Takeshi's Dungeon

We have negotiated an informal alliance between the two opposing drow powers in the undead-infested city. Closing the portal is now a matter of putting whatever flimsy plan we have in to motion, a plan that is nominally 'enter the temple and kill anything that isn't us'. It has worked before. The leader of the drow military has agreed to handle the rank and file of our foe, effectively keeping us from being swamped by minions that would probably be quite fulfilling to mow down in their droves. Yeah, thanks for that. The drow mystic will close the portal itself, our reputation for accidentally opening gates to hell apparently preceding us. First, we must make our way to the temple, in the middle of the city.

Having defeated several pockets of hostile activity already, there is an eerie calmness around the city, broken only by the occasional tortured wail in the distance. The quiet is made more unsettling by the very walls of the city now emanating a pulsating shadow energy, faces and limbs pushing from inside the brick and stone as if it were rubber. We must press on. Only the courtyard stands between us and the temple.

A hush descends as we ascend the stairs to the courtyard. A dense fog engulfs the area, pops and cracks of random fires penetrating the smoky atmosphere even if the light does not. We can barely see our hands in front of our faces, let alone buildings and other structures that stand in our way. And any threats lurking in the fog will surely have the advantage, listening intently for any fools willing to plunge themselves blindly in to danger.

Our drow companions let us know that there is another set of stairs at the far end of the courtyard, at the top of which the temple can be found. That is our destination, we just don't know our path. We stand, as silent as we can manage, at the foot of the courtyard, eyes trying to pierce the thick fog, ears straining to hear any hints of movement, but we can discern nothing. Our progress will require caution and coordination, careful plotting of a path through the maze of buildings and avoiding lurking peril.

'Let's go!' Gruknal bursts from the top of the stairs in to the fog, vortices of smoke trailing behind him as his heavy armour clanks absurdly in the disturbed stillness. In the style of Sir Digby Chicken Caesar, he veers to his right then, as one crossbow bolt ricochets off his armour and a second pierces it, changes to head towards the direction of the shots. 'I'm sneaking!' he calls as he races past two drow busily reloading crossbows.

Meanwhile, the GM is calling for Gruknal to pause every couple of steps, as the large map, filling the entire table, is purposely blank and needs to have sections of buildings and walls drawn on as new information is gathered by our 'scout'. By the time Gruknal has sprinted his way past the first two drow, almost half-way across the courtyard in a single round and trailblazing the way to bypass the encounter within two, the GM has his head in his hands, muttering to himself. 'You can't see more than 5 squares in any direction, I thought you'd be sneaky, take your time, be slow. I really should have spent all that planning time preparing instead for a more direct approach'. Who could have forseen a dwarf leading a blind charge?

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