"Please come with me, but hang back as I check the main forge room. There are often many giants within, and I would want to sneak you past them."
She wrinkled her nose at Storn's armor and followed up with, "Do you think you remove that abomination? It tears at my mind just being near it. I am not sure I could sneak you past a deaf and blind giant with you wearing that."
Storn sighs. "Fine, someone help me get my normal armour on."
He strips off his giant-nail armour and produces Uskroth's armour with bonus spikes and steps into it. "Ahhh..." His voice echoes in his helmet. "Better. Onwards."
|
Quill keeps watch as Storn switches into something less unattractive to giants.
Part of him thinks they should kill anything and everything on their way, but also realizes that if Ferin has the potential to be an ally, then slaughtering her friends might not be the best plan.
He keeps his thoughts to himself.
Once Storn's offensive armor has been stowed away, the giantess led you to one of the few doors you had not yet opened. Beyond lay a huge amphitheater. Three tiers of curved stone benches are arranged in immense horseshoes around the chamber’s centerpiece, a great pit filled with cold black slag. From the middle of the slag pit rises a wide, round platform of black basalt. A great forge, its fire gone cold, sits in the center of the platform, along with a massive iron anvil the size of a cow. The soot-stained ceiling arches far above the chamber floor. A bridge of stone connects the platform to a dais at the rear of the hall, where a towering statue of a stone giant ominously overlooks the entire cathedral.
There were two giants lying on the benches, obviously napping. Ferin gave them a sharp look, but must have decided that them sleeping in the holy place was better than them praying at the feet of the statue, since that was where she ushered you to. She shielded whatever part of the statue held the latch to open the secret door at the base of the statue, but a door popped open and she ushered you quickly inside.
Stairs led down to what Ferin called "The Forgeheart". Dust covers the floor and cobwebs drape the walls of this broad oval chamber. Near the center of the room stands a pillar of cemented soot-blackened stones illuminated by the waxy lumps of crude candles and surrounded by a ring of mystic symbols fashioned out of metallic dust sprinkled on the floor. To the south stand a large chair and a table laid with a single place setting, a clay bowl, a pitcher of water, and pot of gruel. A large framed box filled with straw and covered with a couple of heavy quilts and a few oversized pillows lies farther east beyond the pillar.
Sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room was an ancient-looking giantess. Her skin hung loosely on her bones, and her eyes were as white as milk in the dim light. She leaned forward slightly as she heard your approach.
"Ferin? Is that you? Who is that with you? Did you bring more children to hear the stories of our Most Beloved Goddess Minderhal?"
She turned her head to direct her blank stare at Storn.
"Can it be? Is that...is that Agrimmosh I sense? Is it truly time? After all these years. I wondered if the prophecy would come true in my lifetime. And now, here it is. Who holds the Hammer of Unmaking? Who?!?!"
Sander's jaw drops as Ferin leads them through the secret door. His mouth remains open as he gazes around in wonder.
"Wow," he breathes. "It's like something the dwarves might have made, but huge. What is this place?"
He really hopes Storn doesn't Storn this up, as Quill would say.
The ancient crone spoke, answering Sander's question, but talking as if he weren't there.
“In times now lost, my ancestors built the sacred forge in the cathedral above to honor He Who Makes and Unmakes. Minderhal’s Forge is a repository of awesome power, but long have its fires lain cold. Only with Minderhal’s great hammer, Agrimmosh — which I sense in your hands — can the effects of long ages be unmade and the flames restored."
“I, Etena, am Keeper of the Forge. I inherited my position from those who walked this world before me, and those before them. I am the guardian of the sacred forge, but I am not its creator. Were that the case, I would have long ago renewed its fire, but this task is beyond my ability. You, however—you, the bearers of the Hammer of Unmaking—you have the power to relight the forge. But first, you must learn its history and what must be done.”
Sander tries to think of what he knows of Minderhall. If anything. Most of his religious learning came from overhearing Quill, and, well, that probably wasn't the most accurate, he's realized.
The god Minderhal (MIN-der-hawl) is a stone giant deity of law and crafting, but his worship gained popularity with other humanoid races when the Runelords ruled western Avistan. Mortals prayed to Minderhal for advice on matters of architecture, justice, law, metalwork, and stonework. With the collapse of the Thassilonian empire, however, Minderhal’s religion fell out of favor, and now his following is almost exclusively limited to a few tribes of evil stone giants, who revere him for his mighty strength, skilled hands, and unyielding upholding of ancient traditions.
Storn clanks his way over, a tank of a man in spiked plate armour with a huge wooden holy symbol of Gorum clanking on his breastplate. He holds up the ancient hammer in his steel hand. He clacks up the visor on his helmet to stare ahead with his beady black eyes.
Right. This is the part they write a song about. Speak like a hero. Remind the bards not to rhyme 'Storn' with 'Corn'. Lazy bards. I'm going to punch a bard when this is done.
"I am Storn of Gorum. We come from Trunau and are here to save our people." He turns the hammer in his hand from side to side, looking at the symbol of Minderhal emblazoned on it. "Tell me this history, and why we should want to light this forge."
