Keil, with the moral support of Brok, is able to gather all of the strange flower crystals attached to the walls and ceiling.
"Amazingly well done Keil" - Grezzor smiles widely, putting the flower away for further study later on - "We are proceeding now then?"
"Arlok ready, Arlok surprise ogre no attack while we sit here. Ambush may still wait ahead."
"Anyone need healing before we follow the ogres?"
A sigh of frustration is muffled by the layers of fabric beneath Keil's mask. Although content with his climbing prowess and reasonably reassured his skills have not atrophied, Brok's display is no gentle reminder of the goblin's talents, This one is capable...and dangerous. Keil's yellow eyes narrow in acknowledgement of Brok's assistance and with the goblin's help the shadowy man completes the tedious assignment of 'flower picking' quickly.
With his feet once again planted firmly on the cold ground of what seems like a never ending dungeon, Keil neatly twists his rope and climbing tools then returns the gear to the 'mules'. The fetchling retrieves his pack and adjusting his cloak, ignores the tiny ribbons of clotting blood under his sleave as he prepares to leave. Satisfied, the shadowy man nods a quick signal to Brok then slips off following the ogres' trail.
It was impossible to tell beneath the mask, but Grey was impressed. His companions continued to reveal hidden talents. He nodded his approval.
"Time to move forward." he said.
Seeing little else of interest in the domed chamber you all prepare to continue your journey towards Rappan Athuk...
The corridor continues in a generally southest direction, though Vargrenz can easily tell the corridor is descending at a slight decline. The high, arched ceiling that rises thirty feet above the center-point of the corridor still echoes with the noise of thousands of travelers over the centuries, and a sluggish, cold draft of air from down the corridor indicates that ventilation shafts are still in operation somewhere in the deeps....
As you travel along you do not see any signs of either the ogres or the plant-zombies. After a while even their tracks have vanished, but you do still see faint scuff marks showing where the ogres have passed earlier.
"That is correct Malzii" - Grezzor nods.
Talk of the witch's friend anticipated chance for freedom gives Keil cause to halt his exploration. Slowly tapping the air with his bony fingers fingers the shadowy man pauses to make a mental calculation of time. He next reaches beneath his cloak to retrieve one of his newly acquired flasks. Unscrewing the cap the fetchling lifts his mask and with a sniff, samples the flask's bouquet. "Aaah," Fishing once more beneath his cloak, Keil produces his set of tools. Normally reserved for prying to the depths of locks and more destructive devices, he selects a long thin tool with a sharp hook. With practiced skill the shadowy man fishes the hook to the bottom of the metal flask and a few seconds later, removes the oak strand of wood he'd placed there almost two days prior. Saturated by the liquor, the wood has in fact been working to purify Urovok's brand of 'whiskey'; removing impurities and adding that oaken earthy flavor most connoisseurs of whiskey crave. Keil's dark tongue creepily travels the length of the splinter of wood causing the shadowy man to groan in satisfaction, "Mmmm, agreed. Shade's time is nigh."
"Still think shadow thing is a bad idea..."
"Still think shadow thing is a bad idea..."
"It has proved to be extremely useful and effective Brok" - Grezzor pipes in - "We should do our best to keep it under Grey's control - it is well worth it"
"So we rest? It ok, Arlok feet hurt."
"Spooks need rest to get witchy powers ready for day." Brok says to Arlok, pointing a thumb at Grezzor.
"We can continue" - Grezzor shrugs - "I will simply not have all my spellcasting available though. As long as that is understood, we should be okay"
"No, ogre bullies waiting down path to ambush us and take our money. We need to be ready for them when we find them."
"Maybe Keil and Brok go down path quiet for a ways and see if we spot ambush while spooks rest up."
Having freed the wooden strip of its last drop of nectar, the fetchling carelessly flings the scrap to the side like an unwanted booger. Sounds fun. With a slight bow Keil waves his arm before him inviting the goblin to lead on.
"Take care of shadow-thing ..... Brok and Keil be back in an hour."
Brok stealthily pads down the tunnel, looking for signs of danger.
(+1 for traps)
"We have half an hour." Grey said. "This place is as good as any to engage Shade should it turn on me."
As Brok and Keil scout further down the passageway they do note the ogres have apparently kept moving, deciding not to rest in the corridor. Since no openings have presented themselves in the passageway it becomes clear the ogre band must still be travelling onwards.
Returning back to the others, they see the undead shadow standing in front of its master awaiting further instructions.
Not bothering to suppress a rather large yawn, Keil returns with Brok. Seeing nothing has changed with Shade's affliction the fetchling quips, "Still loitering Shade?"
The shadowy man reports their findings to anyone and no one in particular. As there is nothing of interest to report Keil cares little if anyone bothers to listen to him before finding a corner of wall to curl up in. Helping himself to one of the many sausages wrapped inside of his pack and a sipping whiskey from his flask the fetchling's mouth smacks noisily for several minutes before he closes eyes.
"Ogres run fast down passage .... must be afraid of Arlok."
"Uncharacteristically wise of them" - Grezzor chuckles.
