There are no other exits to the room and the crates are sealed up tight. Cracking the lid on one of the crates you find that the bottles are well packed, if lacking any external marks to show their lineage. Judging by the rust on the chair and lanterns outside you guess that the bottles can't have been sitting here longer than a hand or two of years.
You'd gauge that maybe this was a way station for those that forsook the normal trade routes and took their goods through the mountains.
Oh, my. Best to seal this back up until the Stonebrow gets here, or we'll never be able to get Feigr out of here. "We should save most of it for the caravan; they'll likely be thirsty by the time they get here." She pokes around a bit at the crates and lanterns. "Hm. When was the last sanctioned attempt to retake the mine?"
Looking inside the crate at the bottles, Feigr grins, "Aah, I think I know what this could be. One of the old bartenders at Peg's Pig mentioned something about a smuggling ring between Katapesh and Sargava that ran through this area. Looks like we've uncovered one of their caches."
He pulls out a bottle, "C'mon Cynara. One crate won't bother Stonebrow. Besides, someone has to check on the quality to do a proper appraisal."
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Unstoppering a bottle Feigr is greeted by a rough, but perfectly serviceable aroma. Tasting the fluid you find that it is not up to Dwarven standards, but would serve for a mid-range standard liquor in most human taverns.
A quick review of the other boxes shows that there is a small range of bottle types, not just whisky. Some investigation proves up a selection of ouzo, calvados and a half-full crate of elvish spice wine.
"I think we should leave most of this here. We can come back and collect it when the caravan arrives or we get a base camp established. I'm sure the extra traded money will come in handy."
Padrym looks with interest as Feigr drinks some.
"Any good or just swill?"
Casting a glance over at the spice wine, Cynara relents. "All right, Feigr. Your logic is persuasive, so I'm sure you'll agree that I'm the best suited to test the quality of the wine." She sighs. "I haven't had any in years; the price for it in Katapesh is exorbitant when you can even find it, and the last time I saw my usual source he claimed that 'the bottles had broken on the trip.' Of course."
"Now that's the spirit Cynara. Of course you may do the honors. Padrym, unfortunately this is fair by human standards, but a pale comparison to that of our people. Still it will do for now. Perhaps we'll find happier spirits like these in the mines instead of those that haunt my mind."
"Someone should go check on Nabo, and bring him in. It looks like this might be a decent place to hole up for the night. And enjoy some of these spirits. It's been weeks since I've had anything but water, so the grog is looking excellent to me!"
"I don't think this is a good spot Dolgrym. We're likely to catch something if we stay here much longer. Who knows what lives in guano?"
Padrym moves out of the cave and casts a simple cantrip to clean himself.
"Ugh, I was hoping that back room extended a little bit more. Yes, sleeping in bat guano is not the best of ideas, I suppose. Even Nabo might argue with that."
Cynara chuckles. "I would, too--even after traveling with smelly beasts for the past few weeks." She pauses for a moment, then continues, deadpan, "I mean the camels, of course."
Feigr takes another swig of whiskey, "Hrmph, I suppose you're right. We can get the crates out later. Shall we see about a camp or further exploration?"
Feigr makes his way back to the mouth of the cave, "Things look to be getting dark. Shall we make camp here this evening and then see about heading to the mountain in the morning. I think we can handle a few wolves if that is all that lairs in this wood."
Cynara mulls over Feigr's suggestion. "We should keep our distance from the cave, though. When they're taking off for the evening, I'm told that bats prefer to, let us say, drop off anything they don't need any more. I would rather not be under them at that point."
"Oy, now that is good thinking Cynara. Perhaps we need to set up off to one side or the other to avoid unwelcome surprises. Any chance that any of you know enough of the way of bats to know which way we should set up?"
Spiking the door to the crates shut once more, you set about rejoining Nabo and the camel with your precious cargo. At first inquisitve, Nabo takes one sniff of the pungeant liquid and wrinkles his nose in surprise. An eyebrow raised as it seems that the dwarves are excited about drinking what is obviously poison, he refuses to partake himself.
Moving a small distance from the cave you reach the edge of the forest that o'erlooks the mountainside where Tar-Urkatha lies waiting. As night falls and you make camp, you can see signs of firelight playing within the ruined fortifications around the entrance to the transept.... obviously someone is still at home.
"Pass the bottle Feigr, I've a few hours before watch and one sip won't hurt now."
Padrym sits around the fire, his axe by his side and his armor opened to let the cool mountain air in.
"Our road has been short, but the road ahead is long. Feigr, know you a tale of our ancestors that would set our hearts to fire?"
Cynara listens to the dwarves while sitting crosslegged on her bedroll, industriously stitching a piece of embroidery (and taking occasional sips from a nearby cup of spice wine). "Yes, Feigr. Give us a tale."
Cynara listens to the dwarves while sitting crosslegged on her bedroll, industriously stitching a piece of embroidery (and taking occasional sips from a nearby cup of spice wine). "Yes, Feigr. Give us a tale."
