Rusty
The Struck it Rich camp is odd. Clearly intended to be opulent, it is virtually uninhabited. The few people still living in squalor are clearly ill.
Isari
Amenephus
After the introductions are made, Jappe sits down.
"The dwarves say that the pillars are heated by fire elementals in the halls below. They're concerned by the cooling. We sent a small group down last week to find out what's happening. Nobody has come back yet. As for what lives there ... well, the few who have returned talk about a gas-filled passage and strange howling. I don't know what we'll do if the pillars don't reheat. Life is hard already. Maybe you and your friends can help?"
DM
DM
** spoiler omitted **
Rusty
Isari nudges the others at the table. "There are figures in white robes moving near the door. Should we investigate?"
"Aye, there's too much round here stinks o' somethin'"
"I'm not usually one fer' stickin' my nose where it doesn't belong, but the longer I'm in this place the less I'm likin' it. I thought the wrongdoins' were simple commerce, but with all this talk of strange caves and admission charges, somethin' more foul is about than I thought."
Quillan offers to join them, having grown weary of the party already and filled with concern for the goings on of this cave complex.
Even if Nayce doesn't spot anything himself, he takes interest in the figures Isari is pointing out, and wants to investigate further.
Leaving the raucous kobold party, Isari, Nayce, Quillan and Dorvin make their way to the adamantine doors. By the time you have found your way through the tents, the figures have gone. However you do find Rabscuttle tenderly tracing patterns on the doors with one finger and muttering to himself.
"How does it go? Up and down and round and in and out and over the rabbit hole to suppertime..."
One of the poverty stricken souls touches Isari on the arm.
"We saw you looking at the white robes. Don't. No good ever comes of it. They come here from time to time and then sick people vanish. We think they're dwarves, here on dwarf business. Better to leave well alone."
He holds out a hand. "I'm Roen. We heard what you all did earlier. Thank you." Looking curiously at Rabscuttle, he adds, "who or what is that? I've seen gearforged back in the city, but never one as old as him." He pauses for a second, listening to the rambling, "or as strange."
Roen nods towards Nayce.
"I saw you earlier talking to people. There's folks with enough money to buy palaces who are starving and freezing and dying of disease. That isn't what we came here for."
"How long have the men in white robes been coming here?"
"Since the mines re-opened. They never stay long. I don't know what they're doing and I don't want to. They talk to a few people sometimes, mostly about the joy of wealth and how free gold makes you."
Roen laughs bitterly. "I'm sure that's true if you're not trapped in a mountain. Anyway, there's always someone stupid or desperate enough to listen and off they go, down into the mountain. They talked to Halston a while back and that's when the prices went up."
Quillan turns his discerning eyes upon the situation.
DM:
"Mister Halston, I appreciate the offer, but it seems to me that you have more problems than having just lost a man. Your entire camp is slipping away. Care to tell me what has been happening here?"
Quillan
Rusty
"Problems? Camp slipping away? I'd rather describe it as people allowing themselves to take the opportunity for unlimited wealth when it's offered to them."
Then he smiles broadly.
"Of course, being new here you won't know the full range of opportunities yet. I've some friends who can tell you all you want to know."
He looks across the upper halls, seemingly searching for someone. "Or rather, I did have. They've moved off for now, but they'll be back later I don't doubt. Look for a group of white robed folk and talk to them. Most likely they didn't think your friends would be a receptive audience."
Following the direction of his glance, you can just see your companions, deep in conversation with a settler.
Quillan looks at Dorvin.
"Looks as though you may have been right in the first place. There's a conscious effort o' hurtin' folk goin' on around here," says Quillan with a scowl. "It isn't just economics afterall."
DM
"I think I shall talk to your white-robed friends. As for your offer of employment, I cannot accept. I have a prior commitment to my adventuring party, you see."
Rusty shakes Halston's hand and goes to join his companions.
"So your saying Halson wasn't like this before those white robes got to him?"
