Kyran steps into the inn, looking around curiously. He takes a seat at an empty table and looks around uncomfortably as he waits for the others to show up.

Ananzi makes a noise that sounds distinctly like a snicker as he sits down, brush curled around his legs and smirking for all he's worth.

Katrina, meanwhile, has gone out to find him, mentally calling until he sends her a picture of where he is. She hurries, laughing when she finds the others and at what passes for a shit eating grin on the fox's face. "Looks like someone has decided he'll be joining you, gentlemen."

Kyran looks down at the fox. "Oh?" He glances at the fox, who has the hairs. Kyran smiles a little. "Maybe next time a warning should be in order... I'd hate to think he's dinner when he's yours, that would be a shame. Does this mean he wishes to be the front scout?"

Katrina chuckles, as Ananzi drops the locks at her feet, brushing against her legs, catlike. "That's up to him, but it would seem so." She appears amused.

Alfred walks in, still looking bright and cheerful. Painfully bright, in fact, with a pair of skewers with meat and veggies held in his gloved left hand while he uses his right hand to open the door and pull himself up a seat. "And how have you been this fine morning, Kyran?"

Kyran shrugs, looking in Alfred's direction before he even comes in. "Fairly well, I have been. But, may I ask, why were you not outside with us last night? You did say you would be joining us, did you not?"

Alfred smiles deviously as he takes his seat and begins picking at one of the skewers. "Oh, but I _did_ join you, Kyran. As evidenced by these three locks of hair. Are you telling me your tracking skills weren't enough to find me?"

Kyran considers for a moment, and takes a brief sniff, as if he's got a cold. "They're good enough to tell me you didn't leave this establishment all night, of this I am certain. Still, you have the hairs, and you bested me. Care to take the lead in our reconnasance?"

Katrina calls mentally for Paia, as well, a worried look on her face as she moves her hand to stroke a feather tucked into a pouch at her belt, tugging on the mental link.

After being filled in on the last part of the conversation, Alfred nods knowingly to the fox. "I agree, though, that the fox should go with Kyran and Drakar to scout for the rest of the group. I would go, but my stealth skills are sadly lacking. I'm amazed none of you managed to obtain a lock of my hair."

Kyran chuckles. "One of us managed to, that it seems." He points down at the lock that Ananzi has. "Unless that is someone elses?"

Alfred frowns a bit. "No, I am most definitely a scholar, not a scout. You puzzle me, Kyran. What makes you think I never left the inn last night?"

Paia answers her call, indicating that she has been drifting in and out of her telepathic range while stalking an elusive rabbit.

Kyran responds, "Perhaps you may not understand, but I am perhaps a far better tracker than you give me credit for. The ground outside posessed no evidence of you tracing over it over the night. Additionally, no creatures in the woods could pick up your scent, which is a rather unique one, that it is. Furthermore, why did you decide to play along while you had no intention of joining us on the front lines? Certainly if you are good enough to fool me, which you must be if your claim is true, you would have no problem fooling the senses of anything we may encounter down there."

Alfred smiles deviously and finishes off one skewer before responding, "Oh, I certainly fooled you, good sir, but it was not through stealthy movements in a dark forest. But like all good charlatans, I shall not reveal my secrets. It is enough that you know that your stealth and tracking skills are greater than mine, and so I shall not proceed with you, though if you were to consult me when you cannot identify a track, that would be quite prudent of you."

Kyran looks at Alfred quizzingly for a moment, then glances at Katrina's worrying. "What is bothering you, if I may ask?"

Walking down the stairs, obviously refreshed and groomed (as evidenced to Kyran's nose, at least, by a distinct lack of scent - which the armored minion shares), Segev speaks uncharacteristically loudly from the bottom of the steps - that is, he's audible at the party's table from that distance away. "Draconic senses are far superior to even the lupine ones you occasionally borrow, my rather druidic young friend." The necromancer must be feeling especially good about something today; there is a decided hint of humor in both his expression and voice as he walks up and takes a seat. His Redwater Crusader bodyguard takes up his customary silent position behind the black-robed mage.

