"Remember the Survivor's dirge. Through all harrowing ordeals, one can come out the other side battered but not broken." Val's words tumble out a bit roughly, but emboldened with charisma beyond ordinary words.
Isilme does her best to make herself useful as well, using create water, light and prestidigitation as needed to clean up the areas he's operating on, along with helping the others to move the plates when they are finally disconnected from the bulette's skeleton.
After having approached at Isilme's signal, Hinagiku had just stood and watched the operation. Silent, she cannot help but notice how focused her Ehren-kun was, she could tell by the particular way in which his brow furrowed as he worked. In meanwhile, the monk remains highly focused on the only task that she could take on, healing Ironfin if he were to become too weak. And so, will all her attention, she watches for his vital signs, ready to invoke the Master of masters's powers at a moment's notice.
Ehren gets to work, using what he had learned of bulette physiology yesterday to carefully pry out adamantine bolts that had been driven through both armor and flesh. This all had to be carried out very slowly and quietly, for even if the old beast couldn't much feel what was being done to it, it could still be jostled awake by loud noises or sudden movements - and bulettes had razor sharp senses. After a few moments, Grila approaches slowly and carefully to observe up close. She kneels next to Ehren, applying poultice to the open wounds once the worst had been sealed off with healing magic. The plates and claws come off one by one, and are left in a large, bloody pile.
You'd guess that's about 150 lbs of adamantine, which is valued at roughly 10,500 GP of crafting material. Adamantine is notoriously difficult to work with.
All in all the surgery takes hours. The bulette sleeps through the worst of it, but it seems wise to not be present when Isilme's spell finally wears off.
Anevia had hung back for the entirety of the surgery. The first hour had been spent keeping her bow nocked and ready to deflect an attack from the bulette - after it had fallen asleep of course - then the next hour had gradually seen her relaxing and eventually just looking bored.
She does, however, watch as all of the adamantine is separated from the Bulette, keeping track visually of just how much is there. Ultimately, she isn't really sure of how much is there, and she hasn't exactly been following the adamantine trade this year - highly volatile as it was. It seemed to appear and disappear with equal frequency, almost as though it existed only in massive hoards or something.
Ary kneels down and takes the time to remove some of the meat from the rations in her pack, and leaves it in a small pile near the bulette, giving him a small snack in the morning, since he'll likely be particularly weakened.
"Can we, or should we, use restorative magic on him?" she whispers to the others.
Val stays close to the bulette as the druids work their healing skills and magical power on the poor creature. If he wakes up during the procedure, she needs to be ready to lull him back to sleep or at least calm him down immediately. Or at least take the first hit before the two spell casters. Val liked to think that she was generally more durable than Ehren was, at least when he was in his human form. She doesn't step away until the two magic users drop the last of the bloody adamantine plates aside and step back. "I'm not sure. Would it be any different from the magic they already used to close his wounds? If it helps, we don't have much else on the to-do list, so it wouldn't be a waste I think." Val looks at Isilme and Ehren as she asks the question.
"I am not certain what else can be done magically," she answers Val after Ehren finishes up. She had channeled healing energy into him several times during the operation as pieces were removed, and now there was little left to do. If she or Ehren had more potent magic such as regenerate, they would have been able to restore Ironfin's body to as if it had never been violated by the Duergar, but such things were beyond either of their abilities for the time being. That, however, didn't preclude coming back in the future to finish the job. In the meantime, however, though he would likely remain heavily scarred, there was no doubt in her mind that it would be a significantly less painful experience for him. "Perhaps one day we can come restore him fully, but he will not have the pain of the plates straining against his skeleton anymore at least."
Walking over to the pile of adamantine that had been removed from the creature, Isilme stops to ponder the irony of the work that lay before her. The Duergar, whose god commanded them to produce mediocre work in mass quantities, gathered this much adamantine and crafted it into armor and claws for Ironfin. Whatever the individual smiths may have thought, and the cruelty of the 'upgrade' put aside for the moment, they did something that was the antithesis of Droskar's wishes. You could not claim, after all, that what they crafted was average and uninspired. Instead it was bespoke and probably the single most valuable thing ever crafted by the Duergar.
She takes time to use prestidigitation to clean up the armor and claws of the blood and gore still lingering from the extraction and then takes a moment to size up how much they had removed. "That seems like more than enough to make a few suits of armor," if I had to guess, she says looking to Anevia.
"Oh, and excellent work fascinating and putting him to sleep, Val. Your bardic talents have come a long way since you devoted yourself more fully to the art," she says with a smile at her fellow Desnan. Isilme herself had lost many of her memories of her time at Kitharodian Academy when she had sacrificed her weapon, and had recently found that her performances lacked much of the power she had once been able to pull from them. It might have been concerning, had she not substantially improved her ability to cast now, and somehow maintained her bardic magic as well. Still, part of her missed being the one inspiring her companions to greater feats in combat.
