Even with no light from spells the walls seem to give out a very faint glow. It takes a few minutes to get used to the faint light. Ghort and Bartimus can see before anyone else and lead the way. They walk down the hall from the stairs and it seems very quiet. There is a lot of rustling around, but Jerrus and Leena can barely see anything. Ghort and Bartimus can see things though. A rotting man steps out from a joining hallway in front of the party. It raises a shield and then hits his shield with a club several times. The sound echoes down the halls and then undead seem to filter out from in front and from behind the party. These undead look like they are up for a fight, and they seem to be organized.
“We’re surrounded,” Bartimus says quickly, “we’re stuck in this hallway.”
The undead look like they’re laughing, but they give little sound other than the jittering of bones and armor.
“I can hardly see,” Jerrus says quickly.
Before anyone else can say anything the undead charge. Jerrus saying he cannot see seems to be what the undead were waiting for. Ghort swings his club rashly and hit several undead at the same time sending them back down the hall way in front of them. Bartimus pushes Leena closer to Jerrus and sends a firebolt down the hallway behind them lighting the hallway for a moment as it hits a zombie wearing rags. The zombie falls backwards and his clothes light on fire giving the whole hallway a flickering light.
“Thanks,” Jerrus draws his long sword and moves next to Ghort. The two take on a few more undead that have charged forward.
Leena draws the bow she picked up and starts firing at the undead that are near the burning zombie. Several undead are struck before they can move pass the fire. Some of the other undead near the fire hit the fire trying to put it out. Bartimus conjures a mass of webs that cover the walls and floor from the burning zombie capturing multiple undead in the sticky mass. The fire catches the webs on fire and the hall is now brightly lit and all the undead behind the party are now no longer a threat.
“Move forward,” Bartimus yells.
“Right,” Ghort says and he swings harder to move the undead back so they can move forward.
“Take out your silver sand Leena,” Bartimus nudges Leena.
Leena takes out her pouch of silver sand and Bartimus snatches it and takes out his own. Bartimus barges forward and dumps out the sand and then conjures a wind to carry the sand forward. The sand lodges into the undead and a faint sizzling can be heard before loud groans. The undead drop their weapons and flee.
Ghort looks back for a moment and then forward.
“The sanctuary,” Ghort says looking forward and notices a faint light that’s brighter than the rest of the hallway.
“What?” Jerrus asks.
“The sanctuary glowed a little on the other floors,” Ghort says, “If we move quickly, I think we can find it before the undead come back.” Ghort gabs Jerrus’ hand and Bartimus grabs Leena’s hand. They push forward quickly, Jerrus and Leena stumble a little as they are pulled. The light from the sanctuary grows brighter and soon they are near the sanctuary statue. Jerrus pulls out the map and then tries to sketch where they walked.
“I wish I had better light, but this is a little weird,” Jerrus looks at the statue, “I think this statue is just below the one above us.”
Bartimus looks at the statue and then as though he’s seeing it clearly for the first time he notices what the statue is doing. The statue is rather non-descript, but its hands are in opposing gestures. One hand is out in a welcoming gesture, and the other is in a gesture that is warding people away. The statue seems to extend from the floor and to the celling. Bartimus moves closer and there is a tiny gap between the statue and the floor.
“What are you looking at?” Leena asks.
“I think Jerrus is right,” Bartimus says. He takes out a small piece of paper and writes on it. Then he drops the paper down the gap between the floor and statue.
“But if we make it to the fourth-floor sanctuary, we will know for certain,” Bartimus says looking over to Jerrus who is working hard on the map, “but as long as we work on the theory that they are all in the same place, that should make it easier to find the sanctuaries on each floor. But I could be wrong, Jerrus?”
“Hmm?” Jerrus looks up and then catches up to speed on the explanation, “No, you’re right. If they are all in the same place, it will make it easier to find them, but only if I have a good map of the floor above it.”
“Okay, now that everyone has calmed down, let’s check ourselves for injuries,” Ghort says softly. Everyone looks over themselves and Ghort insists on checking everyone out as well even after everyone said they are fine.
“I think I missed one or more of our turns,” Jerrus says looking down at his map.
“What do you mean?” Leena asks.
“We’re lost,” Bartimus says, “Well, on the other side, those undead were not as hard as we thought.”
“Wait, we’re lost?” Leena asks loudly.
