Vile Droskaran blasphemies Gorat spits out venemously. Those zealots think any moment not spent toiling away at a forge is decadence. The fools reject the Wisdom of Torag and dwarf nature because of that insanity. He peers at the statues from a distance. Seem quite well crafted though. he concedes grudgingly.
Albus is right to be cautious, while Aelerie doesn't detect any magic in the room, the ranger finds a pressure plate right next to the entry to the room. It's another trap!
Laro easily disables this one and clears the way forward. The pressure plate led to some mechanical contraption based on the pulley and rope it was attached too.
After disabling the device Laro turns to the group, "Let me scout ahead of everyone to make sure there are no more traps" He then scouts the rest of the room.
Laro finds nothing else untoward in the room other than the grim statues to the east and the grotesque ones to the west. The next room to the north is a simple one with polished walls of obsidian that bear long lists of Dwarven names.
A commemoration of the dead. Gorat states after he pulls himself away from examining the statues. A monument to fallen soldiers.
Ablus nods ruefully to Aelerie's comments but has little to add. Same for the rest as Master Laro takes care of the minor issue of deadly traps.
At Gorat's statement, "A simple monument, that's good, just enough to remind the living of the sacrifice's made for them without exploiting the memories." Albus prays for the peaceful repose of the fallen.
Albus turns to Master Laro saying, "Master Laro, please check the north, it seems there is room for a room north but I'm not seeing a way there. Did I overlook something?"
Check for what's there.
"So many names," Aelerie remarks, a note of reverence in her voice. She reaches a hand out to brush her fingertips across some of the etchings, but at the last moment seems to think better of it and pulls her hand back. "These can't have all been Droskarans, can they?" she asks Gorat. The lifespan of a dwarf being what it is, the arcanist can't imagine so many of the dark God's followers ever having been in the region. But considering how His worshippers had defaced the altar of Torag, Aelerie had a hard time believing they would allow such a poignant monument to stand if it was not indeed commemorating fellow Droskarans.
Laro finds nothing in a cursory examination of the room.
Gorat glances over the names. Fine carving.. he mutters But considering the pig statues back there I think it's safe to say the loyalists to the throne and devottes of Torag would not be honoured here. The Forge War was nasty business and I think it's safe to say that's what all this is about.
In the South West, the long rooms that turned off the passage right before the group encountered the 'ghost' of Glintaxe, turns out to be a completely unadorned chamber with nothing save for rows of uncomfortable looking stone beds.
This was a place of no cheer, and only for the use of Droskarans too exhausted to fight off sleep before returning to toil in the name of the cruel god.
Albus surveys the cheerless scene with sorrow. "Another place without any joy, why turn work into torture?" Albus turns from that sight to look north. "Master Laro mind checking up that corridor where the not so supernatural 'ghost' of poor Glintaxe was encountered. I think it was a dining area of some sort if I remember correctly, maybe a kitchen of sorts nearby? And, as always be careful."
As always Albus keeps an eye and ear out for trouble.
Laro smiles and says "Dwarves don't have a monopoly on toil. You ever worked forthe Lumber Consortium
The stone tables of the mess hall are much as the group remembers it. There are a few stains of blood here and there from the group's previous battle here but other than that it looks much the same.
In fact all the kobold corpses the group left in their wake seem to have been removed.
Off to the side is a small kitchen area that has suffered from long neglect. Shelves covered in broken stone and other refuse line the walls, while across the room an old rusty cauldron rests in the ashes of an ancient fire.
Laro finds two potions in the refuse on the eastern shelf. They look to be in good condition.
Aelerie shakes her head at the sorry state of the sleeping quarters. Why anyone would turn away from goodness to willingly suffer such treatment is beyond her. She supposes it is as Gorat said: Madness, pure and simple. "You know what they say... There's no rest for the wicked." Then realizing a few seconds later that her comment might be misconstrued as discrediting Laro, Aelerie feels the need to clarify. "I mean the Droskarans, by the way. Not all of the folks who work, or used to work, for the Consortium."