"So your saying Halson wasn't like this before those white robes got to him?"
"Well ... " Reon thinks about it. "He was always a good businessman - it's why he came here, and his prices were high, but not more than was reasonable considering how far we are from anywhere. You're right. It's only since they talked to him he's got so greedy. Greedy and ruthless. Don't cross him."
Rusty
"Your choice, of course - this being a free market - but I hope you won't have cause to regret that decision. Times are hard without proper backing. You'll see once you've talked to them and maybe you'll change your mind."
Isari
One thing you do notice. On the adamantine doors there are engravings of flaming pillars, much like the tattoos you found on the body of the caravan saboteur.
You feel sure that both the doors and the white-robed cultists are linked in some way. A dwarf might know more of the history of the mines and why they were closed down so many centuries ago.
"I've never heard of any cult such as this. They most likely worship devils."
Isari turns his gaze towards the doors. "The engravings of flaming pillars on the doors, they're similar to the tattoos on the saboteur, are they not? THe cultists are related to the doors somehow, I'm sure of it. Dorvin, Quillian, do you know anything of this mine's history?"
Dorvin/Quillan
History check inc bonus.
Dorvin
Dimly, you recall something about the Silent Masters. There are rumoured to be dwarven elders and craftsmen who guarded the hidden secrets and protected the mines. Some say they never really left and that the order still exists.
The very absence of solid history makes you deeply suspicious. Something bad happened here, long ago. Something nobody talks about and maybe nobody now living knows.
Roen looks extremely alarmed at Isari's casual mention of devil-worshippers and saboteurs.
"Are you sure? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from that kind of thing? I've got a wife and some people have children. I need to warn them," his voice starts to get panicky at the thought.
"Those who would do the work of the hells are nothing but weeds that need to be rooted out and destroyed. I think I've already got my work cut out for me," Nayce says dourly.
"Ah dinnae think it be devils exactly, least not the scaly kind." Dorvin says and explains what he remembers.
Roen looks extremely alarmed at Isari's casual mention of devil-worshippers and saboteurs.
"Are you sure? How are we supposed to defend ourselves from that kind of thing? I've got a wife and some people have children. I need to warn them," his voice starts to get panicky at the thought.
"Don't worry. The devil worship was just idle speculation. Besides, if they do worship them, then they will surely find Stygia warm compared to my wrath."
"That's all very well. You're all trained to defend yourselves. I'm just a good man with a pickaxe and an eye for ore. Or I thought I was. Now I'm trapped and frightened and I don't want my wife to know how scared I am in case she panics. We might be better off if you all just leave things be and wait for the snow to melt."
The expressions of support from Nayce and Isari don't seem to be a lot of comfort.
It's getting late, and in the background you can hear the kobold-run party starting to wind down. People are starting to drift back to their camps and tents.
"I'm thinkin' that if we're to stay in here for the night, we'd better set up our own camp and keep a watch goin'. Strange things are about to happen in these caves, or so I'm thinkin'."
Rusty rejoins his companions and recounts his entire encounter with Halston.
Dorvin relates what he knows.
"We don't see eye tae eye on everything, Rusty, but ye have tae say there's somethin' a wee bit fishy goin' on here. It stinks, in fact."
Smoke curls out of Rusty's nostrils, a sure sign that he is deeply upset.
"So devil worshipers have been luring away these people with promises of wealth? They might be enslaved ... or worse!"
"Indeed. We should rest for the night, and in the morning start to get at the bottom of all of this."
As dawn comes, you start to grasp the harsh realities of life in the Citadel. The colonists and miners prepare for their day slowly, carefully rationing their food supplies and sharing the few fires available. Those who are going to try and find firewood and supplies in the halls below are fed first, then the few children. Anyone else takes the leavings and those are pitifully few. Fires are fed carefully, twig by twig with no scrap of waste.
Reon approaches you as you awaken.
