S.P.I.R.E.: Sharn Private Investigation and Risk Elimination

Theras Blacksand

Books called it a volunteer mission, but I could do the math: Nearly a third of S.P.I.R.E.’s number, captured or killed in a street brawl. If word got out we let that pass every bunch of punks in Sharn would think we were easy meat, and S.P.I.R.E. would be as dead as my tribe. This was a hunt, a war with ruthless savages. This was what the Commish hired me for.

We headed to the last place anyone had seen our allies, and found a bunch of ugly little crow people tearing up the market. I didn’t realize they were with the Daask until after the dust settled, but they attack us on sight, so they got the same treatment they would have if I’d known walking in. I crushed a few of them, as did the plant-machine, and the little lizard. The drow blasted a pair of them into puffs of feathers and red smears, and even “King” knocked a couple of them out. The last one cowered, whimpered, and took us right to the Daask’s doorstep.

As a reward for his obidience, we didn’t kill that last Kenku. He’s missing a few tufts of feathers from his wings and head, but healthy.

After a bit of recon (by the drow’s floating eyeball and Reldin’s lantern) and planning we moved in and disabled the Daask’s alarm gong. Ironwood made a move toward a door we could hear feasting behind, but frantic gesturing got through the thick plating on his head, and and we set about looking for the Bad News survivors on the flooded lower floor instead of facing what might have been the entire force of the Daask in Sharn.

With a surprising degree of stealth for such a large, heavily armed group, we snuck past a patrol (twice) and found little of interest (an overflowing pool and a useless kitchen). So we laid a trap for the patrol we’d been dodging, going on the logic that the third and final door had to have something hostile in it, and it would be better to wipe out the patrol now than to have them attack our flank.

The ambush went well, with only Ironwood’s insistence on hurling furniture creating any chance of failure.

Pushing on, we found the disabled remains of “John” standing in a cage, surrounded by several goblins. We attempted to lure them into another ambush, but they set up a counter-ambush, and – because we had a time limit – we set theirs off rather than the other way around. The goblins were backed by an orc shaman casting some fairly familiar filth-spells, but the real surprise came from the rear, in the form of a pair of hungry green slimes. My own role and perspective on the fight was limited to grappling with and pounding on one of the aforementioned oozes, but “King” definitely managed to feed one of the goblinsto the other slime, and I heard some fairly impressive fireworks from the vicinity of Eya and the kobold.

During the fight, Reldin had discovered Kos, alive and scalped, upstairs. We gathered him and “John” up and hustled them out to relative safety, then continued our cautious exploration. We soon found Pepper, caged and badly mauled, surrounded by unconscious goblinoids. The kobold and I nodded to one another and set to work. No flashy lights, no dramatic poses, just a lot of choking, gasping, and gurgling, with Reldin looking away and Eya watching with a grin on her face that looked altogether too wide and pointed.

We extracted Pepper and snuck out. The rest of the Daask will need to be dealt with, as they will clearly attempt to kill everyone with a S.P.I.R.E badge on sight, but our numbers and reputation as a group not to be trifled with are secure.

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