Tetserine grumbles and chews on his cigar unhappily, then looks at Toramin. "Well I'll give you that." He looks at Bjorkus. "I'll take you there. But blindfolded! And I swear if you breath on the wrong thing I'll have you out of there so fast your heads will spin, got me?"
Ragnar shrugs again. "Like I said, blindfolding will work. And we've got no interest in your city's secrets except those that we need to stop Villichi", Ragnar admits.
Plans are made and a dozen well-armed gnomes arrive in the room as Tetserine gives them a rundown of what's going on. "This is a security sweep, we have reason to believe the Skymetal Forge has been breached. We get in, sweep for any leaks, problems, changes, anything out of the ordinary. We do not activate or instigate the guardians unless there is an emergency. These four will be coming with us as special security consultants. They are not to be told any details without my approval first." Once everything is explained, the party is blindfolded with thick black clothes and each is given their own personal solider to lead them forward.
The party heads down the elevator and through the loud building, the sounds of people getting dimmer and dimmer until it is only them. There are several twists and turns, but the only thing that's clear is the party is going down and it's getting colder, and that the stone is becoming unworked.
Ianna cannot tell precisely the way they came.
Before they are blindfolded, Ianna inquires with the councilor if there was any way to acquire or have adamantine restraints or manacles created to bind Villichi.
"We have eye witness accounts that he can break stone with his hands. I doubt he can break sky metal"
Toramin doesn't bother trying to track his steps with each footfall striking stone, he knows that Ymir glides beneath his feet and can easily return to this path if needs be.
Panrick nods. "I will have one of the guards bring a pair of adamantine manacles with him."
Bjorkus tries, poorly, to keep his bearings while the party is escorted blindly into the hidden vaults.
The journey takes what feels like hours as the party shuffles along and trips through darkness. But eventually the walking stops, and the blindfolds are removed...
The party is in a wide natural cavern, the only light source being a staff that Tetserine is carrying. The cavern goes strait up to a smooth, seamless metal wall that seems to curve outwards slightly. Tetserine walks up and holds out his arms, then speaks a few sentences in gnomish.
Tetserine steps back and walks to the party. "One by one, approach the wall and state your name and purpose here. Do not lie. The best case scenario is you would be shunned."
"I have been called Ziza and I am here to protect the forge and the city at large from the man some call Villichi."
As Ianna walks up to present herself to the wall, she opens her lips to speak, only to find the words caught in her throat. The wall shimmers slightly.
"Uh, I don't speak whatever language you just did. Will that be a problem?"
Tetserine shakes his head. "It understands all languages. No problems there."
As Ianna infers what some people call her, there is no reaction from the wall. Tetserine frowns. "That's unusual. Either it accepts or denies access, I have never seen it wait."
"How do you know if it accepts you?"
Tetserine eyes the wall skeptically. "It will speak to you in your mind, but it also flares green for a moment. If it rejects you or detects a lie, it will flare red, and sometime worse. There was no reaction, that's very odd."
"Do you have to stand right here for that? Couldn't you see and verify the results from further back. Like over there?" Ragnar asks while pointing to a location several feet away. "Men and women in our profession go by lots of names and I don't know how your enchantments work, but I'm going to assume it wants the name my father gave me when I was born. Well, you have your secrets and we have ours. I'd prefer you and your men stand back a bit while we do this."
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"I don't have to verify anything, it does." Tetserine raises a brow at Bjorkus. After a long pause he nods. "Fair enough, and I appreciate your honesty." He signals his men back, then gives the party a glance before following them back. They go a good distance down the tunnel, far enough that any words said below a shout would take the ears of a bat to hear.
Bjorkus leans in close and speaks in a whisper.
As Bjorkus speaks, the wall shimmers again in response. But this time it remains shimmering and Bjorkus locks in place for a few seconds.
Bjorkus relaxes and the shimmering of the wall blends into a gentle but quick flash of green. Then the wall is stoic once more.
The surly blacksmith finally acquiescing would make their job easier. It's like pulling teeth with these people though. Yet after being led blind for a while, it seemed they were finally getting somewhere: a barrier.