"I need to ask would you sell me one of your rations? It's my wife. She's so weak. I'll pay the proper rate. Proper before Halston's rises that is. 70 gold. More if you want. You can live a long time on marching rations."
His voice trails off as he sees a small delegation approaching you.
"Later perhaps. I think Father Jappe and Varden Redfell want to talk to you."
Reon backs away politely, leaving the field clear for the cleric and his companion, a reliable looking dwarf with a concerned expression on his face.
"Good morning to you. A word, if we may?"
"Aye, ye may." Dorvin says neutrally.
"Here. No need to pay me." Isari hands one day's worth of rations to Reon.
"Go ahead, Father."
Reon looks horrified. "No. You can't do that. You'll need the money to buy more yourself. I won't take them without payment." He hands the rations back to Isari.
The dwarf shakes his head. "Reon's right, I'm sad to say. Our economy is a harsh one. Pay him. It'll stop talk, for one thing." Then he extends a hand to Dorvin.
"Varden Redfell. I'm the leader of the dwarven mining operation here. Father Jappe, I think you know. He spoke to your friend last night," Varden nods towards Amenephus, "and wondered if you'd help us. Matters are more serious than even he knew. In here, if you're willing."
Varden gestures to doors leading to the ruined feast hall. "Closest thing we've got a headquarters," he comments gruffly. "Father Jappe is anxious not to cause needless alarm and so am I. These people have enough to worry them already."
"Alright. I'll take your gold."
"Let's go. No reason to stand here waiting." Isari then begins walking down to the feast hall.
Dorvin nods and secretly plans to reimburse the man.
Varden visibly relaxes away from the main camps. The old feast hall still holds traces of grandeur, somewhat marred by the presence of an obviously efficiently run dwarven encampment. While the supplies don't seem any more common here, the general atmosphere is workmanlike, rather than worried. Varden nods at his compatriots.
"Dwarves. It's our territory and we just get on with things." There is more than a tinge of pride in his voice.
Moving to a quiet corner, he explains.
"The pillars you've seen in the main hall heat the place and in the old days fueled the forges as well. Something's amiss. They're cooling. That's bad. People are already close to starving and adding cold to that will make everyone tenser than they already are. Not a good mixture."
This is certainly true. Even in the short time since your own arrival yesterday, the temperature has dropped.
" We've spoken to Clovis and Vianna. They both speak highly of you. We need someone to go to the Hearthforges in the root of the mountain and find out why the elemental furnaces are no longer generating heat. Will you do this?"
Father Jappe shuffles slightly. "You need to know that getting down to the lower halls is a problem in itself. Varden can tell you that the gates have been closed for years. His team have been working on it for a long time now."
"Aye. Not with much success, either. That's true enough," admits Varden. "It's not the easiest thing we're asking you to do. There's a team working on it though. We'll get there."
"We're yer men." Dorvin says, "If we can help, we will."
"We will find a way to reheat the columns. I swear it."
Varden smiles at the pair and nods approvingly.
"That's what we were hoping to hear. The furnaces are heated by fire elementals. For as long as we have records, those fires have never gone out. The elementals are tended by Abelard the fire shepherd and a small cadre of devotees of Volund. We tried contacting them as soon as the pillars started to cool and we've heard nothing."
"How are the elementals tended?"
Varden shrugs slightly.
"I'm not privy to the secrets of the Fire Shepherd, but from what I know, Abelard regards the elementals as his brothers and himself as their caretaker. He never broke faith with the forges, even during the years of darkness. He wouldn't leave the Hearthforges or his brothers willingly, we all know that."
Listening to Varden, Rusty tries hard not to break out into a huge grin. Entering the lower level of the mines was something he had always planned on doing. Who knows what fantastic treasures can be found there? Varden's mission saves Rusty the effort of having to convince his party to go down there with him.
"Yes, we must act soon. We cannot allow your women and children to suffer any more of this blasted cold!"