Daeron awakes from his restive state and rolls up his bedroll before his mind wanders off to the events of the prior night. The undead ghul may have been brought down but far more sinister beings may be at foot.
Seeing his fellow kin at work preparing his fragrances and the potent vials of acid, Daeron sits and prepares to study the arcane material useful for the day.
Chitleen shakes his head as he sniffs from a variety of crystal vials "This was unlike those we have faced before... darker and more powerful. Perhaps we can hope that we have slain a lone beast... but nothing I have seen upon this path would yet give me such optimism."
"A choice to be made is whether we stalk by light or dark hereafter... The night is when the beasts stalk, but if we overextend during the day it might leave us vulnerable when they come. A quandry..."
"I'd rather have a good fortified place to hole up in at night. This one worked well enough. Although once we venture further underground it won't matter."
Karrak is ready to explore further.
"I'm fer the night, but can ye two see? If'n we're ta go deeper night er day makes no difference."
Lockjaw stands watch while the other prepare.
It matters not if I can still verbalize my arcane power.
Looking from his spellbook Daeron comments.
When my studies are complete, I would transform night into day. But for the meanwhile spells would be adequate. Karrak has a point, not that I would prefer to consider to hole in while we rest, I think a fortified place of refuge is welcome.
Looking at Lockjaw watching the spellcasters prepare Daeron gives out a final suggestion before burying himself back into his study.
Lockjaw, I would suggest Mankato and yourself solidify our refuge whilst we pass away the hour. I would make a uninteresting object of focus if that is your intent.
If that is the need then that is fine. Would you happen to know a way to clear the stench of this decay as we toss it out? I would prefer it to be as clean as possible. Makes it easier to take care of each other then.
Mankato starts pulling debris and bodies from the cave. He will look around for rocks and stones that would help assist with making the base more fortified.
Turning an edge of his mouth to smile Chitleen answers "I can see better in shadow than you good dwarf... but not for all of the night, merely for a passing time."
Mankato works quickly to clear the stinking festrog corpses to a respectable distance and looks around for things to fortify the entrance. He rearranges some of the barricade, but even an untrained eye can tell it doesn't come to much.
Conversationally as he continues his preparation "At any rate, during this day I think it prudent we see if we can follow the festrog back to wherever they dwell."
If we are fortifying we can use the mine cart from the end of the passage. Maybe even rig up a way to roll it into the enemies if the slope is in our favor.
"I am in favor of heading straight to the main entrance and beginning our exploration there. I am afraid our food supplies would dwindle too much if we stayed to hunt down all the festrogs. What do you others think?"
"I think yer right fer it man. Holein up here did em no good, as well dig our own graves."
Lockjaw nods at Karrak and looks to the others.
Daeron flips a final page from his book and closes it shut. He rubs his temples, easing the knots of concentration away before he rises up to meet the rest of the group.
You suggest we make speed for the mines proper? With our current rested condition it would be an optimal attempt to do so. But with the loss of our mules, everyone would have to share the honour of playing their role carrying our supplies there.
"I think that would be a task most bold... but would advise against it... at least for now. We are not yet so hungry as to eat our backpacks... and recklessness will not serve to prolong our lives. We have a hole that can be closed up well enough here - but we have no sight on what lies at the mine's entrance. If we pick up all of our supplies to walk today we will be laden and heavy, unable to run if pressed in battle."
Sighing he continues "I would personally hunt the festrog so as to leave no enemy at our backs, but if you are intent on glimpsing the entrance to Zolurket... let us set out to do that only and have this bolthole to run back to. At four hours travel we can be there and back within the light if we press ourselves."
Then a scouting patrol is what should be proposed. The light of the day be measured to exactness and our trip to the entrance be plotted carefully. We may find more shelters as we ascend upwards and thus move our refuge ever so closer to the mouth.
Daeron crosses his arms looking at the dwarves and stone monk.
We may not see the entrance as soon as you would like, but a careful methodology may be beneficial in the long run.
With along morning spent recuperating, fortifying the tunnel and storing your supplies, the sun is high in the sky when you finally cross back through the forest toward the road. Despite the festrog trails that weave between the dense tangles of pines and silent tombs, none of the feral ghouls bother you.
Back on the road, you can see the crumbling granite towers near the rounded peak of the mountain that mark the mine's entrance. The road itself becomes harder to make out the higher it climbs. The years have taken their toll and at a few points it looks like the paving has been purposely ripped up.
Karrak stuffs his pack full of extra food, muttering something about not leaving all his eggs in one basket.
His mood is somber as he approaches the ruin wandering what brought about the fate of this mine and the dwarves who worked here.
Lockjaw kicks at one of the loose cobbles.
"Years don't take dwarf work like this. Festrog or worse."
He looks ahead to the pass, his eyes attempting to work out any hiding holes or festrog haunts.
Eh, did I 'member my boots this mornin'? Ah, there they are.
Daeron travels the trails unencumbered, bringing along a cache of items intended to last a day save for armaments and treasured spell book. As usual, the elf keeps to the back of the line, surveying his surroundings with strung bow across his back.
Keeping a close eye on the sun, Daeron keeps track of time as the team ascends the trail.
It would not do if we lost our way with time limited as it were. Whoever vandalized the road wishes to erase all trace of the stronghold that once was.
