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The human town of Sefflidge seems like so many others to a dwarf: as if some madman couldn't decide which medium to craft with, couldn't plan, and only thought: UP! We'll go up! A hodge-podge of mis-matched wooden, stone, and even baked mud brick buildings thrown together with no vision of what came before or what is to come next. Normally it would be insulting for a royal dwarf to be asked to come to such a place.
But Sefflidge has two things that make it tolerable: The Bespeckled Crane, the only Inn west of the Aldrin River to have the good sense to import a variety of Dwarven beers and ales, and a proximity to the underdark entryway you have determined will eventually lead you to Dammerhall's underground entrance.
Seven, the number of the Dwarven Brother-Gods. It seems fitting that Bryggya should choose that number to become brothers-in-arms in the quest to restore her people to the lost ways of yesteryear. So it is that seven dwarves, some of royal blood, but all noble in their own way, sit in a quiet corner of the Bespeckled Crane, making their final preparations to enter this pathway to glory.
The first step is to find the Svirfneblin village of Fasturvalt, for while a few in your party are familiar with the plots and perils of the underdark, none have been to this particular section of its recesses, and information is vital to survival when the sun sheds no light.
The following is the flavor text provided by the author, glean what information you may from it.
Explorer Campaign Introduction
This is the last chance for your people. For two hundred
years, the dwarves have been scattered and leaderless.
The dwarf holds are all but gone – conquered by
invaders or overrun with outsiders. For decades now,
the dwarves have mingled with the kingdoms of men.
The humans have treated you well enough. They respect
dwarven craft and tenacity. But with every passing year,
the dwarves dwindle. Your tongue goes unspoken. Your
ways are forgotten. Will there come a time when to be
dwarven is merely another way of saying a short, bearded
man?
It was not always so. Once the greatest empire in the
all the world was dwarven. Once the majestic kingdom
of Dammerhall was where all roads converged. The
whole world came to pay tribute to the dwarven high
king and his mithral throne.
And then calamity. The great mountain-city burned
with black flame for three days. All the bridges into
Dammerhall collapsed. All the gates were sealed. The
only survivors were those who by chance were outside
the city. For two centuries dwarves have tried to retake
Dammerhall and discovered what really happened that
dark day. And for two hundred years, they have failed.
The remaining dwarven holds, once vassals to Dammerhall,
fell to squabbling about who should rule the
dwarves. Weakened by division, many dwarf holds were
overrun by orc or dragon. Some signed treaties with the
realms of men, all but forfeiting their autonomy. And
most disgraceful, some holds fell because of civil war
where dwarf turned upon dwarf.
But there is yet hope. It is said that there is another
way into the sealed city – a dark road beneath that goes
through the uncharted depths of the earth. This expedition
will be the one who will find that hidden road.
This expedition will reclaim Dammerhall and restore
dwarven glory, dispelling two hundred years of disgrace.
You have found an entrance into the darkness. Rumor
speaks of a deep gnome village known as Fasturvalt
where dwell the elusive svirfneblin, the deep gnomes.
The first step is clear – Find Fasturvalt and secure a
guide. Nothing will stop you in your quest. Nothing will
stay your hand. This is your hour. This is the moment
when the dwarven diaspora ends and where dwarven
glory begins anew. In the realms below, you will make
for yourselves and your people a Throne of Night.
Garnult is sitting around the table at the Bespeckled Crane with his companions. The Deep Gnomes, I cannot say I know much of them. Wrex or Mirrin, have you had much dealings with the Gnomes?
Donagh sits at Garnult's right hand. He is sipping from a tankard with a dark stout. He is content to listen at this moment, although the others know that he is not hesitant to speak up.
Wrex perks up at his name, glancing across the table towards Garnult, and takes a moment to consider the question. Nothing comes to mind right away, and he shrugs his broad shoulders before going back to his drink. He's been uncomfortably tense in the strange human city. Hopefully the others will be ready to leave soon as the overworld holds nothing but headaches for the dwarven druid.
Mirrin was eating greatly and drinking much. He encouraged this in his brothers noting in no uncertain terms that once the journey began waist lines would thin and the rich flavors of the surface would become a distant memory.
Nature if applicable.
Sitting to Garnult's left he considers the question. "Not much. A shy lot even at the best of times. They're not like the gnomes we know up here. As different as night is to day. Beyond that I can't say."
