---

Downstairs…

Lyra

Lyra looks around wildly at the kobold cries echoing around the chamber. “That doesn’t sound good. Can anyone tell where it’s coming from?”

GM

Teldicia emits a very unladylike grunt as Hrud kicks her, then slowly opens her eyes. She jerks instinctively when she notices how close to the edge of the walkway she is lying, causing the whole thing to sway slightly, then rolls closer to the wall before standing up. “I guess we won?” she says looking around.

Frantiska

Frantiska returns her bow, shield, and sword to their proper stowage and hauls herself arm over arm up the rope to the catwalk. She ‘tsks’ with distaste on seeing Hrud riffling through the kobolds belongings then looks around at the seven or so passages leading off the walkway. She points at three that run generally back towards the head-end of the dragon. “One of these…” she says, “but they are all too short to walk upright in…”

Hrud

Having left his nic(er) shortbow outside with his pony, Hrud decides to take a shortbow and as many arrows and small spears as he can carry. The barbarian reasoning – albeit begrudgingly – that he’d better recover from his fall before charging into battle again. If he can’t kill the dog-faces up close, at least he’ll be ready to get at them from a distance.

Donovan

Donovan sheathes his blades and stares at the passages Frantiska indicated, watching the reverberations of the kobold voices, like spikey balls of red sound bouncing off the walls. Finally he points at the left-most of the three passages. “The one on the left!” he says, running up the stairs to the rope and hauling his soaked paunch up to the catwalk.

---

Upstairs…

Ryesha

Ryesha’s eyes go wide when she realizes her mistake. She reaches down and grabs one of the kobold spears then charges, holding it not point first, but crossways across her body at arms length so as to take up the whole width of the corridor.

GM

The kobolds seem caught quite off guard by Ryesha’s unusual tactics. They look up from pummeling Yamtwit just in time to get closelined by the spear shaft. The old kobold raises his hands to try to fend off the attack, releasing his grip on the blade-like flame and causing it to sputter out and vanish. Rye’s momentum carries her and the kobolds a good two yards past Yamtwit’s body before the three of them go down in a tangle of limbs, spears, and clubs.

Winona

Winona crawls behind Rye as fast as she can, grabs Yamtwit’s ankles and drags him a few more feet away from the fracas before she starts trying to patch up the worst of his injuries.

---

Downstairs…

GM

With the weight of three people already moving around on it, along with the weight of the unconcious kobolds, Donovan’s shaking on the rope as he climbs up proves too much for the flimsy walkway. There is a shudder through the whole thing, followed by a harsh creaking noise as the bolts driven into the stone walls start to bend and pull free…

Hrud

Hrud dashes & dives for the nearest side, not wanting to take yet another spill of the walkway.

Lyra

Lyra ducks back into the tunnel, clear of the soon to be falling walkway.

Frantiska

Frantiska grabs Teldicia’s arm and leaps into the passage Donovan had indicated.

Donovan

Donovan, being in the worse possible position, mutters a brief “Oh shit!” and lets go of the rope, tucking into a ball and throwing his arms over his head. Instinctively, his virus-addled brain begins using soften on the section of walkway directly over him.

To be continued…

Yamtwit/Frantiska

Yamtwit stares at the weasels for a bit, then notices his friends leaving. “It only lasts a few minutes…” he calls after them.

“You have no additional control over the beasts?” Frantiska asks.

Yamtwit just shakes his head in reply.

“They don’t look like they will allow themselves to be slaughtered either.” Frantiska sighs, “Donovan, can you incapacitate them in a more efficient manner? I would rather not leave predators behind us. Especially when they are likely to become hostile again in a matter of minutes…”

Donovan/Winona

Donovan tosses a bit of sand in the weasel’s general direction and mutters some words. The two weasels, standing peacefully as they are, close their eyes and lay down to sleep.

“Come on…” Winona tucks her flind-bars back into her belt, picks up Ryesha in her arms, and stomps past the weasels and up the passage.