Ary begins to organize the plates that Isilme is cleaning off, by size, largest to smallest so that when they put them into a bag of holding they form a pile rather than a haphazard mess... this makes the 'hoard' much easier for Anevia to look over, giving her a significantly more accurate guesstimate as to their value. "I don't suppose you could turn these into a vellum, too?" Ary suggests to Isilme, wondering if their bags would be able to sustain such a huge amount of parts. She also separates the sharp bits from the rest, to ensure a bit more safety for their bags.
"Mmm, not as many as you'd think." Anevia whispers, shaking her head. "Either a breastplate or similar with some change, or a couple of weapons... depending on what we value more. It'll also take a while to make whatever we ask for, besides maybe arrowheads or bolts... unless we find a way to cheat with magic. Maybe the Forge you guys keep talking about making will make it easier?"
"Not for a couple of days, unfortunately," Isilme says. "But we will have time on the trip back if needed. We could try to bundle i for now. Perhaps back in the Gunduaran village we can get help doing so."
With the last of the adamantine plates removed and Old Ironfin's wounds treated to the best of their abilities, Ehren cleans himself up with some conjured water and packs away his supplies. Reaching out, he very gently strokes the bulette's now-bare fin with a satisfied smile.
"We had best take our leave," he says quietly, turning to the others. The heaping bounty of adamantine would certainly be useful, but it was far from his mind at the moment. "His chances of a full recovery won't be apparent until he is up and about again... but I do not think we want to be around when that happens. I am sure Grila will keep an eye on him as she always has."
Turning to the Gunduara chief, Ehren bows his head slightly. "Go raibh maith agat as cabhrú linn."
"I had a lot of help from good teachers," Val replies to Isilme with a small smile. "But if he's just going to have to recover at this point, I think it's better to let him rest and get a move on." She nods in Ehren's direction. "We can use a sending to check in on things here after we leave. Always good to keep in touch with old friends."
"Let us return and celebrate our victories then!" Isilme says, clapping Val on the shoulder and returning the smile.
Isilme helps pile all the admantine plates onto the largest one, borrowing the silk ropes they carried to try to bundle the plates together and provide a handle by which to drag the makeshift sled.
"I suppose that much super metal is a bit large for one of our bags of holding, huh?"
Hinagiku gives a kind smile to her Ehren-kun when he steps away with the job done. What he had done was quite impressive, a fact she acknowledges by following her smile with a positive nod.
Leaving the heavy pulling to the others, more out of the realization that Ary and Ehren could do the deed much better than her, than out of laziness, Hinagiku follows the others out of the cave.
Once they are finally out, Hinagiku allows herself to speak:
"Do you mean celebrate in Drezen Mrs. Isilme? I thought we were supposed to leave once we had helped Mr. Ironfin. Or will we make another pause at the Gunduara village as we meet with Mr. Javyn?" she asks, the first part of the question to Isilme and the second to Ary.
"Yeah, once we get back to the Gunduara... village? Does it have a name? - we can repack it. A lot of it at least should fit into our bigger bag of holding."
"We prepared spells so we could have a feast for everyone in Gunduara, Hinagiku. It will give them and those we freed a chance to relax and enjoy themselves...and us too, of course, before we head out. Will only be an hour or two and then we can begin the trip to Drezen."
The thin adamantine plates themselves are too large and unwieldy to reasonably carry. So Isilme ensures that they are stacked and bound so that Ary could physically drag the skymetal down through the tunnels back to the Gunduara tribe.
Once they return, Dornarnus approaches them to greet them with open arms. "Ho! Tha's a lot of adamantine ye got there," he exclaims, surprised, then whistles approvingly. "Good find! Anyway, we're all set to depart back home whenever you are." The other dwarves are gathered a few paces behind of him, chatting amongst themselves in dwarven.
They are excited to go. They are talking about how they don't really remember how long it has been since they have last seen their families.
With everyone gathered back in the village, Isilme asks Lann to let Grila know she wished to cast upon her so she could understand common. Once Lann has gotten the point across, she casts share language on the druid and then turns to address her and the dwarves.
"Before we set out, I thought we might take a moment to celebrate and feast," Isilme says, setting her own pack with the adamantine plates. She goes over to an open area and, looking for the best way to array the tables they were about to summon. "Ehren, are you ready?" she asks, her own magic nowhere near sufficient to feed everyone.
Once he is ready, she asks Grila and Dornarnus to go gather everyone, and then begins casting. The process was slow, but worth it, when she finishes, two tables of food and drink appear stacked with various dishes both vegetarian and not. Casks of mead and ale sit at the centers of each table, sufficient to provide for over a dozen people each. Given the nature of those they were throwing the feast for, she ensures the food leans towards simple dishes focusing on the ingredients rather than fancy techniques or presentation. Not everyone was interested in brobdingnagian serpents, after all.
