D&D 4E: Splug is the Hobgoblin of Little Minds, Part II

You smelly backbiter, Splug.
Splug liked hanging back behind the party, and as someone who usually ranged well in front of the party, Wenner was fine with that. Sure, now that the party had Splug to push around, they’d stopped with the “toehair” jokes, but it still hurt.
“The Fat One!” said Splug as the Adventuring Company magically stitched their wounds when the battle was done. “The Fat One — he KNOWS things!”
“The Fat One… easier to stab,” muttered Wenner. The group had weapons bared and spells at the ready as Wenner led them behind the heavy curtains to the rooms behind. Aside from some rusted supplies and crates (duly smashed), the rooms were empty of anything valuable and anything that might fight back.
Splug became visibly agitated as the group neared the rearmost room, his already shaky command of the Common tongue deserting him. He could only point to the corner of the room cordoned by the same heavy drapes that featured so heavily throughout the Keep.
Tipa ripped aside the curtains. There was a bed — empty — behind them, and a chest — locked — against the wall. “Wenner?” hinted Tipa.
“On it,” sighed the thief. He checked for traps, found none, and deftly flicked open the lock. The chest held little of interest, save a wand in a carved box, and a sack filled with gold that silently vanished into the halfling’s shirt. “I think this is yours, Bryn,” said Wenner.
Bryn eagerly grabbed the wand and its box from Wenner’s hands. “I should think so,” said Bryn, as he used his arcane senses to pry loose the wand’s secrets. Evidently satisfied as to its magical puissance, he sheathed it in his belt.
Splug had stopped choking and managed to pull himself together. “Fat One always here! He never leave! Something — something WRONG!”
“Where could ‘Fat One’ have gone, Splug?” asked Sheeoil. Splug could only shrug.
Meanwhile, Wenner was checking the walls for secret doors — and found one, just next to the chest. “This is a door or I’m a dwarf,” said Wenner. “I can’t figure out how to open it, though.”
“I know how,” said Tipa. She bent slightly and rammed her scaled shoulder into the wall. It bent slightly from the blow. Was it some sort of metal?
“Gonna need some help with this,” said the dragonborn. Everyone gathered and ran at the bent section of wall; the door bent outward, then popped entirely off and fell, clattering, down some stairs on the other side.
It seemed inevitable that any creatures on the other side of the wall must have heard the commotion, but after a few moments silent waiting the group could hear nothing but regular clanking noises echoing through the corridors. Nevertheless, they walked as quietly as they could down the stairs.
The noises were coming from large room to the left; Wenner crept forward and saw a room with a destroyed floor; well beneath it, goblins were digging it even deeper. Piles of dirt and other rubble filled the corners. Two drakes were keeping guard. The noise was such that there was no way they could hear anything but the sound of their own digging.
“I can’t think of anything we need in that room,” said Bryn. “We should just continue further down the stair and…”
“NO!!!!” shouted Splug, frantic with panic. He pulled out a dagger he’d hidden away and cut the party’s bags off his back. “NO!!!!” Madness in the hobgoblin’s eyes, he plunged the dagger into Bryn’s back and disappeared down the stairs.
A pale aura sprung up around Bryn as he gasped in pain. “Awesome,” said the wizard through clenched teeth, “that stab triggered my shield!”
Sheeoil hurried over and eased Bryn’s pain with a spell, and handed Wenner the dagger once he’d removed it. Cold sweat dotted Bryn’s face as the cleric’s healing magics took effect.
“Stand up, Bryn,” growled Tipa. “You have a room to map.”
“I already mapped it!” said Bryn.
Wenner bounced into the room, jumping lightly from the raised floor to the excavation below. Tipa grunted and took off after the halfling with shield up and Lifedrinker in hand. Sheeoil and Bryn could only keep up as battle was joined.
Wenner’s first target was the ladder leaned against one of the floor fragments. He clambered quickly up and pushed the ladder to the ground below. Now the goblins were trapped in the dirt — the party held the high ground.
The two drakes started slithering up a ramp near the entrance. Tipa kept their interest on her with marks, spells and strikes while Sheeoil and Bryn let loose with the damage.
Meanwhile Wenner got into a tussle with the goblins, who kept replacing the ladder Wenner kept trying to toss down. Meanwhile the other goblins had unsheathed crossbows and were pelting the halfling with quick bolts. Wenner soon went down, heavily punctured. The goblins climbed up to the floor level and started hurling bolts at the party.
With Wenner already unconscious, Bryn let loose his Static Sphere spell, followed by a Sleep. The first did considerable damage; the second was largely resisted and only slowed some of them for a round. Meanwhile the drakes met their ends at the party’s hands and claws. Tipa sprinted across the dirt to replace the ladder and come to Wenner’s aid. Sheeoil ran around the edge of the room to where a plank had connected two floor fragments before a goblin had thrown it to the ground. He was nonetheless in range to bring Wenner back to consciousness.
With Wenner back in the fight, short work was made of the goblins.
In the aftermath, a search of the room turned up only a magical holy symbol of Bahamut — Tipa’s deity. She accepted it thankfully from the thief, and wondered how it had come to be beneath the room — and what was it the goblins had been digging for? A search of the room turned up no answers.
Needing a rest, the party returned to the first floor, spiked the door to a medium sized room, and slept the night.
—
Figured I’d better finish the transcript before Thursday’s group. I didn’t take notes this week, so the recap might not be 100% accurate. I’ll do better this week! Since we use always on voice chat, people can hear me typing up notes… and it gets distracting for everyone.
So, Splug… what’s up with Splug? I feel we could have made better use of him, found out why he was being tortured. Stabbing Bryn was a suicidal move; I can’t think of any reason why he’d do that. I really don’t think he means us any harm, but Bryn would probably disagree.
Perhaps we’ll find out tomorrow, when we follow Splug down the stairs.