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Re: Svirfneblin, and what Mirrin knows:
Sipping the best Dwarven beer he could afford, Dain felt the rich, but yet somehow sweet aroma at the tip of his tongue. Not bad, this might almost pass as real dwarven beer. Hoop seems to be on the edge of being overripe, hence the sweetness, but considering what they serve in these messy labyrinths they call cities, it is actually good
Turning towards Garnult, Dain strokes his beard slowly, before answering.
Grunyar keeps quiet listening to the elders while nursing his bear. He still hadn't come fully to terms with the story the brewer had told him. His hand involuntarily went to the hilt of his new priced possession. He waited for a pause from the others. "How are these gnomes going to help us?" he asked.
After a few more thoughtful chews of his pork flank Mirrin adds. "We would do well to step carefully among them. They may have a hard time telling us from our wretched bastard cousins. And they have as much cause as anyone to hate and fear them as anyone."
Turning to Gunyar he says. "They might not. But there are scant few folk in the deeps who won't try to enslave or devour you."
Looking a bit longingly at the pork Grunyar takes another sips of his beer. "How can they not tell the difference?" he wonders as Mirrin explains. "I don't plan on being either," he smiles at Mirrin's latest comment. The joyful joke hides his darker thoughts, What is this I have gotten myself into
We will show them how we are different. We will show them the honor true Forge Brothers, Brygga shows. Garnult says, taking a swig of his drink. He notices Elmador deep in his thoughts
Cousin, do you know much of the Deep Gnomes? You are certainly the most learned of us here.
Donagh suddenly speaks
"I am sure that Bryggya will help us overcome anything that we encounter in the deeps, provided that we give our utmost to show her that we are made of her unflinching steel."
He addresses Mirrin: "Would these deep gnomes speak the same language as their cousins above ground?"
"Ah, don't look lad" he murmurs to his familiar Cūna as Grunyar tucks into his dish.
He picks up his glass and throws back the whiskey inside sniffing the remains.
"The gnomes, aye cousin I've heard something of the deep gnomes, nothing first hand of course I've not ventures near deep or far enough, book learning only I'm afraid and that scant enough" he offers up humbly. "It's said that they..." knowledge dungeoneering
Pretty good!
[GM information]
Elmador catches the eye of a passing member of the bar staff and wriggles his unsightly nose at her. When they look perplexed about what this means he sighs, points at his empty glass and holds up 4 fingers.
"The hardest part of this journey is, I'm sure, going to be running out of whiskey. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Friends, kinsmen, do any amongst us know where exactly the entrance to the deep lies?"[/b]
do we know where the entrance is? We know its in town but do we have to look for it? Or is it a local landmark?
He addresses Mirrin: "Would these deep gnomes speak the same language as their cousins above ground?"
Still undecided whether this "human-tainted" brews were worthy to be called real dwarven ales, Dain finally turns his attention to the topic at hand. He belches loudly, as is the custom, wipes his beard with a sleeve and interjects, although the question was not directed at him.
"Aye, they tend to speak humie-tongue when it suits'em, but more often than not they use dark-speech, or as hummies call it the undercommon. Now, I know not how to curse in the surface-dweller tongue, but you can bet your last year supply of Fine Dwarven Dark that I can talk to any of those hairless bald bastards!"
"Dain, it is good to know that they speak dark-speech, you know I am skilled in that. What I would like to know is what their native language is."
"I can speak gnomish, but I do not know if addressing them in gnomish would be an insult for them. If we want to ally with them it is not the best idea to start of with an insult."
"hmmm, I've never taken the time to learn gnomish but I am fluent in dark-speech. Both the regular 'undercommon' and the more, how shall we say this, slimey, aklo of the more abberant denizens. Would any of you mind teaching me a few smatterings of the gnome language of an evening on the journey? I'll buy two extra bottles of malt to share around..."
Elmador at this point takes out a book and a pen and starts sketching the scene of his six companions sat around the table "for posterity" he says to the group, "I feel we are going to begin something great. And I need it documented that it started as it should, with good - okay, okay, passable - drink and comradeship"
So much talk about this Brygga, but is she real? They seem to think so, but I have never heard about her before." he thinks as their leader and the cleric speaks. "Well at least we'll be able to talk with them," Grunyar adds. Undercommon, good then he thinks.
Donagh raises his tankard to Elmador's question to teach him a few gnomish words.
"Bryggya teaches that knowledge is meant to be shared amongst Dwarves, I will gladly teach you a smattering of gnomish. Can you reciprocate by teaching me a bit of aklo?"
"I also know the languages of giants, good outsiders and creatures of the earth and am happy to teach the basics of these if you would like"
"I can speak gnomish, but I do not know if addressing them in gnomish would be an insult for them. If we want to ally with them it is not the best idea to start of with an insult."
