Chapter 3: Droop

Deeper into the Redbrand's lair they ventured, the air thick with the stench of damp earth and stale ale. The guttural roars of bugbears echoed through the tunnels, a symphony of violence that set the party's nerves on edge.

"Looks like we found ourselves some company," Eldon chirped, his voice laced with a nervous excitement.

"Bugbears," Hanef growled, hefting his warhammer. "Filthy, brutish creatures. May Miertemes guide my hammer true."

The ensuing clash was a maelstrom of steel and fury. Hanef, a whirlwind of righteous anger, battered the bugbears with the force of a mountain avalanche. Clive, his ancestral blade flashing, danced around the hulking brutes, his strikes precise and deadly. Freya, silent as a shadow, flitted through the fray, her daggers finding vulnerable flesh with every thrust. Preci, like white water, weaved between her companions, her arrows finding their mark with deadly accuracy.

In the aftermath of the battle, they discovered a lone goblin huddled in a corner, his eyes wide with terror.

"Speak, creature!" Hanef boomed, his voice echoing through the chamber. "Tell us your purpose here!"

The goblin, a scrawny thing with matted fur and a quivering lip, prostrated himself before the party. "Spare me, please!" he whimpered. "They call me Droop, and I was brought here against my will."

Eldon, his eyes gleaming with curiosity, knelt beside the cowering goblin. "Droop, is it? Tell us what you know about this place, and maybe we can help each other."

Droop, eager to save his own skin, spilled his guts, revealing the layout of the hideout, hidden passages, and the location of Glasstaff's chambers. He even sketched a crude map, his bony fingers trembling as he traced the intricate details.

Eldon snatched the map, his eyes scanning the markings with a predatory glint. "Well, well, well," he cackled, "looks like we've got ourselves a guide."

With Droop's newfound knowledge, the party huddled together, their faces illuminated by flickering torchlight. Eldon, ever the schemer, outlined a plan to ambush Glasstaff, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"This wizard's been playing puppeteer for far too long," he hissed. "It's time to cut his strings."