The warrior relaxes. "I had not heard from Paia in a few days. Seems she's hunting." She makes sure to praise Ananzi since no one else is.

Kyran nods. "That is some relief. Paia is a... rather loud one when she wants to be, that she is." With that, he turns back to Segev. "Would you be willing to explain what we can expect from you on today's jaunt into the catacombs, or is it too secret to tell your companions?"

Ordering a modest meal and a heavilly watered ale from the serving wench, Segev takes a moment to get comfortable in his seat before answering Kyran. "There is no secret I am keeping from you. Unfortunately, the whole purpose of this reconisance mission is to garner information about the catecombs and the various denizens thereof. In particular, the dragon we hunt. Therefore, I have no further information; we're going down there to find it. Taking on the dragon on this first foray is probably not wise, unless we are forced to it, or a chance too fortuitous to pass up is presented." He looks to Alfred. "How about you? Have you explored the sewers or catecombs of this city prior to this day?"

Alfred polishes off his second, and last, skewer as Segev finishes his query. He responds without actually thinking about it, "No, I haven't. I know an entrance to the catacombs, though. I was looking for help when I ran into you people."

Taking his meal from the returning wench, the mage pays and tips her before taking the first bite and nodding to Alfred's reply. He begins a slow, methodical consumption of the food, not saying anything more unless asked again for input. Lending credance to the suspicions of certain party members (as if any were needed), the Crusader does not join in the meal.

Following the meal, the party gets suited up and prepared for their hunt for the dragon.  During the preparations, Paia comes down from the sky, landing near Kyran.

'And where are you kids off to?' she asks the spellcasters and rangers.

Kyran smiles and pats the bird on the head, if she will let him. "Off to adventure. What else do you suppose we'd be doing, may I ask?"

'Adventurers,' she huffs, shaking her head in an exaggerated and exasperated manner. 'Never answering clearly. I asked where, not what.'

"Into the catacombs," rasps the necromancer as he pushes away from the table and flows to his feet. "I trust we are all prepared?"

Kyran hops off the table and gives Paia a smile, then turning to the rest of the party. "I am prepared, of this you probably know."

Alfred huffs a little at being lumped in with the adventurers, but recovers quickly and states boldly, "A gentleman is ready for anything!"

Members of the party disappear for an hour, as they gather their gear (including the armor Drakar was having enchanted), pool their light implements, and, if desired, hire a lantern-bearer. 

Alfred then leads them to the entrance, which happens to be an old sewer entrance situated, ironically enough, behind this city's temple of Akanksha.  Narush wrinkles his nose and hesitates, unwilling to enter these catacombs. 

Ananzi also backs away from the entrance, sending a feeling of fear and distaste to Katrina.

To Kyran, the place smells like a sewer, and it threatens to overwhelm his sensitive nose.

Kyran wrinkles his nose. "Is *that* what a 'sewer' is? It is... disgusting, revolting, and deplorably rancid, that it is." He scratches Narush's head and regards Drakar. "Making Narush go down there would be a rather unethical thing to do, that I feel."

Kyran takes another whiff and quickly coughs, getting the air out of his lungs. "There is..." *cough* "Our quary is definately down there, certainly. The flayer, that is." *cough* "There are some other things that doesn't smell of refuse too." With that, Kyran quickly turns away from the sewer and tries to get a relatively fresh breath of air, walking a few feet away if he needs to.

Alfred quirks one eyebrow above his raised collar. "And how, precisely, can you tell that our quarry is down there?" Then he inhales a nice whif of the sewer aroma and coughs a bit. He reaches into his pack and removes a small bundle of herbs and hangs them just inside his collar.

Kyran places his hand over his chest, breathing heavily before turning back to the group. "I have other... talents than the simple practice of woodland travel, this you may find more evident soon." He fingers with a slight golden chain around his neck, idly thinking about something else before snapping to attention. "I will explain in good time, but later."