Dalton appreciated Ianna's and Bjorkus's initiatives in testing the waters of it. Green or red. Yet it reacted not at all to her double-wording. It was clear to Dalton the language should not matter in the magical make, but how well it interpreted motive was questionable, uncharted territory. He was next to approach, and though he did not speak in a whisper, he did choose to use his father's tongue.
He wondered if the thing had any sort of memory. Recollection of the high-ranking sorts that must come here could prove useful to the right folks.
Toramin breathed a little easier when Tetserine, or whatever his fool name is, walked away. Unlike his sister or Bjorkus, Toramin was cautious. He didn't understand the smith, so he made no effort to talk to him. He was pleased that he seemed to listen to Bjorkus.
Necril or Shadowtongue? Shadowtongue seems rarer.
He touches the door and whispers.
The paladin was tired of the lies and proud of his name. He is also curious if the door could learn anything from him with Heff's ring on his finger.
Ianna frowns slightly at the recalcitrant door and whispers,
The door repeats the same process with each party member in turn.
For each person the wall shows green. After each person has been approved, Tetserine returns with a slight glance of curiosity, but holding his tongue. He walks up to the wall and holds up his arm again. "We seek entrance for one hour, by which time we will be gone from these walls." There is a pause, then the walls starts sliding, layer by layer as if some sort of metal onion, until the way forward is revealed. A faint glowing is in the distance as well as a blast of heat. Tetserine leads onwards.
The size of the Forge is awe-inspiring, waterfalls of red and gold running down the walls in the far distance. Ancient and archaic runes glowing red cover every inch of the metal masterpiece, that is cool to the touch despite the overbearing heat in the air and the molten metal in the center. Large spires jut out into the air, architecture from another age that transcends any mortal being. And in the center is the masterpiece, complete with an ancient anvil and tongs and all other matter of smithing equipment, looking so ancient and divine and powerful that even gazing upon the tools makes one feel small.
Looking somewhat out of place are dozens of scattered piles of heavy chains with pieces of razor wire sticking out. Black smoke steadily rises from each pile.
Tetserine turns to face the party. "Do not. Touch. Anything. If you anger the guardians I'll leave you to them, I have no interest in dying today. Look around, do all the examination you want, but don't put your hands on a thing." He turns to his men. "Fan out! Search for anything out of the ordinary, anything at all. New entrances, tools out of place, a lower number of guardians, anything. I want to know how many runes there are by the time you're done!" The men nod and start spreading out. It becomes evident that the Forge is so massive that several people disappear from view, and even get out of shouting distance. The halls are vast and complex here. Soon it is the party and Tetserine, with only a few guards visible in the far distance. The gentle bubbling of liquid metal and the crashing of the red waterfall the overwhelming heat are constants here.
"Is there any kind of spellcasting we should avoid using during this search?"
"Anything aggressive like a fireball or a compulsion or charm, but detection and other harmless spells should be fine."
Not wanting to be blinded Ianna, refrains from detecting magic.
Resentful? I have never thought of myself as particularly resentful. One should be careful not to too eagerly embrace strange oracles or to discount them merely because you don't like what they have to say. Know yourself. What resentment animates me? Well, my life has been very charmed. There is nothing for me to be indignant about personally, but I do resent our father for the way he treats Toramin. How can he abuse on child and dote on others?
Using her ordinary senses she looks for anything odd, but touches nothing but the floor.
But what could she notice really? She has never been here before, so she hopes not to overlook a giant hole in the wall.
Her eyes are not captured by the divine forge. Power does not stir her passions. This is a place of great power. Too often people choose perfection and power when they would be wiser to choose happiness and love.
With that thought, Ianna turns her senses inwards to the bond between herself and her goddess. Some gods are distant from their follows, but Ianna had always felt close to her goddess, being moved by intuition and dreams from the Golden Gift.
Since her rescue from the giants, the priestess has not heard the voice of her goddess in her mind, but she remains patient. Revelation did not follow a mortal whim.
Dancing Goddess, I stand before the forge of your father accursed by the Dark Smith. What is your will? How should I enable love and beauty in this moment? Reach through me I beg.
Toramin gazes in wonder at the forge. It seemed a mute testament to the power of Torag much like his own divine gifts.