Piles of grilled mushrooms and vegetables, shanks of ham, mutton and beef, bowls of cooked fingerling potatoes, hot buns and boules of bread. Cheeses and sausages as well line the tables.
"Grila, if you would be willing to relay to your people, I would appreciate it."
"Underfolk of Gunduara, Angradd's Liberators, and the rest of you. We wanted to provide for you all a gift from the people of Drezen."
"For the aid you have provided us in retrieving a friend," she says, nodding towards Grila and the Gunduarans, "And as a gift for those who have today earned their freedom again."
She turns around and looks at the group, with a focus on Val and Ary especially. "Would anyone like to add anything before we eat?"
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While Isilme summons the group a feast, Xanderghul also ensorcells everyone. On himself and Valaria, he casts tongues to allow them to speak to any of the common Underfolk here, and understand as well. On Ary and Hinagiku, he casts comprehend languages to allow them to listen to conversations, although without speaking. He trusted their ability to communicate nonverbally if it came to it.
When Isilme sets up the party, Xanderghul stands and raises his hand to speak. He motions for Valaria to stand as well. "I have something to say," he begins, his voice amplified and translated into all languages simultaneously by his divination magic.
"We, the heroes of Drezen, stand before you. We have come here to save the friend of a friend, but we will soon return to where we came from." As he speaks, he casts a spell - minor image. The sound of rocks clashing accompanies a large, sepia-toned image of Citadel Drezen. "Our home is a fortress, and it lies within the dangerous lands of the Worldwound."
While he speaks, he traces shapes with his fingers to cause his illusion to shift. This first time, the illusion shows aspects of the Worldwound - the petrified forest, ruined Storasta, the Wound itself. "The Wound in the world is a vast pit that leads directly to the Rasping Rifts, an Abyssal plane ruled by an insectoid demon lord of catastrophe and apocalypse. This demon lord has carved a hole in our world and led an army through with exactly one goal in mind." He pauses here, and waits, and watches for reactions from the Underfolk. "Complete and total destruction of everything that every person holds dear."
"The only thing in the way of this destruction reaching your homes is time, and us. Our plan is to go back to the Worldwound. We will continue to fight against this demonic invasion. We will fight until the portal is closed and everyone is safe."
"But we need help. We can't do it alone." He flicks his fingers again, and his illusion changes to shows images of stone-faced human kings and queens turning their backs on the Heroes of Drezen. "The human kingdoms of the surface have reduced the amount they are willing to aid us. There is too much strife on the surface world. A world-ending threat does not catch their attention."
"If you'll listen, Val here will explain why you should come with us, and what that might look like. Val isn't a Crusader. Val is a traveling bard who worships the goddess of stars - Val can also tell you about the beauty of stars, which you might see when you reach the surface."
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Understanding dawns on Hinagiku's face as Isilme mentions the feast. She had caught glimpses of the conversation yesterday, but had been too focused on the troglodytes to truly process what had been said. Seemed as though the longer than expected voyage was slightly eroding her focus... she would need to meditate on that.
"Thank you Mr. Xanderghul, this will be useful." she says with a smile to the wizard. And so, while the others begin their speeches, Hinagiku, true to herself, quickly adapts to the role she would be most adept at: listening to the wishes of the ones around her, and make sure to pass them servings of the food they wanted. In doing so, she eases the flow of food around her, and hopefully frees the mind of those around her to focus on the discourse of her companions rather than on reaching, asking, or searching for dishes and food.
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At Isilme's prompting, Ehren begins to cast his spells with her in tandem, borrowing just a tad of energy from the ley to ensure that as many mouths are fed as possible. He had only cast the spell once before, following the troll attack on Sesker's Gully just a few months ago. As it turned out, being able to conjure a celebratory feast on a whim was a very useful trick.
Owing to his connection to the Green, the banquet that Ehren produces is a reflection of their surrounding natural environment. An array of stone plates and utensils manifest, each filled with a delicacy that the underfolk were likely already well aware of: edible moss and fungi, roasted meat from the small mammals and reptiles that oftentimes found their way into Nar-Voth (and in no way resembled Javyn), even the stringy flesh of the more delectable giant vermin found in the Darklands.
Once everything is finally ready, Ehren sits next Hinagiku and listens to the speeches that follow. Lacking the ability to communicate with the underfolk, he had little to contribute beyond the food. And as Xanderghul starts with his recruitment pitch, he simply sits with quiet disapproval. Despite the stakes behind the war in the Worldwound, he saw little reason to uproot the Gunduara from their home. Nonetheless, if any chose to accompany them back to Drezen, he would not deny them a ride.