Alfred gives Kyran a quizzical look before withdrawing another small bundle and offering it. "Would you like your own? You've got no collar like my own to hold it, but I'm certain you can improvise something."

Kyran blinks. "Um, what is it, if I may ask?"

Alfred continues holding out the bundle of herbs. "Just a bundle of aromatic herbs. I use them for making tea. Mostly it's different varieties of mint."

Kyran takes the bundle and sniffs it, turning away and sneezing right afterwards from inhaling too much. He wipes his nose and, after it's clean, regards Alfred. "I thank you for the kindness, you should know." He takes his cloak and tightens it, making it able to hold the herbs. He's particularly cautious to keep too much from blocking his sense of smell or from causing him to sneeze again.

Alfred watches the entire progression with keen eyes intently focused on Kyran, especially his eyes and nose, and when Kyran thanks him, he response jovially, "Think nothing of it, my good... man. Can't have one of our prime scouts disabled by his keen sense of smell."

Kyran smiles sheepishly and responds. "So, you noticed that too?" He looks into the sewers with a frown and a sign of disgust. "Simply deplorable, that it is." He pauses and looks at Alfred quizzingly. "I can assure you I'm a man, if you are uncertain about that."

Alfred smiles a bit at Kyran's distaste. "Distasteful as they be, they're necessary for civilization. Where else to put all that... waste? We've better versions in Rinkasae, naturally, but that doesn't change the fact that it exists."

Kyran shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe the sorcerors could wisk it all away on flying carpets, perhaps?" He snickers.

Drakar places one hand on the inside of the tunnel, leans in and takes a long sniff of the air. "Smells fine to me. Reminds me of home." The half-ork looks over at Narush as he waves his hand to clear the cloud of buzzing flies clustured over the corpse of a dead rat, as the dire wolf wrinkles its nose, not in disgust, but in confusion as he tries to sort out the barrage of smells assaulting his nose.

The dire wolf growls and raises its hackles, the interlocking scales of its armor rattling slightly as he barks his eagerness for the hunt. What Kyran has forgotten is that the dire wolf has been smelling the scent of its companions gearing up for battle all morning, and it wants a share in the kill.

"I think Narush will be fine Kyran. You're letting your human sensibilities get in the way of the hunt. Nothing is more important than the hunt."

With that, Drakar steps into the tunnel to lead the way down it, his armor lending him a silent, dark-blurred form as he dissappears into the dank darkness. Narush follows his pack brother, close behind, shaking off Kyran's hand on his head as he pads quickly through the muck at the bottom of the tunnel, leaving the others to catch up.

Kyran hmpfhs. "I was not regarding his sense of smell. I know well enough what wolves do and don't smell. I was more considering the unnatural conditions and closed-in spaces that we would find ourselves in, that I was."

Drakar would answer, but he and Narush have already left down the rancid smelling tunnel.

Katrina urges Ananzi on, gently, going ahead as far as she dares to send him encouragement, before dropping back to the other heavy fighters.

Korg sniffs the air as the party starts down the beginning part of the sewer. "What lovely places you take us," he comments to Segev with a smile. He appears rather unbothered by the variety of stenches or the collection of filth on his (admittedly not polished) plate armor as he quietly trudges along in a position of rearguard.

Alfred levels a penetrating stare at Kyran, but says only, "Shouldn't you be going with him, O great scout?"

Kyran gulps. "I... suppose I should. Follow soon, would you please?" He heads in after Drakar and Narush, a little (and understandably so) distressed.

Chuckling darkly, a now-floating Segev taps himself with a wand and dissappears from sight. The Silent Crusader that serves as his bodyguard takes up a position with the others who remain behind as the now invisibly flying necromancer drifts in after the other scouts.