GM

The passage at the bottom of the pit slopes gently downward for a few feet before leveling off. The walls appear to be made of thick, black peat, slick with moisture, with occasional patches of harder stone. The floor is hard-packed, but muddy, with an inch of standing, stagnant water. The ceiling low, but not uncomfortably so, perhaps 6 feet high.

The broken body of the second weasel that Teldicia threw down here lies in the center of a seven-way intersection. The ceiling here is higher here, almost twelve feet, and a small overlook can be seen in the wall opposite you as you come in, about nine feet off the floor. Directly across from where you came into the intersection and directly below the overlook is a small passage, only about four feet high, with a raised oaken portcullis set into iron tracks in the walls. The mechanism for raising and lowering the portcullis, clearly visible, appears to be controlled from the overlook above.

To your immediate right as you enter the intersection is a 3-foot-tall iron-bound door. Ahead and right is a narrow passage, sloping sharply upward. Centered between the two right-hand passages is a third, as tall as the one you came through, wide enough for Hrud to walk comfortably and running strait for a long ways.

Two passages lead off to the left. The closest being of similar height, width, and straitness to the central right-passage. The second left passage is wide enough for two men to walk abreast, but shorter, only about four feet high, and slopes upward at a steep angle.

Hrud

Not sure where to go, Hrud tries to glean any information he can from the tracks by the passages.

GM

There are some bloody weasel body-prints in the soft walls, but the muddy water covering the floor makes it almost impossible to see any tracks on that surface. Judging by the smell, Hrud decides that the portcullised passage ahead is clearly the weasels’ den. The metal-bound door on the right smells faintly of smoke.

Yamtwit/Frantiska

Frantiska finishes off the two sleeping weasels cleanly, using Sir Guy’s Spoon to deliver sharp blows at the point where their spines meet their skulls. She retrieves her bow, slinging it over her shoulder, and proceeds up the hallways after Hrud and the others. Stopping at the intersection she asks, “Sister Winona, can you discern anything about these passages?”

Yamtwit whistles for Rast who comes to the edge of the pit and looks over, «Rast, keep watch up there, okay? We’ll be back in a bit…» He then turns, smiling unconsciously on seeing the fully intact giant weasels, or really their pelts, then scurries after the others.

Hrud

Hrud crosses the chamber to where the overlook is and jumps, grabbing for the edge with one hand and using the hooked head of his hammer with the other, works himself up onto the ledge.

GM

As Hrud pulls himself up onto the ledge, he finds himself looking eye-to-eye with a very frightend-looking kobold. The small god-like creature is lying flat on the platform, clearly trying its best to avoid notice. Seeing Hrud’s face crest the ledge, the kobold’s eyes go wide and it begins belly-crawling backwards away from the huge barbarian.

Donovan

Smelling the smoke, Donovan turns and begins examining the iron-bound door. Looking at it closely with his heightend senses, pulling out a stiletto and carefully prodding it gently, and giving a light rap in the center and listening for any reverberations.

GM

The bottom edge of the door, from the floor to about 6 inches up, is scorched, blackened, and brittle. It looks like a good hit could break off the bottom 3-4 inches of the door easily. Despite the damage at the bottom, the door is otherwise in good shape and the hinges look sound. The door is not locked. Judging from the echoes, it seems like the area beyond the door is mostly vertical, with some fairly dense metal structure in the center.

Hrud

Hrud looms over the kobold, feeling almost sorry for him. “Iki banget ora adil. Nanging sampeyan nyoba kanggo matèni kita karo kéwan iku ora biso ditompo.” he says, drawing his sword. “Aku bakal cepet.” The barbarian attacks.

The first blow crushes the kobold’s spine, the second bisects it from stem to stern. It doesn’t even have time to scream.

