Iverna looks toward the surface far above. Of course, even her svirfneblin eyes can't see the top of the shaft. "So how do we want to do this? Stealthy scouting? clanky stomping up the stairs? One lone deep gnome fights her way to the top alone?"
"I don't think we should do this in an undwarflike manner. I vote for clanking stomping."
"I see no reason for stealth, even as the Black Flame seeks to prevent our progress." Dasur says as he too looks up into the seemingly endless darkness.
"This is our home."
There is a long and dramatic pause, which is interrupted by the wizard shuffling through his pouches and pulling out some well-worn chalk. "However, there is no reason for us to proceed forward blindly. Allow me a few minutes to prepare an Arcane Eye and I shall report my findings as I see them."
Dasur draws a circle around himself and spends 10 minutes scrawling various symbols, equations, and writing on its outer edges before sitting cross-legged in the middle. With a single word of power he closes his physical eyes, connects with the invisible magical sensor, and sees himself.
Willing the eye to turn and fly upward and incredible speed, Dasur tours the shaft in the black-and-white of his darkvision.
The organization of the lower city begins to come into focus. The gate you entered through welcomed outsiders from the Darklands, and housing for their beasts. The theater could provide entertainment to visitors and denizens alike, and when not in use probably doubled as a market. Here at the lowest part of the well, you find a staircase that spirals upward. The lowest reaches of it would once have connected to the chamber below, but they were deliberately collapsed.
At this lowest level of the Well, built into the walls, there are markets and housing. The housing seems to be for visitors, while the markets were a mix of places to sell local wares to outsiders and imported wares to locals. There are all manner of goods left behind. Long rotted grains, overturned casks, fine tools, bars of a variety of metals.
Dasur's wizard eye floats upward, finding a ring of chapels and shrines to the dwarven gods and some other gods. These are not major temples, but it makes sense that in a city so large, devout dwarves would need to be able to make prayers and offerings closer to home.
Above that is a ring of what look to be dwarven dwellings.
About 200 feet above you, there Dasur notices 4 dwarves, or at least dwarven shaped figures, though somehow elongated or stretched. Their arms and legs overly gangly. Their eyes burn with a now familiar black flame. The stand on a bridge that stretches across the chasm, looking downward toward you. Each of them wears armor of a finely wrought scale mail, and while they are bearded, their faces are withered and shrunken.
"Ghouls, or some such do you think?"
"I do not know, but I suspect the Black Flame animates them just as it did the aurorch." Dasur says as he open his physical eyes and begins to stand up. "As Glenda demonstrated they are weak to positive energy, but that does not necessarily categorize them as undead. For instance a flesh golem, though constructed out of living parts, is not an undead but merely controlled by a bound elemental spirit. It is possible the Black Flame is an elemental composed of Negative and Fire energies and able to cast its will into subjects."
The wizard's rambling was certainly not conclusive, but he points at the nearest stairs. "Regardless, the creatures know we are here and await us above. I suggest we prepare to combat them. Afterwhich, it may behoov us to stop at the shrines and call the attention of the Dwarven gods back to Dammerhall. I suspsect it has been long since the eyes of Torag were here."
"Really? I defer to Glenda, but I'd wager that Torag watches us even now."
Glenda rubs some fabric between her fingers and says, "Curious that this fabric has lasted so long. I wonder how it was made? Certainly they did not grow cotton underground and weave it into thread. Cave-spider silk, perhaps?"
Turning away from the clothing she says, "This venture has been one that will be told of in story and song - whether we succeed or fail. We were created by the gods to strive and to create, and we should celebrate our triumphs and mark our successes with our patrons."
"Is there a way we can quickly take the fight to them, or perhaps goad them into action by attacking them from a distance? Do you have spells that can reach the distance, Dasur, now that you know where they are?" asks Garnet, her hammer at the ready.
Iverna rubs her face as if fatigued. "It isn't good that they have the high ground. Erebos has some ability to grant us flight, and we don't know if they can climb like spiders or even fly. I guess if they know we are here we have to take the battle to them. But could we flank them somehow. Can some of us get above them somehow and catch them in a pincer maneuver? Coming into this whole thing from the bottom puts us at a disadvantage. It makes sense that this was the entrance that your ancestors left the most open. You could hold off a massive army from the positions above us with a small force."
To Iverna's thoughts, Erebos replies, "I can manage to grant three of us flight an invisibility, but that will tax my magical resources for the day. Of course, I can use the levitation spell that I used to lift you up here as often as need be. I worry that these are only the vanguard of a stronger force. If we extinguish all of our resources fighting them, what will we use for whatever lies beyond."
"I can allow one to fly, and could make several more invisible, if desired."