In the next chamber, Aelerie notes the missing bodies of the kobolds with a small amount of concern. "We should extra careful the further into these lower levels we go. There may still be a kobold presence here," the arcanist cautions. Finding ancient dwarven artifacts and learning more about the stoutfolk's history is all well and good in her book, but not if it comes at the expense of intruding on the kobolds' domain.
Inside the kitchen, Aelerie gives a long, wary look at the rusting cauldron in the corner. She was only half joking when she said she couldn't look at a pot the same way again. "What have you found there?"
Aelerie easily identifies the two potions as being those of owl's wisdom. Nothing else in the area is magical.
Aelerie's eyes light up as she identifies the potions, her voice taking on a slightly awed quality as she tells him, "Ah! They're both potions of owl's wisdom. The insight of the sages distilled into a vial." She hands them back to Laro with a smile. "Or as Master Hildrensocks likes to call them, Common Sense in a Bottle. Nice find, Laro." Glancing over to the spot where the halfling had found the potions, she comments, "It says a lot about the people who used to live here that these were found in a pile of trash."
Albus matches Aelerie's look at the cauldron but satisfied that it's not hostile he watches as Laro does his efficient search of the area.
Albus says, "True, I've seen little of wisdom here, just sadness."
He then leads group warily north looking down the corridor to the east and then going to the door north.
At the end of the passage leading north from the room where they rescued Kimi and Hollin is the ossuary where Savra was hiding the group remembers. The one with the moving bones that Laro helped Savra sneak by, the group remembers (14 on the map).
Then they moved east, passing through a disgusting room of ghouls (15) and were ambushed in the next room by a crack team of kobolds jumping out of a well (17). Beyond this they moved into a smoke filled tunnel at the end of which they fought the forge spurned and, by defeating the Droskaran monster, freed the souls that had been forged into its foul chain. From here they descended down into the tunnels of the kobold tribe itself (18 and 19).
The large room south of the well ambush is one they did not pass through, the kobolds in that one scattered and ran as soon as they realized the king's own guard had died at the group's hands (16).
(You guys are in 12 and 13 currently.)
Albus leads them north and puts up his hand saying, "This is the ossuary. Sadly it's full of walking bones animated by dark power. We could not take the time to deal with it when last here, rescuing the kids was our most important task and urgent. Now though we should lay these bones to rest. Javell it will be most important that you use your holy favor against these abominations. All of us need be ready. Master Laro if you could get us a estimate of the numbers of hostiles there, that would be most helpful. I think we fight at or near the doorway that.should limit numbers that can array against us. Any comments or questions?"
Albus arrays his forces with Laro as the first in scout but ready to retreat to the door with Albus as the door guard and others behind him for support as needed. People can exchange places if necessary for using their powers. Albus stands implacable, axe in hand.
Laro nods to Albus "I'll be happy to take a look at what's in there and come back." He then slides into the shadows and goes and takes a look.
Laro creeps down the dark place of the dead. Each of the alcoves contains a dwarven skeleton that seems to stir restlessly. The bones look brittle and aged but there are a lot of them. Laro estimates about two dozen.
Albus takes in Laro's report, "Twenty or more? That's more than I care to fight in the middle of the ossuary. Maybe we can lure them to the door and fight from there? If we could hold the doorway that would given an opening for us all to use our talents to steadily wittle down the numbers. Any ideas or thoughts?"
"I can clear out many of the undead with Desna's power. The closer they are, the better." Javell points out, "I doubt many of them could withstand multiple purges of divine energy."
Albus says, "That sounds very good, if I stand in the doorway, and Master Laro, if you've no objection, leads these scourges to me, passing quickly behind and to the side, and you are behind me, then maybe their numbers could be diminished to a more reasonable amount. Any other comments, suggestions or concerns?"
The group settles on a plan and Albus stands in the doorway with Javell right behind him. Once they're in place Laro drops his stealthy stance and sprints back out of the damp ossuary splashing over the dank stones as he goes.
The effect is immediate as more than a dozen skeletons start to rattle and shiver at the living being that dares to disturb their tormented rest.
