Garnet suggests that we harvest/recover what we can of the stone already here, then use the magic to fill in the gaps and shape the outside of the stone to fit together more perfectly. That should significantly reduce the magic needed, as the bulk of the volume of stone can just be manually moved into place, then the spell can shape its surface and connect it properly.
She is more than willing to do the heavy lifting to make this project come to life, as she is used to long hours at the forge in her armorsmithing profession, and she can adapt her "Anytool" magic item to serve as needed for whatever the job calls for.
"It is a fairly wide gap, but as Garnet says, if we move the stone from the rockfall to the bridge and then use Stone Shape to meld it into the existing structure it would save considerable time in the construction itself. Ah, this is both practical and metaphorical. We, the present generation, literally bridging the gap of our ancestors to reach Dammerhall."
In the days that follow your discovery of the broken bridge, every dwarf pitches in to reconnect the Seventh Gate to its road. Iverna disappears for most of the time. She spent most of her life hating living in a gnomish town famous for its stone quarry, and she has little liking for such work. Erebos, on the other hand, is as engaged as can be. He casts levitate frequently, raising 500 pound stones effortlessly, holding them in place while you cause stone to flow over and around them.
Iverna returns each day to prepare a stew of whatever she has found, generally mushrooms and razobats, the occasional cat sized cricket. After a few days she grows bored, and climbs to the base of the waterfall. There she catches blind trout and finds a mossy growth that tastes strongly of garlic.
Finally, the bridge is complete, and you make your way across to the door in the shape of a stylized dwarven face.
As you approach, the stone of the door rumbles, and the lips vibrate with a deep grinding voice. "The way is closed, those who dwell here have gone to war. Go back! and return in better times."
Glenda puts her all into the work. Though her magic is less precise than Dasur's, she follows directions well and she doesn't tend to get lost in the weeds of overthinking problems.
She seems to be quietly pleased with Erebos' contributions. Feeling like he is able to be a major contributor is an important step toward feeling like part of the community.
After a workday (it's hard to say "evening" when there is no cycle of sun and moon), she always seems to have a little more vigor left. Sometimes she tells old stories of the dwarven gods, tales of their creations and their heroics at the dawn of time. Other times she goes over the team's supplies and checks to make sure that things haven't succumbed to rot or wear, always checking against a small inventory list that she keeps.
As rapid progress carries on, one night she sits next to Dasur with her bowl of mushroom soup and says, "Dasur... how hard would it be for us to construct a still? Assuming we can find things to put into it."
Snorri aids in whatever fashion he can in the help of building the bridge. He finds a great sense of pride as he watches them all work in tandem to finish it. I firmly believe with all my being that there is nothing we cannot overcome, nothing we cannot achieve when we work together as one. Truly fantastic and I am thankful to be a part of it.
As you approach, the stone of the door rumbles, and the lips vibrate with a deep grinding voice. "The way is closed, those who dwell here have gone to war. Go back! and return in better times."
Standing before it, Snorri looks to the door in thought, stroking his beard. "Hm. Another 'stone guardian' if you will." He looks over at the others a moment, "Do you suppose...?" he asks rhetorically as he turns back to the door. Well... guess it can't hurt. "I am Snorri, Scion of Tharnhammer, Guardian! Would you please allow us to pass!" he asks, not entirely confident it is going to be that simple.
Torvi keeps careful tabs on Iverna, paying special attention to her demeanor. She is familiar with a legend involving a short humanoid adventuring in the deep places of the world with a party of dwarves, and a long lived non-dwarf spell caster, and she wants to ensure those legends don't become reality.
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Torvi listens as Snorri engages the stone guardian in conversation.
With their goal so close, Dasur is unworried about their progress. His theories and divinations were all but confirmed, for surely reaching Dammerhall was to be the most difficult part of their journey. They would reclaim their ancestral hall and open its sealed doors from within, welcoming all of dwarfkind from across The Five Peaks mountains and beyond. With this relaxed attitude, he settles into a pleasant routine of study and stone shaping.
During their rest period one night, Glenda speaks with the wizard around meal time. He is staring at his spellbook with seemingly indefatigable purpose while his still steaming bowl of mushroom soup floats nearby, carried by his invisible servant until he decides to dine. "I am no alchemist, I'm afraid, though I have considered dabbling in the physical sciences occasionally." He says without looking up from his book.
