”Yeah, we need to save it for the next time we run away,” Bazsil grouses angrily in his deep voice. ”We gotta do better.” But then he keeps moving away from the beast.
Faolan, still bleeding from many injuries shrugs. "We're not doing so well down here. Tough place to live."
He's sullen about their latest loss. Two in a row. Sigh...
Krowe wants to go back and get satisfaction, but if the mercs aren’t up for it he doesn’t push.
Following along behind, he grumbles. ”Those salamanders we’re a poor choice of mine. I must study the enemy better next time.”
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You search but find no other paths to the lava. Backtracking you do find a new room. This chamber is swelteringly hot, and crude paintings of a three-eyed circle with bat wings line the walls. Rubble fills the southwestern passage. This is probably the room on the other side of the collapse you found earlier.
The painting is a crude representation of Nyarlathotep.
There is no glow of magic in the room, but heat is almost unbearable.
Deciding that there is no other way, you stretch your legs and run through the cavern with the khardajeen as quickly as you can. The floating mass has returned to the middle of the cavern and you pass it before it can react to your second intrusion.
A beach of glassy stone edges a vast lake of lava that stretches out for several hundred feet. An ancient lava tube exits to the west, while to the north an ascending path of rock curves up the sides of the immense chamber. A stone structure floats gently atop the bubbling pool of lava some twenty feet from the shore. The ceiling is shrouded in darkness and rises at least several hundred feet. A few clusters of metal pipe and ceramic tubes descend from above.
Faolan feels awful running past the creature, and very nearly stops to throw his shield a few times just to make a point. Still, he trusts his allies and fiends, and keeps running. The shame fills him though - he's always been tougher than anything he faced. He thinks about what he should improve...
When they reach the lava lake he's impressed. "This is going to be a sweaty day is it not?" He can't help but smile though. They're going to have to fly over. More flying!
"So, uh, how should we get across?" His grin is easy to see as he looks puppy eyed at the spell casters for protections and flight.
"Hmm.." Krowe examines a painting for a second. "This seemsto be a crude representation of Nyarlathotep. Outer God of the Dark Tapestry."
With a shrug, he follows the mercs, hiking up his robes and running to keep up.
"Let's leave this part of the story out Baszil, hmm?"
.....
In the lava chamber..
"I can door us to that structure, but I see that Faolan really wants invisible wings... We should consider resting soon if we can find a secure location."
Krowe casts a fly spell on Faolan and Bor so they can fly him and Baszil across.
"Maybe. Maybe, Krowe. Hard to say." Bazsil thinks how he's going to work these latest events into his narrative, his edda, that he has been composing. He doesn't really want to make it like the party ran away twice, but as an artist, he would feel bad about lying or hiding a truth. He debates with himself as Faolan is healed.
Know (Religion)
"Nyarlathotep? Indeed."
Bazsil doesn't have any good solutions that are above and beyond what Krowe offers, and would rest if given a safe spot.
Before Krowe casts the spell of loveliness, Faolan agrees with the others, "If we're to rest, I think we should do it before we head into that place. No rest there I expect. Let's back up a bit and camp, yes?"
Really he wants to go back with what they have left and take out their last failure, but he'll let that dream go for now...
If the group decides to press on, he'll gladly accept the fly and transport the heavier folk over.
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A stone path curves up the northern side of the immense chamber housing the lava lake. It rises several hundred feet before abruptly stopping at a stone-arched entrance. The landing itself is cooler than the passageway, which you find a small blessing given the imposing nature of the doors before you.
Made of massive stone and oversized locks you aren't sure if you'll be able to open them. You quickly look around for any hints or secret elvish writing.
Pushed to the side of the landing and covered in soot you find a set of restless lockpicks. The leather carrying case still shows a faintly embossed Ironfang Legion coat of arms.
Nada
You note the tracks of several larger unidentifiable creatures.
Four creatures of varying sizes made their way through here about 2 years ago.
The doors look very thick and it would seem Kraggodan is taking security very seriously. An attempt to detect magic shows there is an alarm spell on the landing and the doors, as well as the doors being resistant to fire.
vs DC 20
"Hey, check it out - lock picks." he holds up a set of restless lock picks and points to the coat of arms on the leather carrying case. "That looks like the Ironfang Legion doesn't it? They must've been by here. We're on the right track!"