Grila initially protests the concept of a "feast" - "I'd rather dry and cure the bulette into strips than waste it on an evening of over-indulgence," she protests, but she quickly silences when she sees them come to simply conjure food from mid-air.
The feast that follows is likely the grandest one that many of these people had experienced in their whole lives, and delectable enough to entertain even the dwarves, whose culture on the surface had come to be associated with delicious and hearty family-sized meals of stewed meats and mushrooms, slow-cooked in dark gravies.
Now, the residents of the Gunduara tribe and the dwarves alike wait for the heroes to finish saying their peace. Recognizing them as the reason for their good fortune today, they are all very quiet and polite as they give their speeches.
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Ary simply huffs as Xanderghul begins attempting to swoon the underfolk to their cause. His intentions were far removed from those sentiments that had existed when it came to the Underfolk beneath Kenabres. There, their home had been on the verge of being destroyed, and they had been invited to the surface with a firm belief that everyone who came along would be treated well, and be welcomed.
This was different, though. Xanderghul wasn't calling for them to all come to live a different life that wasn't bent upon being destroyed... this was him inviting their strongest warriors to come fight a war to defend the world. Certainly, the world was important, but at what cost? The tribe would likely die off without its warriors. Ary's oaths told her that this was wrong; it was her job to protect the weak, not take their only protectors... and the trip to Heaven had solidified that.
That Erastil's domain was a land where recruitment simply could not be done was message enough to Ary that there were places and peoples that had to be preserved, even while fighting a war. What was more, it felt odd that Xanderghul was recruiting for the Crusades rather than recruiting for the Pathfinders... or just giving an invitation to the surface. Worse... these people didn't even speak the language and would have a terrible time assimilating.
And so, she stays silent, unwilling to destroy what the Gunduara had built... but also unwilling - and unable - to undermine her companion. Regardless, she did not look happy with Xanderghul's decision.
Like Hinagiku, she does her best to serve the others first... and then selects sweet potatoes with a little shredded meat, and grabs a large fleshy mushroom to pick at... along with entirely too much bread.
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Val presses her lips together tightly in thought. It feels slightly dishonest to distract the gathered tribe with food and drink before making such a life altering offer. Granted, she's not a particularly honest person some days, but it still feels like bribery. Especially when they're asking the underfolk to leave their home for who knows how many generations and travel into an entirely new sort of danger. Though in their past few months traveling together, she had actually seen Xanderghul trying to his best to actually mean well rather than just be vaguely helpful for his own benefit. She couldn't exactly leave him hanging, though perhaps a more gentle approach would be better than an outright recruitment pitch.
"I know that what we're asking is not a simple request," Val begins carefully, not entirely sure how well her words carry over into undercommon with Xanderghul's spell. "This is your home and your people have lived here for many generations. You've survived and thrived through many great adversities. I could not, would not, blame any of you for thinking that such a request from new visitors to be a foolish thing."
She pauses a moment to consider her words carefully. "In truth, it is because of the great strength and community we see here that we ask for your aid. We have fought alongside other tribes of your kind before, and made many trusted friends among their number." She gestures to Lann and Javyn with a smile. "I understand that many of you have your own responsibilities to family and friends here. Though I am a wanderer, I am not blind to why so many live a life different than my own. But there is a wider world that is in dire need of strong hearts to defend it. I only ask that you consider our request. We can promise a place in our city where other underfolk already live among us and help adapting to a new place, but I will not say that it will be easy."
Xanderghul pipes up again, not wanting important things to go unsaid. "I also want to mention something else. Our struggle is not just a martial struggle. Any who wish to relocate with us may do so without needing to become a soldier. We have schools that educate in many subjects, we have farms, we have construction, we have finance."
"I myself am the Dean of a school that operates in Drezen, as well as the Venture-Captain of a guild of explorers. Our goal is collecting, cataloging, and distributing information about the Worldwound to the Crusaders. There are many avenues for a prospective immigrant to explore."
He turns to the group of dwarves as well. "Angradd's Liberators will find no shortage of enslaved and downtrodden to help in the Worldwound, should you choose to come."
The dwarves erupt into applause as Xanderghul discusses exactly what the heroes were up to on the surface - Angradd's Liberators go on to receive Valaria's speech with interest and smiles. The rest of the Gunduara tribespeople, now mixed with the addition of nearly as many slaves, provide an ovation as varied as their limbs - clapping, clicking, and slapping of various parts of anatomy fills the room.
Grila stands up, afterwards and raises her hands, palm-side downwards, in a gesture that quiets the Darklands peoples. "Mzil d'udossa ruebuss mzilt ulu nindolen niki-quarnus-abbilen. L'xund wun cielra i'dollen, ke. Usstan xun naut z'reninth nind orn tlu Lagvarguth whol nind p'los l'gotareshtsh zhah xun, ji lest v'dre, t'lu, lu'telanth xuil udossta sel abbilen p'los nindel draeval chu."