"From what little I know, it's much more likely for them to shoot'ya if you speak our language, than gnomish. Bald bastards don't love us too much." - with another loud burp, Dain spits on the floor as if to underline the effect of his words.
He quaffs some more ale, and then turns to Elmador: "I'm not much of a spirits dwarf meself, but I like the way you're thinking. Although you're practicing sorcery, you seem to be a decent dwarf, with your head screwed on in a proper way. I'm into the Art of beer brewin', if we have a chance at some later time, I might fix us something to try"
Leaning closer to the wizard, he adds: "Of course, it would be mighty nice of ya if I look nice an' heroic in that picture of yors. What do you say you add some symbol of the Sister in there, you know a big ol' violet 'shroom, with some silvery stripes runnin'?"
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Elmador fills in the group with additional information about the svirfneblin: they can see twice as far as most dwarves in the dark, are difficult to learn about using divination, and have the ability to disguise their form or make it hard to see using natural illusory magics. Additionally, they have the ability to blind or deafen foes. These abilities have generally let them dwell in hiding, although your deep cousins have a long history of war with them over territories, as their stonecrafting skills make the territories they claim similar to the ones desire by the Duergar.
The entry to the underdark is about two miles away from town, in a place the humans have named Boxer's Canyon, in the shadow of Sarvoltis Mountain. There is a cave system near the floor of the canyon which leads down into the deep.
"We should purchase any supplies we need before we go. Bring lots of food, as much water as you can carry. Load up on dried fruit as such things will be rare in the extreme unless we're lucky. Don't spend all yer gold though the gnomes may provide more suitable supplies if we find them."
"I find, I often miss liquid the most, when I walk beneath the earth." Grunyar adds to Mirrin's advice.
"Liquid in the form of water won't be a problem. Bryggya will provide her children with that."
"Indeed, water will be simple to provide, just make sure you have something to hold it in. Food is a more pressing matter, followed shortly by ale. I suggest also getting something comfortable to sleep in, and warm clothes. It's brisk in the tunnels, no matter what time of year," Wrex speaks up, pitching in his advice.
"Will she guide us to springs?" Grunyar inquires and continues: "Because there aren't that many down there, so it might still be a long dry walk."
"The Steel Sister gives her faithful magic to perform. A minor magic is to create water out of thin air."
Donagh looks at Wrex and Elmador
"Wrex, I do not think that there is a reason that we both should pray for the ability to create water. It might make sense to discuss the spells we will prepare."
Hearing the other Dwarves speaking of spells Garnult decides to make his exit
Band, I believe we should make ready and leave first thing in the morn. Merrin, will you walk with me.
Well at least they get some gifts from this patron of theirs, he wonders at Donagh's words.
"One last night with good food and ale then," Grunyar remarks.
Takng one last big gulp of his ale Mirrin stands up and follows Garnult. "Aye."
Once Merrin and Garnult have left the bar
Cousin, I know that you do not relish this task but....I believe you are needed, we need your knowledge of the Deep Places and if I fall... Garnult leaves off and moves his hand to his belt and pulls up a pouch filled with coins,32 golden coins with the face of a Dwarven King stamped into one side, the last of his father's wealth.
You know better than anyone what we need to get to the Deep Gnomes. Use this to purchase what provisions you must from the humans here.
"Don't talk as if yer already dyin. Because if you do I'll trek down to whatever hell exists for oathbreakers and drag ye kicking and screaming to the land of the living meself." Mirrin says sternly no sense of amusement or joy in his rough voice. "That being said some of these lads I'm not so sure of. We've been too long in bright light and brighter colors. Some of us have become blind, if not in the eyes then in the head. Some of our brothers seem to have more faith than sense. Others look like they'd be more at home in a tavern than the deeps."
"Aye Stonejoy, let us enjoy what little time we have 'ere, prior to goin'. Tonight we enjoy paltry comforts this hole can provide, and 'morrow we make sure that Steel Sister's name is heard all over the deeps! Cheers!"
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Nope, you're going to have to fend for yourselves at least until Fasturvalt. Along those lines also, if you look at the map linked in the discussion thread, each hex is a day's travel. There are already five hexes marked with tunnel before you get to the split that leads to Fasturhall, two more after that on the map, and who knows how far it is after that? In other words, ten days rations may be enough, or it may not...
34gp from mirrin
32gp from Garnult
7gp from Dain
Now's the time to throw your lot in and give some ideas on some supplies.
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Elmador finishes off his sketch, ensuring that Dain's beard is a little bushier and fuller than any beard has a right too and makes notes indicating what the colour scheme should be for later inking.