Donovan/Winona/Ryesha

Donovan stands up, “Looks like this door has been burned, a good kick could probably smash away most of the bottom half. Sounds like the other side is probably the bottom of another pit, vertical shaft, with something big and metal in the middle.” He points across the way, “Should we go check out the weasel-den, to make sure there are no more, then decide which way to go from there?”

Winona looks at the short passages and smaller door, “Exploring this place is going to require a lot of crawling…” Seeing Hrud let go of the ledge to swing at something, she make a ‘hmmm’ sound in her throat. “I vote we check all the areas that are big enough for us to swing our weapons and clear out as many kobolds as possible before sticking out heads into places where they can be easily speared.”

Rye, settling down a bit after the weasel incident, pulls out a pair of knives and heads boldly into the sloping passage near Hrud’s feet. Curling up and around to come out on the ledge. “Nothing else interesting this way,” she says, waving down at where Hrud dropped.

“Okay, one less passage to worry about.” Donovan says, “Rye, Yamtwit can you two do a quick scout of the other small ones?”

Lyra

Lyra looks around, concerned. “They will have built their warrens so that they are at a tactical advantage.” Her mind went, briefly, to the decanter of endless water they’d found in the tower and their supply villagers with bows and arrows, then felt horrible for even considering the possibility.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit grumbles, “Mwense yon komèsanpa yon Ekstèminatè.” He pulls out a club and points to the up-sloping passage on the left. “I’ll take this one I guess…”

GM

A small trickle of water flows down the passage, which slopes up a short way then dead-ends at a large stone. Daylight can be seen around the edges of the stone and the flow of water is seeping beneath it. The stone has metal rings set into it, which are affixed to similar rings on the walls with iron spikes, preventing it from being rolled away from the outside.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit slides back down the passage. “This one looks like an exit,” he says, then to Hrud, “Ana watu gedhe. Yen kita mindhah iku kita bisa metu.”

Hrud

After looking around the overlook for anything interesting, Hrud climbs down to look at the rock Yamtwit spoke of. Hrud pulls the pins locking the stone in place and, hesitantly, opens it a little.

GM

There is a slight rush of water as the stone moves and then, through the widened crack between the stone and the wall you see daylight. Vines overhang the opening in a rather unnatural way, as if some deliberate attempt was made to conceal the rock. The opening appears to lead out onto the same hill that the dragon’s head and neck were resting on, and you can see a bit of the thing’s tail curling around the hillside off to the right as you look out. Just outside the opening is a small depression in the hill, filled with stagnant, dark-brown water. Like the vines, the depression looks like it was artificially made—perhaps to conceal tracks that might identify this back door to casual observers, or to conceal some other security mechanism.

Donovan

Donovan looks past Hrud at the opening to the outside. “Looks like a bolt-hole.” He smiles wickedly, “Hey Lyra, did you bring any of those exploding runes? The walls are soft enough that we could probably plant the boards in them, then just bomb this passage if they try to escape via the back door…”

Lyra

Lyra nods, and looks around, doing some quick mental calculations involving blast radius and the apparent structural integrity of the warren. “I thought they might come in handy.”

Lyra shuffles through the stack of boards. “It might be prudent to check the hillside for other concealed entrances. I’m not sure collapsing a single tunnel will do much, but I think we actually have enough of these to bring down the entire hill, if we needed to. Aside from the dragon parts, the construction is rather poorly reinforced.”

Hrud

While the others fuss about over what to do, Hrud takes another quick look around the area, on the off-chance that they might have missed something interesting before. Finally, sheathing his sword and reclaiming his spear from Donovan, he begins to proceed down the (relatively) open central passage [the one that runs straight for a while], keeping an eye out for unusual track patterns that might indicate another trap.

Donovan

“Blowing up the hill sounds like a good start…” Winona grins. “Shall we just wait outside and kill anything that crawls out when the ground starts heaving?”

Donovan sighs and heads after Hrud. “They’ve been receiving tribute. It’d be a shame to destroy it. Let’s find their treasure room before we collapse the place…”

Lyra

Lyra smiles and nods. “An excellent point. We should return what we can to the villagers.”

