"Sons and Daughters of Dammerhall, beyond the Vault of Eternal Sun and the shafts of the Lothellain stands a statue of solemnity, elven and dwarven hands entwined. Here the path of peace will lead you to the 7th entrance. But the Peace was broken, and dwarves and elves warred while the Dark Elves and Deep Ones laughed in their dark places."
Torvi takes a moment to soak in what she just heard, ”wait a minute. Did that thing just say we used to be friends with the elves? Because, by the first forge, that isn’t the way my grandsire would ever tell it. Are you sure you’re using that thing right Glenda?”
A look of wonder passes over Dasur's face as he has a revelation, one he shares with all gathered. "This is it." He says, staring at the helmet. "We sought no map of treated animal flesh, but the angel Thekim! We are closer than any have been in centuries!"
He takes a step forward, black staff gripped tightly in his fingers. "Will you accompany us, Thekim? Guide us to the Vault of Eternal Sun and beyond so we may reclaim Dammerhall?"
For once, Snorri agrees with Torvi, as bewilderment temporarily blinds him to the clue. "Elves? Dammerhall fell after an alliance with elves was broken? That is- I mean, I- well, unexpected."
Then he digests the rest of the outsider's word. "Revered angel, you have done us the greatest service imaginable with your words. Is this vault in Zaraketh?"
Torvi decides that now is an excellent time for a drink, and a plug of tobacco. Somewhere in her back she knew she had some of each. Finally finding the tobacco pouch, she bites off a nice sized chaw and starts munching on it, slowly filling her cheeks with the moist goodness. As she did this, she kept looking for that flask of brandy. There hadn't been too many moments worthy of brandy and a plug of tobacco on this adventure, but this was surely it.
When she finally was able to slug down some brandy, sweeping tobacco juices with it down her gullet, she wiped her mouth clean and began to speak, "Alright, so to sum all of this up. That there helmet-angel that has dutifully remembered the names of our fallen kinsman implies that our glory fell when our alliance with the elves was broken. But not the dark elves, the surface ones I guess. The dark elves were gleeful that our bond was shattered with the light elves, and some called the 'Deep Ones' too eh? Do we know who they were? Oh, and Dasur posits that the "map" we are seeking, isn't so much a physical map, but the memories of the helmet-angel as a meta-map? Did I miss anything?"
+2 wrt dwarves and their enemies
In response to Snorri, the angel-helm laughs in a lovely baritone, "Ho, ha, ha, ho, Son of Dammerhall. Zaraketh is merely the scratch of a fingernail compared to the Vault of the Eternal Sun, but it lies nearby, just beyond the outer gates of Zaraketh. It is a great Vault, built long ago by those known only, true enough, as the Vault Builders. It is a land of daylight, anathema to the dark elves, but home to another band of elves who could not escape the long night on the surface. They came here and found the Vault and that which dwelt within, but they were not untouched. They are not sullied by the worship of demons as are the vile dark elves, but they found other corruptions. Though they were friends once, they turned away from the Kings of Dammerhall before the fall."
Dasur listens intently to the deep-voiced angel, trying to piece together its words and hundreds of years of forgotten lore. "The vault... could it be the jungle outside? And these elves, the Mithvarim? In the time since our ancestors, has this vault become infused with the eneergies of the First World, making it unrecognizable to us as dwarven craft? If that is the case, there are two things we must find to locate Dammerhall..." There were many questions and postulets, but the wizard asks a real question of the helmet:
"What is the Lothellain, and where is it at in relation to the Vault?"
"It would make sense if they were the Mithvarim. And if they betrayed Dammerhall..."
Some part in Snorri wants to redeem this strange breed of elves, to enforce ancient treaties once more. But some ruthless, protective creed embedded in his heart screams otherwise. "...if so, they will burn. I strive to be trusting and see the light in darkness, but oathbreakers will die."
The words that follow are from the Dawnflower, a goddess of sunlight who never saw much veneration in the deep underground, but whose words were influential to Snorri growing up. "If they will not turn toward the light, I will redeem them by the sword. Or axe, in this case."
"Let me assure you milord Tharnhammer, that my hand will aid you in redeeming the Mithvarim thusly!" Torvi can barely hide her smile at the thought.
