Dasur carves his way through the defensive stone at relatively high speed. After 40 feet of digging, he breaks through into an open chamber much larger than the vestibule he just left. His darkvision can't encompass the entire area, but even from here he can see that it an amazing structure, a domed gallery 140 feet in diameter. The floor Dasur stands on is a ring of stone above a 100 foot diameter theater, not necessarily just a place for performances, but an arena that might be used for staged battles, massive operas (or both together, if Torvi's stories are true), trials, even trade negotiations. Two wide staircases lead downward into the theater from the east and west, while at the north and south points there are massive doors.
At the apex of the dome is empty, leading to a shaft reaching upward. This shaft is the Brutenwelle, a deep delve of stone stairs and bridges. The walls of this "well" house all manner of chambers and constructions.
[ooc]There isn't a map for this thing, and it is difficult to describe. Just let me know if it doesn't make sense.
When Torvi emerged into the large room, she was in awe. To hear about such things in stories was one thing, but to see them was quite another.
"Dasur, do you have that flying lights spell? If so, send it around, let's see this whole place. In the songs, it is all lit up, they must have taken all of the eternal sconces when they left."
Garnet is overawed by the magnitude of the space and the implication of the work that must have gone on to create it. She moves out of the cramped tunnel Dasur created and listens carefully in the darkness, alert for any threats that might lie beyond the range of her darkvision.
"By Torag's hammer this place is magnificent," Snorri says, finding himself in awe like the others. "If these walls could speak I believe the tales would run ceaseless. Fascinating."
Assuming Garnet doesn’t hear anything dangerous in the darkness, she moves over and speaks to Torvi.
In an unusually reverent voice, Garnet somewhat awkwardly asks Torvi, ”Could you sing a song of homecoming? Something majestic?”
Nothing moves in the near darkness. Which is strange in itself. There should be bats or insects or other animal life in here unless something is keeping it away.
The air smells stale, but not dangerous.
"Truly a remarkable parlour," says Erebos. "We have similar death pits, but none quite so grand that I know of. The blood that floor must have drunk at the height of your ancestor's power."
The drow flicks his fingers and four lights appear at the apex of the dome. The glowing spheres, each a different color, float slowly down like baloons, revealing the beauty of the space. To the north, you can see that the wall has collapsed into rubble, but that wall must be an artful shell, because whatever bulk or buttress is holding up the dome is unaffected. You see no cracks or damage.
Iverna shows little reaction, and what response she does have is more to your fascination than to the architecture.
"So Snorri is a prince right? Or a king, now that we are here? Where is the throne room. We should secure that before we worry about performances and beauty."
”I could sing, but I think a saga of our people’s struggles, and how they have culminated in Lord Snorri’s Return would be more appropriate.”
Torvi casts a spell and summons a deep base drum. She takes a breath and begins to recite the tale she has been composing, accompanying herself on percussion.
The drum beat echoes through the chamber, reverberating and echoing through your guts. Your spirits soar with her voice as she weaves lament and hope. It is clear that this space is acoustically profound.
Torvi sings the word "home," lingering on the note until it rattles into your very being before her note is cut off by a screech that cuts through her vocals and stabs into your gut like an icy knife.
As Dasur emerges into the amphitheater, he only makes it a few steps before becoming still with awe. The rest of the group finds him standing only a few feet from the tunnel, gazing upward, shoulders still covered in dust and rubble from the magical excavation.
"I did not prepare the Dancing Lights spell today, Torvi." He says with a hint of sadness- but thankfully Erebos is here to light up the chamber. The wizard shares the moment of wonder with the rest of the group, and if any were to look at him, he is smiling with sqaure off-white teeth on full display.
"We were right all along, Zhashilgeax." Dasur mumbles, seemingly to himself, but he touches the ruby amulet beneath his nearly threadbare shirt moments later.
The smile on his face vanishes when Torvi's performance is cut short by the sudden sonic assault. "We forget ourselves, I fear. We must retake our home before it is our home once again." Turning to move to the back of the group, he answers Iverna's question in passing. "Snorri is our prince and rightful heir , but we must reclaim the throne and perform a coronation before he is king of these halls."
Cringing at the horrible sound, Snorri looks up and around as soon as it ceases. Taking a few moments to scan the area just to be safe, Snorri concedes as he is unable to see anything but more darkness. "Let us continue. If whatever that was is determined to find us, I've no doubt it will have little trouble."
Moving to inspect the collapse in the northern portion of the chamber, it becomes apparent (given your knowledge of architecture) that the collapse was not an accident. This must have been another defense. The stairs leading up to the well were in this wall. With the wall collapsed, there is no easy way to move upward.
"I am less excited about rebuilding steps than I was about the bridge, but I'm no less able!"
"That would take a considerable amount of time, though it is certainly within our means." Dasur muses as he inspects the pile of rubble that was once the stairs leading into the heart of Dammerhall. "Perhaps we would be better served by taking one of the downward staircases, or the northern door."
Turning towards the large door to the door, he moves to inspect it. "It would seem our ancestors took every measure to seal off their escape from the Black Flame. Perhaps they were seeking to keep it in, turning Dammerhall into its prison, rather than keep others out."