"Many of us owe much to these strangers-turned-friends. The stones work in mysterious ways, indeed. I do not believe they will be leaving for their homelands before the feast is complete, so lets rest, be merry, and speak with our new friends before that time comes."
She's being polite and formal as the situation demands, though you can tell she feels uncomfortable by this announcement beneath it all.
The feast then relaxes as the hundred or so people present grab food and drink, and gradually break off into smaller groups to more easily converse amongst themselves. Grila sits with the heroes, the dwarves, and a few others of her people at one of the long tables that Isilme had conjured up.
Across the table, next to Grila, is Dwalla. His form is mostly obscured by long, shaggy, hair. He sits next to two smaller Gunduara that must be his children. They take after their father, though their hair is a much lighter color. They giggle as they take turns splitting a large wedge of cheese that their father slowly cuts up for them.
"Haha, vel'bol ph'Harl-Fer'iss? Lu'vel'bol ph'nind harl?"
"Daddy, what are Under-Folk? And what are they under?"
"Sssshh. Xuat ol zhah kke. Pahntar dosst norrs," responds the father, who has cut off another piece of cheese.
"Sssssh. Don't stare, it's rude. Open your mouth."
Closer to the heroes are Lann, and Javyn, who sits on the other side of his friend from Ehren. The two old friends are deep in a long conversation about their childhood back at Neathholm. They talk a lot about names the heroes don't recognize, childhood friends. Some of them were still traveling with Javyn. Others had died in childhood to disease.
"I don't know, Lann. I know I want to go stay with my father. Take care of him until he passes on. After that, though, I think I'm going to make the trek back out to here. This seems like such a nice place to settle. "Lay down roots", as the saying goes. Little ones of my own. What about you? Is there any time inbetween demon slaying to go find a wife?" Javyn asks Lann.
Lann tilts his head and shrugs. "I don't know. I don't think I really care if I have kids. I mean, I like women. Is that...selfish? Do you think?"
Javyn taps his goblet while he thinks over an answer. "Individually... no, I don't think it is selfish. But sometimes, for the greater good, it can be," he says, giving the sort of honest and even answer one gives close friends.
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When Grila comes to sit with them, Ary shakes her head, "I'm sorry, Grila. None of that was... the majority of our intention. We'd discussed it in passing, but apparently the decision was not unanimous. Everywhere needs heroes... not just the Worldwound." Ary says, voice dripping with annoyance, before she plies herself with more bread.
"Yes, we can always use more soldiers, yes we can offer a life of exploration, yes... it might even be better than the lives you have. But I can't guarantee that. And without you and the Angradd here, other people are just hurt with no recourse and nowhere to go." she adds, shaking her head again as she stuffs a bit of mushroom into her mouth.
"I'm much more interested in helping your people while we're here than in asking you all to come with us... the trip would be worse than our march on Drezen. Unless Ehren or someone else has a different solution?" she continues as she tears into a bit of shredded meat.
Isilme was a little uncomfortable with the sudden crusader recruitment drive Xanderghul had started up. It was one thing to consider offering the villagers as a whole a place in Drezen--though thinking more about what such a feat would entail gave Isilme pause now--but to offer to take their warriors to fight hundreds of miles removed from the village that needed them was another thing. Merely suggesting that they would take anyone who wished to come was insufficient as well. This sort of thing should instead have been negotiated directly through Grila and the other elders in charge of the village. Were they just around the bend from Drezen, uprooting them on a whim would have been fine, but there was no way to achieve this without significant planning to ensure everyone was able to make the move safely.
"I agree with Ary, Grila. I believe, if anything, it might make more sense to send an envoy with us. Though we are far away, the world is not as large as it once was for us. By maintaining connections, perhaps we can be of aid to your people again in the future, and should the fate of the world truly rest on all those who can fight doing so, we could plead your aid."
Grila glances between Ary, Isilme, Valaria, and Xanderghul, her brow furrowed. Finally, she settles on speaking to Isilme. "What you speak of is incredible, unbelievable even, but I see no reason to doubt what you are saying. But that being so, my place remains here, in my grove." She speaks Common in a gruff voice, with an accent that tends to roll r's. "That so, I am no tyrant, like how the duergar would see fit to rule this place. My people are free to do what they wish."
Dornarnus nods, raising his canteen. "Aye. I'll have to think about it. Truth is, it just breaks my heart to know these peoples are being enslaved by the duergar, and there's no one else out there t'fight for 'em. And I've been told me whole life by me family and even me friends that there's reasons why I shouldn't fight for 'em, bigger or better fights out there and such, but tha's... just not me." He nods, and takes a drink. "Just not me."