The dwarven paladin has never heard the voice of his god. He was given to understand that was common amongst those sworn in his service. The Father of Creation offered tools to his dwarven children. It was rare, though not unheard of, that he sought to advise them. The other gods were far more chatty it is said.
Yet, how often does one stand before an artifact of one's god? It is in a reverent state that he prays, Father of Creation, there are those who would misuse the tools you have left to your children; please reveal how I can stop them. Guide my hands and heart, I pray. Forge me anew.
Which assignment indeed...
The question resonated with Dalton was they pressed-on, for he would soon have a choice to make. Yet when he came upon the forge's chamber, the dilemma was bumped down in priority.
One could forge plate for a legion here.
In deep appreciation for the opportunity to see such a marvel and respect for its creator(s), the mage gazed about slowly, attempting to approximate the vast size of the monolithic landmark before him.
It took him a while, but he wanted to have a sense of his bearings. I would prefer not to be lost in a skirmish. It was probably there was some type of symmetry, but not being able to see around the circumference, grand as it was, that speculation would have to await its confirmation.
One his eyes had been filled, he turned to their escort after the guards had departed. "Firstly, let me express my thanks in permitting me to view such a wonder. I know my appreciation isn't the reason I'm here, but regardless, manners are manners. It also speaks well of your folk something so colossal has such diminutive evidence of existence to the common people. The problem is that speck of reality has come to cause problems."
Like Ianna, Dalton had chosen not to detect magical presences, for they would either overpower him, or the scope of his divination would be very unlikely to find cause for alert in such a vast room. "Would you feel more comfortable if we kept together? It may take us some time to search this place."
Ianna sits and prays, asking her goddess for guidance in this matter.
Thump thump
Toramin feels a stirring in his gravelly heart.
Thump thump
He should walk forward.
Thump thump
Into the magma.
Thump thump
Have faith.
Thump thump
You will be protected.
Dalton marvels upon the engineering of the Forge, and does manage to grasp the simpler concepts of it. But the runes, the red river, the metal that stays cold...how does it all work?
Tetserine grunts an acknowledgement, then shakes his head. "Wander as you see fit, just be back in time that we can be gone within the hour. If you touch something you shouldn't, having me be angry will be the least of your problems."
The cautious part of Toramin cried out in warning, Did not Drosil say this place is cursed by Droskar?
However, this lone voice is quickly quelled. One does not spurn the gifts of the gods. I did pray to be forged anew.
Toramin looks around to make sure that he is out of everyone's line of sight. If he is wrong, then he did not want to be responsible for the mental trauma of having another person watch him burn alive.
Then following the forge's beat he steps he walks forward into the magma.
Perfection is the promise of the forge. Moreover, it may reveal what Calios has been doing.
Such is the faith of a paladin.
The group hadn't rehearsed how they would search the place. It seemed Toramin decided splitting from each other - not just their escorts - was the way to go. Dwarves to forges like moths to flames. We'll have to peel him away from here when we're done.
As the paladin walked out of view, Dalton was reminded of the immense chamber in which they were. Even if there were no hiding spots, Villichi could easily be hiding in plain sight; his coloration would simply not have to clash, and at a good distance, none would be the wiser. While on the topic, though he was perfectly fine with giving their own curiosities some privacy as Toramin did, he felt some questions still needed to be answered. Being the least physically imposing of the bunch, he turned to the as-of-recent laissez-faire smith, for he had a few requests that may require his presence. He began with a simple one.
"We were told there would be some sort of "air-tight" protection here. Either that was the magical barrier we passed-through, or the true heart of this place is not immediately apparent."
Tetserine nods. "Ah, the barrier you passed through is the airtight part. Separate from the Forge, an invention of gnomes ages ago."
There is the slightest pause as his foot is over the magma, the heat oppressive, sweat running down his brow. Then with a firm conviction he plunges his foot in...to find the magma cool and refreshing. Toramin continues forward, having to push a little to get into the viscous liquid, but it is a refreshing sensation to be fully engulfed by liquid earth.
Thump thump
Now you may be forged anew.
Thump thump
Into what you were truly meant to be.
Thump thump
Thump thump
Thump thump...