"Regardless, a still is a rudimentary construction that I am sure we could piece together, though I suspect we are lacking the proper materials. We have enough spare metal between us for the boiler, but we have no source of glass or other material that could serve as a condenser. Perhaps some magic could substitute for these properties and a bit of mithral enchanted to channel heat to the elemental plane of water could serve the purpose of a perpetual chiller instead." Within his rambling seemed to be a answer ranging from "simple" to "difficult", but certainly possible.
With a twitch of his fingers the bowl of soup float closer, and after a series of gestures the smell of butter fills the air. He takes his eyes off of his book for one moment to take a spoonful of soup, licks the dribble off his mustache, and returns to reading.
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Dasur perks up at the words of the stone guardian, marveling at yet another ancient construct still guarding the way. Truly, their ancestors were masters of their craft. "If the door does not open for you, Snorri, I doubt it will open for anyone."
"Might I suggest being more directive in nature sire, and making it more of a command than a request?"
The door speaks slowly, in grinding rumbles. "The way to your [color=red]Manor[/color] is closed as an elven [color=red]Briar[/color], Tharnhammer, even to you and your companions. It cannot be opened with strength, but only with words of wisdom."
”Whoa!”
Snorri ponders Torvi's words a moment before returning his thoughts to the words of the guardian. "The Guardian said only words of wisdom, Torvi, not strength." 'Manor is closed as an elven briar'. Why do I see red? Stroking his beard in thought, he just now remembers the rose. Snorri retrieves the rose and holds it up high. "How about an offering of 'peace', Guardian? Will this suffice enough to allow us passage?"
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"Friends are better than foes, and better than briars is the smell of the rose. Opens now the 7th door, here to guard the way no more."
The door opens slowly, rising like a portcullis even though it appeared to be a swinging door. Beyond is a corridor scorched and even melted with fire. The corridor is 20 feet wide and 20 feet tall, and 40 feet beyond the gate is an iron portcullis. Beyond that you can see an open space that stretches beyond your darkvision, even the extensive darkvision of the drow and svirfneblin (120).
"This does make me wonder how we might have opened the way had we not chosen to work at a truce with the elves."
Taking a deep breath, Garnet inhales the scent of the rose. Smiling, she says, "I suppose the rose did work, my prince. Curious that a flower would facilitate the reclaiming of our ancestral home, but I suppose by any other name it would smell as sweet."
”I suppose by any other name it would smell as sweet."
Torvi shakes her head in disgust, ”can we not quote human poets please? There are plenty of excellent dwarven poets to choose from.”
Mentally filing that comment away with the others she has heard from Torvi, Garnet thinks, "A mite touchy are we...I wonder what that's about," but aloud says only, "I'll leave the poetry to you then, Torvi; feel free to regale us with the famous Dwarven sonnets on roses."
"This does make me wonder how we might have opened the way had we not chosen to work at a truce with the elves."
Giving a slight grin, "Personally I would simply chalk it up as providence, Glenda. Best not to question it."
”I suppose by any other name it would smell as sweet."Torvi shakes her head in disgust, ”Can we not quote human poets please? There are plenty of excellent dwarven poets to choose from.”
Looking curiously at Torvi, "Does it really matter whether it's from dwarves or humans or from any other race, Torvi? I would gather if it's done well, then why should it not be appreciated regardless? But," he shrugs, "that is simply my opinion, nothing more," he says with a grin, shooting a wink over at Garnet.
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Turning to the darkness ahead, Snorri removes his legendary greataxe. "Ready yourselves. Who knows what lies beneath after a millennia." And with that, Snorri leads the way inside.
Flustered by Snorri’s comments, Garnet’s catty response to Torvi is forgotten as the blood rises to her face. Raising her hammer and following the prince’s lead, Garnet follows without another word.
Snorri walks boldly into the entryway. As he reaches the halfway mark, Iverna holds up her hand and calls out, "Wait, don't..."
But too late. The floor opens up under Snorri's boots and Snorri tumbles into it. Before he can fall more than a few feet, Erebos calls out, "AE-o"
Instead of plummeting into the pit, Snorri finds himself floating to the bottom of a deep pit.
Erebos moves to the edge of the pit, "Just a moment, and I shall levitate you back to us."