Dasur glances around at Garnet's question, his eyes tracing the millenia old architecture. While part of him is admiring it, he is simultaneously calculating how the curvature of the stonnnne could be used to focus nearby latent magical energies from 11 separate angles, simplified to a coordinate plane for easy mental math. After a silence of several seconds he responds. "Yes, I could empower a Flaming Sphere spell to reach over 750 feet, easily putting it within range of our watchers. However, it takes my concentration to control so I would not be able to follow you very quickly. Unfortunately the sphere would only last exactly 42 seconds, which does not give much time for us to ascend and take their position."
He thinks for a moment longer before suggesting- "Perhaps I can cast the spell while you all begin to ascend and we can gauge their reaction. If they flee I can chase them with the sphere." Another pause. "Assuming they can be harmed by elevated temperatures at all. Their eyes are on fire and it seems to cause them no discomfort. Even so, we will have learned valuable information with immediate no risk to ourselves."
Unsheathing his axe, "I will accept flight. The invisibility is not necessary." Turning to Dasur, "There are only four of them, Dasur, and Erebos does bring up a valid concern. We may need to save such powerful magic for the possibility of a larger contingent. Do as you will, cousin, but I will NOT be ascending until you are ready to do so yourself. I do not dare leave you or any of you behind."
Garnet smiles at Snorri's comment, glad of having a leader who cares for all those in his charge. Shifting her grip on her hammer and looking towards the stairs, she says, "I am ready, let us ascend by foot or by spell and quench the black flame infecting our home."
You move up the stairs wrapping around the interior of the well, crossing through apartment lobbies and markets with stone stalls. Rising to the ring of shrines, you find that the stairwell ends. You must cross a bridge that begins at the door of a shrine to Torag and ends at a shrine to Folgrit. The father and mother of the dwarven pantheon stand in pairs at each end of the bridge, their outstretched arms coming together in an arch over each end of the bridge. As you begin to move out onto the bridge, dark flaming arrows and bolts rain down from the four creatures above.
"Shall we make a run for it?"
Garnet looks around to see if there is anything they can use as cover (like a tower shield).
Flaming bolts begin raining from above, and Dasur stops to look upward. The whole fire motif seems to confirm to him that a Flaming Sphere or a Wall of Fire would do little to dissuade these animated creatures.
With a flick of his hand he opens thousands of portals to the Plane of Earth, and a strongly spoken Draconic word manipulates their curvature to create nozzles that spray a mixture of molten sulphur and acidic waters into a fine mist above them. A thick, putrid yellow cloud is reflected in one of the flaming bolts for but a moment.
He resumes following the group across the bridge as they hustle to get to their foes.
Torvi will beat feet across the bridge...
Shrugging, Garnet will move quickly in Torvi's wake while they still have concealment from Dasur's odiferous magic.
"Looks like that's our cue. Time to go!" he tells the others as he awaits them to cross first before bringing up the rear.
As you race across the bridge under the cover of the billowing cloud, a lone fiery dwarven figure appears above you. It drops straight through the cloud, trailing fire like a comet of ill omen, two small planets swirling around it, one crackling with lightning, the other buzzing loudly.
The dwarf lands heavily on the narrow stone bridge. It appears to guide itself somewhat through the air, but it isn't quite flying. Most dwarves would splatter after such a fall, and this one strikes the bridge with a distinct crunch of breaking bones. Despite that, the figure lurches and wobbles into a defensive stance. Its hands extend, and you see that it holds a dorn dergar. It switches into a stance that gives it reach, the electrical end crackling at the end of its chain.
Torvi searches her memory banks to see if she recalls anything about this fellow...
"Errr..."
"Right behind you, my Prince," breathes Garnet, her hammer at the ready and raring to move up and attack this dark flame dwarf!
Glenda says, "Someone just knock this thing off so that it falls the rest of the way."
How about a 34 then on Knowledge(history) using her Loremaster ability.
"There is nothing in my repertoire of spells that can produce such considerable force." Dasur responds to Glenda as the well-equipped and clearly unliving dwarf falls from above. He calculates whether it would be more efficient to provide everyone with protection from the electrical energy or just blind their foe so the more stout among them can tear it apart.
He opts for the latter, tossing out some ground mica from his belt porch with a word and a gesture.
The sparkling particles fly into their ancestor's eyes, shining bright enough to illumniate the bridge itself.
Torvi recognizes a sigil on his right pauldron that identifies him as one of the King's Guard of Dammerhall. She can't remember the name, but does remember the name of his weapon, "The Storm Above." Harnessing the power of Sky. This Gunzarak weapon was enchanted with the power of storm. One head with the power of lightning and one thunder. Such things are rightly terrifying, the stuff of bogey men, to Dwarven children.
The King's Guard held the last line of defense as the few survivors fled Dammerhall. They were the last to fall, some of Dammerhall's greatest warriors.
Snorri raises a fist to get the others to hold a moment. He then moves nearer the dwarf but stops about twenty feet away. "I am Prince Snorri, Scion of Tharnhammer of Dammerhall. It is my destiny, and that of my brethren, to reclaim what has been lost and that which once was ours. Allow us to pass so we may do so and restore this once great kingdom to its former glory," he commands politely, his magnificent axe held in front of him so as to be seen. Not so much in a threatening manner but more so in a manner of 'proof' if necessary.