He looks at the doors and wonders how long it would take for him to bash them down. Quite a long time he figures...
"It's cooler here. We could camp here as we figure out this door. Or just trigger the alarm, and see what comes to investigate."
He laughs as he takes off his pack and digs out some rations as his hand brushes up against a brass tube. He pulls out his Chime of Opening, "This still has some charges if any of you want to try it." He chuckles.
”I have some skill with locks, and these could be useful.” Krowe muses, reaching out to take the restless lock picks from Faolan.
Krowe looks around the landing, but sees no further clues.
”Perhaps we set up a rope trick a short way back down the ramp and get some rest?”
”Perhaps we set up a rope trick a short way back down the ramp and get some rest?”
Bazsil is not tired, but would use the time to figure out the best way to recent failures in comparison to the larger narrative. Yes, this was a tough task, traveling through the deadly Underneath, but still he expected better.
"I could use some time," Bazsil agrees. "Might be we have a fresh look at the door in the morning. Might be better."
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You cast your spell and climb into it, looking for a temporary reprieve from the heat and your journey. Your recent setbacks sit heavy in your minds and you begin to wonder how you can be counted on to fight the Legion when small eldritch horrors are able to withstand your blows.
You don't have long to think about these things when you hear a throat being cleared before a voice drifts up to you.
"Identify yourselves!"
Bazsil shakes the cobwebs from his ears, and moves to answer the voice.
”What?”
”What?”
”What?”
Assuming a common language can be found, he will explain.
”We’re just passing through, trying to get into the Dwarven city to help with things,” Bazsil explains in his deep rumbling voice. ”We lost our home to the hobgobs, but have hurt them pretty badly in return. We’re not done causing trouble for them yet.”
Diplomacy
Faolan almost cries out, "My god, it's demonic!" before Bazsil tries a few tongues. Faolan doubts the dwarf knows Skald, so he keeps his trap shut and his shield at the ready for possible attack!
Bazsil will come down to see who is speaking, assuming a dwarf of some sort.
”Is this your cavern? What are you doing here?” Bazsil asks as he makes his way down.
Diplomacy
Faolan clambers down after Bazsil, his shield out just in case, but he tries to look non-threatening. After all, they're being invited, it'd be rude to show battle readiness.
Awakened by a lot of shouting, it takes a moment for Krowe to wipe the sleep from his eyes and get his bearings. He vaguely recognizes the dwarven language but Bazsil finds a common language before he needs to butcher it.
”We’ve traveled a long way through a$$hole-infested caves.” Krowe says as he slips down the rope. ”If you’re from Kraggodan, and stand against he Legion, then we are allies.”
”We have come recently from the siege of Longshadow, where we pushed back the Ironfang Legion. We’ve chased some rumors of their operations in this direction.”
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You climb out of the rope trick and see four dwarves standing on the opposite side of the imposing stone doors, which are now open. The speaker is a younger dwarf with thick hair kept back by a golden band. He is holding a winged staff with a winged red creature wearing spectacles on it.
"My name is Karburtin, I'm an archivist of Kraggodan. This is Colga and several members of the city guard."
Colga eyes you with suspicion, concentrating on each of you in turn. Shortly, she nods to Karburtin who sighs in relief and smiles at you.
"If your story is true then you will find welcome here. I don't suppose you have any way of proving that you have opposed the Ironfang Legion? And I would be curious about the rumors you've heard." He looks at you hopefully.
Faolan tries to think, and it comes hard to him. He offers to show the hobgoblin sized dents in his shield, but that could be anyone really.
"Can your clerics not identify our truthiness? We're happy to wait until tomorrow if they need to prepare the right spells."
"I'd always heard that dwarves had good priests." he says not knowing much about the race.
"My name is Faolan, and we've been hunting hobgoblins since they invaded our lands earlier this year. We think they may have, in part, come through the under dark, so we're here hunting down clues, among other things."
He gets sidetracked, "But it's a dangerous place, filled with monsters. I don't know how you live down here!"
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"Oh, you want to hear our story? Well...yes..." Bazsil absolutely wants to perform the party's edda, to get a chance to work on the cadence and phrasing.
