House Marquet, espying opportunity to expand the influence of the City of Night, and its own fortunes, contracted with me to discommode the halflings. (Do not mock. In my world, our halflings--called Challim--epitomize the arts martial. Their wiry strength and razor-edged katana frequently suffice to hew through the legs of foes, just above the knee.)
We arrived in this area from the south, prepared for any eventuality save the one that faced us. The complex was empty. Bare stone walls and floors awaited us in the first two chambers, and when we entered the third, we were almost relieved by the noisome miasma that pervaded the room. The insalutary cloud rendered the obscurant gloom impenetrable. As we descended the gangway, we perceived a portcullis rising along the far wall, but had little moment to comprehend the development before a slavering beast hurtled through the portal to assault our group. At the same instant, Challim marauders burst roiling from the passage behind us in perfect ambuscade!
After the combat, in which two of my companions were severely injured and a third slain, we redoubled our course and discovered the hidden door we had formerly overlooked. Within was a diminutive barracks where the ambushers had concealed themselves. Thence, we rooted out the rest of the unwelcome lodgers and returned to Lyansk in triumph. Despite our conquest, the halfings later returned in great numbers and resumed their tenancy, sparking the celebrated Second Challim War.