It was just a matter of time before the barbarian recovered and joined them. The guards and their ballista were neutralized, and everything seemed to be going their well. The plan worked well, and the chanters began falling quickly to their onslaught. The dread necro used the distraction to slip past the guards and begin slaughtering the chanters and the mage focused her spells on the goblin necromancer itself. It ripped off a spell, provoking fear in the barbarian, punching through his rage and causing him to flee back into the tunnels. The cleric attacked the ballista, having a personal vendetta against all siege weaponry from his previous encounters, and the goblin on the throne revealed himself to be the necromancer they were looking for. The chanting continued, and the guards moved to intercept, some of them moving to man the ballista, and the others moving in the way. They charged into the open, with the barbarian in the front. The players, noticing the chanting increasing in intensity, decided their best course of action would be to try and take out the chanters and disrupt the ritual. A screening force of larger goblins stood around them as guards, and an unmanned ballista stood nearby.įor this encounter I had reskinned Dekanter goblins to act as guards.
He was surrounded by small chanting robed creatues they assumed were goblins. A goblin dressed in dark robed stood on a throne shaped like a large stone spider. They proceeded carefully down the hallway, sneaking around the corner to spy on whatever was going on. Upon reaching their furthest point, they discovered the drums had not stopped. They headed back down into the sewers at first light, again bypassing the first level and all of my carefully planned encounters, and going directly into the goblin warrens. If you can tell where this is going you’re paying better attention than the players. They talked among themselves and decided if something down there was going to kill them, it would either do it while they were warm and well fed in the tavern, or it would wait for them to get back.Īmong their travels in the city of Bechamel, they had stopped in the local museum to have some old documents identified, and the curator had off hand asked them to keep an eye out for a missing fossil they had lost from their collection, an unidentified fragment about the size of a football.
The players did the prudent thing, rather than the brave, and advanced to the rear. They didn’t know exactly that that meant, but drums meant drummers, and, barring a lone Matthew McConaughey inspired goblin, it meant more enemies. Standing there, battered and spent, the heroes could hear drums further in the tunnels.
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