Burning, pain, death. That is all that exists. All of the sensations in the world as Toramin's eyes burn out of his head and his skin melts from his bones. Screaming only makes the heat go down his throat, drowning and blistering his throat at the same time. In pain, the world goes black...
The world fades back into view, Toramin laying on the ground and coughing, the memory of pain still burning in his mind. He looks up, then a strong boot kicks him over on his back. Toramin lands with a grunt and looks up to see...
The duergar-Toramin has pupil-less golden eyes and the sides of his head are shaved. Instead of full plate he wears a spiked breastplate, showing off his powerful and scarred dark skin. A pair of wickedly curved and spiked axes twirl in duergar-Toramin's hands as he looks down with a distasteful sneer. "This is what I was before? It is pitiful, weak. Thank the gods we were forged anew. Now we have the strength to do what must be done. Our father will understand the power and intelligence we wield. Heff and the rest of the corrupt council will understand the error of their ways, if we have to beat it into their skulls. These useless gnomes will understand that what we do is for their own good. We will crush Villichi and whoever else dare opposes us and the glory of the dwarven-kind. But first we must be rid of our weaker half."
The party begins splitting up to search different corners of the Forge. But before they get very far, they suddenly hear a roar that echoes through the halls, along with a humongous crash of magma. The party quickly runs together and sees this creature emerged from the magma, overshadowing Toramin. Toramin is on his knees and looks to be entirely non-responsive, staring down into the magma with dead eyes.
"Dwaaaarvesss..."
The whisper echoes through the halls, followed by the rattling of chains and hissing of smoke.
"Dwaaaarvesss...."
The chocking combination of smelted steel with burnt hair and flesh wafts over the party. The jangling of heavy chains echoes ominously. All around them, the party sees the smoking piles of chains rising to reveal their true forms. Hulking dwarves wrapped in heavy steel links. Their faces, hands, and bodies are riddled with glowing hot hooks and half-melted razor wire. Black smoke rises from their smoldering beards, framing their freakishly contorted faces in ashy darkness. The tormented things heft black iron hammers, and the chains draping from their long forms spring to life like metal serpents at they chant in unison. "Dwaaaarves!" They advance, haunted eyes set on Toramin and Ianna.
Ianna
Enemy
Dalton
Bjorkus
Toramin
Toramin and I must have a discussion about moths after this is done.
"Tetserine! What is this assault?!"
Calios might be cunning...
The presumably hostile things surrounding them, they would have to act quick to survive. One good pounce from the bulette, and that's it.
"I think this might be Stoneriver, a sacred envoy of Torag. If I am correct, then he delights in crunching the bones of our fallen cousins. The Forge-Spurned are undead. Quite nasty. Cursed, in a way; it's a common theme with Droskar. Mind the chains; destroy the chains to send them back to hell."
Ianna briefly considers channelling her goddess' love to scourge these burning spirits, but their power was in the chains. Those chains require breaking.
"Dancing Goddess, I beg that you cast your cloak around your daughter."
Break? Ugh...
Dalton had opted-out of the spell by that very name this morning. There is a silver lining though: Brute force should break those chains, and we have that aplenty in Bjorkus.
He didn't necessarily regret preparing his energies for defense and escape though. The magical beast is deadly. I would worry about Toramin, but he's the sturdiest of us.
Toramin looks up at his dark (though not that differently complected) twin with sad eyes.
"Our father would understand? From our experience with the man, I doubt that is a good thing even were it true.
Do not deceive yourself: violence is not a tool of persuasion. It is a tool to be used when persuasion has failed. If you must use violence, then you have failed at least once. That these gnomes are terrorized by Calios is not a failing on their part, but on his.
We were not granted power to use it to dominate others; rather, we were bestowed with blessings to uplift all peoples. Being forged anew is not about power but about insight. As mortals, our vision and judgment are flawed, yet they are ever improvable.
Some say that Droskar was cursed because he stole his ideas from another. I do not believe that. What need would the god of ingenuity and ambition have to steal the ideas of others? No, that is slander of later dwarves looking for easy answers. No, Droskar was clever. He was powerful.