“We were always lost, once we got past the first floor. We just need to find that silver sand and we will know where the stairs are,” Ghort says.
“Right, right,” Leena says her voice still sounding a little lost.
“I still think I can get to the stairs if we need to,” Jerrus says.
“We came here for the library,” Bartimus says looking around the area, “but I think, now that were on the correct floor, we can use some of these scrolls.” Bartimus holds out a scroll to Ghort.
“Fire shield,” Ghort says happily taking the scroll, “But this means that we will have to cast these on ourselves.”
“Yes, I figure you could be in the rear, I lead the front and Jerrus would be after me, and Leena would be after Jerrus but before you,” Bartimus explains, “if we read the scrolls at the same time, we have about 10 minutes where we should be safe from most attacks.”
“I can’t have you two putting your selves in danger like that just for us,” Jerrus says quickly.
“I can,” Leena retorts back.
“Jerrus,” Ghort says unrolling the scroll with Bartimus, “I’ve told you we can take care of ourselves, or we wouldn’t have come in here.”
“Then why were we running away from those undead?” Leena asks indignantly.
“We just wanted to save our strength for this floor,” Bartimus says looking over the scroll.
“All of that treasure, we just left it behind,” Leena says thinking about all the copper they saw.
“Once we find what I’m looking for we can take our time getting treasure on the way out,” Bartimus says, “if we used up all our energy getting here, we wouldn’t be able to get back out.”
Leena opens her mouth to retort but thinks better of it and stops.
“Together we read,” Ghort says and the two start chanting and the words on the scrolls seem to twist and float in the air as their power is released and the two are covered in a thin film like reddish wispy water. They party takes their positions and start walking. Jerrus has the map out and a second pieces of parchment and is marking all the passages and turns, determined to not miss anything this time. The light from the fire shield spells cast the hallways in a flickering glow with many shadows. Several undead try to attack Bartimus or Ghort, but they undead quickly fall under either a spell, or a great club. They party does pause for a moment with each undead slain to let Leena loot the bodies.
It seems like a long time but around eight minutes, a new foul odor penetrates the air. The air before was stale and dusty, but now, the stench is fresher, and unclean.
“I think I see a light ahead,” Bartimus says squinting, “Did we somehow circle around back to the sanctuary?”
“No, I’m certain,” Jerrus says looking over the map, “It must be something different, like that spell we saw on the floor above us.”
“Check it out,” Ghort says quietly.
They move forward towards the light, and the smell gets worse. It is starting to smell like a very full outhouse. The light seems to be coming from an open door. They enter the room, and find that the place is filled with shelves full of books. The floor seems to be littered with a few pieces of parchment, and then they see, in one corner there is a large pile of poop, and in an opposite corner, there seems to be a bundle of rags, and it looks like it might be moving. They four walk closer carefully ready for a fight.
The bundle turns over and they can see amass of fun and large cat ears. The cat person looks up wildly at Ghort for a moment and then he looks around to the other people in the group before him. The person is clearly a tabaxi.
“Are you real?” He asks uncertain, and then lays his eyes on Bartimus, “Krek?”
The tabaxi lunges forward and grabs Bartimus in a hug like a parent protecting a child, but the fire shield singes the cat man’s fur making the smell even worse in the air.
“Not, Krek,” Bartimus says, “kobold Haiewe!”
“Yes, I know you can’t be Krek,” The Tabaxi says through sobs tears streaming down his fur.
“Let go, or the fire shield will burn you even more,” Ghort grabs one of the man’s arms and pulls him off Bartimus. “Actually, how are you still alive?”
The tabaxi looks down at the floor ashamed.
“When the rest of my party was killed I used the ever-flowing flash and bag of ever-food and their bags. I knew that this library was safe and unlike the sanctuary, they can’t shoot at me in here.”
The party is able to see the tabaxi a little clearer and Ghort conjures some lights that fills the library. They are able to see the tabaxi much clearer. His clothes are completely shredded, and his fur is matted with blood and he is covered in wounds. Ghort immediately reached into his bag and pulls out three heal potions. Ghort hands them to the tabaxi, who drinks them quickly, one after another.
“Thank you,” The tabaxi says as the potions take effect and some of the wounds close.
“You are in terrible shape,” Ghort says and takes out several more potions and hands them to the tabaxi.
