Vault of the Spider: Bridge Battle

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 6 -- The Waterworks]

> “And you will do… exactly what?” Tramma gently asked.
>
> “Trade places,” the elf answered simply. “The Abbot wishes to lead,
> and there, he and I are in concurrence. So I will trade places with
> him, letting him lead from the front as he seems to wish to do. In the
> meantime, I will be holding our tail position, where I can both
> protect us from a rear attack, and fulfil my promise to Mithi and keep
> my eye on both Lomi and you. While still being in a position to be
> able to defend the other ladies as well, should it be needed.”
>
> “I… hope he takes the suggestion well, sweetie,” Tramma sighed.
>
> Finfin resolved that he would have to ask Tramma to demonstrate HOW to
> sigh over this communication channel. But for now, all he could answer
> was, “As do I, my friend. As do I.”

By now, the Away Team slowed their pace slightly. Just ahead, as best as
that could be approximated by their map with no true scale, the
northwards tunnel they were in could be expected to open up into another
larger space. One that was longer than it was wide, if the map was to be
believed, with a curving passageway off in the northwest corner that led
to another of the innumerable exits they had to clear.

And more or less where predicted, the tunnel opened up into a larger
chamber extending northwards, further than even Laqueni’s improved
Darkvision could see. The way forward narrowed onto a ten foot wide
stone bridge, extending northwards into the gloom. What the local
architect had clearly considered to be an adequate safety barrier along
either side would likely not have passed dwarven code; rather than any
sort of railing, the side guards were merely a one foot high continuous
kerb, dotted with an additional 1 foot tall block every 10 feet, to what
purpose nobody could imagine. It WAS an adequate safety barrier… if you
happened to be a moderate sized rolling ball. If, however, you were
bipedal, even kobold sized, it was entirely inadequate.

Laquendi stepped forwards, tying one end of her silken rope around
herself. “My turn, again,” she stated quietly, handing the other end to
the Abbot. He might not be the strongest person present, though he was
close, but he was beyond doubt the most massive, particularly in his
plate armor. A Laquendi tumbling off the bridge would be most unlikely
to bring HIM along with her.

Extending her poka pole, Laquendi probed everything she could reach,
testing for loose flagstones that might trigger a collapse, uneven
sections of kerb that might slam inwards, crushing the feet and ankles
of the unwary, and testing for any trip wires that might unleash…
practically anything. And she carefully studied everything, peering
intently with her active Darkvision that let her see perfectly, even in
this lack of light. Over the sides of the bridge, liquid of some sort
reflected, some twenty feet below. Possibly water, possibly worse. And
under Laquendi’s Darkvision, she could readily see that the side walls
of this long bridge room were about 25 feet away on either side.

Only when a section was as secure as she could determine, did Laquendi
advance to probe the next section. And the next after that, and the
next… Progress was, as expected, slow. But nobody seemed inclined to
hasten the silver haired elf at her job. Only when she came to the end
of her fifty foot tether did she need to glance back towards the rest of
the Away Team. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the Abbot’s attempt to tie
his end of the elf’s silken line around himself, removing any chance of
it being snatched from his hands. His ability with knots was… to put it
kindly, poor, and Laquendi herself might need to aid him in unravelling
the granny knot he’d created.

"Abbot,” Laquendi sighed, “I am *going* to teach you knot-work."

Ben merely shrugged. Souls and Faith were his business, not knots. “Not
work?” the Holy Man called back. “But I like to work. Why would I learn
not to work?” Plaintively, he asked, “I don't understand, Laquendi.”

Ahead, it looked for a moment as if Laquendi was seriously considering
pitching herself off the bridge. But she relented.

"If I have to work on my self-destructive impulses, Laquendi should,
too," Tramma commented brightly.

"You may be conflating self-destructive impulses with indifference to
self-destruction." Laquendi called back to the Away Team.

"Neither is a good thing," Lomi sighed. "Let's focus on spider hunting,
though."

Not at all put out by this commentary about his humor, the Abbot took
the hint and stepped forward, giving the elf some slack so that
Laquendi, too, could advance and continue her tests. And in this manner,
the Away Team slowly eased themselves along the bridge. One
painstakingly checked section at a time, with both Ben and Laurelin some
thirty feet behind their tethered trapster, and the rearguard some dozen
or so feet further back.

When Laquendi was a few dozen feet along the bridge, she winced. Each
time she advanced, she checked ahead… and then again, lest anything
sneak towards her while she was busy. And now… there were figures ahead,
just at the extreme range of her active Darkvision. A quartet of
troglodytes, not moving, all four watching the advancing Away Team
carefully. No doubt using their own Darkvisions, turned passive, an
option Laquendi really didn’t have for careful trap checking. They must
have seen the oncoming Party for some time, and were lying in wait. And
in between them was another crude metal gong, a twin to the ones they’d
seen at the earlier guard outposts.

“Trogs!” she called back to the Away Team. “Four, about a hundred and
twenty feet ahead!”