Though it lacks tongue or teeth, the voice somehow makes a "tsk, tsk" noise.
"The right words must you use, Sons and Daughters of Dammerhall. The elves of the sun vault may call themselves Meeth-Varr-heem, but to you they are Loth-ell-ain, those who turned against their sworn oaths. Their caprice is unforgivable."
"Ah.. of course." Dasur muses as the angel's cryptic words begin to fall together. "We must return to the Vault and follow the rays of everlasting supernatural light... directly in the hands of the Lothellain, who will assurdedly try to stop us. Perhaps if we capture one they will know the exact location of the statue we seek, much like Erebos led us to Zakareth."
Shifting his staff between his hands, the wizard approaches the bowl full of fire opals that the helm once rested upon. CUriously, he looks them over, a gleam in his eye. "Though they would be more useful to me in a raw form, these fire opals have been at the center of a momument to our ancestors for centuries, bathed in the aura of one of our pantheon's angels. I could learn so much from studying the matrices
of one of these gems..."
He turns in place back to Glenda, but looks up towards the helmet. "Thekim, may I borrow one of these fire opals? They would be a great boon to my studies and assist us in retaking Dammerhall. I will return it unscathed once I have learned all I can from its hidden mysteries."
"Please forgive my ignorance, revered guardian. Much lore has been lost, and I thought Lothellain was the name of the region they inhabit."
"For the time being, I believe we should focus on exploring what is left of this mine. Even letting aside plans for the future, I don't want to see the halls of our people despoiled by creatures such as that ape. Which reminds me of something."
Snorri takes out the axe he named Bequest. "Honored Thekim, I have found this weapon. Would you tell me the lore you know of it, and its previous holders? I wish to honor their legacy."
If Glenda is nonplussed at people talking to her hat instead of her, she doesn't show it.
"The Taskmaster has no need of worldly goods, gems and jewelry. The Cloister houses room after room of more perfect stones than these. These were left in obeisance to Magrim, but if they would serve better in your hands than on this altar, then in your hands they should be."
"The axe is known simply as the Axe of Horath Rocknose. It was both a powerful weapon and a symbol of his domain here. When word came of the dark times in Dammerhall, Horath seemed to know that his mission was doomed, but he led his brethren toward Dammerhall anyway. He left the axe behind that it might be wielded to greater purpose than simply as a badge of office. No dragons have been seen here for centureies, at least."
Dasur merely nodsa along to the angel's sentiments about the gods needing no wordly goods. "That is wonderful to hear, thank you." He says plainly before systematically plucking every single fire opal out of the bowl and transfering them to one of his many belt pouches.
"Despite the weariness in my bones and the intriguing properties of these opals, I am afraid we cannot rest." The wizard says as he turns back to the group. "Let us conclude the rediscovery of these ancient mines and gather any more useful artifacts left behind by our ancestors before we take up the forgotten grudge against the Lothelain."
"A reckoning is not to be postponed indefinitely, for sure." says Snorri, stowing the axe that once belonged to Horath Rocknose. "I concur, Dasur, more relics of our past await here."
This area appears to have been a common area, probably for those who were visiting the shrine.[/ooc]
Unusually, there are dwarven runes carved into one of the walls of this area. "Dammerhall or Death." Considering the sacred awe in which dwarves hold the stone, this is an unexpected bit of graffiti. Clearly there was no time for a more carefully crafted sentiment.
This area must have been quarters for those who were highly placed in the mine. Marks on the floor denote the location of beds, chests, and shelves for keeping important objects. On one wall, there is a carving in bas relief of a dwarf identified as Horath Rocknose. An inscription beneath the bas relief reads (in dwarven): “The mine was his dream, hisvdiscovery and his key to immortality. He is forever a part of this place.”
Torvi will give the art a good look. Any particular knowledge check to be made here?
+2 vs unusual stonework
Dasur stops in front of the graffti briefly, peering at it with intense curiousity. "It is a shame I only have two pieces of parchment left. a charcoal rubbing of this sentiment could be most informative. They are powerful words, make in haste with great emotion, on a sacred place. What part of their soul did this dwarf impart upon the stone? Not only will it remember, but it will forever bear the marks." He says cryptically, seemingly talking to himself.