“Thanks again,” The tabaxi drinks those as well and more wounds close but he seems to still be mostly wounds, cuts, scrapes and bruises. The fire shield spells finally end.
“What happened?” Jerrus asks after a few moments of silence.
The tabaxi takes a few deep breaths and then sees Bartimus. The tabaxi starts crying again and no one is really able to make out what he is saying. Bartimus moves closer and give the tabaxi a little hug around the neck and the tabaxi, still sobbing, throws his arms around Bartimus.
“You must have had a lot of close friends that came down here with you,” Ghort says casually, and starts looking around the library again.
Leena has moved away from the party and is looking under the parchments and pulling down a book here, and there and putting them back.
The tabaxi takes a moment and then nods to Ghort’s question.
“I think we saw an entry in the inn’s registry about a group with a kobold, wsas that your party?” Ghort asks.
The tabaxi nods, his head tight against Bartimus’ tiny shoulder.
“But that was weeks ago,” Ghort says thinking about the listing.
“I’m impressed,” Jerrus says looking up from marking the map.
Leena moves around the room and then spots some bags by the spot the tabaxi was sleeping.
“We were fine on the first few floors but . . .” the tabaxi says through sobs, “When we got to this floor we were ambushed but a group of undead just after we left the stairs.”
“The same thing happened to us,” Jerrus says sadly, “we did see some bodies at the stairs.”
“We couldn’t go back, we were forced forward,” The tabaxi says still hugging Bartimus.
Bartimus is patting the tabaxi gingerly on the back.
Leena kicks one of the sacks and the tabaxi lets go and spins around.
“Don’t touch those!” He yells.
Leena puts her hands up and backs away.
“Are those from your other party members?”
The tabaxi nods.
“Oh, be a man,” Leena says.
“Leena!” Jerrus says sharply.
“What?” Leena asks shaking her head.
“He’s trying,” Ghort says sharply and turns to the tabaxi and asks really nicely, “How old are you? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
“Fifteen,” he says looking down.
“What you called?” Bartimus asks in his Haiewe voice.
“I’m Tomb Beestinger,” he says sitting up and watching Bartimus as the kobold inspects the books.
“That’s an unusual Tabaxian name, they are normally a lot longer,” Ghort says, “where is the Beestinger clan located?”
“He was adopted, by a halfling family,” Leena says softly.
“Then do you know of the Beestinger family?” Ghort asks Leena.
“Just don’t ask, that family is . . . different,” Leena says shaking her head.
“I never met my birth parents,” Tomb says softly, “but I always wanted to go on an adventure.”
“Let me guess, this was your first adventure,” Jerrus says softly.
Tomb looks down and nods.
Ghort gesture towards the three other bags.
“May I look at them?” Ghort asks politely.
“I want to be able to give them a proper burial,” Tomb says and hands them over.
Ghort opens the first bag carefully and looks though it carefully. It has some clothes, a few daggers, several health potions, a holy book, and the holy symbol of Deneir (a lit candle over and eye).
“Why didn’t you use these potions?” Ghort asks gently and he sits down and scoots over next to the young tabaxi.
Tomb hugs his knees and shrugs.
“You are in worse shape than I thought,” Ghort puts the cleric’s bag down, “I thought the bags might have held ashes or parts of their bodies,” Ghort says and pulls out one of the jars of salve he bought earlier.
“Their bodies disappeared,” Tomb says and tears run down his face again.
Ghort wraps his huge arm around Tomb and give a hug.
“What do you mean?” Leena says suddenly concerned, “do you mean the undead ate . . .”
“No,” Toms shakes his head, “When they died their bodies disappeared. I’m not sure why, but every once in a while, bodies and bones will just disappear,” Tomb says sobbing again dropping his head between his knees, “Those bags are all I have left of them.”
Ghort gives a sigh and uncaps the salve and starts covering all the wounds.
“Jerrus,” Ghort starts, “can you give Tomb here a change of clothes? You are the closest to his size.”
“Yes,” Jerrus opens his bag and pulls out some clothes.
“He could just use some of the clothes from those bags,” Leena says pointedly.
“Leena!” Ghort says sharply, “not the time.”
“But!” she starts her rebuttal.
“These are his friend’s,” Ghort says pointing at the bags, “would you wear my head as a helmet?”