Dasur's spell covers the dwarven figure and the bridge around him. The flakes cover the walking dwarven corpse, but it seems to be unaffected, or at least it doesn't respond visibly.
The dorn-dergar wielding dwarf swings its weapon outward toward you, swirling around it. The creature's mouth opens, but does not move with its words, as though they are merely projected from the figure.
"Tharnhammer, your time here has ended. We sit upon the throne how. What you have lost IS ours. It is not too late to turn back. Leave now and we will allow it. Continue upward and only death awaits you."
"Prince Snorri is the rightful ruler of Dammerhall! Kneel before him or face our wrath!" snarls Garnet, her Longhammer held tightly in her grip and her feet ready to charge like a coiled spring!
"I await your command, my prince," murmurs Garnet softly.
"By the sigil on his right pauldron I can identify him as one of the King's Guard of Dammerhall. I can't remember the name, but I do remember the name of his weapon, "The Storm Above." Harnessing the power of Sky. The weapon is made of Gunzarak that was enchanted with the power of storm. Mother sometimes scare there children with tales of such things." She pauses, considering, "the King's Guard held the last line of defense as the few survivors fled Dammerhall. They were the last to fall, some of Dammerhall's greatest warriors. I don't know what that leaves us with here, perhaps some undead guardian that doesn't remember who he was?"
"Who is we?" Dasur asks of the King's guard. "Do all those touched by the Black Flame now claim the throne of Dammerhall?'
Readying his own weapon, "Death awaits us all, 'tis true. But it will not claim us this day. Last opportunity to stand down, undead guardian. I've got allies who are MORE than prepared for battle and we will be victorious," he says with a glance over at Garnet and giving a nod of confidence before looking back to the guardian. "Answer the question asked of you by my fellow dwarf and then decide on whether or not you wish to find true death this day."
The dwarven shape...smiles, perhaps leers is a more appropriate description. "Black Flame. An appropriate, if limited, name for what we are. You might better describe us as a conflagration. The dark fire that will burn the world. We are not here to fight a sad group of dwarven foundlings. We are here to consume all that you know. Your presence here is insignificant. You will die, and we will add your forms to our army as we prepare to spread. We are strong. You think to bring death to this form? We are death, and we are beyond death. You have no power to threaten US."
"Yet you were trapped within these halls for hundreds of years, unable to escape." Dasur postulates in a monotone that is more talking to himself than interrogating the king's guard. "Unable to penetrate the Stone, you have remained, unable to spread. It would seem that the Black Flame is more akin to a disease, a magical one, that can only spread amongst the living. That would explain why Dammerhall was so tightly sealed from the inside... our ancestors understood this and sought to spare the outside world."
The dwarven shape...smiles, perhaps leers is a more appropriate description. "Black Flame. An appropriate, if limited, name for what we are. You might better describe us as a conflagration. The dark fire that will burn the world. We are not here to fight a sad group of dwarven foundlings. We are here to consume all that you know. Your presence here is insignificant. You will die, and we will add your forms to our army as we prepare to spread. We are strong. You think to bring death to this form? We are death, and we are beyond death. You have no power to threaten US."
"If it's battle you want... then so be it. Diplomacy is over. I will share with you one last thought before we claim victory this day. I truly believe, and want you to know, that you have served these halls well. I commend you for your valor. But now your time is up and it is time for you to find your peace in Torag's halls." And with that, Snorri prepares for battle, ready to put an end to these tortured souls.
"Your blood and bones will bring us back into the world, then. We shall ride on your backs to conquer..."
With that, he charges forward, the metal spheres of his weapon wheeling about.
Blackfire
Dasur
Torvi
Erebos
Glenda
Snorri
Garn
Iverna
As a move action, 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 takes a 5' step forward, and casts Path of Glory, hitting her square, and the 3 in front of her, which includes the one Snorri is on!!!
Leaning a bit to her left, Garnet attacks with Reckless Abandon with her magical Dwarven Longhammer, attempting to coordinate her attacks with the Prince so they work in tandem in the deadly dance of death, saying, "I am with you, my Prince."
Garn lands two heavy blows against the Champion. Her blows are turned aside somewhat by heat surrounding him.
Snorri returns with his own attack against the guardian after receiving a nasty hit from it.
"We have approximately thirty-six seconds until the Stinking Cloud dissipates." Dasur says calmly, leaving the fact they would be once again exposed to crossbow bolts unsaid. He taps his staff on the ground and opens a rift beneath the king's guard feet, sending up a puff of highly corrosive acid.
Erebos and Iverna judge that the assault of Snorri and Garn will be enough to fell this foe and hang back, not wanting to get in the way.
The black flames in the eyes of the dwarven champion waver and die like an untended forge. The corpse falls heavily on the stone bridge.