"How much time do you have?" Bazsil asks with a wide anxious grin.
Either here and now, or over beers, Bazsil is happy to really truly give the story for reals, all of it.
Perform (oratory)
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The dwarf gently clears his throat before Bazsil can really get rolling. "Just the highlights and some reassurance will do for now young man, we've been under siege for two years by the Legion so we need to make sure you aren't spies before we pitch you into the lava. You understand, no hard feelings and all that."
The expression on Colga's face indicates she might feel bad about throwing you in the lava, but she would do it after carefully searching you for everything useful to the war effort.
Bazsil explains and reassures.
Faolan does his best to reassure the pint sized inquisitors, reinforcing everything Bazsil is saying. He'll talk about the initial attack, their time in the forest, and the defense of the city - all against legion forces, usually hobgoblins.
All that long road has led them here, to the dwarves fortress. "So if you've been fighting 'em for a couple years, maybe we can help each other out. For you see, we're heroes, with all that entails. Aside from a few recent snafu's we're nigh unstoppable!" he adds with rather more vigor than he might have just a few short days ago.
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"TWO YEARS!?" Bor seems shocked as they had only been fighting for a few months at most. "Has the Legion been underneath our feet all this time? Is that how they amassed such an army with no one noticing" Bor's mind begins to spiral into thoughts of swirling madness. "How can we possibly reassure you. We have nothing left anymore."
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He nods at your recap of the salient parts of your story, mainly that you arrived here by following the notes you show him of the Ironfang invading Kraggodan using this door. He waves you inside and locks the door behind you.
The passage beyond is cooler now that you are out of the lava. Karburtin leads you, his staff banging on the floor and the strange winged creature clinging to it, staring at you through spectacles.
Colga and the guards follow behind the group, keeping a watchful eye to the rear. You path takes you through a large chamber filled with abandoned mining equipment. As you approach another set of doors, two dwarven figures approach from the shadows.
When they step fully into view you question your initial appraisal. These dwarves are 7 feet tall and heavily muscled. They are wearing thick armor and shields and wield enormous battle axes.
"Hey then Karburtin, who are these visitors?"
"Maybe they fancy a tussle? That one with the shield looks fun!"
Karburtin speaks to the figures in Dwarven, who step aside and let you pass. You see two mummified dwarf corpses next to the door, their wounds showing they died in battle.
"Now, we will enter Vault Way. This is a crypt of our ancestors and I ask that you touch nothing. We are working to catalogue everything since the siege began, and while I do not believe you are Molthuni spies I cannot take any chances."
Faolan warmly greets the other dwarves warriors, impressed by their size and clear strength. He too wouldn't mind some combat-time with them, though he quietly feels he'll lose. He's pleased such as these guard the doors.
When they pass through they crypt, he's quieter and more solemn - careful to touch nothing as requested. "You're being very gracious considering our trust issues."
He follows along with the others, looking at the back of Karburtin rather than letting his eye wander where it may not be wanted.
"Maybe they fancy a tussle? That one with the shield looks fun!"
Bazsil smiles, he smiles broadly and with happy teeth.
"Oh, that one? He is fun. He's sooo much fun he'll bash your teeth in. He's so fun that after you fight, when someone asks why you're crying, they will be wondering if it's because your haircut," Bazsil offers with understated threat. "He's so fun, that your wife will bring a date to your funeral."
Bazsil is quite sure that ol' Faolan will wipe the floor with the offending b!*~~~#@.
As the group is led past the two dire-dwarves Krowe can’t help but stare at the mummified dwarf corpses nearby.
”Umm.. no one’s going to say anything about those? Okay...”
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Karburtin pauses at your questions. "These were Draggo and Calhun, brave dwarven defenders who held this door against a horde of gugs that attempted to invade our city. Sadly there were too many and both men fell under the blades of the gugs."
One of the giant dwarves laughs at this description. "They weren't all blades, were they Draggo?"
The other dwarf replies, "No Calhun, there were rocks and claws and teeth as well."
"Teeth!"
"Yes, one of them used their teeth."
Calhun laughs again. "Well there you have it, maybe if the red haired boy is a biter he can have a go at Draggo then."