GM

Hrud proceeds for about a hundred feet, bent over in half due to the low clearance. The smell of musk gets progressively worse as he proceeds. Then the passage opens up into a rounded chamber, littered with bones and fur. Three small giant-weasels, just slightly larger than their mundane brethren and covered with short, downy fur, lay sleeping, curled together in a ball. They start slightly and one opens an eye as the blue light from Hrud’s hammer illuminates the den.

Hrud

Hrud glances around, doubting that he’d find much of interest, then leaves.

“Uwak cilik” he mentions to Yamtwit, as he returns, then heads down one of the other passages.

GM

Hrud heads down the tallest of the right-hand passages. The tunnel is relatively strait, diverting only occasionally to avoid harder places in the ground, sloping up for a few feet, then subtly downward for a long stretch. The tunnel bottoms out at a dark, stagnant pool, deep enough to reach mid-calf on the barbarian. On the other side of the pool, you see the tunnel begin to slope upwards again.

Hrud

Hrud pokes around in the water with his spear, waiting to see if any traps or creatures reveal themselves before continuing up the tunnel.

His spear comes out with a few leeches clinging to it. Hrud shakes the leeches from the spear, moves to one of the walls to cross the pool – stopping to check himself for (and remove) any leeches he may have picked up – and continuing up the passage.

GM

The pool is no less deep around the edges, but is not too far across. After the pool, the passage slopes up more sharply and bends to the right, ending at the bottom of another pit, this one complete with a mess of metal spikes set into the floor with most of a skeletal lizard-man impaled on them, looking severely gnawed-on.

Donovan/Winona

Donovan watches Hrud turn down the right-hand passage and then turns and looks at the left. “We should split up to cover more ground,” he says. “It looks like this lower level was meant for keeping the weasels more than anything else. I wager we’ll end up having to go through the burned door to reach anywhere interesting…” He checks his crossbow, then strikes out into the left-hand passage.

“Guess we’re with you then,” Winona says, falling into step behind Donovan, flail at the ready. “Come on Bunny.”

GM

The left-hand passage runs flat for quite a ways, then bends sharply to the left, terminating at the bottom of yet another pit. In the light filtering down from above, Donovan spies a pile of recently dead kobolds and more heavily decayed lizard men crawling with large, hungry centipedes at the bottom of the long shaft.

Donovan/Winona/Ryesha

Ryesha looks at the dead kobolds and the centipedes and begins backing up the corridor. “Well, we’re done here…” she squeaks.

Donovan nods, “Yeah, this is clearly the first pit we found.” He turns and heads back to the intersection. “Looks like the conspicuously burned, and therefore probably fire-trapped, door is the way to go…”

Winona looks grim. “Great…”, she says with a sarcastic eyeroll, “So who’s going first?”

Yamtwit/Frantiska

Yamtwit shrugs, walks up to the small door, and pushes it open.

Frantiska kneels and levels an arrow at the door as it is opened, ready to fire at anything on the other side that moves.

GM

Behind the small door is a spiral, iron staircase with wide shallow treads, going up about forty feet to another door. Empty, iron torch-brackets stick out of the wall, three feet off the ground, every eighth step. The staircase has a fair amount of carbon and rust built up on it, as if it has been regularly exposed to high temperatures.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit raises an eyebrow, “Yeah….that’s not threatening at all…” he mutters. “Whatever happened to that dwarf who said he was good with traps and stuff?” He tightens his grip on his club and walks forward, placing a foot gingerly on the first step. “Here goes…”

Yamtwit waits with his foot on the step for a long, tense moment, then cautiously walks up a few more steps. His movements are slow and laborious and his muscles are tensed, sure that something horrible is about to happen any minute and ready to leap down the stairs into the hopefully waiting arms of his compantions.