Erebos says, "We need not reconstruct the stair to reach the upper level. I can lift each of you in turn through the oculus. I could lift Iverna first. Perhaps the levels above are more intact. If we need reclaim the throne, then let us make haste to the throne room and vanquish whatever awaits us there."
Iverna, of course, is more cautious, "Better to not leave potential enemies behind us. No sense in being king of the dead, or worse yet, a dead prince."
"I agree with Iverna. Establish a firm foundation, then build upon it."
The large door to the north is down inside the arena, and likely leads to "backstage" areas for the arena.
"The angels have surely taken their share of this whiskey by now, if it is not vinegar." Dasur comments on their discovery of the whiskey barrels, but he is certainly willing to try it. "We have had naught even a svirben beer in months."
Regardless, he points towards the remaining door to the north. "We must descend before we ascend, just as our ancestors in the Quest for Sky."
"Then let us be off, cousin." Snorri then leads the way down the stairs.
You descend into the round orchestra, the floor level of the theater. Who knows what heroes, performers, and dignitaries trod these stone steps in the past.
As you step down onto the floor, the two sets of stairs begin to silently retract into the walls.
Turning his head as movement along the wall catches his eye, the wizard merely stands and watches the marvelous stonework silently glide back into place. "Ah, to have but a few minutes with Damnerhall's artificers..." He bemoans to himself before turning and starting for the northern door.
Though the stairs disappear smoothly, once they are gone, the arena shakes. Then stillness. Then shakes. And you realize that the shakes echo footsteps. The shakes become a deep drumbeat, and once the drum is established, the entire chamber is filled with music.
Torvi recognizes the "Lay of Tumamal and Lugthen." Tumamal was a dwarven woman, a fighter of great renown, Lugthen her loyal shield bearer. Deep with the Dark, she held the bridge of Karakos against an army of duergar led by a powerful demon.
The floor shudders and begins to lower in sections, leaving behind a platform on each side and a bridge in between.
The great door begins to swing open, and a red light shines from within.
Garnet, disappointed that she didn't detect the trap before they walked right into it, moves to the front and prepares to receive the enemy, using the sides of the "bridge" to protect her flanks.
Drawing out his axe, he looks toward the red light. "I don't suppose any of you know what it is we are up against?"
"The music is likely an illusion, though I cannot rule out the possibility of a group of constructs that can perform orchestral arrangments on demand. After what I have seen, the artificers of Dammerhall would have little trouble with such creations. Indeed, the drumbeat has a physical nature to it that I suspect is being produced by some sort of local, reprogrammable percussion device." The wizard drones as he watches the floor lowers around them.
"Is this tune not Lay of Tumamal and Lugthen?" He asks of Torvi, head swinging so quickly the braid of his beard nearly slaps himself in his face. "Perhaps this arena was being prepared for entertainment prior to the Black Flame, with the Lay as its subject." Dasur's head t urns again as the far doors open. "And perhaps we are now the actors meant to play out the scene. But surely our ancestors would not be so bold to summon demons for this performance? Unless this was considered justice for captured duergar, in which case they would have succumbed to the Black Flame in their cages long ago..."
After seeing the negative energy manifestation in the auroch at the entrance, Dasur is not sure what to expect. He takes a breath, spits out a few short arcane words and cocks his left elbow down, hand in a fist. Like a statue he stands, eyes transfixed on the the space in front of the door.
The door swings open noiselessly. The orange glow within intensifies, spilling light onto your faces. The flames are real, the smoke billowing, reeking of sulphur.
The demon approaches, walking on its knuckles like an ape, but swiping with another set of hands at the air. The four armed ape demon scuttles forward, massive wings of fire and smoke outstretched behind it, unfurling as it comes through the door.
Rocks rain down on it as Dasur casts its spell, and the music swells dramatically. You hear the rocks clatter on metal as they fall. The demon wields a cat o'nine tails in one hand and a curved blade in another.
"For Tumamal!" cries Garnet, moving to the front line to protect the others, though she does not charge up to the demon, preferring to stay on the bridge and give spells and missile weapons a chance to take effect once the battle is joined.
Looking intently upon the demon as he moves up next to Garnet, "For the record: I no longer question what it is we are up against. Obviously it is quite moot at this point."
Torvi will start her battle song and move towards the creature...
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.
Round 1
Round 1
Raising his fist in the air with the swell of the music, transient rocks plucked from the Plane of Earth rain down on the demon and the area around it. His hands come back to rest on his staff, and he peers over the ape-like creature, nose testing the air for any clues to its origin.
Setting up for defense, Garnet readies to attack the demon if it advances to within her reach!
Snorri calls forth a bit of the divine magic he knows to aid himself in the coming battle.
Torvi studies the movements of the demon and finds that they are a bit too...lawful? ordered? She realizes that the "demon" is actually a brilliantly constructed construct. The flames aren't magical demon-fire, but a roiling cloud of burning gas. Still dangerous, but not in the same way as a creature of pure chaos.
As realization struck her, Torvi announced, "that thing is no demon, it's a construct. Perhaps made by our ancestors? Lord Snorri, perhaps you can order it to stand down?"