Chwaer stands toward the back, taking it all in. Ferin seems to have told the truth and she's inclined to believe Etena as a result.
She joins Molly and whispers, "did you guys know this prophecy about his hammer? Where did you get it?"
"Got it fra a tomb, where else?" Molly whispers back. "And there were some prophecy driving on the giants that attacked Trunau, but weren't about lightin' yon slag-pit. Were 'bout some manifest destiny ta do wit' conquerin' all our lands 'cos s'pposedly they're theirs by right."
Speaking out loud: "Could be as we could help ya. But first... Why's tha high priestess'a the Unmaker hidin' 'neath-of 'er patron's statue?"
"It is less hiding than not wanting to see how Urathash and his minions are blemishing the cathedral by using it as a meeting place and barracks. This place is the Forgeheart, the central location for Minderhal's Forge. It is my right and my duty to see to it, though the forge has been quiet all these centuries. Now, hush and listen to the story of Minderhal and this forge."
“In times now lost, my ancestors built the sacred forge in the cathedral above to honor He Who Makes and Unmakes. Minderhal’s Forge is a repository of awesome power, but long have its fires lain cold. Only with Minderhal’s great hammer, Agrimmosh—which I sense in your hands— can the effects of long ages be unmade and the flames restored."
“I, Etena, am Keeper of the Forge. I inherited my position from those who walked this world before me, and those before them. I am the guardian of the sacred forge, but I am not its creator. Were that the case, I would have long ago renewed its fire, but this task is beyond my ability. You, however—you, the bearers of the Hammer of Unmaking—you have the power to relight the forge. But first, you must learn its history and what must be done.”
“According to the sacred texts, four ancient heroes first brought Minderhal’s Forge to life."
“The first was Mymrith the Maker, priestess of Fandarra, who prepared fallen warriors for the afterlife by anointing their bodies with sacred clay. She lined the forge with the clay to contain the fire within."
“The second was Aduromi, the Priestess of Crystals, whose veins ran hot with molten metal and who could temper steel to a hardness that would cut diamonds. She brought with her the secrets of the fire geodes, which once ignited would burn for a century. “The third was Jogrothir the Hunter, guardian of the sacred horn Drakesbane, which he used to call the ancient drakes native to the surrounding peaks. Jogrothir brought the forge to life, for he alone was able to capture the dragon’s breath, the only flame hot enough to ignite the fire geodes."
“The last was Rosag, the Preserver of the Forge. A great priestess of Minderhal, Rosag held the secrets of water—both its ability to temper metal as well as its capacity to quench the sacred flames. She performed the Blessing of Rosag, the final incantation that stoked the fires and sanctified the forge."
“Only by following in the footsteps of the blessed ancients, by repeating those acts which have been undone, shall the fires of Minderhal’s Forge once again blossom.”
As she spoke, Storn could feel the pull of Agrimmosh towards the forge, as if the hammer knew it belonged. As if it longed to touch the forgeheart. It pleaded in his mind for him to touch it to the forgeheart.
"But we don't follow those gods," Sander says. "We could probably get some clay, but we don't have this horn or any dragons or fire geodes. Or this Blessing of Rosag, for that matter."
He thinks a minute.
"We just want to protect our town. I'd help with the forge, but would that stop the giants from attacking us?"
"Yer people've bin gettin' ready ta stomp us. So yeah, gotta be blunt: a cat fer a hat or a hat fer a cat, but nuthin gets ya nuthin. I got no hate fer ye, but what cin ya do fer us if we kindle yer flames?"
Hearing talk of fire geodes, Storn shifts his bag a little, realizing what their super-weapons against the giants are actually there for.
"Relighting the forge would give the giants of this region an impetus to turn back to Minderhal and ignore the pratings of this Storm Tyrant. Giants weren't meant to be cooped up together, working side by side. Giants are meant to be strong, serve the family, and slay any who dare to cross our paths. This Storm Tyrant nonsense has gotten out of hand. Mark my words, when the forge is relit, the armies will break up and melt back into the mountains they came from, and each giant will carry a new spark of Minderhal in their hearts."
"And the weapons and armor we could make! Oh you want payment? Fine, I'll pay you in the finest giant-crafted weapons, sized for your puny hands, and blessed by Minderhal. You can save your insignificant town and earn yourselves weapons and armor fit for legends. And you wouldn't even have to go too far out of your way. Legend has it the forge materials were scattered about this very valley. You have one piece with you already, the Hammer of Unmaking."
As she talked, Storn again felt the hammer pulling towards the forgeheart. In his mind, all he could recall of Minderhal was that he was the lawful evil giant god of crafting.
"Oh, that'd be good," Sander says, excitedly. They seem to have found the better means of disrupting the army, even if Sander was pretty sure Storn wouldn't like it. But maybe in return for armor and weapons?
Chwaer takes it all in but stays out of the way of the others. She wants to believe Etena but is worried. She pulls Storn aside at one point to whisper, "she's offering to make us weapons, but it sounds like all the giants will have more impressive stuff to hit US with as well!"