They assemble in a herky jerky fashion that would be comic were it not terrifying. Whatever dull spark animates them causes their brittle bones to stumble and claw their way towards the doorway where Albus stands. As they get close to Albus in a menacing undead crowd Javell raises his holy symbol and calls the energies of Desna forth.
It washes over the skeletons in a wave and, to the last, they drop to the floor with a clatter.
Silence comes back to the basement.
Is it over? Gorat asks from the back.
Albus replies, "I don't know Master Gorat. Master Laro, if you would be so kind as to bait any others in that room to the door; if nothing happens then I suppose the room to be clear. As always stay wary." Albus keeps his eyes pealed for any untoward signs.
Spot anything interesting before getting into the room.
All that Albus sees is the very large pile of old bones that are piled up at the entrance. The skulls scattered about would identify them as being dwarven even to someone completely untutored in healing or anatomy.
I would not bury a dog in this place. Gorat says in a strained tone. He's obviously horrified by this sad, sad, place. By Torag's beard I do not blame 'em for being angry at the living.
Laro goes back into to room to round up any remaining skeletons and bring them back to Javel. If there are none Laro examines the room and tells the others, "I'm not certain how I feel about being the bait on the hook in this fishing trip!" and unleashes a large laugh.
Albus laughs at Laro's joke, "Do worry you move faster than any bait I've ever used. If the unfortunate ... bodies are finished with their stroll we can check out this room and see that what's else might be needed to cleanse it fully. I hope that Master Gorat can someday interest a miracle-working devotee of the Father of Creation to visit here, and fully bring peace to this blighted place." Albus finishes on a more sober note than he had intended.
Gorat snorts I'd leave this to those whose business this is young human. The bones were tormented for hundreds of years, and they can lie in scattered peace for a few more I reckon. I've already seen enough to convince our clergy of the wisdom of mounting a real expedition here. Not that this isn't a fine attempt. Just this needs a party with the chosen of the Allfather. Can't leave the touch of Torag above to anyone without the right training and temperament you understand. OR the cleansing of this Droskaran tainted basement.
Albus looks at Master Gorat with some confusion and a touch irritated. "With all due respect Master Gorat that was my point. I want those wiser and better than I to deal with the tragedy of this place. I do but with the darkness that still lies here this will attract the wicked. If there is a threat to the town from here, well, very soon I will be joining the guard as a Sheriff's man. Any foulness here will be my business and my duty. By Iomedae and Erastil I will not fail that duty whoever it may inconvenience." Albus is quite firm on his stand regarding any threat to people of Falcon's Hollow or Darkmoon Valley.
Aelerie's eyes flick back and forth between Albus and Gorat during the uncomfortable, slightly heated exchange that the two have. She admits, to herself, feeling a bit of a sting when the dwarf suggested that they had no business clearing out the ossuary. After all, they certainly seemed to have the Forge Father's blessing purging the evil that lingered in the monastery during their first run through of the lower levels. That said, she hadn't been looking forward to cleaning the bones out the dismal chamber either. "Well," Aelerie begins after clearing her throat. "It's probably for the best for now. I'm sure Albus is running out of room in that handy little haversack of his," she quips in the hopes of reducing any tension between the two. "Should we move on to the next room?" she suggests, until she remembers the gore and viscera splattered room that lies ahead. "Or, no... That was the one with the ghouls. Maybe we should see what's at the end of the corridor first?"
If the ossury is clear then we go on to the end of the corridor and the room there.
Albus replies, "True enough Aelerie, and yes not much worth seeing in that room. Let's check out the what's past that. If you would do the honors Master Laro."
Albus take the party down the corridor and as always looking for trouble that is looking for them.
"Of course Albus." Laro replies to the man seeming to let the previous conversation go over his head. He approaches the door and examines it and then had a peek inside.
Gorat looks like he's going to say something but it turns into a harumph when Aelerie breaks in.
Albus and Laro lead the way down the corridor, avoiding the grisly horror of the north chamber and opening the door they had bypassed the last time.