"A language exchange of an evening, sounds fine, mighty fine.
We best get ready lads, early rise, purchase some last minute supplies, repack our bags and then off to this Boxer's Canyon to begin our quest. O'course, feel free to spend the night carousing, it might be the last time we have a chance. For me, it is also the last time I'll get to read anything not of me own hand so I'm going to take the opportunity and see what the inn has on it's shelf. The more tawdry the better I'm feeling. Something with elves."
He stands up, stuffing his journal and ink into his pockets.
"If it helps any I can offer up 10 gold pieces for a communal kitty for supplies. I'll need the silver to settle my tab for the night. I'd offer more but tracking you all down has near wiped me out. I've left instructions for my shop to be sold but, ha!, I'd like to see anyone deliver me my take from that where we're going!"
Elmador has:
10gp and 6sp.
10 days worth of trail rations, 3lbs of dried fruit, 2lbs of salt beef, 4lbs of powered milk, 10lbs of wheat (for gruel/porridge), 3 bottles of whiskey
A mess kit, an iron pot, a waterskin.
Do familiars need to eat? I've always assumed no. but if they do that's an extra mouth to feed!
I suggest buying some firewood, it's cheap but heavy (1cp and 20lbs/day). Some ropes and pitons are definitely a good idea. More trail rations I guess.
Also have a +8 to Survival in the Darklands so we can forage a tiny bit.
"I'll have another one then," Grunyar says smiling adding: "And a helping of pork". Raising the new mug he toasts: "To the last ale in times to come."
As Mirrin presents the idea Grunyar's face shows mixed emotions. At once he is nodding, approving and at the same time he seems sceptic. Giving my gold away, never done that before. But better fit in and hope they don't wonder about the blade, he rationalises and draws several small bags from his clothing producing a mixture of human, dwarven and a few eleven coins all gold. "I hope this will do," he says handing over a small fortune of 20 gp.
34gp
32gp7gp
10gp
20gp
"Aye, it'll do. Now come with me lad we've got a wagon to buy, pull and load. You too Dain. Plenty of time left in the day fer a last glimpse of the sun. We've got preparations to make yet. If ya other two want to put in an investment on yer survival now's the time ta do it."
"After this ale Mirrin," Grunyar suggest and continues: "I don't know much about wagons."
"I've drawn up the plans for a few m'sel' so I might be of some use in seeing if we're being sold a dud by the townsfolk. It'll need to be up to taking a battering down in those tunnels alright. Might need some alterations making too come to think of it."
"Show me your plans Elmador, I am not that good a woodworker, but am quite proficient with metal."
"Aye, it'll do. Now come with me lad we've got a wagon to buy, pull and load. You too Dain. Plenty of time left in the day fer a last glimpse of the sun. We've got preparations to make yet. If ya other two want to put in an investment on yer survival now's the time ta do it."
"Ah, no rest for the wicked, eh?!" - Dain quaffs his drink in one swing, but proceeds to follow and Mirrin and help in any way he can, despite his nagging.
"It's just a few rough, experimental, designs and plans left over in my journal, it was mainly for clients that I made them"
Elmador hands over his journal to Donagh and makes his way over to Mirrin
"have a look over Donagh, see if there are any ideas of worth, I doubt we'll have a chance to make heavy alterations here but perhaps the Deep Gnomes will allow us access to a forge. Now I'm eager to get these supplies bought so I can prepare for the journey."
Garnult will spend his last evening in town giving recitations of Dwarven deeds and glories.
Once in the Age past, the Dwarves ruled the sky below, the hero Galdir Grimsdottir fashioned herself an axe made only of ice and fought the Great Wyrm Ruggiviing...
"Wrex, I do not think that there is a reason that we both should pray for the ability to create water. It might make sense to discuss the spells we will prepare."
"Agreed. I will commune with the winds from the deeps of the earth to find answers to a better use of my spells in the morning. Perhaps something to ensure our food is free of pestilence and decay..." He begins to mumble to himself, eventually falling quiet to his own thoughts.
Wrex watches as the others spit out gold left and right for the group, feeling rather unhelpful with very little change himself. He offers up what little he can spare-- barely any silver-- but indeed he has spent so much time in caves that money has been scarce for the dwarf.
"What resources I have are available to you all, I'm sorry I have little to chip in for our efforts. My worth is hopefully valuable enough to make up for it," he speaks quietly so as to not interrupt more interesting conversations. "That being said, I have quite a few useful tools, some with me, some awaiting us outside the city."