Snorri finds himself at the bottom of a 50 foot deep pit filled with sharp and rusted iron spikes.
Then only seconds later, he is slowly rising back toward the corridor above.
Breathing a sigh of relief, "I think I now know what lies beneath. A fifty foot drop or so with nothing but iron spikes at the bottom," he states, slightly frustrated. He then looks to the drow, "Thank you, Erebos. Your aid is truly appreciated," he says with a nod. "New plan, all: Watch your step. The last one you take might prove perilous." Snorri then takes things more cautiously, keeping an eye out for anything odd. He pauses a moment, "Iverna, if you would be so kind, I could use your eyes up here with me. They have proven to be far better than mine."
Beyond the pit is a portcullis crafted from magically hardened wood and steel. Iverna might be able to squeeze through the gaps, or the gunzarak axe will likely cut through it.
Arriving at the portcullis, Snorri takes a hold of his axe with a tight grip and swings in an effort to cut through the barrier.
Snorri finds that the exceptional ax makes short work of a section of the gate large enough for dwarf, elf, and gnome to walk through. Beyond the portucullis is an open space. Ahead, to the left, and to the right are beautiful doors faced in cast bronze. The door directly ahead depicts a wide shaft rising from your perspective up into the stone above. Graceful stone bridges arch across the shaft in all directions and at many levels. This must be the Brutenwelle, a massive construction of rooms connected by stairwells and bridges said to house the lowest reaches of Dammerhall.
On the door o the right is an image of a massive bull like creature, an aurochs, pulling a metal cart.
On the door to the left is an image of a large gecko laden with bags and pouches.
Torvi nods, "now things are looking up. This is promising."
Looking around, "It is truly fascinating. Let us see what lies behind the door to our right." Snorri then moves over to it. "Iverna, probably best you check this door before I do. The last thing we need is another floor to remove itself while we're standing on it."
Garnet moves up, ready to open the door once it is properly cleared.
Iverna slinks forward, she runs her hands over the bronze facade of the door. "It's warm," she says. [b]"There is a hidden key hole here, but it isn't locked."
Her hands on the door, her head turned back to you, you see almost in slow motion as the door suddenly flies open. The little gnome flies across the room as the door sweeps her out of the way.
Revealed in the space beyond is a massive bullish shape. It has black skin that burns with a black fire only visible to your darkvision, it casts no light. It reeks with the stench of the tomb, and flames flow from its mouth, nostrils, and eyes.
Torvi starts her battle song...
Raging song: +2 STR/CON, +2 Will Save, -1 AC, Cannot use CHA, DEX, or INT based skills except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride), or any ability that requires patience or concentration.
Celestial Totem, Lesser (Su): Cure spells heal CL extra Hp, non spell magical healing does class level extra.
Reckless Abandon (Ex): While raging, the barbarian can take a –2 penalty to AC to gain a +2 bonus on attack rolls.
She also casts mirror image
Garnet reacts quickly as the door slams open just in front of her, bringing her hammer up as the gnome flies by. Already in range of the dangerous-looking creature, she simply says, "Looks like this one is spoiling for a fight...Happy to oblige."
Feeling the battle rage rise within her as Torvi starts singing, Garnet grips her hammer firmly and strikes out twice with reckless abandon in powerful swings at the tomb bull.
Garn's first blow connects with the bull's hard head, but the second is turned aside by its great horns.
Snorri doesn't hesitate a moment as he quickly moves toward the bull, weapon in hand.
Dasur head tilts in wonder at the appearance of the strange bull, his body language showing no fear even though the creature is surely dangerous. "Interesting. I doubt this is a living bull, and is possibly one of the many advanced constructs we have encountered so far. Now, if it will hold still for a moment..." He mutters while moving forward to inspect the "beast".
Erebos seems nonplussed by the sudden appearance of the bull. He studies it for a moment before unleashing a series of bolts of force toward it.
Iverna tumbles to her feet and then backs up, content to let the warriors take care of the strange fire bull.
Glenda wastes no time in blessing the team.
The fire-bull eyes Snorri with a deep hatred. A hatred of his life, his dwarven nature, his entire self. It bites him with teeth far more pointed than any herbivore's should be, and while its hooves strike only sparks on bare bround, its horns thrust side to side, catching him.
Round 2