Six stone prayer platforms with well-worn carved knee rests are spread through this large chamber.
This is where the group had run across a group of kobolds that had fled at the sight of them. It seems like they haven't come back since.
Albus' sharp eyes catch sight of a chink in the opposite stone wall that looks slightly different from the natural grooves of the dank grey brick. Investigating further he discovers a switch!
With Laro's help Albus is able to flip the switch safely and a section of the wall slides down with a slight rumble, revealing a passageway beyond.
Albus raises an eyebrow and says with a bit of unusual humor, "Well, how can we turn down such a sinister invitation?" Then a thought strikes him and with seriousness he turns to the others and says, "Did we ever find those shades that the worg wanted us to deal with? So many things we did I can't quite remember if we did; if not this would be a ... not good but a consistent place for them to show up." Albus shrugs and says, "In any case we wish to clear this place as well as possible so in we go. Once again we need your services, Master Laro, checking for many a trap here, even this door could be one."
door and passageway looking for stuff and mostly traps.
"Of course Master Albus, of course!" Laro readies his swords and then carefully heads down the hallway looking for danger.
Aelerie gives a startled squeak as the wall slides down to reveal a secret passage. But when nothing terrible comes spilling forth from the newly revealed corridor, the mage calms again and lets a bit of Albus's humor brush off on her. "Sinister? I think it's neat! Like something out of an Ailson Kindler story. ...Although I guess that would support your idea of it being sinister." Aelerie considers Albus's more sober question for a few moments before answering, "I think it likely that Graypelt was referring to the darkmantles and just didn't know their proper name." Shrugging, she adds, "Even so, we'd do ourselves no favors by dropping our guard now. There's no telling what else might be lurking in these unexplored areas."
The group proceeds down a passageway that is darker and dustier than the rest of the basement. Small clouds of dust are raised as feet tread down the floors of a corridor that has not seen any for many, many years.
To the south the passage splits to the east ending in a door. Continuing past this the group confirms that it continues on and loops around so they are looking into the same trap room with the pillar in the center as before, just from the east rather than from the south.
Heading back to the unopened door the group finds no traps and pushes it open with a very loud creak. Beyond they see a lage chamber, clearly once the personal living quarters of an important dwarf.
A simple stone bed stands in one corner near a large stone table. A large anvil also rests here looking somewhat out of place. A massive maul has been attached to the anvil by a crude mechanical arm and a dwarf skeleton, skull crushed, rests atop the anvil.
There is a bizzarely shaped tiny creature moving around close to the destroyed skull of the dwarf. It turns at the sound of the opening door and stares at you with it'd one yellow eye.
What's in there! Gorat wants to know unable to look over Albus and Javell's tall forms.
Aelerie herself tries to see over or around the two woodsman at the head of the group. "I'm not sure. But if they went to so much trouble to keep it hidden, with the magnetic traps and secret passages, it has to be important."
Aelerie peeks through the larger members of the party in front of her and recognizes the small being as a Homunculus. A tiny construct, usually quite fragile, created by spellcasters from their own blood to act as servants. They tend to take the death of their masters incredibly poorly and refuse to leave the side of the corpse.
Albus squeezes to the side to allow Master Gorat a view. "Another scene of horror, a dwarf with a crushed skull; I wonder if it was a suicide? Could this be the remains of the tortured and torturing soul we sent back to hell? I guess we'll never know, but what do we do now? What is that creepy creature?" Albus looks for some guidance feeling out of his depth here.
"Oh! It's a homunculus, a sort of magical construct. Some spellcasters create them to serve as familiars in a ritual using their own blood. It binds a homunculus to its master for life, but when the spellcaster dies, the little things don't know what to do with themselves. They end up standing vigil over their master's body until..." Aelerie trails off, her knowledge of homunculi not comprehensive enough to say definitively what happens to the constructs in the long run. She would have imagined that, without regular upkeep, its form would eventually begin to deteriorate. But the length of time that the creature before them must have existed without its master makes Aelerie doubt her theory. "...I'm actually not sure what happens to most of them in the end. But the poor thing must have been down here for ages."
