Once long ago the Dwarves of Tharkad made their dwelling in the mountain of the same name. They were master craftsmen, tunneling deep within the mountain to retrieve the rich veins of metal and gemstones Tharkad hid within its depths. They traded with the human kingdoms of the West and the tribes of demi-humans who roamed the Great Forest to the East, growing wealthy in the process. In time they created the subterranean city of Tharkad-Kûl, a deep metropolis of the dwarven race.
Eight hundred years ago, something happened that remains a mystery to this day. A black cloud enveloped the entire mountain for two weeks. Any who entered never came out again. At the end the cloud vanished, leaving only silence. The entire dwarven city had been killed, leaving only silent halls and empty rooms. The dwarves had been transformed by some fell force into swarms of undead horrors. Over the years many entered its dread tunnels, and some survived to tell of its horrors. Most tell of undead, goblins, orcs and many other fell things that live in the dark. They also talk of the cunning of the ancient dwarves and the many traps that they left for invaders.
A century ago the High Halls were occupied by Varrakezion, a huge dragon of fearsome reputation. This great wyrm sleeps on a pile of dwarven gold wrested from the many humanoids and undead it has slaughtered. The Low Halls remain the purview of the lesser creatures.
No one to this day can say what killed Tharkad-Kûl, but those who brave its darkened silent halls say you can still feel the weight of the dark evil that came and snuffed the city out like a man would snuff a candle. This dire force lures dark things into the silent halls from far and wide. Great is the undying evil that festers within the waiting darkness.
Sondergang sits in the Inn...a tankard of ale in his hand brooding. His forefathers treasure lies close at hand. He looks intently at his companions. Do they know how much more than mere looting this Expodition means to him.His Elders the randsons and great grandsons of those dwarves lucky enough to be out of the city when it fell...they have entrusted him with a sacred mission to clear the halls of their home.
These others...he has no idea of their motivation but he suspects they are mainly here for the treasure
Sitting across in the shadows is an elf. Graceful and lithe like the longbow kept close by, the archer quietly twists his wineglass.
His hooded cloak casts the angular face into shadow, with only the odd glitter of watchful eyes.
Every now and then the elf sips a little to taste the wine, but the glass remains almost full.
|
A lone figure enters, momentarily drawing eyes toward the door. With effortless grace the hood of his cloak slides back as he flips one side of it over his shoulder.
Tall, dark and handsome would be a painfully inadequate description for this young man. His dusky aquiline features are those of a desert prince, made for statuary or fine art. His well muscled frame belies the Sorceror's path, made all the more unclear by the scimitar worn on his hip. With long, well kept raven black hair and his regal bearing he seems cut out for lounging on silken couches amongst exorbitant finery rather than the adventurer's leathers he wears. The wind catches his cloak and reveals the cryptic tattoos encircling is upper arms, all the better displayed by his sleeveless leather jerkin.
But is his eyes that give those about him pause .
Piercing grey, almost crystalline, with an overwhelming intensity borne of a raging inner fire. Few are those who can hold his gaze for more than a few moments.
He strides towards the table purposefully.
"Greetings, I am Merzhan al- Kahadi'im, and I believe my...abilities may be of great benefit to your endevour" he speaks warmly, a rich accent that conjures images of a desert sunset.
He seats himself in the first empty chair across from the dwarf as if it were reserved for him, and with a slow smile adresses the serving girl approaching him without looking over his shoulder. "Spiced wine, chilled"
Sondergang looks across at the human and nods his sandy beard flowing over his chest as he does. From the strictly utilitarian chain shirt on his back to the stout boots on his feet the dwarf looks like a stereotype for his race. A naselled conical helm sits on the table beside his tankard together with a hefty looking warhammer,its head wrapped in a leather bag
Horm's Tavern is a large, boisterous place, where many different folks gather. A group of rangers fron the Order of the Raven sit in the corner sipping ale. Several off-duty baronial men at arms chuckle and joke amongst themselves. The taciturn dwarven tavernkeeper Horm stands behind his bar, pouring pint after pint for the thirsty crowd. A travelling bard in a stained cloak belts out a cheerful bawdy tune up on the small raised stage, surrounded by appreciative patrons singing along in drink-slurred tones.
Sondergang lifts his tankard taking a hearty swallow then speaks.