Khepri listens quietly, interested in the dwarven tale, but not in the drink.
Feigr sits for a moment, raising the whiskey bottle to his mouth and feeling the fiery liquor burn its way into his throat and cut through dark images of the mines that are seared in his mind. "Aye. These stories are not popular among my kin. They would rather forget. And maybe they're right, for there are dark memories buried in the roots of the mountain. But, Magrim willing, there is hope too. I fear too many of my stories will be terrible ones. So tonight, while we look on the mountain together for the first time, I will tell you one I heard many, many years ago."
"There was a time when our ancestors' fires lit this mountain. This is a story of the first great battlement of Tar-Urkatha, Angradd's Watch. In those days, Katapesh did not yet exist and the dwarves were more common in these parts. There was trade between the desert dwarves of the Shattered Range and the so-called sand dwarves of Osirion. Tar-Urkatha had just been established, a small mining camp that had suddenly struck a rich vein. But, the settlement was not yet well-established and the gnolls of the Brazen Peaks threatened the camp, much as they threaten this area today."
"The greatest of the gnoll tribes were the Fire Eyes, a fierce tribe whose leader was said to have the blood of an Efreeti and whose weapon was a terrible battle mace, its head a giant ruby that burned with flame on command."
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As Feigr speaks it is as though the forest quiets itself to listen to the tale. Apart from the crackle of the fire burning in the sunken fire-pit, you hear no other sound from the wood apart from his sombre voice. Nabo is entranced, mouth slightly agape and paws hanging limp across his knees where he is crouched at the edge of the firelight.
Knowledge History
Dolgyrm listened intently to the story being woven by Feigr, but try as he could, he couldn't think of any factoids to add to the story. Too much booze to remember anything...I'd be interested in finding that mace, though! he thought to himself as the story developed.
"Our ancestors had a problem. While the riches of Tar-Urkatha held great promise, the depredation of the gnolls left little hope that the young settlement would survive, let alone thrive. The mountain fortress of the gnolls was too great a strong for our ancestors to take in a head-on assault. A solution was required."
"Now, the Fire Eyes were particularly fond of gladiatorial combat and games. In the heart of their mountain fortress stood a great battle arena where they would send slaves against slaves or slaves against terrible monsters that they had captured in the Brazen Peaks. As these events climaxed, the combination of alcohol and blood-lust would often stir gnoll warriors to join in the fray...even their chieftain."
"And so it came, that the young dwarf, Eldgrímr Jórkellgun, hatched a plan to slay the King of the Gnolls and end the threat of the Fire Eyes forever. Eldgrímr was said to be one of the Twice-Forged, a sect of Angradd known for brilliant warriors...and spectacular deaths. Eldgrímr reasoned that if he were to be taken by the gnolls and fought well, he might be able to get under the skin of their chieftain with his words and with his greataxe."
"At first, Eldgrímr's plan worked perfectly. He was captured without permanent injury and fought well, even against the horror of a gibbering mouther that the gnolls had somehow trapped the night before. But, a priestess of the Mother of Monsters watched on, suspecting that the dwarf was up to something. When the King of the Gnolls stepped on the floor of the arena to face Eldgrímr, the priestess stepped in to offer the blessing of Lamashtu on the final battle of the night. Silently, the priestess brought forth two flagons of a deep black brew."
"Minutes later, the battle commenced. Eldgrímr fought bravely, but the ferocious gnoll king beat him back relentless, fire blazing from his mace and showering the dwarf with sparks whenever it collided with his greataxe. And then, something struck the dwarf and it was clear that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Weakness flooded Eldgrímr's limbs and then alarming pain began to wrack the dwarf's body as his mouth extended into a hyena-like snout and his legs twisted until they were bending backward. It was all Eldgrímr could do to dodge the blows of the gnoll whose eyes smoldered with fire anticipating the kill."
"It was not to be. Impossibly, the dwarf continued on and with two lightning-quick blows dropped the gnoll to his knees and then his head to the floor of the arena. But moments later, the dwarf dropped to the floor too, Black Milk of the Demon Queen ending his life. And then, while silence filled the arena, Eldgrímr's body and the gnoll king's battle mace both vanished."
"A year later, the Fire Eyes had disintegrated as many gnoll tribes do when bereft of their leader. In their absence, the dwarves of Tar-Urkatha were thriving and the first battlements on the mountain we have glimpsed for the first time today were erected. First to be dedicated was Angradd's Watch, honoring the god and his servant."
"That night when the guards of Tar-Urkatha went to light the first watchfires on Angradd's Watch, they found that one fire was already burning - a great flaming ruby at the head of a great battle mace."
The silence following the end of Feigr's tale is broken by a soft clap from Cynara. "Oh, well told, Master Roarrgun!" She raises her cup to him in salute.
"Indeed Feigr, when I asked for a tale..."