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"Though I clearly can speak for none of the parties here, opposing the duergar's goal of enslavement is a worthy one, Dornarnus. We cannot abandon the people nor cease to fight for their freedom simply because something larger looms on the horizon. One must find a way to make both work. What use is a grand victory if in the aftermath there is no freedom with which to enjoy the triumph? If this is the fight that calls to your heart, stay with it and see it through."
"And after today," she begins, looking hopefully towards Grila, "you will have allies down here. Working together would be mutually beneficial for both Angradd's Liberators and the Gunduara."
"I don't exactly like Xanderghul dropping this on you without warning," Val agrees as the chieftain's discomfort becomes increasingly obvious. "And like I said, I fully understand that you have your place here. I don't want anyone to feel like they have an obligation to help us, but I did mean what I said. You're a strong people and we need all the friends we can get. Whether that means coming with us or staying here and keeping up the good fight, I hope that we can still be friends in the end."
Xanderghul sits down as his allies undermine him again. He sighs, and shrugs. It wasn't worth fighting over.
Dornarnus again raises his canteen to Isilme's word. "Aye! Here here!"
One of his men laughs. "Dorn, ye' should let the lovely lady speak more and you, less. She says what you says except prettier!"
Hinagiku remains silent while her companions turn around the tide of conversation. While still doing her best to help the people around her, she looks at Xanderghul and flashes him a kind supporting smile. She would need to speak with him, and maybe the others, for she was slowly getting the impression that tensions were mounting.
The monk spends the rest of the meal being the silent support she often is and simply waits for the others to get ready to depart once the feast is over.
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Ehren listens in on Lann and Javyn's conversation attentively, happy to learn more about their shared history. It still struck him as funny that they had missed their opportunity to meet him in Neathholm by mere days, only to find him years later, many miles away from where they all first started. Such was fate. But soon, the two friends would have to part ways again. Ehren could hardly blame Javyn for wanting to stay with the Gunduara; he had found a place worth protecting, that he could call his own. They had that much in common, at least.
When the topic seems to shift to “the greater good” in two conversations at once, the druid cannot help but chuckle at the difference in contexts. He has his own opinions on having children one day, of course, that he would not speak of here. That might make for some awkward dinner conversation. As for the cause he has dedicated his life to… well, his friends were familiar enough with that.
Val sits back at the table, enjoying a decent meal while they conversation turns to lighter topics. Whatever the outcome of their request, it seemed that they would at least be leaving the underfolk on a high note.
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Xanderghul scoots closer to Valaria to speak with her. He raps on the table with his gem-encrusted nails to get her attention, and then says, "I wanted to ask you about something."
"Now that we've been on the topic of joining things, and my organization is finally starting to get off the ground, I wanted to offer you an opportunity." He pulls out his journal, which is full of notes about the events that he and the rest of the group have been a part of. "The Pathfinder Chronicles are an important source of historical record, and right now, I am the one who has the authority to print them. Not only that, but the Lodge's library in Drezen is likely to remain the foremost source of academic material in the city."
"I want to suggest that you join the Pathfinder Society. In the unlikely case of my death, you would be the natural case to take over as Venture-Captain, and in the meantime, you could contribute your significant storytelling abilities to a permanent historical record of our journeys. You could help build the school, and have a group of explorers to go with you when you went to scout the Worldwound."
"What do you say?"
Isilme spends the remaining time at the feast getting stories of the village from Grila, as well as a few tales of Angraad's Liberators from Dornarnus and his compatriots. It was a chance to catch a glimpse of a world she had never once traveled as a Raelis, but nevertheless one with as many stories to tell as the surface.
"I hate saying this." Ary says with a grin that breaks through her big mood. "But... I agree with Isilme. You guys should figure out ways to work together. Maybe you could even build small networks and secret tunnels that you keep safe to help expedite things. Imagine having entire pathways trapped after you leave them for hit-and-run tactics. And if you can expand your network to more tribes, and more of the unfortunates down here, you can likely create a support structure that could undermine smaller incursions of slavers entirely. You have the people here to make real change... at least some change." Ary nods, letting the delicious breadified carbs take hold of the gentler parts of her brain and nudge her away from being confrontational.
"I'm thinking... chasms filled with water and shocker lizards." Anevia adds cheekily.
Javyn's eyes light up and he can't help himself but join the conversation. "Yes, yes! Of course. I have much enjoyed traveling and fighting alongside Dornarnus thus far." He grins. "I have no doubts that we will do so again, once he returns."
Dornarnus nods. "Aye! I'll drink to that. But first, we return to Janderhoff. My men have families back home that they have not seen in a long time."
Val raises one eyebrow through a mouthful of something that she's pretty sure is a mushroom of some sort and gestures for Xanderghul to go on. If he was mad that they hadn't gone along with his recruitment pitch all out, it was probably better to just let him vent rather than let it fester for later. His actual question nearly made her choke before she managed to force the bite down and clear her throat.