The tragedy of Droskar, a smith so cunning he transcended mortality through the force of his burning will, is that he mistook, and, one assumes, continues to mistake, capacity with mandate, not that he was unoriginal. Is there anything more terrifying than a person who is able to do anything, but does not think perhaps some things should not be done?
Torag's curse, I think, reflects this belief. The Father of Creation did not inhibit Droskar's power -- if anything Droskar has only grown more powerful. He cursed his capacity instead.
I have always wondered, as I watched our father at his work, if Droskar could not break the curse simply by improving his insight since the curse is an inversion of his original divine providence.
But these are mortal musings on divine mysteries. No doubt I have failed to grasp the complexities of those mysteries. I simply choose to learn from Droskar's story. I choose to improve my capacity for judgment not my capacity for power. I do not choose to be you."
If Toramin knows anything about himself, then it is that even a wicked version of himself would love to philosophize.
With Tetserine's permission, Bjorkus puts a heroism charm on himself.
"Are these those guardian's you were talkin' about or something left by Villichi?" Bjorkus asks the councilman as his hand drifts to Tyrantbreaker on his back.
Ianna reacts as per usual - shielding herself with her faith. But as she invokes the powers of her goddess, she feels...empty. The call to her goddess is met with nothing, but she still feels divine power in her veins, coursing a pulsing power through her that threatens to burst out if she does not release it.
3rd -- Aura of Cannibalism, -------, Prayer, Speak with Dead (D)
2nd -- Lesser Restoration, Improved Sanctuary, Improved Sanctuary (DC 18), Silence, Inflict Moderate Wounds (D)
1st -- Charm Person (D) (15), Protection from Good, Shield of Faith, Shield of Faith
0th -- Create Water, Detect Magic, Enhanced Bluff, Guidance, Mending
Ianna currently has access to the Lust subdomain instead of the Love Subdomain of Charm.
The enhanced Bulette gives an ancient, bone-chilling roar, then begins tearing into the undead dwarves near it with tooth and claw. It picks one up with its teeth and shakes it violently, then with a roar tears it in half and starts clawing into its next victim. The creature stands defensively over Toramin, guarding the non-responsive dwarf.
The burning undead dwarves stumble forward, then lurch and charge, dead-eyes focused on Ianna. Two of the dwarves inhale, then spew stinging soot, ash, and glowing embers over the entire party. The fire burns everybody gathered, but Bjorkus reacts slowly and catching burning embers to his eyes, blinding him. The rest falls down with chains and hammers, focusing on Ianna. The chains rack across her, catching across her neck and slashing her skin open. The priestess falls to the ground as the undead dwarves continue to shamble closer to her. The others close in towards Toramin, but attack the Bulette first that is blocking their path. Their chains rattle off the creature's stone hide harmlessly, but one pierces it and causes the creature to shriek. However the chain that struck it starts dissolving and the undead dwarf staggers back in pain as its chain starts melting away.
Tetserine balks, drawing a gnome hooked hammer. "The guardians have been angered, we have to retreat! The Bulette will destroy the Spurned ones!"
Dalton
Bjorkus
Tetserine
Ianna
Enemy
Bjorkus - 10 damage, blind (4 rounds left)
Ianna - 40 damage
FG3 - Chain 23 damage
FG4 - 12 damage
"How do we do that exactly? We're soddin' surrounded", Bjorkus growls as he tries to rub the burning soot from his eyes. "And where's the other dwarf?"
"Bjorkus, grab Ianna. Tetserine, hold his arm!"
With the enemies pressing-in around them and Toramin out of sight, perhaps it was Dalton's time to pray. Ianna, you'll have to forgive my poor substitution. After the lady among them dropped and their most stalwart was overrun, he had no other option but to retreat.
His conjuration would remove them to a safe distance, but they all needed to be touching. Dalton didn't dare overreach himself as he had trouble enough casting the spell as it was to avoid a strike from the "guardians".
He pictured the magical door in his mind and what they would look like just aside of it. Toramin, we will return for you. I'm sure if you had to choose, you would have your sister saved though.
In all the mayhem, the jeweler was completely oblivious of his revelation; very stressful situations didn't give him the presence of mind needed to maintain facades.