"Do you think you could try to communicate with it?" Aelerie asks Gorat. "I'm guessing since its master was a dwarf, if it can understand any language it'll likely be Dwarven."
Should just kill it and be done with the foul thing. Gorat grumbles as he pokes his head in the room but nevertheless acceeds to Aelerie's request.
The tiny creature doesn't seem to react very favourably to this. It paces back and forth on hands and legs on the anvil in front of the crushed skull. It reminds you all of a very pathetic guard dog of some sort.
Aelerie cuts her eyes at the back of Gorat's head as the dwarf voices his suggestion. That's his answer to everything! As much as she'd like to tell him that not all life's problems needed to be solved with violence, she holds her tongue when he humors her by trying to communicate with the homunculus. She gives a sorry sigh when his words only agitate the familiar. "While I would normally disagree with you, I fear this creature is too far gone to reason with. We can either leave it to its everlasting vigil, at least until this Dwarven delegation of yours comes to clear the place out," Aelerie nods at Gorat, "or we can put it out of its misery now." The arcanist seems conflicted on the issue, unsure of which course of action is the greater mercy.
Albus feels pity for the enslaved creature carry on it's duty without true purpose. "This creature was created only to serve it's master, without him it has no purpose, waiting ages for commands that never can come. I suppose it has no spirit but a complete ending is better than a pointless existence. If there are no objections I'll end its pitiful fate." Albus looks around for any objection and if finding none; then carefully looks over the creature to see what weapons natural or otherwise it has or for any means of escape it has. When well prepared he will swiftly attack, after warning the others.
To hit target. Critical on a 20. Weapon Attunement +1 Hit and Damage, Power Attack.
Damage Weapon Attunement, Power Attack with Two-handed weapon
To confirm a critical if rolled. Weapon Attunement +1 Hit and Damage, Power Attack
Damage from critical X3, Weapon Attunement, Power Attack Two-handed weapon.
Albus steps forward and, with a neat swipe of his axe, ends the tiny construct's existence. Homunculi probably don't feel any pain but even if they do, this one almost definitely didn't feel any as it is cut in twain and the bottom half flops down onto the anvil while the top goes flying off into a corner.
The dwarf's skeleton is incredibly ancient. The robe the dwarf was wearing seems to have rotted way with age but the slippers are still intact. Aelerie senses them to be magical in some way. The left hand is encased in a gauntlet that also gives off an aura of power.
A pedestal in the center of the room is engraved in obsidian with a map of the basement complex. Examining it shows that the group has explored almost all of the level, however there is a secret room off to the west of the room that connects to the hall of memorial to the south. They missed it when they were examining it!
With the knowledge of there being a hidden room a careful search uncovers a square stone on the floor underneath what must have been the dwarf's carving table.
There are two objects on the table. One is a half finished obsidian statue of what looks like an owlbear. There is also an obsidian tablet.
Gorat examines this. And recites.
Our people have lost their way. They flee the shelter of your great forges. Our fires dim, my master. We have failed you. No use to you here, I now come to you. I shall join you in the Black Forge, whether to serve at your anvil or stake its flames with my soul.
The dwarf shudders but hefts the tablet into his pack. Madness to serve such evil. Still, can't ask for more than this as proof. Should speed up the deliberations of the clergy when I bring this to them.
He looks at the group. Well. Judging by the map not much more to see.
Aelerie averts her gaze as Albus makes the killing blow and only lets it fall on the anvil again when the deed is done, her features pinched in anger. "I wish people could learn to be more responsible about the way they use magic. Just because certain spells or rituals can be performed doesn't mean that they should be. It gives the rest of us a bad name." Her expression softens as she looks up at Albus. "Thank you for giving it a swift, hopefully painless end."
Attuning her senses to look beyond the mundane, Aelerie notices that the dwarf's slippers and gauntlet both radiate with magical energy. Studying the items further, she tries to determine what properties exactly they might confer to their wearer.