"Aye?.....and what skills might those be Lad"
He eyes the human with what to some might be described as amusement
Borondon walks into Horm's and pauses for a moment surveying the people in the room. He sees the other dwarf sitting in the bar and nods curtly to him. He then goes up and sits at the bar not far from the other dwarf.
"I'll have a tankard of yer srongest ale." he says to Horm.
Borondon turns and listens to the conversation taking place next to him.
Borondon is dirty and worn looking. His face is grim and scarred and his hair is dirty and tangled. His long beard is braided with bones and teeth of various creatures woven into it. He wears a tattered and stained cloak over his worn and battered mail. A wicked axe is at his hip and a large battered shield is on his back with two spears crossed under it.
|
|
"I understand that you are looking for sharp blades to accompany you. But more importantly, a wiseman understands that it is often he who can control the world's great forces that finds success."
Merzhan smiles
"I am one who travels the path of the great mysteries, and the blood of the Great Desert Fire Lords flows through my veins. it has been my experience that a strong arm should be supported by arcane might."
All this time, Svetla Isenheim has been sitting beside Sondergang. Dressed in the sturdy clothes any traveler might wear, she enjoys a simple meal of venison. Some of her strawberry blonde hair, has escaped the sparkling blue ribbon that is keeping the rest out of her face. An intricately carved staff leans onto the table next to her.
As she sips at her goblet, the light catches the mahogany of her Life Staff, showing off various parts of the carving along parts of the shaft. Svetla reflects on her decision to join Sondergang. She freely admits to herself that the profits were a considerable part of her decision to join him. She is also seeking the honor and destinction the task would bring her in the eyes of her own and amongst the Dwarven peoples.
From where she sits to the left of the dwarf, Sondergang, Svetla casts her eyes over the desert man. As she listens to the conversation, something about him irratates her. She dismisses it for she realizes, This is Sondergang's decision, not mine.
Her calm green eyes take in the room. She observes some individuals whom may be of use in their journery. She decides to wait to point them out to Sondergang.
Sondergang nods as the desertman expounds...
"So ye follow the arcane path do ye...and are ye of the wizardly or the sorcerous persuasion.."
He returns the other dwarfs nod and when he turns back towards the group motions to an empty spot on the benches
"Torags blessings upon you Shield Brother..will ye sup with us. It looks like your journey has been a long and hard one"
Another sip barely lowers the level in the wineglass.
"Archer."
"Infiltrator."
Sip.
"Disabler of preventive wards."
"Mechanical and magical."
Sip.
The elf returns to his shadows and hooded corner.
Borondon moves to where the other dwarf indicated and sits down with his tankard.
"Torags blessings upon you Shield Brother..will ye sup with us. It looks like your journey has been a long and hard one"
"Aye, It has been a hard journey, thank you much Brother." He looks at the desert man and the dwarf. "'Names Borondon Thurgund."
He doesn't seem to notice the elf.
|
|
" My power comes from within good dwarf, I am a vessel of magic rather than it's student" He looks serious for the fisrt time during the conversation.
"But I seek knowledge and experience, and I wish to apply my skills and abilities to see them grow."
He starts slightly at the words of the elf, having not noticed him until that point.
"You seem to travel in talented company".
His gaze sweeps over the attractive woman's weapons, "And quite dangerous as well......Good Lady." He says looking Svetla in the eye while making a small bowing gesture with his right hand placed over his heart.
"Archer."
"Infiltrator."
Sip.
"Disabler of preventive wards."
"Mechanical and magical."
Sip.
Sondergang glances towards the elf..."Well We'll see how good you are at all of those soon enough"
" My power comes from within good dwarf, I am a vessel of magic rather than it's student"
"But I seek knowledge and experience, and I wish to apply my skills and abilities to see them grow."
"Thats the right attitude too...welcome to the company"
As the other dwarf joins them and introduces himself he changes demanour to one of seriousness
"I am Sondergang Wulfssson, Priest of Torag welcome brother Borondon."
Sondergang looks around...wondering where the two others he had spoken to have gone.
Sondergang rises to his feet.
"I'll be back shortly...just have to deal with some business"
He heads in the direction of the taverns Latrine
The door to the bar opens, but a glance in that direction reveals nobody entering. If one were to look down at the time, they would see what looked like a three-foot human, walking across the room. He sports a travelers cloak, the hood pulled back, revealing, dirty black hair, and five o'clock shadow. His eyes pause from thier glance around the room, as he sees one group of adventurers. He heads over. "Wheneversuch a large group of people gather in a bar, it is obvious they seek adventure. Adventure implies rewards, and I do love both. Might you be in need of the sneakiest halfling to have strolled this world?"