After the rush of Dalton's dimensional magic, Bjorkus couldn't tell where they were but he did recognize that they weren't surrounded by chain-wrapped undead dwarves anymore. Feeling around for Ianna, he kneels down and whistles a soothing tune.
As she comes to, he retrieves a scroll. "Those things breathed something into the air that burned my eyes. I can't see!"
Toramin stands up so he can look into his shadow's golden eyes face to face.
Hubris. Our experiences do not exhaust the richness of mortal experience. I know the good imperfectly. I strive for it. I encourage other people to reach for it. I have dedicated my life to help create the conditions for it.
Yet that does not mean that I can determine it for others or force it upon them . . ."
The shadow spits and interrupts Toramin, "Coward! Those are the words of a man who is afraid to do what he knows needs to be done. You will never know all ends, but you would use the excuse of insufficient knowledge to justify inaction."
Toramin considers this point before shaking his head.
"No, I do many things. My problem over the past year has not been inaction, but rather not knowing the best way to accomplish my goals. I do not hesitate. No my problem is lack of insight. I do not know where Calios is. I do not know the words to convince these inexplicably hostile gnomes. I did not fully understand that someone was pretending to be us, instead of merely slandering us?"
Unkind laughter burbs from scarred lips.
"You think power is the only thing Droskar can provide you? You have already admitted that he is cunning. Do you think he is blind to the ambitions of these so called immortals? You are not that big of a fool. Admit it: with a less silent patron and allies that respect competence you could do great works. Droskar can give you magic. And magic is but the least of it."
Now it is Toramin's turn to scoff. "I will not speak ill of any of the divines, but Droskar would not be my choice of patrons. Endless toil? Slavery? Those sound heavier than my current responsibilities. Dark patrons embody unpleasant realities; the world is unpleasant enough without highlighting misfortune. And, not to put a too fine of on it but Droskar is cursed. He also has a habit of cursing those he controls. I need not add curses to my burdens."
This time the laughter is more sincerely amused. "So, you admit my theory is valid and now we are dickering on the price?"
Toramin glares into golden eyes wordlessly.
The shadow twin continues, "As for curses . . . well no curse has ever been broken has it? Certainly, Droskar must love being cursed and in his madness will do nothing to break his but endless toil, right? I thought you knew better than buying into comforting lies? No, Droskar is not content to remain as he is. He is closer to breaking Torag's curse than Torag imagines. You could help him. Once he has reclaimed what rightfully belongs to him, you would not need to fear curses. What he once was and will be again is all you have ever wanted. Torag was never your first choice. You want more than a silent god. You would carry his blessings of ingenuity and will."
The paladin frowns unconvinced. "The blandishments of wicked power are never worth the cost. Whether I follow Torag or Droskar my life will be violent and likely short. I would prefer to be proud of my actions and neither be absorbed into the Abyss nor be transformed into a demon."
The scars made shadow Toramin's smirk unpleasant but compelling. "Your fate in Heaven would not be that different. Feeding the plane or being transformed into an outsider. Besides, Droskar is not a demon lord. Once the curse is broken who knows how far he will rise?
Ianna is too much in shock to do anything but sit stunned. Her prayers corrupted?
Though his dark shadow was speaking Toramin's language, the paladin remained unconvinced.
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself? Peddling 'ifs', 'maybes', and 'whens' like some trickster fey. Droskar remains cursed and likely will remain thus for at least my lifetime. Besides, Torag called and I answered. My word is more valuable than profane gifts.
Moreover, I do not do right because of fear of punishment or hope for reward. That would adulterate morality. The only good reason to act is the universal good. The reasons you offer are hedonistic. But the right is not defined by what brings me happiness."
Try as he might, Dalton couldn't manage to envelop them all.
He closed the field around his companions, leaving the smith behind.
Sorry. It was you or us.
Dalton grabs Bjorkus and Ianna, giving a brief look to Tetserine before winking them out, reappearing inside the wall where they originally came in.
"Ianna, snap out of it! You're hurt but you're alive. Your brother and that pain-in-ass gnome are in trouble. I need you fix to my eyes! We need to get back there, fast, or they're dead. Wake up girl!"