Arlok smiles at Brok
"Ogre smarter than Alrok think."
"Are we continuing on, or resting here?" Grey asked.
He was glad for Shade's return, but said nothing about it.
"Agreed" - Grezzor nods.
"Ogres run fast down passage ..."
"Running from what?!" The shadowy man's hoarse voice cuts in incredulously. "They know who we are," the fetchling extends a wiry hand down the corridor in the direction of the ogres letting the length of sausage he holds do the actual pointing, "They know we are coming and our destination. Why run? From him??" Keil's sausage moves to indicate Arlok before shrugging and bringing the ration to his mouth. With the question still hanging in the air his blackened teeth rip into another section of sausage. Chewing slowly and deliberately the shadowy man waits for his question to sink in. Finally he swallows the morsel and concludes his thoughts on the matter, "More than ogres await us. you prepared?"
Deciding the way is clear to proceed you continue along the seemingly interminable corridor along your goal to reach the Rappan Athuk dungeon. After several hours of travel you spy a change in the corridor ahead and slow your pace.
The corridor soon opens up into a large chamber, which is constructed of huge blocks of chiseled volcanic stone, darker and smoother than the native limestone. The stream running from the northwest widens out into a moat in the eastern part of the room, to surround a short flight of steps that lead from the water up to a gleaming stone platform. The back of the platform is a wall of metal bars, and there is a huge door in the middle of the bars, apparently carved from the same stone as the walls. Upon the door there are three large runes, depicting a demon, a circle, and a square.
All is silent.
"Someone had big chisels...." Brok muses as he looks around.
(+1 for traps)
Feeling lucky the group did not run into an ambush, Keil stands next to Brok and puts his black hands on his hips. As the two take in their surroundings the fetchling growls in agreement to the goblin's witticism. Keil scans everything from the stream, for anything 'fishy', to the huge doors at the back of the platform and the three runes which decorate it.
Crossing the stream proves to be a simple manner for the two scouts. As the rest of you watch them closely, Keil notes the runes extrude slightly from the door, indicating they could be manipulated further.
Brok notes the moat area is being fed by a stream which originates from a passage in the northwest part of the cavern.
While the others gather, Keil reflects upon the rune images of the demon, circle, and square. What purpose do you serve I wonder... Varg's comment momentarily draws his attention eliciting a mutter which is almost to himself, "Agreed."
Keil taps his chin thoughtfully, They move? Why? Wondering what other insight the female might gleam from her studies of could be the group's latest puzzle the shadowy man queries, "The images. What do they mean?"
"A rest would be welcome." Grey agreed and began setting up camp.
After a short break, Grey began his now-nightly ritual of upgrading an ally's equipment through blood magic.
Today, it was Brok's sword that first received Grey's attentions. The witch doctor began his incantation and sliced the inside of his forearm with his obsidian blade and collected it into a bowl before smearing it onto the sword over and over in congealing layers that created a thick carapace like centuries of rust. Then he worked it like clay, forming it in his hands and carving at it gently with quill and knife. When the scab began flaking and chipping away the sword that was revealed was nothing like the one that it had started as.
The crosspiece was now an intricate guard that looked like a spider's legs reaching up as a blade-catch and arcing down to protect the hand. The spider's body was a fanged skull, the sword blade coming out of it's mouth. All along the darkened blade gleaming damascus veins created an intricate spiderweb pattern. The handle looked like a cocoon of webbing where a faint terrified face could be made out at the top of the grip. The pommel was a smaller skull-spider with glinting green eyes and fangs. Even the edge had changed. Now, it was an asymmetrical flamberge that curved gracefully back and forth before coming to a point like a wisp of smoke.
He then started on Brok's crossbow. The ritual was similar. Blood was layered onto the stock and the bow arms to be shaped like clay. This time he added a small with the top dome sawed neatly off and the back carved down until it was really just the faceplate area with the top of the eye ridge missing. He pressed it into the blood-clay and worked it until the skull fit perfectly into the front of the bow. Next came the jawbone attached similarly. Then it was shaped with tools and etched.
When the scab flaked free the bow arms were recurved with a secondary tension arm behind the first and decorated to look like skeletal bat wings. In the center, where the skull was, the top of the nasal passage had a small glowing stone. A faintly glowing ring was was set behind the bolt rest. It was arranged so that when Brok sighted down the stock through the glowing ring, and lined up the glowing stone in the skull, he'd be taking aim right between the eyes of the skull. The bolt would launch out of the skull's mouth.
"You did well today, Brok." Grey said as he handed the goblin his weapons back.
"Wait! wait! Brok's sword already magic and shiny." Brok interjects as Praetor starts his hoodoo.
"Brok need fancy armor that help him move quiet and climb better."
|
Varg sleeps silently, feeling the cold stone beneath him as though it were a feather bed for weaker races. In the morning, he spends time meditating and stretching as usual. When he is finished, the usually surly dwarf has a bit of a smile.
Think I figured out how to use my ability to disappear more often. Will be useful if we need to get behind enemies. Also feel like I can hit a little harder.