The hooded elf inclines a little for Merzhan.
Borondon nods to Sondergang and silently drinks his ale.
A young man in traveling gear saunters over to the table.
"Greetings, fine fellows! Might this be the adventuring band I had heard rumors about? I would love to accompany a group filled with such obviously talented individuals! Which reminds me..."
He turns to Eldon.
"Might I have my purse back? Well done, by the way, I hardly noticed. You'll have to show me how you do that at some point. But in the mean time, I'd like to buy a meal."
Eldon smiles at Keirgan. "You have gained my respect, young sir. I suppose I can return to you your coin."
The Dwarven serving girl sets down a new round of drinks mostly stout ale, but even a new glass of wine for the elf. A large platter of roasted venison and a mix of summer vegtables comes and is placed at the centre of the table. "Its on me " States the dwarven maiden with a broad smile, she walks to the fireplace and reaches up to an ornate sheild and pulls it down turning she states to the party "If ya be heading for a stroll into the halls of Tharkad-Kul, I am coming" She throws her apron off and sits at the table providing a very flirtation wink to the strapping Dwarf with the axe. "Besides you will need all the help you can get in that place. The name is Ingrahild Hammastrum and Abadar's blessing be on us all!"
"Adabar?"
"Abadar."
Ingrahild picks up a spoon from the table and shakes at the Elf, "That's what I said"
Eldon drinks downs the ale served, and looks at Merzhan, "How could this not be an interesting chapter in our lives? Look at us! If someone normal were to walk in, they would turn right back around. We have some dwarves, let's see, humans, elves, and of course a halfling to add a little spice. Of course, I do not yet know where we travel, but I am sure it will be dangerous, fun, and a place where I can prove myself as a true adventurer!" He says with a smile.
Borondon shows a hint of a smile at the dwarven serving girl and takes a piece of venison.
"Thank you my lady. I am honored to have your help." He turns to the desert man and the halfling. "Interesting, perhaps. Dangerous, aye. Fun? I don't think of Tharkad-Kûl as fun."
Flashing a smile back at the strapping dwarf Ingra spins on the little halfling the spoon wielded fierce in her hand, "Fun! fun, oh my dear boy...not a score of days has gone by since the last group of fortune seekers came into this inn stuffing their faces as we are now, I watched them, more improtantly I listened to their stories. Heading into the Haunted Halls of Tharkad-Kul were they". Ingra Scowls and eyes up the tanned foriener "They were in good spirits, they were talking about how they would all retire to the comfortable life when their adventure was over, there were eight of em!. Spinning to the Elf "Most of em looked like you with their blank eyes and pointy ears, well not more than six hours passed and three of em returned white as a ghost". Ingra violently spins once more brandishing the oversized spoon nearly taking off the halflings head with the flourish. Undead, traps, and worse fill those dark and dank halls...fun, I do not think it is found now a days in Tharkad-Kul, but I figure we shall fare better than those chaps did." Ingra quiets down and leans in towards the group the spoon slowing in her hand. Ingra looks into the halfling's innocent, but confused face, We are gonna do better cause we have a purpose and we are lead into the Halls by not one but three from the stout race, Its like we are being called home, and the very sentience, the very soul, of Tharkand-Kul will sense that we look to bring it's glory back, we are not mere treasure hunters!. Ingra looks to the Elf, Remember that when you go looking for a token to take home, make sure Tharkad-Kul wants you to take it!" Ingra quickly bows her head and flatly states, Now lets eat we will need our strength, anyone care for a prayer With that she grasps Borondon's hand in a meaty embrace. Come on everyone, fellowship is important in dark times!. As to accent her demand she waves the spoon at the group.
|
|
Merzhan's face barely contains his amusement as he whispers to the Elf "Apparently Tharkad-Kul is only generous to the walking dead."
He looks at each of the others in turn before speaking boldly, "We will succeed where others have failed because we are stronger, wiser, bolder,nobler and for lack of a more modest term better. We assemble here at the hand of fate, the bards will sing of this day my friends."
He lifts his glass in a toast, " To history!". Looking at the disapproving frown from the feisty shield maiden he adds,"And fellowship.....an appropriate word you have chosen"
"What is known?" asks the elf eventually.