“Gross no,” Leena says disgusted then catches on, “oh. I’m sorry Tomb.”
“But, tomb, I’m sure you friends would have been happy if you used their things,” Ghort says softly as he empties the jar. Ghort also finds a few arrow heads that he takes carefully out of Tomb. Tomb is now covered in the healing salve and bleeding again from a few places.
“You used the bag of food and flask of water after all,” Ghort says calmly.
Jerrus puts the clothes down in front of Tomb. Tomb nods to what Ghort said.
“Now, don’t change right now,” Ghort says softly, “let the salve work first. Deneir, that was a god of writing, right Barti . . . uh . . . Haiewe?”
“Yes, funny god of scribblings,” Bartimus says still going through book on the shelves. Bartimus then looks over to Tomb. Bartimus cocks his head to one side and walk towards Tomb.
“Actually, have you read any of these books?” Ghort asks.
“No, I didn’t find any books I could read,” Tomb says no longer crying.
Bartimus picks up one of the arrow heads that Ghort dropped to the ground and is looking at it closely.
“This a bad arrow,” Bartimus says.
“Hmm?” Ghort looks down and picks up the other arrow head.
Tomb takes a deep breath.
“What was in that salve,” Tomb asks, “I haven’t felt this good in a long time.”
“How long were those arrow head in you back?” Ghort asks.
“A few days,” Tomb says blinking hard, “I couldn’t reach them to take them out.”
There is a sudden scraping from outside the library.
“Everyone!” Tomb yells, “get along the wall with the door!”
Leena a Jerrus are the only ones on the opposite side of the room from the door. The two look up, but they are too slow. An arrow hits Leena in the shoulder. Jerrus grabs the halfling and runs to the safe side of the room. Ghort springs up with his great club and bounds to the door. Bartimus follows Ghort. Leena is set down and Jerrus takes out the arrow and quickly takes out a potion and pours it down Leena’s throat. Leena sputters a little in surprise. Ghort is greeted by a half dozen undead with bows and arrows. The undead all raise their bows and release a volley of arrows. Multiple arrows stick in the half-orc before the great club smashes through the undead sending their bones flying in all directions. Bartimus creates a wall of flames that fills one side of the hallway engulfing dozens of undead. More arrows are launched from the other side of the hallway. Both Ghort and Bartimus are hit with several arrows. Bartimus creates another wall of fire filling the other side of the hallway blocking all undead from moving forward.
“Grab the arrows!” Tombs yells.
Bartimus and Ghort look down and sees the quivers and bows and picks them up and heads back into the library. The arrow that hit Leena seems to fly back and it goes into one of the quivers. The arrows that are stuck in Ghort and Bartimus both fly off of them, some fly down out the library and some fly back into one of the quivers Ghort is bringing back into the room.
“Over here,” Tomb waves them all over to the corner of the library he is in.
Leena slumps to the floor, flowed by Bartimus. Ghort drops hard to one knee.
“Poisoned arrows,” Ghort groan and takes out the second jar and quickly dabs Leena, Bartimus, and himself with some of the salve. Leena, Bartimus, and Ghort take a few minutes to recover.
“Quivers of returning, and poisoned arrows,” Ghort says. He holds up the bunch of quivers he has and there are six but it looks like only two of them are enchanted. Ghort puts bows in his bag of holding and puts the non-magical quivers in his bag as well. He then takes out multiple potions and hands then out and drinks a few down himself.
“I didn’t bring enough antidotes,” Ghort says with a sigh rolling onto his back.
“Kobold need to use special magic get out?” Bartimus asks.
“Agreed,” Ghort nods to Bartimus.
“Wait, idea,” Bartimus says and pulls out a scroll from his bag of holding.
Ghort looks at the words on the scroll.
“I’m not sure it’s wise to use that now,” Ghort says, “I mean teleportation scrolls are expensive and dangerous.”
“Tomb need out,” Bartimus says.
“Okay, get all your stuff together, we’re teleporting out,” Ghort starts and then looks at tomb who is still wearing the shredded remains of what was once clothes, “but you should change first Tomb.”
“Right,” Tomb changes quickly and brings all the bags he has to near the party.
Ghort nods to Bartimus and the kobold start reciting the spell on the scroll. The words twist and bend and float around them, and then in a flash of light then disappear from the dark dungeon.