The wizard shuffles through the corridors with his compansions, his obsidian staff making sharp clinking noises every time it connects with the stone. He stops with the others in front of the bas relief to marvel at the craftsdwarfship. "This too must hold great power." Dasur says pressing his hand to Horath's chest on the bas relief. "To have one's imagine immortalized in stone, to live and work here... I wonder if Horath's spirit is drawn to this place, or if his soul has already been reforged upon Torag's anvil."
While Torvi searches the room for anything unusual, Dasur busies himself. He withdraws one of the recently acquired fire opals and begins to look it over with his jeweler's lapel.
Torvi will give the art a good look. Any particular knowledge check to be made here?
[dice=Perception]1d20+5 +2 vs unusual stonework
Torvi doesn't notice anything unusual, though the craftsdwarfship is certainly excellent.
The fire opals are worth 500 gp in total.
Snorri's hand brushes against the carving in the stone. "Or Death? I feel that it is what they found, in the end. Master Rocknose, you are not forgotten. There is much of a legacy to be restored, but the memory of the stone lasts long. And Zaraketh will be returned to its glory one day."
The other rooms have clearly been cleaned out, having been barracks and a gathering room, but now empty.
The floor of this room has a mosaic depicting a dragon that seems to be made of black flames crawling out of the floor. This seems a strange decoration, and even moreso for the words that surround it.
“Dragons are inevitable. Where there is greatness they are drawn to
it, hungry to make it theirs.”
“We must not fear dragons, but we must also be ready. Arm yourself for the battle that is to come.”
“When all we have is taken from us, when the greatest of us is laid low, when all gates are locked, do not despair. We can yet reclaim what we have lost.”
“A great civilization does not fall from without until it has first fallen from within.”
The Helm speaks as you gaze upon the mural: “This mural was commissioned by Horath Rocknose himself during the last days of his life, the height of the mine’s success. The miners were always unsure what it meant even as much as they respected its craftsdwarfship. What they did not understand was that it is prophecy. hat in these dark days, it sh owsthe way forward. But perhaps it was not for them. Perhaps it was always for you.”
Iverna hasn't entered the protected area here, and is definitely still hiding.
Still with the mural. What are the colors? It’s not all stone is it? The lightning, is that gold, and the axe? Mithral?
Also, if that’s lightning, what color do I think that dragon is?
"Locked gates, all taken from us, black flames... Are we seeing a prophecy of the Doom that came to Dammerhall, one now validated by history?"
Snorri looks at the dragon and then at the axe, enchanted with power against the overgrown lizards. Had Horath Rocknose foreseen all of this?
Dasur, a jeweler's lapel still held tightly in one of his eyesockets, stops looking over the fire opals and kneels before the mosaic. "Horath Rocknose was not the only one, or the last, to see the future of Dammerhall. The prophecy has lost none of its energy, and our actions are still being guided by the invisible hands of fate."
He inspects the mural with his lapel, pouring over the fine details of the mosaic. "This message is clear, thanks to Horath. We know it was a dragon that brought about the fall of Dammerhall, and we have every reason to assume it still resides there, surrounded by the wealth of a mighty empire."
Standing slowly, the wizard continues. "Yet there are many types of dragons not only in this world, but the innumerable planes. To be truly prepared we must know the origin, color, lineage, and age of this dragon."
Still with the mural. What are the colors? It’s not all stone is it? The lightning, is that gold, and the axe? Mithral?
Also, if that’s lightning, what color do I think that dragon is?
The mural is in fact all stone of different kinds, except for the lightning, which is a thin layer of gold leaf. The dragon is likely a desert dwelling blue dragon, but that seems like a strange fit for the darklands. There are also sky dragons, wingless dragons who have elemental air magics and breathe lightning.
”I am no expert on dragons, but with it spitting lightning like that it could be several things, but a blue dragon from the desert seems likely.” Torvi shakes her head, ”it sounds stupid when I say it out loud though. Why would such a beast invade Dammerhall?”
Indeed, a blue dragon..." Dasur mumbles while staring at the collection of artwork on the floor. "Another mystery to be added on to the fall of Dammerhall, along with the sickness Erebos described the refugees contracting and spreading. A magical plague spread by the black flames, perhaps?"
