Immersive Ink

sully wrote:What was the result of the looting?

waysoftheearth wrote:The five goblins and three hobgoblins each have a grubby little purse containing a mix of tin and brass tokens as well as copper and silver coins, the Herald counts out 14 silver and 60 copper coins among the chafe. The hobgoblins wore weevily padded jacks and iron helmets; the smaller goblins carried only simple black bucklers for protection. Between them they were armed with hard and spiked cudgels, and a few cruel knives and axes.

Tonneau wrote:"Must be the pipe weed, not a good sort, I'll wager" Zax adds with an accusing glance at Akbar.

Akbar looks sadly at the weed-pipe in his hand, then shoves it back beneath the folds of his cloak and hefts his arbalest over Zax's head, peering around the corner.

Karl checks the most likely helmets for size and freedom from vermin. Does he find something passable? If so, he puts it on.

Karl checks a few of the black-iron hobgoblin helms before he finds one that is a passable fit, and puts in on. It's serviceable if not comfortable.

Please write "hobgoblin helm" on your sheet.

Meanwhile Wetzel arrives, Brother Herald gathers up the goblin purses, and Zax and Akbar check around the next corner...

...the barrack/warren they have been moving through enters a broad thouroughfare which extends to their left and right. To the right it continues off into a deeper darkness. To the left it passes several passages before running into a long ramp that descends gently for some hundred or more feet toward a wide portal obscured by the unmistakable dazzle of natural daylight...

The Herald thinks hard on their next move.

Looks like we ran out of enemies. You're remarkably efficient, Zax. If we're gonna go any further, I suggest we go get the rest of those slackers and take them with us first.

"Ahr..." says Zax with notable disappointment upon spying the empty chamber.

Dusting his hands off and shouldering his ice pick, he nods in reply to The Heralds suggestion. "Right you are long-legs. Maybe them other punters a' found us some more greeskins eh?"

Wetzel glances down the passage toward the sunlight, looking wistful. Then he removes his helm to listen for a moment, trying to discern sound from the side passages or the outer world.

Wetzel hears echoes of distant voices and the intermittent clangs of activity from both directions. It's very clear that the place is not unoccupied...