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Speaking in a hushed tone to the group

Due to the lack of rain in the region, I suggest we set fire to a few buildings. This way, the bulk of the goblin force will be too preoccupied with putting out the fires, which in turn will make getting to their king that much easier. This is assuming the king is residing in the largest and/or most lavish building in this village. By chance, does anyone have oil or anything that is flammable?

Bilit Taauth, Atlantean Witch

In response to the cleric's query, the witch whispers a word none of you can make out. Suddenly, fire springs to her fingertips. As she approaches one of the buildings, the flame seems to dance, as if it were a living creature, before jumping from her fingers to the most flammable parts of the building. The blaze seems happy as it quickly spreads, engulfing the building, rapidly threatening to become an uncontrollable inferno if not dealt with, and soon. She begins to walk away, saying tersely to the group, We should leave now.

She cast Pyrokinesis.

Morag Mac Tharn, noble savage:

Beneath his wolf's mask, Morag nodded once.

Then, keeping low to the ground, the barefoot, stone-age primitive will attempt to scout the path to the Goblin Keep through the shadows of the twisting back alleys of this strange, alien city. "Follow," he grunted.

Narrator

Morag scouts ahead and the others quickly follow as the alley they left behind begins to sizzle and burn, the beginnings of a raging inferno. Morag feels suddenly driven as if something or some force has taken control of him. The party follows on, Morag darts and dashes through the goblin streets as if he was born to them. The party deftly avoids two dozen goblin soldiers on their patrols and fast paced scrambling to put out the city fires. Morag brings the party to a 90' high wall that has a sewer drain entrance nestled into its base. Morag without any doubt in his mind is sure that this is where he needed to take everyone, then the presence seems gone. The gate on the sewer is locked by an intricate looking goblin master lock. Delwin explains that he has some black powder that could blow the lock but it will end their element of surprise.

Morag Mac Tharn, noble savage:

Morag knew not whether his trance was an animal state that was self induced, or the work of the Gods. He just knew that he had returned from it.

The primitive looked expectantly at the Jester and the Witch who were good with such trickery as opening locks.

Horik "Aye where be our jester? Stuck in another barrel perhaps?"

Bilit, Atlantean Witch

The witch glares harshly at Morag. Do not look at me like that, savage! I have no skills with such things! Perhaps our jester can prove his usefulness.

Fenris

Before we let the jester have his fun, I think we should check for any enchantments to err on the side of caution.

Fenris casts detect magic on the lock.

Torvald Human berserker.

While the others decide what to do with the lock, Torvald will keep on eye on the nearby streets so that they are not taken unawares by any attacking goblins.

Shameful Shamus O'Reilly

Shambles up to the lock with a cocky swagger

" Lets see what we have here shall we? "

He says to no one in particular as he attempts to pick the Lock with a fancy set of picks.

Pick Locks Attempt [1d100] = 57 = Success

The sewer grate swings open and the stench of the tunnel wafts out. The players may now enter the sewers of the goblin king at the leisure!

Shameful Shamus O'Reilly Grins

Morag, noble savage:

Discomfort of the senses matters little to the stone-age primitive. Morag the barbarian scouts ahead again, stoic, unflappable and resolute.

Bilit Taauth, Atlantean Witch

Having been in close quarters with the dwarves as well as her human companions for an extended period of time, Bilit's tolerance level for foul stenches had risen sharply as of late. Consequently, she gasps briefly when hit with the rolling odor of the sewers that wafts out. She recovers quickly and manages a weak smile, hoping none of the male warriors with her saw her moment of weakness. I shall follow along, after a few more enter.

Horik enters the sewers as well his prized sword in hand once he is on solid footing again after entering the foul sewers.

Not one to shirk his duty nor run from a fight, Torvald steels his nerves and follows the others into the sewers. "Ugh, and I though goblins smelled bad on the outside..."

edited for spelling

Bilit follows after Torvald.

NARRATOR

The party enters the sewers of the goblin king.
The sewers are of a wide construction as to allow up to two ogres side by side to march comfortably down. There is a three foot ditch in the middle of the tunnels that is flowing with trash and gore and other things unmentionable. As the party travels thru the sewers they start to get the feeling they are being watched. Torvald in particular does not like it at all, he feels like the watching eyes are ready to strike him. It takes everything he has not to go beserker mad.

Torvald, human berserker

"I do not like this place." the berserker hisses, his hand anxiously open and closing on his sword hilt. "I feel as if eyes are all round, watching me. It is alomst enough to drive a man to madness." Torvald head jerks erratically from one direction to another as he tries to find what is causing this unease in him.

NARRATOR

Torvald begins to act strangely suddenly and he starts having daydreams about a Thatch Hut with Chickens legs that his grand mother used to tell him about in stories as a boy. He starts envisioning this Hut as if it were real in his mind. He thinks then about the story itself. How did the old witch get the hut to sit down again? He couldn't remember the line from the tale, it was to long ago. Torvald then comes to, walking with his friends in the sewers. It was as if known of them saw it.

DM

The party advances forward into the sewer for about an hour. They come upon an very large room that acts as the sewers main causeway. It is a massive room in diameter, easily a football field in length and width. The ceiling is about 80' high. At the Center of the causeway, the party notices a small Hut. The hut then stands up as everyone looks at it. The hut starts to dance on chicken legs inside its fenced in area. The fence is approximately 20' high and has skulls attached to spikes on the top.

Torvald gasps at the sight of BABA YAGA'S HUT!

There before the party dancing around was a magical hut out of children's nightmares. The Whole party feels terror and awe at the sight they are witnessing.

Morag, noble savage:

Morag the barbarian backs up and crouches in fear of this sorcerous abomination, wide eyes glancing at Torvald who dreamt it, Bilit the witch, Horik the king and Fenris the chosen for some kind of plan.

The superstitious primitive holds forth his blessed spear to protect him.