Is a seemingly empty chamber.
+2 vs unusual stonework
Torvi finds and displays a single silver coin. The silver piece is a Dammerhall hexagonal coin and bears a stylized image of the last high king holding his axe (as much a scepter as a weapon) and his crown and sash.
+2 wrt dwarves and their enemies
She gives the coin a good look and clucks her tongue a couple times. She announces, "these three items are the lost regalia of the High King of the dwarves. One of the events that cast the dwarven people into such enduring chaos and uncertainty was the loss of these artifacts. They were not simply tokens of leadership. They were gifts given by the dwarven gods to mark the dwarves as their chosen people. They are part of what makes the dwarves special. All three were in Dammerhall when it was destroyed and this small silver piece is a reminder that they may be there yet."
"Axe, crown and sash, symbols the will to rune with hand, mind and heart in unison."
Snorri looks at the coin with longing. So much in this mine is explaining just how many wonders were in Dammerhall.
"They may still lie with my grandfather now, in the silent halls. Unless you are right and a dragon really was to blame. Until we know more, let us just remind of what has to be reclaimed."
Torvi hands the coin to the king-to-be, "until we find the actual artifacts, I propose you carry this coin as a reminder and a promise for our people."
Dasur actually bumps into Torvi as she stops to pick up the coin, causing him to briefly stumble. "Ah, excuse me." He mumbles, not even notciing she had found something until the Skald begins talking about it.
Looking curiously at the silver piece, the wizard nods slowly. "Powerful items, and even more importantly, powerfu symbols. Any dwarf bearing even one piece of the regalia would suddenly find the support of clans thrown at them..."
He continues to wander the room before coming to the conclusion it was empty. "Not much was left behind, but enough we have learned a great deal. Let us continue our search of the mine."
is a large open chamber, clearly the remains of a vein of precious metal being brought from the ground. Great stone columns of living stone have been left behind to support the ceiling. The ceiling soars 30 feet overhead, but two sections of crudely shaped wooden palisades ten feet tall wall off the area. Erebos stands near the closest one, attempting to peer through small gaps between the logs.
The now familar click of Dasur's staff against the stone precludes his appearance next to Erebos, where he joins the elf in looking through the palisade. "These walls seem to have been built in great haste. Perhaps when the denizens of the mine were fleeing after the collapse of Dammerhall they sealed something inside?"
"Or the palisades may have been a hasty defensive measure during the final fall," muses Glenda.
Erebos sniffs, possibly derisively. "The answer to everything isn't dwarves. I think this barrier is newer. There is something moving around inside. Something penned in. Possibly the creatures that lived here were defending themselves from something, or keeping some sort of foodstock."
Dasur nods and begins to turn away. "A probable theory, though the degenerates seemed to prefer hunting the jungles of the Vault." Is the extent of his thoughts on the matter, and he contnues down the hallway.
You make your way down the carefully crafted hall. It opens to your left in another shaped stone hall, and to your right with another rough delve. This room looks to be long emptied of any valuable ore, but there is something here.
You see a two legged reptilian creature the height of a human, it's eyes gazing at you through the darkness. The flesh has peeled away from its jaw, and several of its ribs protrude from rotten flesh. As it sees you approach, it turns toward you and hisses in a strange, birdlike whistle.
Apparently, all of you go before it can.
Torvi charges the creature and power attacks it...
Bludgeon
Snorri dashes alongside Torvi, swinging Bequest with a heavy hand at the seemingly undead monstrosity. As the true mithral blade cuts the air, he marvels at the quality that went in smithing such a powerful, balanced weapon.
Dasur casually stops as he enters the chamber, allowing the two warriors to rush past him. It was a curious sight- something either undead or diseased roaming these ancient hallways. How had it co-existed with the degenerates, that seemed to attack anything that infringed on their territory?
He takes a moment to reflect on the creature, to better answer his own questions.
Tovi smashes the dorn-dergar into the creature, but Snorri's axe fails to connect as the creature bobs its head out of the way.
The creature cries out in a terrible honk-hiss, it turns toward Snorri in a flurry of teeth and claws.
Erebos moves past Glenda and Dasur. A ray of glowing energy lances from his outstretched finger.