"We should wait until Sondergang gets back to discuss this," Svetla interrupted before the others could respond. "He'll want to be part of the planning from the beginning."
"Well...Tharkad-Kûl...that's, um, certainly more...adventurous than I had supposed. But then again, they do call it "adventuring". I can't say that the legends of that place don't frighten me just a little, but there is safety and courage in numbers, and we certainly have that.
I would be honored to assist you stalwart dwarves in destroying the unnatural walking dead. It would be good to know there souls are at rest."
The crowd at Horm's this evening seems in a good mood and raucous. There have been many caravans coming through the Western Pass early thanks to the recent mild Spring weather and townsfolks' pockets are jingling with silver and gold coins.
...and townsfolks' pockets are jingling with silver and gold coins.
Keirgan offers to buy Eldon a drink, "in appreciation of your honesty, my new friend."
A touch of surprise fills the glance Svetla gives Merzhan. It is gone as a slight smirk fills her face. She takes a sip from her goblet before answering the desert man. "I'm honestly surprised that you picked up on that so quickly," Svetla told him.
Turning to the table and all of those around it, she continues, "We met a little more than a month ago. I answered a call to arms that a Clansman of Sondergang's had made of my Mistress of the Sword. Since then, we have been travelling by caravan and foot. As we made our way here to Tharkad-Kûl, we stopped at most, if not all, the Dwarven communities as he sought more details about the dangers within Tharkad-Kûl's walls."
"Why should you have to buy my drink, when I can earn my own?" Eldon, slips of, in search of a drunk with a heavy belt.
Ingra shoots an icy stare at little Eldon "Not in my bar little one!!, she lightly slaps the wrist of the little Tindertwig to emphasize her seriousness. "Those skill are very valuable to us in Tharkad-Kul by by Abadar's beard we will not be using thievery in any civilized settlement I stake community in, earn that drink you will Master Tindertwig" As she grabs Eldon's ear much as a mother would grab her misbehaving child's she drags Eldon off into the kitchen to do dishes. "Well get at it, a hard half an hour of work shall get you two drinks" Ingra folds her arms across her bossum and her large hips block the only exit from the dish pit.
Ingra calls back to the table of heroes
"There's plenty of dishes for all of you out there if ya be misbehaving too"
Many can hear the chuckles of the commoners as the scene of the dwarf and halfling storm across the barroom floor in a dance of sorts, but their giggles quickly are silenced from the glares they recieve from the party's hen Mother.
Keirgan hides his chuckle behind his hand.
Borondon guffaws loudly.
A deep booming laugh come from the direction of the jakes as Sondergang re-enters the common room and spots the pantomime before him.
"Keep a special eye on that one Battle Sister...we wouldn't want him losing the battle of the dishes would we"
Sondergang walks up to the bar and has a whispered conversation with Horm then returns to the group.
"I've got us the use of a backroom...it'll be quieter than here and I don't want to broadcast our plans across the common room. Bring the food and drink my friends, we have much to discuss"
So saying he picks up the tray of venison and moves off towards the back rooms obviously expecting the others to follow.
Patrick
"Ah Eldon that'll be enough battling the dish soap ye learned yer lesson" Ingra gives Master Tindertwig a soft smile, "Here your reward, for the hard work and refrain from thievery amoung the civilised folk." Ingra produces a large piece of licorice and two large glasses of Ale, Ingra points a stubby finger at Eldon "Now don't ya be eating that all at once or ye tummy will get all twisted, come on, lets head to the back room...and keep yer sticky fingers to ye self until we get there, or it will be another sink of dirty dishes for ya!"
At first, Eldon is unhappy with this new maternal figure in his life, but at the sight of licorice (coincidently is favorite candy) he bursts into a smile, grabs at it, and ignores the dwarf, gobbling it down as quickly as possible. He swishes it down with the ale, and turns back to the dwarf, "Thanks, mom", he says with a sarcastic smirk.
Keirgan follows the others to the backroom, shaking his head.
"I hope these adventurers are as skilled as they are entertaining" he says to himself.
|
|
Merzhan rises chuckling and notices a patron eyeing the adjourning group.The smile leaves his face. Turning towards the man he makes firm eye contact and hold it until the other looks away.
Intimidate check
1d20+7=23
Borondon gets his tankard refilled at the bar and follows the rest into the back room.