Alfred sighs a little at the silliness of these adventurers, waits a few minutes, then casts a quick spell. Then he digs a candle out of his pack, lights it up, and hands it to thin air. The thin air holds it quite well, and it follows obediently along after him as he heads into the darkness.

A short distance into the sewars, as the tunnel opens up to an area large enough for the rest of the party, Drakar returns to wait for the others after a quick look down the tunnels leading to this area. He nods to Kyran as the other ranger moves silently into the tunnel and shades his eyes as Alfred and his floating candle enters with the rest of the party.

"Is Segev here? I suppose he must be floating invisible somewhere. Alright then, this is how we'll keep our distance. The advance party is Kyran, Ruathor, Segev, Ananzi and myself, agreed? Wait twenty grains before following us down the tunnel so that your sound and light don't give us away. Ananzi will let you know through Katrina if we stop for any reason. Don't keep coming unless Katrina lets you know to do so.

Drakar bends down to Ananzi. "Are you willing to be our go-between, Ananzi? I'll signal a stop with a closed fist, and the others to come with an open palm." Raising his head to the others he continues, "We'll keep track of our progress with chalk." Drakar hands a different colored piece of chalk to each person. "If for any reason you get seperated, leave messages or arrows with the chalk and the rest of us will try to find you. If we come to an intersection, the scouts will check each passage for 20 grains out before returning in another 20 grains, while the rest of you guard our backs."

"Are we agreed then? Does this meet with your approval?"

Korg stops along with the rest of the party and listens to Drakars plan. "Magical methods aside," he rumbles with a hint of disdain, "we're to hurry to catch up at the sound of, say, loud screaming from you people?" The last part is said more as if he thinks the question is kind of funny for its obviousness, which in a way it is.

Kyran glances around and nods. "Segev is indeed here. Although I do wonder why you had not discussed this before entering, that I do... Regardless, that is an acceptable solution to some problems we may encounter." Coughing a bit, he continues. "You may also wish to define what a 'grain' is so everyone understands completly, as it is an unfamiliar term to me for any form of measurement."

Drakar looks strangely at Kyran. "A grain, my young friend, is the time it takes for a grain of sand to fall through an hour glass. They sell small vial-sized glasses that drop only one grain at a time with a consistant measureable rate here in Therro. About the time it takes to say'one-Al-Quenda'." He hands Kyran one such glass from a vial-sized loop on his bandolier.

The half-orc ranger waves to the rest of the group, "As to discussing it here, I wanted everyone to get used to the place first so they could see for themselves how far sound and light carry. I myself did not know how far a distance to keep until I got here and saw how far I had to go to be out of sight and earshot of the rest of the group."

Alfred looks curiously at Drakar. "Just how large are these grains of sand you use? And how big the opening? Do you have people specificaly dedicated to finding properly sized grains of sand? Have you worked out a filter to sort the sand? That's what I would do if I needed similarly sized grains of sand. Have you set a standard yet so that all "grain" measure are precisely the same? What happens if you've got different pressure on the sand, from differently sized reservoirs in longer timepieces? Does that affect the flow rate at all?"

"Um, let's see. Grain-sized, grain-sized, no, yes, for all intents and purposes yes, time pieces are made from vials bought from merchants and are all about the same size, and not so I've noticed." Drakar pauses to take a breath. "Any other questions?"

Kyran takes the timeglass and scratches his head. "It sounds rather inaccurate, that it does. A grain improperly sized or even logged incorerectly from shaking would cause the device to cease operating."

A familiar near-whisper issues from nearby, revealing that Kyran was indeed right - the necromancer is present. "While this discussion of the feasibility of such accurate time pieces is fascinating," he begins, only the slightest hint of sarcasm staining his perfectly calm tones, "it has little to do with our current venture. Alfred, you may wish to extinguish that candle; constant light sources could be more hinderance than help, here. Have your servant take these."

