Iron Dungeoneer: Ēlin : 3_Three Low Rooms |

An episodic adventure using ‘Iron Dungeoneer!’ rules.

Ēlin strides into the room with youthful confidence and claims the four small vials ‘!‘ from the floor, they easily fit into the palm of his hand.

He examines then momentarily then drops them within a pouch upon his belt and moves towards a discarded lump ‘(‘ he noticed on the way in.
He picks up the dusky green ball of cloth and shakes it out to get a better look.
A heavy woolen cloak, in good condition.

He throws it over his shoulders and wraps it round.
It wouldn’t turn a blade but, it might stay a nasty bite or stray claw from his person.
Certainly it would provide some comfort during an extended rest and he feels secure by that thought.

Sliding a hand back into the belted pouch Ēlin recovers one of the newly found vials, they cheerfully clink against one another as he removes it. Faceted, sturdy glass, about the length of his palm and as thick as a finger.
The reddish liquid inside looked to be the consistency of water and no more than a swallows worth.
No stopper, just a narrow neck that looked easy to snap.
With a quick ‘plink’ it was open, cleanly separated.
He attempts a smell, but either it had no odor or the small opening allowed none to escape.
He pours it onto his tongue, waits a moment then swallows.
It was tasteless.
For a brief instant, he finds his thoughts to be of an alpine meadow in spring with wild flowers in bloom and he feels…rejuvenated.Not knowing exactly what he had just imbibed, apparently nothing toxic or noxious, he sets off south through the dank cellar passage in good spirits.

After two short turns the torchlight begins to illuminate a second room and in the distance he can make out a familiar shape upon the floor, another patch of grey mushrooms ‘,‘.
‘The place must be thick with the stuff’ he thought. He would keep his distance this time.

With his attention on the patch he almost misses seeing the thick coil of scaled white flesh as he approached and stops short. A serpent ‘J‘ guarded the entrance, it’s wedge shape head peaked out from the encircled mass.
It appeared to be sleeping but, how could he be certain. The eyes were the color of it’s skin, clouded white and impossible to tell if it had seen him or not.
It lay there, becalmed.

He moves cautiously forward again, intent on dispatching the scaled sentry quickly while his apparent advantage still held.
As he edged up to the coiled ball of snake, it began to unwind, disturbed from its slumber.
In reaction the rookie thrusts his blade in an undisciplined attack, it passes harmlessly between the white coils.

He quickly pulls the blade back hard, slashing a cut into the scales.

The serpent strikes back, launching an opened mouthed head thickly stringed with mucus at his leg and clamps down hard, wrapping itself around and begins to squeeze.

Reaching down with his off hand he grabs the snake behind its head, then begins to make short, hard cuts across the back…

sawing his way through…

until the body falls away.

It twists and writhes upon its own ichor for several minutes, then stops.
He flips the head back upon the body and examines the bite at his calf.
Superficial at best, the strike hadn’t penetrated his leather leggings.

Stepping into the now unguarded room, Ēlin glares at the necrotic looking flesh of the mushroom patch ‘,‘.
He can taste the first encounter in his mouth and spits upon the floor in an attempt to expel his disgust.
He holds the torch out stretched and scans around the illuminated cellar room.
A sheet of something ‘?‘ to the east, more magics perhaps.

Picking up the small sheet and dusting it off he moves to get a better look at the northeast corner and finds a passage leading north.

He looks back at the sheet in his hand and holds it up to the torchlight. A short phrase written in a rough hand, ink browned with age and faded.
Spurred by his earlier success he reads the inscribed words aloud.

Quickly a dim ball of light grows around him then abruptly flashes out, briefly illuminating the area immediately about him in a white light, then, back to smudgy yellow torchlight.
Surprisingly, not blinding him in the process.

‘Hmm’!
‘A ‘puff’, of light’ he thinks.
Not unlike the sheet of paper which that once held its energy, now gone from his hand.

He commits the newly gained experience to memory then advances down the steeply declining north passage.