Padrym is visibly moved, and stares silently at Magatha.
"Indeed Feigr, when I asked for a tale..."
Padrym is visibly moved, and stares silently at Magatha.
Khepri nodes feeling the common bond between the dwarves of the story and the continuing fight against the gnolls that he and his followers of Sarenrae today. His decision to come on this mission is confirmed in his mind.
"Very well told Mr. Roarrgun.
Pity poor Eldgrímr was so blinded by honor that he choose to drink in the house of his enemy. But then as he did not have an exit plan taking poison was probably less painful than being torn apart by the angry mob.
'Course I've always wondered how the tale-smiths find out about parts of these hero-stories. Who carried the word of Eldgrímr's fight out of that arena, the gnolls?
I ask myself how do we know that the Gnoll-king was not killed by rivals who could not hold the tribes together. Perhaps even the priestss with her cup played a part. Perhaps the gathered tribes simply ran out of food and scattered to greener pastures.
But then there would be no story to tell young dwarves to encourage them to seek a spectular death. And where would we be without heroes to die in foolish gestures and romantic last stands.
It's a nice story, don't believe a word of it, but it's a nice story."
Dolgrym simply shot a glance in the direction of the uncouth Love, who was ruining the moment after the inspirational story was told. He would have to learn a bit about manners or someone was gong to end up taking a swing at him before the mines were reclaimed.
Feigr shakes his head sadly at Love's doubts, "Perhaps you are right Love. I might feel the same way were it not for the storyteller I heard the tale from. But, it is not yet time to tell that story."
"Truly Love, you have a gift for destroying the wonder of things."
There would be no magic in the world if he had his way.
The end of the story and discussion leaves you alone but for the crackle of the fire. All thoughts focused upon the morrow... when you will walk into the shadow of Tar-Urkatha.
"Truly Love, you have a gift for destroying the wonder of things."
There would be no magic in the world if he had his way.
"Aye, that's one way of looking at it. 'course I expect the 'heroes' to all die before I do. So you have to take the rough with the smooth."
The fire sputters out with the coming of the deep dark and sleep is sought by all. Despite your position so close to your goal and the obvious danger hanging almost palpably in the air, sleep comes easy and is deep and dreamless for you all. At the coming of morning light bird sound resumes from the forest and the group stirs.
The mountain stands tall before you, almost beckoning for you to approach. From this distance you cannot see any activity near the transept... but the distant firelight you saw last night reminds you that while the fortifications look ruined it is unlikely that they are empty. The final approach to the mountain across the open ground looks to be a reasonably easy march until you get closer and the slope increases.
The tall elf looks down at the young jackalwere, something like affection in her clouded eyes and faint smile. "Well, Nabo. This is it. Will you follow us into Zolurket, or stay outside?"
Though clearly uneasy and shifting from paw to paw not making eye contact Nabo replies "I follow-come where you go. If you want me to go into mine-dark, then I go."
"We don't know what else is out here, so I'm reluctant to abandon the camels. And all our supplies, I might add. None of us except Nabo has any particular skill at living off the land, and if the caravan is delayed we could starve here. I suggest we take the camels with us and look for a place we can defend."
Feigr stirs slowly in the morning. When he finally gets up from his bedroll, he stands and takes another drink of whiskey while listening to the discussion.
Finally, he speaks. "Aye. I am also wary of leaving the camels and our supplies. While we have not found trouble here yet, these are challenging parts. Let us follow Cynara's suggestion to find a better place to leave them."
"I agree. Let's keep what we have close to us for as long as we can. "
"I may die a hero Love, but at least it will only be once and the Stone will have me after I am done."
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"The camels will have difficulty with that slope, we may be better served leaving them to graze somewhere safe."
Do camels graze?
Alternatively, you could scout out the rest of the open ground - such as the cutback in the NE corner... though this would delay the arrival at the mount.
I would vote for leaving them somewhere safe, taking wit us what we can, for an easier trip up the mountain to remove any resistance. Then come back for them.
However I do see the danger to them and our supplies so I would defer to bringing them with us.
Cynara considers Padrym's words. "Now that you've come in sight of the mountain, I know you want to enter, but given the difficulty of bringing up the camels perhaps we should scout the area here for a few days. After that, we'll be left with only enough supplies that we may not need the camels quite so much any more." She smiles. "Dolgrym can carry quite a lot by himself, I'm sure."
"right you are, lassie! I knew I liked you for some reason," the Mage laughs at the interaction with the elf who was certainly growing on him.
The elf's smile broadens slightly at Dolgrym's words. "This, then. Let us make our way back south to where the caravan will enter the valley and scout that area to start with--we can inform the Stonebrow of any obvious difficulties, places to watch for ambushes, and the like. From there, east around the valley to explore the cutback, as that may be the best place to leave the camels when we essay the mountain."
"Simple, quick, I like it."
Padrym nods at Cynara's suggestion.
Khepri agrees as well.