Chwaer is certain that the giant believes what she says about the forge, but the dwarf is unsure about the effects of relighting the forge. Maybe it was her dwarven ancestry coming to the fore, but she did not trust this giant.
Storn finally speaks up. "We should talk with each other before we agree or disagree."
He ushers the group away so they can whisper. "Awakening an ancient giant forge is more fun than not doing it. I also don't have any ideas how to destroy an entire army. It means trusting them but ... they could have just tried to kill us take our stuff if they wanted. I say yes."
"I know not where the sacred items are located. But, I did hear Urathash and one of his lieutenants talking about a mural of the valley they found in some caves not too far from here. The mural depicted many locations in the valley, and had runes of an ancient language inscribed. That would be a good place to start, I think."
Chwaer whispers alongside Storn, "I do not trust them - they're giants! We do ourselves a disservice by helping them make new weapons to be used against us. But I don't know a better way than to fight the whole army ..."
"We don't have any way to destroy an army, so I think this is our best chance," Sander replies. "I mean, they didn't just attack us right away, so that's a good first step to build trust, right? They could just try to take the hammer, and they aren't.
"Maybe there will be some giants with better weapons, but a giant or two with better weapons and armor probably still isn't as dangerous as a giant army ... of giants," he finishes a bit lamely.
"Then I guess we can maybe sneak out again," Sander suggests, thinking that would also give them a chance to discuss what they want to do, even if it seems a bit obvious to him. "Is there any other way in and out of here?"
Sander winces as he realizes Quill just suggested some sort of localized genocide to the giant priestess.
Storn stalks over to the priestess. "We'll do it. Getting here was not easy. Are there any out of sight ways for us to get in and out?"
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Ferin spoke up "Well, there are the privy chutes! But, if you've already laid waste to the rest of the cathedral like you did in the groghall, by the time you get back here, there will likely be dozens of giants patrolling the area."
Etena wheezed "Been killing Urathash's idiots have you? Good for you. They have no place here. Few of them follow the old ways, and most are just part of this army for the chance to loot and pillage. Not one of them even pays a token of homage to Minderhal, here in her own temple! No, if you wish to pass from this place and return with even a bit of stealth, then you must cut off the head of this rabble. Urathash is in his rooms above, in the spire tower. Cut off the head and throw this small camp into disarray. That is your only chance of making it out into the valley and back here again without having to fight your way through ranks of giants. Then you can go out the poop chutes if you really want."
Sander sighs as they seem to have to go do more killing, though he's sure Storn will be happy.
"Who's Utrathash?" he asks. "Can you tell us anything more about him? Won't they start patrolling too if we kill him?"
"Small folks ears' don't work too good do they? Urathash, boy! The fake worshiper of Minderhal that runs this recruitment camp. He's the one holding the various giantkin together in this loose collection of miscreant fleabags they call a mustering army."
"So... this an ogre? A troll? Or what?" Molly asks. "He wear an amulet, got a special scar? Anything ta recognolize 'im by apart from 'big 'n apostaty'?"
Sander's face colors as he mispronounces the name. He thought he was pretty good at Giant. It's like the whole language was changing. Pretty son they'd be prouncing Giant as Jotun or something...
"Sorry," he mutters. "But what kind of giant is he?"
He has a moment of panic that she might think that question is racist. Maybe they don't realize there are different types and that's just something dwarves came up with. He glances over at Chwaer.
"Pfaw! As if a giant army's let itsself be run by anything other than a giant...and a big'un too! He be a stone giant, tall and with a head as hard as his namesake."
Sander gulps nervously, thinking stone giants are probably one of the hardest types to deal with. He sighs deeply again.
"And he's just upstairs? Do you think you can help us get there, the way you helped us get here?"
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No, YOU’RETRASH! Quill thinks before realizing the giantess isn’t insulting them.
”Oh. He’s the leader, huh? A stony one too. Well, I guess we should avoid him,” Quill says, trying to placate the slaggess.
”What should we do with the bodies in the groghall? Is there a place...you know...to you know...”
Chwaer shrugs at Sander, knowing she'd have made the same mistake.
Storn beams, showing his properly gross teeth. "I think we'll all be happy with how this goes."
He looks to his companions. "Are we good to start killing Youreastash now? How are you lot on spells and Sander-goop?"
"I have just a few bombs left," Sander whispers back, knowing that they're putting their trust in Ferin and Etena, but maybe that trust only goes so far.
He then immediately starts to feel bad that he's not that trusting anymore. It seemed like he used to be, back before some orcs killed Rodric and then tried to make it seem like he'd killed himself...
"Once we ... kill him ... do you think we'll have to wait for a bit before we can leave? I mean, if we come back here, could we rest?"
Chwaer checks the edge on her axe and leans against a wall, "I'm ready whenever."
"Now would be a good time to go. I will have Ferin deal with the bodies you left behind. They aren't the first giants to have killed each other here. They likely won't be the last. You'll have to get to Urathash yourself though. Every giant in the army knows we don't get along, and if Ferin or I are seen heading up the tower, there will be suspicions."
"Go now."
The ancient crone of a giant settled back into her chair, seemingly exhausted.