GM

Yamtwit reaches the seventh step up before he hears an unpleasant clicking noise. He throws himself backwards just as the front edge of the step collapses, followed by the rest of the steps, as they suddenly become a smooth ramp. As Yamtwit lands at the bottom of the staircase, on his ass but unharmed, two streams of thick black crude oil begin pouring down the slide from the top of the shaft. The door begins to slam shut, pulled by some kind of spring mechanism between the hinge and the frame…

Donovan/Winona

Donovan stands watching, fascinated by the first real trap he’s ever seen, muttering, “I don’t like the look of that oil…”

Sister Winona, meanwhile, puts her shoulder into the door to hold it, then jams the metal shaft of her flind bars into the gap just below the hinge to wedge it open. Sister Rye, egged on by the whispers of her cloak, dashes in and grabs Yamtwit under the armpits. “Come on!” she says, trying to pull him up and back before something manages to ignite the stuff.

GM

As Winona jams the door open, there is a spark as the iron shaft of her weapon hits against rough flint shards that have been set into the door’s frame. Luckily it does not hit the oil that has begun pooling at the bottom of the ramp-stairs.

Yamtwit/Frantiska

“Thanks ladies,” Yamtwit says to the two Tyrran Sisters before stepping carefully back into the room and looking at the doorframe mechanism. “So, no fire…any guesses how it resets? Or how to get up an oil-slicked twisty-slide?”

Frantiska shoulders her bow and ducks through the door. “The torch brackets may help. For those of us tall enough to reach between them at least.” She sticks her head back through the door and calls out for Hrud, not too loudly, “Guru barbar, Hrud.. Anda seorang pendaki yang terampil. Bisakah Anda bangun jalan ini dan mengikat dari tali untuk teman-teman kecil kita?” She then turns to Lyra and Donovan, “Any other ideas?”

Hrud

“Aku bisa pendaki. Ora ana wong duwe tali supaya mudhun nalika aku tekan ndhuwur?” Hrud replies, returning from his inspection of the reptilian corpse.

Yamtwit

Yamtwit pipes up, “Big guy says he ca climb up but he needs some rope.”

Donovan

Donovan passes a rope to Hrud. “If he can string it along the torch brackets, that would make a pretty effective railing for the rest of us to hang onto.”

Yamtwit

Yamtwit translates, “Donovan ngandika kanggo dasi tali kanggo tandha kurung senter kanggo adamêl ril a.”

Hrud

Hrud nods as he takes the rope and inspects the ramp, turning back to the group he asks, “Apa kowe bisa kanggo nglindhungi kawula saking latu, mung ing kasus?”

Lyra

Lyra steps carefully up to the door, looking for exits and ignition mechanisms. “Climbing will be slow going, even with rope. It would be safer to either close the door and ignite it to burn off the oil before we go in, or bypass it entirely with a dimensional gateway.”

Donovan/Winona

Winona looks at the doorframe again before replying to Lyra, “It looks like the thing was set up to make a person slide down the ramp, fall into the pooling oil here at the bottom, and then the slamming of the door would create sparks to set it off.” She points to the flint set into the plates of the metal hinges. “We could all just walk out of here and shut the door if we wanted to burn it off.”

“That could take hours,” Donovan said. “And fire and smoke in enclosed spaces tends to make it hard to breath afterwards. Using one of Lyra’s portals seems like a pretty good idea.”

GM

Lyra’s dimension door opens into a small room, somewhere inside the petrified dragon’s lungs judging from the strange honeycombed, spongy appearance of the walls. A passage opens opposite the psionic doorway, obscured by an ornately-woven, wool rug, hanging over the opening—clearly not kobold work, and probably part of the “tribute” they’ve been receiving from the sheep farmers. A pile of weasel furs and woolen blankets makes a massive bed off to one side, and a trio of lizard-man skulls hang on the walls as crude trophies, giving this place the look of belonging to some kobold of importance, though it is currently vacant. Three knotted ropes hang from the curved 12-foot ceiling, somewhat incongruously, not low enough for a kobold to grab, even by jumping.