While Veles fought in battle and the rest of the party struggled with their enslavement, Palseks moved silently behind the stinky warmblood guard. She followed him down the stairs into the ranch cellar. What little noise her footfalls made were drowned out by the bear's heavy steps and grumbling.
The edition of the game that the party was playing with was going to be a massive help for Palseks as she continued her trek into the cold, musty cellar.
In this edition, invisibility was only broken by an attack or by a spell. The alchemy skill was neither. Sleight of hand was also neither. A small kobold bard like her was naturally specced out for these sorts of tasks.
Palseks quietly exhaled, her snout barely flaring as she skulked behind the bear guard. If it was any colder she'd see her breath. She warmed up her hands by tucking them into her armpits. It looked like this was one of the mayor's defense mechanisms to ward off lizardfolk.
If by some miracle the lizardfolk revolted, the mayor would hold a position of advantage in the cellar. To reorganize and regroup. The bastard probably had an escape tunnel out to the river that flowed through the lumber mill. Every module worth its salt always had some kind of cheesy way for the bad guy to get away.
Or if the lizardfolk tried to sneak in and do something about the potions, their slow minds would be rendered even more sluggish by the chill in the air. Of course, since Palseks was a kobold, this was just a slight inconvenience to her.
Judging from the bear's complaints to himself, he didn't like the cold either. Or his job, to be honest. And who could blame him? It looked like this was a low-level assignment. The kind of job where a fuckup would have you eating the same slop the lizards were having.
“Come on, Bernard! Get a move on, you useless fatass!” Shouted a harsh older woman’s voice from upstairs. “Rodrigo wants a snack!”
“Yeah, yeah!” Grumbled the bear.
“What did you just say!?!?” Shouted the shrill voice,
“I…I said yes, ma’am!” Stammered Bernard.
The bear moved with increased vigor. Unhooking cured viands from the wall, expensive hams and salamis that made Palseks’ hungry tummy rumble.
She licked her sharp teeth, painfully aware of how long it had been since her last meal. However, Palseks’ deeply ingrained need to serve and to make her party proud overruled that urge.
Instead, she waited. For what felt like a long time. She knew that the bear wasn’t going to stay here forever.
Palseks was right.
After some more complaining from the bear, he started to climb the stairs that led to the mayor’s home. Probably to get relieved from his shift.
She knew that she was going to have to make a decision. Go upstairs with the bear, or stay downstairs?
The mayor was going to have the most security around him. Palseks wouldn’t be surprised if he lodged his servants and guards nearby. Maybe in some barracks or servant’s quarters. Or in cabins close to his ranch.
Rodrigo had a very nice shiny around his neck, though. If she could have it, the party could surely put it to good use? She shook her head. That was just too risky, but she made a mental note that she should loot his corpse if the party ever got around to disemboweling the mayor. They could fetch a handsome price for a necklace like that.
On the other hand, the alchemist brewing these potions was probably upstairs. Palseks thought hard. They could have alarm spells and detect magic spells. Even if she did sabotage the source of the potions upstairs, so what? She’d make a ruckus and she’d probably get force-fed gruel.
Those potions weren’t staying upstairs to set a world record of stacked transformation potions or getting sold to normal people. They were going to be smuggled to the mill. She didn’t need to get to the source, she just needed to get to the batch of potions that was going to be mixed into the lizard’s next meal.
Dank cellar it was, then.
Palseks started to search inside the cellar for clues. Where would she start, though? The realization crept on her that this cellar was very, very big for such a small kobold to explore. Insight, perception, and wisdom weren’t her strong points. She was fairly certain that if she wasn’t a jack of all trades that could shore up her deficiencies in non-proficient skills, that she’d be sort of useless here.
She traced her clawed fingers against the walls of the cellar. Behind shelves of food. Between racks of wine. She tapped the brickwork and examined the masonry. Trying to discern a part of the cellar that was new or displaced.
There it was. An alcove tucked away behind a wall, like in that dystopian novel 1969. There was no meat and produce around, and she could swear that the ground here was trodden upon regularly. For once in all her years of tabletop gaming, she wished there was a ranger nearby to help her out with tracks and verify her theory.
That thought amused her. Bards had been laughingstocks for years, while rangers had a much cooler reputation. Until everyone realized that the bard class was actually kind of broken and OP, in hindsight.
Alas. The only thing left now was to find the mechanism that would reveal the path. Which was poorly concealed. Palseks almost facepalmed.
A lone bottle of wine was recessed into a wall. Jutting out like a lever. But it was hard to reach for a little kobold like her.
Sighing, the invisible kobold grabbed a crate, climbed it and pulled the lever. She felt a surge of pride at her plans succeeding. This was so easy. She couldn’t believe her luck as she stepped into the predictable secret tunnel that Rodrigo kept under his ranch.
Palseks could hear the sound of water as she walked for what felt like an interminable amount of time. That sound became a low roar as she got closer. The sounds of a flowing river.
Looks like she was right.
As Palseks got closer, she noticed something about the flow of the stream. It flowed towards the lumber mill. The mayor could keep his operation going by ferrying supplies around. Supplies that were piled up in abundance along the dry banks of the river, ready to get hauled to a makeshift pier made of damp lumber jutting into the river. Overlooking the pier was a wooden platform that led to a storeroom, which was being guarded by a quintet of bored-looking bears.
No doubt waiting for some lizardfolk slaves to load up the goods onto a raft or skiff.
All Palseks had to do now was find the next shipment of potions that were going to be used in the gruel, get the key, free the party, and finally finish this antagonistic DM vs Players module.
The little kobold quietly scampered onto the platform, through the bowlegged gait of one of the bears, and into the storeroom. Another effortless task. She was on a roll today, picking up all the slack.
As she searched inside the storeroom, the invisible kobold used her bardic knowledge to discern what sort of symbols smugglers and scoundrels use, and what sort of markings indicate alchemical trade goods.
Too easy! A box stamped with the mark of a green potion, dipped slightly so a few drops were spilling out earmarked the crate as what she was looking for.
The lid wasn’t even nailed down. As if this could possibly get any easier. When she was through with these potions, they’d be rendered complete inert. Charlie, Gregory, and Geoffery’s potions would wear off; they’d be ready for a breakout. This was going to be textbook. A perfect plan. Her alchemical skills were so potent that she was guaranteed to succeed at this.
Except that she didn’t. As the invisible kobold uncorked the musky-smelling potions and tampered with the ingredients, they churned and roiled in their flasks as she re-stoppered them. Taking on bizarre, oily-looking hues that shifted into a shimmering iridescence. Their weird scent tickled her snout.
As far as she was aware, everything had gone right. She was an alchemical expert, after all.
But even an expert is bound to the rules. Rules that stated that on the roll of a natural 1, your skill check was a failure.
Whatever AI, system, or magic that was handling Finn’s game was also doing all of the rolls in the background. Like in a video game. Like in Space Battles: Cavaliers of the Ancient Principality. Or The Venerable Texts: Tomorrowbreeze.
Every action had a risk, or else what fun would a game be? And everyone blew it at some point. Fumbling. Botching a roll. Usually with “hilarious” consequences. Hilarious being a relative term, of course.
Palseks re-attached the lid, unaware that those “inert” potions may be a bit livelier than she’d hope.
Scrambling out of the storehouse, the hungry kobold went down the riverbank, re-cast invisibility, and walked back to the pier’s general vicinity.
She waited.