The march up the mountain takes longer than the elves would like given the short gait of the dwarves, but at least they keep an unflagging pace despite carrying an oversized load of rations and burdensome armor. Lockjaw obsesses on the state of the road which must have been damaged long ago to have deteriorated so far.
Finally, the group clears a bend in the road and can better make out the fortifications. The road ends abruptly where a stone bridge once spanned the chasm between the party and the broken gates in the crumbling granite block wall. Now a rickety slatted rope bridge is the only way across.
Beyond, there is the steep slope of a weedy motte with a narrow stair leading to a cluster of towers and a great arch that marks the entrance to the mine. Daeron's sharp eyes spot feral goats dotting the slope between the inner and outer walls. On the sheer cliffs above the towers several dark vertical slots gape with dark stains pouring from their mouths.
Lockjaw suddenly notices a glyph on the wall where his right hand rests. It is the dwarven rune for Death which has been defaced by gnoll graffiti.
"'ere now, what's this?"
Lockjaw points out the rune he has found.
"Damn dirty gnolls. 'course musta been afore the festrogs got 'ere. What'a ya make o' that bridge, ears?"
Lockjaw actually hasn't seen any sign of festrog this high up. That may be because he was gazing at his boots most of the trip, but it is also probable that they don't range far from the Forest of Tombs. Daeron marks the time which is now edging toward late afternoon. He judges the sun is just over three hands from setting behind the mountains.
I would think attempts made to cross it be best left to the nimble and light of foot. But a crossing leads us to somewhere much more defensible and that is welcome.
He rummages his pack and frowns.
Is anybody thoughtful enough to have bought along some rope?
Karrak muses aloud, "Why would they put the rune for death here? And who put up this rope bridge?"
Karrak rummages through his pack and fishes out 50 feet of silk rope and a grappling hook for Daeron. Then he tugs on the rope bridge to test it.
Daeron accepts the rope with a graceful nod before purposely striding to the bridge's edge.
With the daylight hours waning, I suggest we spend a night here instead. I would not chance returning back to the hole we left with in the growing dusk.
Though not built by the most skilled or diligent hands, the bridge looks like it will support you. Daeron finds some recent scuffs on the wooden planks which show use. With a lifeline secured, Daeron steps onto the creaking, swaying bridge and in a few moments safely crosses the forty feet to the ruined gate.
Chitleen follows the others, taking in the sights as he sees them. Runes and bridges are noted, as is the lack of ghoul tracks. He eyes the rickety passage with caution... though will cross if it takes the weight of one of their dwarvish kin.
Daeron looks to fasten his end of the rope to a secure location, before gesturing the rest to follow suit.
The day is not going to wait for so long, make cautious haste and we could put this wretched bridge behind us.
Karrak's stomach is uneasy as he crosses. "Doesn't look Dwarvish to me. Give me a good solid stone bridge."
As Daeron waits for the others to cross, he hears the sounds of labor around the corner behind him.
"Ye think I'm crossin' that? If'n I fall Torag'll have a word or two with ye."
Lockjaw crosses the bridge as carefully as he can once the others are not on it.
Daeron doesn't have time to investigate the noise before Karrak steps on to the bridge with some trepidation. It takes some moments, and bridge groans ominously, but the stout dwarf eventually steps on to blessed rock again.
The sharp ear elf looks back again as he catches the sound of slow steps approaching though Karrak doesn't appear to hear anything. Across the chasm, the stonearmor laden paladin readies for his crossing.
Stout dwarf, ensure your kin's safe passing, company begets company though of what kind I do not know.
Passing over the rope end towards Karrak, Daeron turns toward the sounds and readies to cast a spell, hand inside his pouch with the reagents of his choosing.
As the elf turns, four strange shadows pass across the threshold and move up the stairs toward the main gate.
Daeron observes, keeping low and hoping hard the rest cross the bridge with haste. He watches intently, but a stray speck of dust lands into hus eyes, watering it.
Lockjaw begins his crossing and the simple ropes and timbers groan loudly indeed. About two-thirds the way across, a board gives out and is counterpointed with a shout of alarm from the dwarf. Daeron glances with concern toward the stairs where the shadows were seen, but there is no sign of their return. Finally after many anxious moments, Lockjaw is back on solid stone.
"Well, let's no do that again soon. What're ye wantin' to do next lads? We go in or go back?"
The smelly dwarf hawks over the side of the bridge now that he's safely on rock again.
"We came all this way, let's see what's around. What are you looking at, Daeron?" Karrak looks toward the gate.
Perception:
He takes out his crossbow and makes sure it is loaded.
I am not so sure myself. I would have to thoroughly think about the matter. But we are not alone, that is for certain. Come, let us seek some place of refuge this side of the chasm.
I hope my senses are sound and not playing tricks.
Chitleen gingerly crosses the bridge and makes to follow the agressively scented one.
Karrak follows Daeron's gaze, but sees nothing from the interior of the gatehouse. Daeron ponders the strange shadows, but without seeing what cast them, he is at a loss.
Mankato follows the party as he is not sure of anything but watching as Daeron states that they are not alone.
The shadows begin to lengthen as the sun moves behind the mountains. A breeze descends the chasm behind you shaking the rope bridge as everyone is assembled in the ruined gatehouse.
Lockjaw stamps his feet and then looks around.
"Right then."
With that he makes his way towards the entrance.