Korg is confused by the question over grains, their sizing and manufacture of timepieces. "A grain is a grain," he comments to Alfred and Kyran, the questions being patently silly in his mind, like asking what air is. He chuckles at Segev's far more eloquent reaction to the discussion, then starts to quietly(ish) move after the advance party after a count of 20, paying attention to the half-elf kinda-warrior (as he thinks of her) for cues to hold up.

Suddenly, Alfred finds himself holding what appears to be a stick covered in cloth. As he takes it out, the stick is revealed to be engulfed in heatless flame. "Have it cover the light when we need concealing darkness."

A couple moments pass, and then Segev's voice echoes from slightly farther ahead. "Shall we go?"

Alfred blinks. "Well, I personally find the discussion of time to be uniquely relevant to our situation here, but I suppose as an approximation of the passage of time, these "grains" will do. In any case, by all means, scout ahead, I shall prepare the lights while you do so." That said, he goes about extinguishing the candle, and in a moment the servant is holding both candle and stick ine one "hand" and the silk cover in the other.

The half-orc growls, "Just count to 20. Narush, stay with Katrina," and then heads further into the sewers, climbing up the sides and onto the ceiling of the tunnel in a somewhat unnerving spidery fashion as he does so.

The dire wolf wrinkles its nose and takes no heed of the command and quietly pads after the ranger who keeps feeding him and taking him on fun and exciting hunts.

Narush can barely detect the almost creepy lack-of-scent of the necromancer as he floats behind Drakar, giving him room but ready to provide backup and an extra set of senses.

Ananzi yips softly, then starts running along the sewer floor, following a scent trail.  The others are hard-pressed to keep up with the four-legged terror.

As Ananzi turns a corner, the group comes across a wooden door, with a deadbolt rusted shut. The stench of death emanates from beyond the door, and a high-pitched, unearthly shriek can be heard from the other side.  Ananzi's hackles are standing on end; as are Narush's as he joins the group.

Narush tests the door with his nose; the door doesn't open.  He looks at Drakar with big brown eyes and an anxious look on his face.

Kyran winces at the shriek, not liking the sound of it at all. He sniffs the air cautiosly afterwards and motions for the others to stop. Getting Drakar's attention, he speaks very softly to the half-orc. "That, I believe, is a Shrieker. A strange underground fungus. Not very dangerous alone, but they make noise whenever light is nearby and, unfortunatly, usually have more dangerous creatures nearby, that they do."

About fifteen seconds later, Alfred and the rest of the Smite Crew come trotting down the hall. It would likely have been twenty, but they started running when they heard the screaming. Aflred is already panting a bit when he comes to a stop. "Well, we're here. What's with the screaming? And why isn't there any dying?"

From somewhere near the ceiling, a quieter than usual whisper replies, "Shrieker. It's a natural alarm system; we were not quite stealthy enough, it seems. If you wish to deal with it quickly so we can prepare for whatever is coming in response to its cry...?"

Alfred looks up at the ceiling, annoyed, and snaps, "I know quite well what a Shrieker is. Further, the time for dealing with it quickly passed about ten seconds ago, so when you open that door, you should be prepared to face any one of a number of creatures. Luckily for us, the realm of possibility is somewhat narrowed to those things which generate the stench of death, so be prepared to face either undead or some sort of fungus. It is worth noting that the animate variety of fungus referred to by adventurers as 'violet fungus' is often found in the company of the common Shrieker, so be prepared for poison."

Finally stopping only because he ran out of breath, Alfred decides he's said enough for now and walks up to the door in question, motioning for his unseen servant to follow closely with the light. He begins actively studying the door, checking for how often it's been used, how old it is, and other such things.

"Astute, my dear Alfred." The necromancer's cold smile is audible in his dry voice. "Perhaps we should allow our more combat-ready friends to open the door, so we may put an end to this atrocious racket? Unless you see any traps on the portal..."

The door itself is old, made of wood, and has rotted along the top and bottom, with holes to let sewer rats and other similarly-sized creatures through (as well as light).  The deadbolt and hinges are rusted stiff.