Karburtin makes a calming gesture with his hands. "As you can see, neither of them is quite as silent as we prefer our noble heroes to be, and instead they've returned to guard Kraggodan until the siege is lifted and the city is safe once more."
Draggo nods. "We became einherji upon our deaths. Once Kraggodan is safe we will return to the eternal battle."
Calhun chimes in, "Aye, then they can throw our corpses into the lava or whatever they please."
Karburtin winces at this blunt description. "I'm sure we can find a more respectful resting place."
Faolan is impressed. When his time comes, and he goes to the eternal battle, he's not sure he'd ever return to this.
Although from the sounds of it, they've had some good battles. He grins at the warriors, and bows at their sacrifice. "I'll not sully your weapons with my blood my lords. I'm not worthy."
"Perhaps when you are finished with your vigil!" he laughs, looking forward to they day when the Ironfang legion is bested by all the heroes arrayed against it.
Bazsil smiles and listens to the stories, committing details to memory...to eventually work into the edda. He bows solemnly at the dead, and understands the need for rituals and customs.
"Tell me, what can we do to help? Or what can you tell us of how things came to be?" Bazsil asks for big picture view.
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Karburtin clears his throat and speaks very carefully. "We have been under siege for several years now, yes. Molthune attacked us and stole something from the Reliquary of Ascension, then imprisoned the ambassadors we sent to negotiate with them and marched on the city."
During this explanation you have made your way out of the vaults and to the surface. Kraggodan is laid out in straight lines and well marked districts, shops are set up in orderly fashion. Most citizens look at you with idle wonder and keep their distance.
Karburtin stops in front of a small fortress and turns back to you. "Please wait here." He disappears inside then returns a short time later. "Gorm Greathammer has agreed to host you while I consult with our leadership. You are not, strictly speaking, under arrest, but you will understand if we must be cautious of outsiders who show up in the middle of a besieged city. I would ask that you remain within Clan Greathammer's stronghold while I speak to my supervisors."
Bazsil waits, unless Karburtin notes a good local tavern that might be a better place to wait.
”At least I’m in no danger of sunburn down here.”
"Sure, we'll wait here." Faolan shrugs.
He hopes the dwarf is back soon. I doesn't mind waiting while they sort out their trust issues - he understands that - but he feels somewhat in a hurry.
Before the man leaves however, Faolan asks, "We have some things to sell, and perhaps to buy if your craftspeople are as good as I suspect they are. Could we arrange with Gorm Greathammer to make arrangements for that?"
Bazsil waits, but does inquire about a tavern or inn for better waiting.
Bor sighs, "Not sure if this is good or not. We don't have the luxury of time to be under house arrest do we? The longer we wait the more the hobgoblins tighten their noose." He makes a motion of hanging himself with an imaginary noose.
"I have some work that I need to do to my shield. Perhaps it'll make the difference between what I have been doing these last couple fights and, well, winning. I think that's worth a few days. And Dwarven craftspeople are great!"
"No, I think a short delay is warranted here. Provided we can resupply while we do so."
”I wouldn’t mind a bed that isn’t the floor of an extradimensional space.” Krowe says, breaking the silence he’s held since arriving here. ”And a day or two would give me time to perhaps finish my enchantments.”
He feels both relief that Kraggodan still stands, and trepidation that the dwarves might not allow them to stay. Stubborn little b@astards.
”Im not sure what to expect, but if a translator is needed, I speak their language.”
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You are led inside the fortress and shown rooms by the guards. The furnishings are functional and far more comfortable than the extradimensional space you've been calling home. The rooms are not spacious but you won't have to share with 3 other men living on nothing but trail rations and protein shakes. The air is fresher already!
Colga prepares to leave, having given instructions to the guards you weren't able to overhear. "Stay here for now. You are our guests, not prisoners, but we will assign you an escort while you are in the city. Until then, we ask that you take this opportunity to rest and clean yourselves."
You are given time to recuperate, the guards knocking on your doors in what they tell you is morning. You are taken to a table set with breakfast items and drink. Karburtin waits at the head of the table, staring at his beer. "Never did get a taste for this stuff, but it's impossible to get anything but beer and water right now. Eat up and make ready, we'll take you into the city today. The Evenhanded Synod is being convened to hear your story and that will take 3 days."