She listens as Gorat translates the tablet but is unmoved by the thoughts expressed by the now long-gone dwarf, inured as she has become to the folly of the Droskarans. Although she agrees with the book merchant that there is little else to see in the room, her curiosity brings her to ask about the statue. Even in its unfinished state, Aelerie recognizes the mixture of avian and ursine features as belonging to an owlbear. What she doesn't understand is why the dwarf would have been working on it before taking his own life. "Gorat, do owlbears hold any particular sort of significance to Droskarans? I know we're not supposed to be looking too deeply into the motives for these lost dwarves, but this seems rather... artistic for one of their kind."
Albus nods glumly at Aelerie's impassioned denouncement of the misuse of magic. To Gorat, [b]"There is still the room that leads to where the damned soul-stealer did his foul deeds, Master Gorat. And there seems to be a room in the center of this floor that none of us have seen. Doubtful that it's any cheerier than any other room though. Where would you like to go?"
It's not a great moment for Aelerie to concentrate on magic, the gloomy basement presses in on the young arcanist and the aura of despair in this room in particular plays havoc with her concentration. She is just able to figure out that the slippers are slippers of spider climbing but the gauntlet is beyond her.
I don't think so lass. Gorat says I'm no expert on heresy of this sort you understand but even blasphemous Dwarves are Dwarves still. The urge to create runs in our very blood. Did you not see the cunning of that... magnet.. trap? The beauty of the memorial room and the fine work of that ridiculous propaganda room right before it? Droskar might pervert our urge to beauty into unending grim toil, but he does not extinguish that spark.
Well let's get the closest one over with then. Gorat says.
The hidden door leads to a small passage and there they find simple stone benches lining the wall of an octagonal room. They are positioned near small openings along the west, northwest and northeast walls. An unusual device that resembles a sotne trumpet is attached to the northeast wall near the opening. Silence premeates this chamber.
Going in the group realizes that the deep silence is unusual. Sounds in the rest of the basement have an odd echoey quality which is absent from here.
Aelerie listens, nodding, as Gorat explains the innate inclination dwarves have to create artistic works and expands her understanding of the stoutfolk, Droskaran or otherwise, that much more. At the end of his explanation, Aelerie decides to leave the unfinished obsidian statue be. Whatever the dwarf's motivation for creating it, it seemed wrong to her somehow to take from the monastery one of the few beautiful things left. But Aelerie doesn't have the same compunctions about the dwarf's slippers or his gauntlet, slipping the magic items off of the skeletal appendages with the ease of a practiced graverobber. "I'm not sure what this gauntlet does yet, but these slippers are a rather clever creation. They allow the wearer to walk up vertical surfaces, or even upside down along ceilings."
The phrase 'deafening silence' takes on a new meaning for Aelerie as she steps into the next room, the unnatural quiet feeling almost like a heavy pressure settled over her ears.
The ambient noise of odd echoes and whispers are what is missing in this little chamber, they can talk to each other normally. Looking at the trumpet Aelerie realizes that it is shaped like their old friend Virdel Harg's listening aid.
And from there the rest of it clicks into place in the young woman's agile mind. This is a listening room, the entirety of the rest of the basement is shaped to funnel noise here and someone could sit here and listen into even whispered conversations elsewhere.
It's incredibly clever and obviously very valuable for a person seeking to discover and stamp out even a hint of dissent from the ranks.
Albus is disturbed by the odd quality of the room on his senses. He looks to the more learned members of the party for guidance as to what to do here. "Well? Is it okay to talk here?" Albus asks in a hushed tone.
Once understanding of the stone contraption's function dawns on Aelerie, she gives the all clear to the rest of the group. "It's fine. We can talk in here." The arcanist turns in a circle, taking in the features of the octagonal room in full. "I thought it might be a meditation chamber of some sort and that this"—she points to the strange trumpet attached to the wall—"might somehow be suppressing the noise in this room. But I think it's actually a device to eavesdrop on conversations in other parts of the monastery. It's actually quite ingenious. ...In a terribly invasive sort of way."