Blades in the Taproom and the Bronze Bull's Grasp

While his companions marched back into the shadow of the ruins, Kritkrit remained safely behind within the bustling warmth of the town tavern. Enjoying a raucous evening of carousing, the kobold wizard triumphantly defended his tavern stool, swinging around the oversized greatsword Asterion and boasting wildly of his exploits under grand titles such as 'The Chosen One', 'Kritkrit the Unkillable', and 'Kritkrit the Ever Torch'. His bravado did not go entirely unanswered; when a disgruntled local attempted to physically shove him off his table, Kritkrit stood his ground, rendered unmovable by the sheer heavy mass of the blade he wielded. He earned raucous local favor from the crowd, though he also successfully forged a bitter new enemy who glared from across the taproom.

Far away from the ale and firelight, the reunited remainder of the party pushed back into the damp, oppressive halls of the citadel with a singular purpose. Navigating the twisting corridors, they returned to the chamber housing the mysterious bronze dagger Doc had previously marked. Stepping forward with steady hands, Doc made a clean extraction, securing the slightly damaged weapon and revealing a faint, purely decorative magical enchantment clinging to its rusted edge. Not content to leave the room unexplored, Doc searched the debris further, noticing a subtle golden glint hidden nearby. Using a sturdy wooden pole to clear away obstructing rubble after winning a tense roll-off, he unearthed a rare and valuable Scarab of Protection brooch—an exquisite amulet capable of granting its wearer a second chance at life by dropping them unconscious instead of dying upon a failed Constitution check.

Emboldened by their finds, the party pressed deeper into a new area dominated by a colossal, ten-foot-tall bronze bull statue standing silently in a dead-end corridor. Knowing the dangers of the ancient stonework, Doc secured a sturdy rope around his waist and turned himself invisible before cautiously rounding the corner to approach the statue's hidden socket. Halfway down the passage, a sickly green light suddenly flared along the floor runes, signaling an imminent trap. Outside the danger zone, Donk hauled frantically on the safety rope, though his initial tug resulted in a disastrous fumble before he managed a desperate reroll. Reacting with instantaneous terror and athletic grace, Doc sprinted away from the hazard, rolling a nineteen to clear the threshold just as the massive mechanical trap slammed shut. Through the near-disaster, they deduced the deadly truth of the chamber: the bronze bull activated relentlessly on a strict six-minute timer.

Undeterred by the close call, Doc returned to the statue's flanks to claim his prize. His initial attempt to pry the embedded treasure went disastrously awry when a natural one on the die severely bent and damaged his precious jeweler's tools. Refusing to admit defeat, the halfling priest squared his shoulders, took a breath, and tried again. With a miraculous natural twenty on the check, Doc forced his tools into the stubborn stone seam and successfully wrenched a gleaming emerald gem free from the bull's metallic hide. Working carefully in the dim torchlight, he spent the following moments hammering his battered tools back into proper shape. As the emerald joined their growing inventory, the party stood amidst the quiet gloom of the ruins, acutely aware that the citadel still held deeper secrets waiting to be uncovered.