Shuffling down the narrowing corridor, which now had taken on the appearance of a tunnel scraped from the earth…

his light catches a wall ahead and he arrives at an intersection.

He passes to the north and through an open wooden door ‘,‘. Just beyond, a closed door ‘+‘ and an entry way to a large room eastward. He looks into the room. In the distance there is an object on the floor which he cannot quite make out, difficult to see in the light, about the size of a house cat.
He moves forward down the short tunnel to get a better look.

As the tunnel opens to the room he catches glimpse of something else, something humanoid in shape.
He stops, abruptly taken aback and quints hard to make out the shape.
Too small to be a child laying on the ground, nor halfling for that matter.

Quietly, he moves to investigate the creature, half watching the other unknown thing.
As he draws close he sees that it is laying on an improvised nest of natural stuffs, apparently asleep with its back to him.
It looked to be reptilian yet, it most definitely had arms and legs.

Now next to the small creature a strong odor of wet dog permeates his nose and sees that it’s sparsely adorned in tattered, russet colored cloth.
He cocks his head around to catch a glimpse and sees eyes wide open and aware upon a canine featured face. The kobold ‘k‘ gives a sharp yelp and is fast to it’s feet, lashing a clawed hand toward the human interloper.

Ēlin turns quickly, his cloak whipping around to tangle the out stretched arm, fouling the attack of the tiny wicked claw.

He produces his dagger and slashes back round fanning the air short of the dog faced imp.

A second set of jagged nailed fingers swipes across his upper leg and with an upward blocking motion of blade Ēlin manages a glancing cut upon the small hand.

Finding his footing now, after being taken aback by the quick exchanges, the tall red head focuses a more direct thrust at the tiny foe and lands a strike to the chest just below the shoulder.

The dog faced imp barks a loud yelp and in a single hoping spinning motion runs off to the east holding the wound, shrieking short barks as it fled.

Ēlin shifts the dagger in his hand…

pinches the blade between thumb, fore and middle fingers, cocks his arm back hard…

and launches the weapon at the fleeing lizard dog.

The blade ‘|‘ clangs upon the ground short of its intended target as the kobold ducks into an unseen alcove.

He chases after his weapon and as he reaches down to recover it, the dog faced lizard jumps from the alcove, now plainly seen to be a downward staircase ‘>‘ and bites his extending arm.

Unable to equip the blade, Ēlin smashes a bare fist into the imps head, spinning the little cur around and once more it routes.

Again he throws the blade and again misses the small, fast moving target.

Angered he takes chase, grabs the dagger…

and catches the creature just as it turns to attack.
He slashes once across the chest…

then rolling his hand over he drives the pommel hard into the small head.
There is a sickly sounding snap and the kobold’s knees fold, then it drops like a sack of wet dirt.
Tremors and spasms animate the body momentarily as blood leaks from the cracked skull.

It came from the edge of the torchlight in a headlong charge. By the time he heard the clicking of mandibles slicing back and forth along a square head it was nearly on top of him.
A ant ‘a‘ of un-naturally large size, the other ‘thing’ in the room.
He steps forward into the charge. The ant’s mandibles bite into light leather footwear but manage to turn the attack.

He shoves his blade forward at the square head and strikes a compound eye.

The ant’s attack stops, a leg came forward and up then frantically swipes at the steel.
Ēlin twists the dagger once.

Sitting for a moment to compose himself he replays the events and actions leading up to this point.
Like energies infused into inscribed words upon parchment, he commits his actions to memory to better serve him in future encounters.

New level gained.

His eyes drift back to the fallen kobold and he wonders about the diminutive manlike creature. He had, up until now, only heard of such beings. Tricksters and trap makers infesting dark places below the earth.
He stares with empty eyes at the wreck he has made of the little thing.
There appeared to be something tucked beneath its ragged clothing, he scoots closer and gingerly reaches a hand over, recovers a slip of parchment ‘?‘ and unfolds it.

Scrawled in a familiar hand and faded ink were the words: