Kalderin steps around Reginald's wagon to get a better look and narrows his eyes.
Hold a moment.
His axe drops from his shoulder as he looks around.
This doesn't feel right.
That wheel is made of dried mushroom, a popular wood analog for the deep parts of the world. Reginald explains in a low voice.
"I'd hate to see the mushroom that came from," Ingrid mutters to Reginald in an equally low tone.
Reginald chuckles. I'll have to get re-acquainted with them myself, lass. In a land without light we are bound to run into things you children have yet to imagine. Giant mushrooms are but the first.
The hair stands up on Pravic's neck and arm as the group approaches the obstruction in the path.
Classic ambush, ready yer weapons!
Pravic swings his hammer in front of him a few times to make sure he has the balance right, and hefts his shield in front of him while he peers intently down the corridor, anticipating something with ill intentions hiding in the shadows.
Pausing for a moment before approaching the wheel to inspect, he takes a few moments to cast a quick spell.
Pravic's spell reveals nothing evil.
Reginald draws his morningstar and lays it across his knees like a parent would the whipping-stick.
Well Grim, I think it's time we earn our keep, he says with a wink and a smile. Watch my back...
Hammer drawn and shield at the ready, Pravic moves closer to inspect the wheel and the area around it, with full expectation that something will inevitably jump from out of the shadows.
Nurin draws Grunwald's axe and watches from behind when the others speak of a possible ambush.
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Grimdahl. being less armoured, hangs back and covers Pravic, ready to let loose with an acid dart at anything that might need it.
He endeavours to make sure that he is in the line of sight of the rest of the group, being able to signal to Bali and Ingrid if required.
Bali, remaining uncharacteristically quiet, moves up to investigate.
A small figure, barely the size of a child, stepped silently from behind a large stalagmite. Shrouded in the shadows and dressed in dark leather, two small violent eyes gleamed, reflecting the light. In both hands, a small but lethal looking crossbow was drawn, aimed in the direction of Pravic. A feminine voice echoed through the cavern, in slightly accented Dwarven.
Eyes have yet to adapt to the darkness dwarves? That can be dangerous for those lost in the deeps.
Find us an Ox that can see in the dark and you've got yourself a few customers. At any rate, you have us at a disadvantage...
He pauses and steps forward slightly, nodding down to indicate the crossbow. With a serious expression, he says,
You seem to recognize us as enemies, but we don't know you.
He pauses for a moment and breaks into a wide grin with a hearty chuckle.
"A dwarf underground is NEVER lost; nor, unlike you, are we alone. That's my brother you're pointing that thing at - we're just getting reacquainted after a long absence and I'd hate it to end this soon. Could you point it somewhere else please? Sorry, name's Grimdahl, should have said that earlier. What's yours? "
Aye, what me brother said. Pravic takes a deep breath, keeping a close eye on the crossbow in the hand of the tiny person.
Whatever poison ye've tipped that bolt with, ye'll find that us dwarves are a bit more hardy than ye'd think. Even if yer lucky enough to put one of us down, there are a handful more ye'd have to deal with. Whaddya say we start with names, like me brother asked, and lets try this whole thing again, without the raised weapons. My name is Pravic.
In an effort to help diffuse the situation, Pravic slowly lets his shield and hammer hang towards the ground, waiting patiently for the little creature to respond.
The figure training the crossbow on Pravic is a svirfneblin.
What's going on up there? Reginald whispers to Bali.
Bali calls ahead. Gurbip shul nok greel, shul bulfim doklo.
And then back to Reginald, It's a deep gnome, Svirfneblin, probably just trying to protect its merchandise by the looks of it.
Bali walk up a bit further and puts a hand on Pravic's shoulder.
The small woman, eyed Bali, then nodded her head slowly, lowering her crossbow cautiously, no longer pointing at the dwarven party. She stepped forward more into the parties vision. Her large eyes were darting between the dwarves, taking in each one fully before speaking. She seemed to relax slightly and pulled back her hood, revealing a young Svirneblin, beautiful even by dwarvish standards. She had large violet eyes and vibrant teal hair that glistened in the light. It was clear why she wore a hood while in the darkness. Her skin was a dark obsidian tint. Across her chest, multiple small daggers were strapped into the leather armor, and a light pack was slung on her shoulder.
Iverna. Iverna Already-Has-Your-Knife. But you can call me Knivey Ivy.
Knivey Ivy's eyes carefully scanned the dark tunnels, before looking back at the assembled dwarves and speaking in a low voice.
I apologize for drawing my weapon. I can tell you are no enemies of mine, however in the Azathyr, one can not be sure if the voices of dwarves are Duergar or Dwarf. Well, at least until you can see them.
Her gaze went to Grimdahl, a small amount of pain and anger on her face. She looked across the destroyed caravan.
I am alone now aren't I? Thank you for reminding of something so painfully obvious, dwarf.
Gesundheit Pravic says to Bali as she answers Reginald's question.
Turning back to the deep gnome, Now now, me brother meant no harm by his words. Ye cannot expect good manners when yer pointing a weapon at a dwarf's kin. Least not from either of us, Pravic attempts a disarming smile and extends his hand in greeting. It's good ta meet ya Ivy.
I can understand yer concern and caution, but I promise ye we are all dwarves of Torag's seed. As long as ye don't need to point that thing at any of us, then I'd say ye aren't alone anymore. Do ye by chance know of Festervault? Its where we are heading. Perhaps we can provide some company to each other as we travel there.
Turning quickly to Bali behind him and whispering, Did I say that right? Fester... something right?