Pure and simple chaos broke out behind her.

“Eeeeaat the Wouuuuunded!” the Abbot exclaimed, quoting a famous battle
cry as he drew his sword in readiness to charge forward to engage the foe.

“Gather up!” Laurelin called out at the same time. “Haste Incoming!”

“Belay that!” Laquendi counter commanded. “Don’t bunch up! Booms!”

Laurelin, not one to be countermanded, rushed forward to be able to
catch both the Abbot, before he could begin his charge, and Laquendi up
in her beneficial magic. The rearguard, immediately behind the
priestess, kept pace. It could be that Laurelin’s experience with what
Finfin had described as a “fractious” party had given her experience
with handling this level of conflicting chaos. Or her reflexes, not the
sharpest ones around, positively shone when compared to those of the
Abbot. Regardless of the reason, she was able to reach the middle ground
where everyone could be within reach, licorice root in hand as she
invoked a Haste spell, before the Abbot could put words into action.

Everyone found themselves moving quicker. Especially the Abbot, who
began his headlong charge forward, heedless of the safety rope that
still attached himself to Laquendi. This would become a problem soon for
the dusky elf, but not quite yet.

Further along the bridge, the troglodytes were looking skeptically at
the onrushing Abbot. One grabbed a blunt ended striker and began to bang
away at the gong, filling the bridge room with a detuned metal clanking,
while two others started to slowly back away.

“Dhulokk is dead!” Laquendi called out to the trogs, hoping to
demoralise them.

The remaining trog, however, had a particularly fanatical gleam in its
eyes as it yelled back, “But Eldrad must LIVE!”

Before anyone could attempt to ponder that apparent non-sequitur, the
lead troglodyte crashed the butt end of its spear onto the deck of the
bridge and exclaimed dramatically, “YOU. SHALL. NOT. PASSSSSS!”

The troglodyte then stiffened as a quintet of Magic Missiles launched
from Laquendi stitched a simple pattern through its chest. It held its
pose for a moment, supported by legs, tail, and spear… only to topple
backwards, lifelessly onto its back. All while an arrow from Lomi
encouraged the trog with the gong striker to abandon its musical efforts
and to join its surviving peers backpedalling away from the onrushing
Belmakian.

Laurelin, and of necessity, Laquendi followed the Abbot’s headlong
charge, even as three arrows shot past them to end the gongmaster’s
life. However, as the trio in the vanguard closed on the still
backpedalling troglodytes, each member of the vanguard found themselves
ensnared in a sticky rope that shot over from the right hand wall.

All three swore, though Laurelin a bit more usefully. In addition to
various terms consigning the owner of these ropes into Darkness, she
yelled out, “Roper!” And her words were indeed true. Some twenty to
twenty five feet away from them, on the side wall away from the bridge,
was the squat, stocky figure of a Roper, appearing to be a broad and
tall cone of rock. One that had eyes and a large, toothy maw, and
several ropes extended for more prey. Its troglodyte minions had awoken
it for its next meal… and it was hungry.

Laurelin and Ben both carved away with their swords at the ropes
encircling them. They WOULD be able to cut themselves free, though not
quickly. Laquendi’s answer, however, was different. A fireball launched
from her hand to detonate upon the body of the Roper, expanding to cover
both Laurelin and Ben, as well as the two still backpedalling
troglodytes. Arcanists among the crew could spot the magic somehow
fizzling away into nothing in the immediate vicinity of the Roper, the
monster shrugging aside the spell like an ill fitting jacket. Likewise,
the Mass Fire Resist prayers bestowed on both priest and priestess
prevented either Ben or Laurelin from taking any harm from the blast.
The same, however, could not be said of the surviving pair of
troglodytes, who instantly surrendered their survivor status.

The blast did nicely highlight the new threat for the rearguard,
however. Arrows from Finfin’s stout longbow blasted flakes away from the
Roper. Not doing any particularly visible damage, but the monster did
not seem at all pleased. It expressed this displeasure by starting to
pull at the three figures on the bridge, drawing them ever closer.

Ben, using the power of his Girdle of Giant Strength, pulled himself
free of the confines of his rope. Quite remarkably, so too did Laquendi,
lacking any such magical aid. Laurelin, however, made no move to oppose
the pull of the Roper. In fact, she gleefully charged in the direction
of the pull, activating her Boots of Flying so that rather than tumble
off the edge of the bridge into whatever lurked below, she quite
literally FLEW towards the monster’s perch on the adjacent wall.

More arrows from both Lomi and Finfin pincushioned the Roper during the
Journey of the Priestess, and when Laurelin arrived, swordpoint first,
the creature was looking positively distressed, if not actually rocky.

Back on the bridge, Finfin held his fire; shooting one’s Ex in the back
was not, he knew, an entirely smart thing to do. Freed from these
relationship constraints (and possessing the skill to fire into crowds
that Finfin lacked), Lomi had no such compunction, and skillfully put
another pair of arrows into the monster, ending its life.