She grabbed her waterskin and gulped down a few mouthfuls before she was actually able to answer. "Xan, I'm not sure you've thought this through." Which was probably a silly excuse considering Xan spent basically all his time thinking things through. "I wouldn't exactly be jumping to join a massive continent wide hierarchy to begin with, but putting me in an official leadership position is... probably not a good idea. I would love to help explore the Worldwound. I... might consider officially signing on at the Lodge since someone I care about is asking. I'll contribute my journals to the Chronicles when it helps, but naming me your successor might be... unwise."
Xanderghul snorts, then asks, "Why, are you afraid to take responsibility for something?"
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"I have plenty of responsibilities," Val replied, reminding herself that getting mad won't do any good with Xanderghul. "But I'm still getting used to managing a shrine and it took months to get used to working with a strike team of people who I'm actually friends with. Putting me in a position of authority over a big organization, especially one where I'm also answering to other people, is asking for me to f*ck something up."
Xanderghul shrugs. "I don't expect to die any time soon, and your level of responsibility will never be forced on you. I only wanted to say that if you were in the organization, you would be a natural leadership figure."
"So, will you join?"
Once the feast had concluded, the heroes packed their things, said their goodbyes, and got ready to leave. Four young Underfolk approach Xanderghul and Valaria as they get ready to leave, to ask about joining them. None of them were actually members of the Gunduara - they had come from different tribes, but were separately captured and enslaved by Thulmaga's outriders as they traveled down the Long Walk. They're all very young - on the surface they'd be about the age Crusaders would consider taking on as squires, but a rough life in the Darklands meant that they were all accomplished hunters, scouts and fighters despite their few years of age.
So the heroes leave the Gunduara with Javyn, Dornarnus and his dozen men, known as "Angradd's Liberators", and four young Underfolk. Dornarnus and Javyn promise to Grila that they would one day return, and Grila again thanks the heroes for their help, both with eradicating the bulettes in the region and for helping her befriend Old Ironfin.
The way back is much slower, mostly due to the fact that the dwarves themselves are slower than the heroes. One of the dwarves has a broken leg, and so he has to be carried. The Long Walk itself is out of the question - it would be difficult to smuggle so many dwarves under the duergar's noses, so instead the safety of the wild tertiary tunnels provides a dangerous yet discrete way of traveling back to Janderhoff.
When they arrive back at Janderhoff, they find that it is early evening of the 12th of Rova. The dwarven city is bustling with smiths and traders, and the four young Underfolk Xanderghul and Valaria brought with them are excitedly talking amongst themselves in Undercommon and gesturing with their tongues.
"Oh, is that the sun?" Javyn exclaims, looking up at the large sky-windows that have been carved out from the mountain that shields the city. Outside, the sun is mostly obscured by clouds, but even so it sheds enough light to illuminate the city. "It is much dimmer than I would have expected."
Janderhoff is one of the few great dwarven cities of the surface, and the dwarven race is renown for their prowess of craftsmanship at arms, armor, and even magical or clockwork devices.
"There is a cavern near here that will allow us to travel instantly back to Drezen," explains Lann to their new colleagues as they pass through the city guards. With Dornarnus amongst them, they did not meet much hassle at all returning back to the surface from the dwarven guards.
Dornarnus grins. "Aye! That's pretty handy to know. Well, seems like this is goodbye, then. My men will be going our separate ways, 'til we're rested and ready to set back out on another adventure. But I owe all of ye a life debt, nay, all of us do. So if you are ever in need, you know how to find us!"
Javyn smiles and grasps Dornarnus' much larger gauntleted hand. "Indeed. Until we meet again, Dornarnus." He turns to the others. "Will we be setting off immediately, or will we be seeking rest and shelter in this city?"
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"Let me just drop by the Lodge with you, Dornanus," Xanderghul says, pulling the dwarf along towards wherever he could go to redeem the sizable bounty on the man's head. "I was promised a reward for saving you, and our war against the demons is in desperate need of funding."
He turns to the others. "I don't want to stay here long, but it also seems a shame to come here without at least looking around a little bit. How about we meet at that giant crystal cavern when we get tired, and Ehren takes those he can take back to Mendev. I'm sure some of us are eager to get back to work after this lengthy diversion. I for one wish to return tonight, but perhaps a few small errands first. Goodbye!" Without waiting for an answer, he walks off, fully expecting to find his friends waiting for him in the crystal cavern that evening.
Anevia snorts, feeling much better getting out of those oppressive tunnels. She really enjoyed the goggles, as they made her feel fancy, but the lack of room to breathe and maneuver was awful. And everything felt the same even if it didn't look the same! "Give it time, Javin, and don't look directly at it. It gets brighter." She stretches languidly in the sunlight, pushing the goggles up off of her eyes. "And now it isn't purple!" Anevia pauses for a moment... "I'm gonna go with Xander." she chirps, as she falls in line behind him.