Grimdahl corrects his brother's pronunciation. He considers Ivey carefully, not wanting to rush to conclusions. Still, he's glad she is no longer aiming at anyone. Apart from her words...
Unusually among dwarves, the druid is not one to stand on his dignity; something he seems to have learned from his time with humans. No sense antagonising one who might be an ally, he muses.
"Sorry. Wanted to head off trouble before it started. Tactless. Why don't you tell us what happened and who did this? Maybe we can help."
"An assemblage of dwarves stands before you, and you call yourself alone." Ingrid frowns thoughtfully. "What happened here... Knivey Ivy?"
Nurin steps up to see Ivy. "A deep gnome, eh? Never seen one before. A pleasure, Knivey Ivy."
"Was this your wagon, Ivy? Did something happen here?"
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Reginald brings the wagon around the bend and sits to observe the children make friends. He recognizes Ivy for what she is as soon as he rounds the bend.
"We were travelling from Fasturvault. Then theskis'raal attacked us. Three of them dropped from the ceiling, spraying us with web. I managed to slip free and hide out here. Poor Sheriff Gunther though, they cut his throat immediately and dragged the others away. That was yesterday though."
Ivy bit her lip. "I hid here, in case they came back again, looking for another snack. They hid the wagon above the embankment over there and took the rest of my companions away. Nothing adds up though. Skis'raal don't live in this part of the Azathyr and they never kill their prey outright. They drag them back to their lair and..." The deep gnome leaves the rest unsaid.
Kalderin frowns, Perhaps they were sent after your particular group by something. How many of you were there?
He looks around at the gathered dwarves, We do not know this area well, but we do have time. I won't speak for my friends here, but I suspect that we'd be willing to help. Can these things be tracked?
He hesitates a moment, running the phrase through his head, and responds in gnomish, My name is Kalderin, by the way. My apologies for my...weak, no...rusty, Gnomish. It has been a long time.
If this is a trick, it is a good one. Either way, making an ally here would go a long way to help ally ourselves with these gnomish cousins. Worth the risk, I think.
Reginald speaks up for the first time. This attack is odd. Skis'raal typically keep to themselves. They are sentient spiders native to the deep places. While this is certainly deep, they tend to take prey alive and rarely kill. The fact that the good Sheriff died is a rare occurrence indeed.
Pravic chews on something in his mouth again, deep in thought. Eventually, he speaks his mind. Just a thought, but the reason why we're doing what we're doin is because we got pushed outta our home. Maybe the Sissy-somethin spiders got pushed outta their home too? And maybe it wasn't a spider that cut the sheriff's throat? Pravic leaves the implications of his last question unsaid...
Turning to the underground gnome he says, Ye said the spiders took the others away, what happened to the Sheriff's body? Did they take his away too?
Then turning to his brother and trying to keep his voice low, Yer better at followin tracks than I'll ever be. Is it even possible to track the spiders and the bodies they pulled away? Might be a slim chance ta save some of them, or at the least get some answers that might help if'n we could find their lair.
Even as Pravic speaks, Grimdahl is moving. Following Ivey's story, he re-traces the route accordingly, looking for markings, tracks, dried blood. Even in darkness, his skills function.
Bali looks over at the debris. We're going to have to clear this to get through, I'll start on this while you fellows devise a plan.
Bali sets to work clearing the road if there are no objections.
Nurin moves to take a look at the blocking wagon. "If it was yesterday, they could still be alive."
Yesterday... Grimdahl blinks as his common sense gets his attention by smacking him repeatedly with the same word.
"Have you had anything to eat or drink in that time? You're welcome to our food, afraid all we have is dwarven trail rations, but better than nothing. As for drinking..."
Concentrating briefly, he re-fills Ivey's - and everyone else's - waterskins.
Ivy drinks the water greedily. "Thank you... Grimdahl, was it?" She wiped her mouth dry with her sleeve.
She turns to Kalderin. "Eight of us left Fasturvault. Gunther, myself, old Harvald, and five others. I never learned their names. Harvald and the rest are likely still alive, if they can be found."
Finally, she answers Pravic. "Aye, the spiders took Gunther's body. They even took the pack lizard, although they left the wagon behind."
If it's not their nature to kill first, then yer right in thinkin its odd, but I can't offer anything as to why that might be. I do know that if there is a chance even one of 'em might still be alive, its worth us going to take a look.
Pravic turns to his brother, who appears to be concentrating heavily. He starts to say something, then stops abruptly before any words come out.
There'll be better times to make light, better keep that jab to yerself for now...
After a moment, he says, Whaddya think? Any chance of tracking 'em?
Grimdahl quietly says: "I can follow two spider-tracks and the lizard, plain as day. No sign of the other one - Ivy; are you sure there were three? If so, it could still be around here... Let's be on guard."
Pravic hoists his hammer and shield in the ready position again at the mention of one of the spiders still being in the area, scanning the walls and ceiling of the tunnel they are in, smiling all the while.
Now yer speakin my language...
"There were three. It's hard to miscount giant bloody spiders," Ivy snapped. She thought about it for a moment. "Perhaps the third was on the ceiling or the walls. They can climb."
Lead the way brother, lets see if we can bring some of these deep gnomes home with a deeper appreciation for life! I don't see anything out of the ordinary here, like lurking spiders...
Pravic throws a wink to Knivey Ivy in the hopes of being encouraging to the fair lady. Eager to be helpful, he starts moving further down the tunnel.
Grimdahl is silent: he looked at the walls and ceiling as part of his search, but he doesn't want to provoke this potential ally. Best to say nothing. If it's out there, it's out there.