Alfred takes several long (well, short, but long for a gnome) steps back from the door, turns smartly on his heel, and raies his gloved left hand to point at the door. "By all means, anybody who feels particularly resistant to poison, feel free to burst through the door. I'll provide covering fire."

Kyran glances around and settles on Segev's companion, for once giving a small smirk. "I feel that the... talents of Seg's companion would prove most valuable here."

Drakar, who has spent the entire time in front of the door making cutting signs across the throat at the rest of the party suddenly hisses in a loud whisper to the arguing group, "stop yer jabbering!"

The half-orc bestows a glower on all the noisy offenders before turning and cautiously peering through any hole knowing that anything on the other side likely knows the group is there, same as the shriekers do, through the voices.

Kyran shakes his head, continuing in his hushed tone. "If they didn't know we were here before, they do now with that outburst... that is certain." Kyran draws his sword and sets his shield. His ear twitches slightly in anticipation, although under this light it's not noticable.

Drakar holds up his hand palm outward at the rest of the group, in a stopping motion and then clenches it. What the half-orc knows as a hold-fast but be ready signal. Whether any of the others pay attention to it or not, he continues to try and discern the situation in the room beyond, peering through a hole in the door and using his darkvision to the utmost.

Through the holes in the door, a shrieker fungus, two violet funguses, and a carrion crawler are visible.

Drakar describes the situation.  "Ruathor, take care of that shrieker; we don't need it attracting any more attention.  After that, cover the rest of us.  Katrina, Korg, Segev, you three and ... him," he indicates Segev's ever-present silent bodyguard, "should concentrate on the carrion crawler.  The rest of us will take on the other fungi before joining you."

Ruathor nods in understanding, backs away from the door slightly, to narrow his target field of fire as he nocks an arrow to his elven bow; taking a covering-fire position.

"Servant, to the front. Prepare for battle," is the almost-whispered command issued from the invisible mage. The man(?) in Crusader armor complies, walking to the fore of the party. "If everyone is ready...?"

He gives the other party members a handful of breaths to get ready or protest, then orders, "Servant, open the door and enter."

The servant throws itself against the door with its full weight, using its shield to add to the damage.  The door cracks around the lock and flies open.  

Drakar rushes around the minion, drawing his greatsword, and savagely attacks the fungus on the left.  His blow rips through the fungus, delivering a savage blow that puts the fungus out of commission.

At the same time, the minion charges at the carrion crawler, passing by the second fungus as it does so.  The second fungus lashes out at the minion with a tentacle, but the minion ignores its miniscule attacks, slamming its greatsword into the carrion crawler's side. The blow, however, does no damage as it bounces off the crawler's hide.

Ananzi slips into the room unseen, and starts sniffing around the corners.

The carrion crawler lashes out with all of its own tentacles against the minion; it remains standing and seemingly shrugging off the paralysis.  The crawler then attempts to bite the minion's leg, but only ends up biting off one of its own tentacles.

Ruathor fires two arrows in rapid succession at the shrieker; the blows from the arrows knock the shrieker off it's stem.

Kyran, Korg, and Katrina all close to the carrion crawler.  Kyran's bastard sword slams into it, leaving a sizable gash.  Korg's and Katrina's swords slam into it as well, effectively carving the thing to pieces.

Alfred takes aim with his pistol at the remaining fungi.  The sound of the pistol cracking echos around the room as the smoke clears, and the fungus has a large gaping hole in the middle of it where the bullet lodged.

Narush attacks the remaining fungus, and manages to rip it in two before the fungus can react.  He proceeds to take the top half, and shakes it around savagely before flipping it into the air and catching it it.  He then trots over to where Drakar is, and sets the fungus's top half down, tail wagging.

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XP:
Everyone receives the standard 100 session XP for the mailing.  In addition, everyone gains 344 XP for this fight.

Loot: Among the corpses of previous victims, the group finds coins amounting to 28 gp and a piece of hematite worth 10 gp.