"Do we want to try to use the adamantite here, or back in Drezen?" Ary asks as Xanderghul and Anevia disappear to claim the bounty. "Do we even have any way to forge it at home? Do they have a way here?" she asks, looking to Valaria and Isilme... the two most likely to know without asking. Or perhaps able to find a dwarf to ask.
"That sounds like an excellent plan," Isilme says, happy for the chance to wander around a city that wasn't Drezen or Nerosyan for a change. "Sounds like we are staying at least for a bit, Dornarnus."
"Perhaps we can get the adamantine smelted down while we're here. I'd like to trade some of it for mithril if possible as well. I was planning on reaching out via contacts to Kyonin to see if I could find someone willing to make me a suit of elven chain to replace this chain shirt."
"As far as using it goes, while Joran could certainly try, I believe we'll also find a wide array of expert smiths here, many of whom would be eager to work with adamantine. Why don't we go searching then," she pauses and turns towards Xanderghul and Dornarnus as they leave, "Dornarnus, could you recommend a smith here to work on this adamantine? Or point us to someone who could?"
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Dornarnus laughs. "If a bounty is what yer after, I'd go to me clanhold first. I'm sure my parents put out a sizeable sum for my head." He gestures with one of his hands, vaguely. "But then... I think I should be owed a bit of th'bounty, for putting up with having to let them know I'm in the city." he says with a groan and a glare at Xanderghul. He doesn't hold that serious expression for long, though, immediately cracking up. "Ohohoho! I'm just pullin' yer braids. Well. Partially. At least I won't be alone in going through another of my family's halfling goodbyes."
A 'halfling goodbye' refers to the tendency of halflings to hold onto guests with exceedingly long goodbyes. The reason for this is because within halfling culture, halflings consider it impolite to leave a gathering before formally saying goodbye to all of the other people at a party. This causes the ends of halfling parties to often extend long into the night as all members go through repeated farewells and well-wishes, that often devolve into more conversation, then food and drink. The term entered Inner Sea slang following a popular and often quoted routine by famous Taldane halfling comedienne, Autumn Wðriender.
He thinks for a moment on Isilme's request. "Well, I'm no smith, but all dwarves know that to work with Numerian steel you need a forge that burns carbauxine. Well, yer in luck, 'cause Janderhoff probably has more carbauxine forges than anywhere else in the Inner Sea. I could recommend some names that'd be good to smelt that all into ingots for pretty cheap, but if yer lookin' for good craftsmanship, you'll need to be more specific about what you want."
Carbauxine is an odorless, poisonous, explosive gas that sinks low to the ground. It is naturally found in deposits in the Darklands, and though harvesting it safely is difficult (it explodes upon contact with air), the dwarves have long known techniques for doing so. Carbauxine burns hot enough to melt both adamantine and mithril.
There are other ways to create forges that will burn hot enough to work adamantine - most of the common ways involve powerful magic, though, so carbauxine remains the most feasible way to work with the metal for most people. The elves tend to harness flame direct from the Plane of Fire to work mithril, for instance. The Corruption Forge also burned hot enough, thanks to the fact that it channeled dark powers from the Abyss itself, though it has since been disconnected from the lower plane by the Archdruid.
Afterwards he and Isilme hash things out, and she is left with a piece of parchment that lists some friendly forge-smiths Dornarnus knew of, and the addresses of their shops. Afterwards, Dornarnus leaves with Anevia and Xanderghul. First they stop by Sandricaan's home - there was no Lodge in Janderhoff, the closest one was Heidmarch Manor in Magnimar. Sandricaan advises that Xanderghul and Dornarnus write a letter to Major Colson Maldris in Andoran explaining the ordeal, which Sandricaan could notarize with his personal seal. Then it would just be a matter of waiting for the funds to arrive at Xanderghul's Pathfinder Lodge in Drezen. These were mindless tasks that Xanderghul could off-load onto Valais, if he wanted.
Dornarnus' family, the Shieldwall clan, were a much more immediate source of income for the heroes, but the process to actually get that money embroiled Anevia and Xanderghul into being introduced to many members of his extended (and extremely wealthy and powerful) family in succession. They are then roped into what feels like a family intervention, which is all very awkward for Anevia and Xanderghul, as outsiders, all staged to try and talk Dornarnus into joining a more respectable trade than penniless vigilantism. But in the end Dornarnus shouts them all off, Anevia backs him up with some snarky remarks, and Xanderghul is given a sack of 30,000 Janderhoff-minted gold coins. They are then free to leave (though they are interrupted by many tearful well-wishes and expressions of gratitude for saving their brainless brother/cousin/nephew/uncle).
By the time that is all said and done it is very late in the evening and all of the shops are closed.