Garnet is down a bit.
Dasur stretches his magical senses and finds something quite different with this inspection compared to the other portcullis. The magic here has been twisted and broken. While the physical portcullis is intact, the magic defenses here look like bars that have been melted, twisted, and shoved to the side. No ancient wards survived whatever happened here, but even now you can see their remnants, so strong they were.
There is a crackle of energy that washes through the bars from inside the throne room. Something in there is throwing out an abundance of ambient evocation, conjuration, and necromancy magic.
Dasur's mouth hangs slightly open as he witnesses the destruction- no, defacement, of the ancient wards that once protected the throne room. Broken strands of magic still pulsed with power, so full of energy it could not properly diffuse into the surroundings. Something, someone, charged through it as if it were paper.
"There were once wards here so powerful and ancient they make me feel as if I am a conjurer of cheap tricks." Dasur says to the group waiting patiently behind him. "They were beautiful, but now they lay here in a tattered ruin, unable to dissolve their energies back into the surroundings. Beyond it..." He points his obsidian staff through the metal bars ahead of them. "... Is energy, very much alive and active, radiating auras of evocation, conjuration, and necromancy. It is very similar to the energy signature of the residue the Black Flame has left behind. Therefore, I postulate we will find either the vessel containing the controling ego of the Black Flame, or a powerful body it has possessed."
He begins to walk forward, intent on opening the way. "Regardless, we must prepare ourselves. Fate and prophecy are soon to cross." As he reaches the closest arrow slit he presses his hand against the wall. "Open, says me." Is said in plain dwarven, triggering a reaction from the stone that starts at his fingers- the wall begins to warp inward, rippling and pulling back in on itself to form a passage to the other side.
Torvi will throw down haste as we go through the wall.
Gunnar rotates his arm, storing energy in the pelletbow's springs, then points his arm in the direction of the wizard, ready to cover him against anything that may come out of the passage.
Snorri casts the few protection spells he has upon those in need and increases his own defense with that same divine magic. "Prepare yourselves. Whatever it is we must face will not be pleased at the company it's about to receive," he warns as he gets a firm grip upon his gunzarak greataxe and prepares to move in as soon as Dasur's spell moves to completion.
The stone wall recoils from Dasur's touch, arrow slits vanishing as the spell reveals the guardrooms beyond.
In the room to the west of the entry hall that is bracketed by portculli, you find that there is a 20 by 20 room with no exits other than the one you have just opened with magic. On the wall you opened, there were arrow slits. on the west wall of this room there is a narrow horizontal slit wide enough to pass a pan through or possibly an agile gnome.
Within the room are two dwarven skeletons, 4 shortbows, several barrels of arrows, and some sort of alchemical spray gun connected by a tube to another barrel.
These two dwarves were anchorites. Trained dwarven monks devoted to the art of archery to the degree that they walled themselves into these defensive spaces (a process known as immurement).
Torvi laughs, "Ok, through another wall then?"
It takes only a moment for Dasur to scan the room, but he does it again... and again... and a fourht time just to be sure. "Why would the Stone impede us when we are so close to our goal?" The wizard mumbles to himself as he turns to approach the south wall.
"Perhaps it is trying to protect us?" His personal yet aloud thoughts cotinue even as he places a hand against the south wall. The other fishes out the golden chain of his ruby amulet from beneath his grubby shirt, which he grasps tightly.
The stone warps and bends as the southern wall gives way, opening up another passage into the chamber beyond.
Gunnar reaches down to respectfully touch the bones of his contemporary.
"Anchorites. Never did I wish for their life, but their devotion was absolute. Perhaps even the Flame could not turn them. Rest ye in peace, brethren. I shall fulfill your duty."
Torvi looks to Glenda, "a few words maybe? Quickly though, we're burning daylight as the humans say."
The southern wall dissolves under Dasur's spell, giving way to entry hall beyond. 40 feet wide, 70 feet long and with vaulted ceilings nearly 50 feet above. Two large circular fountains fill much of the floorspace. Both contain abstract sculptures composed of various rectangles and square; fresh water pours from the tops, washing down over the sculptures, filling the basins with an abundance of crystal clear water.
Sets of ornate double doors line the hall, carved in similar abstract shapes, but the doors at the end of the hall, just at the edge of your darkvision, are torn asunder, coppery metal partially melted and re-solidified on the floor.
Moving ahead cautiously, Garnet keeps a lookout for enemies as she goes, gripping her Dwarven Longhammer tightly.
When nothing immediately assaults them, Dasur moves to the nearest fountain, briefly looking through the clear water to the stone beneath. Resting his obsidian staff in the crook of his arm, he dips both hands into the water, forming a cup. Drips fall from between his fingers as he lifts the water to his mouth, and most of the liquid seems to land on or run down his bread when he tips back his head to drink.
"The Water is here, to help us vanquish the corrupted Fire within the throne room. This is good." The wizard says quietly to himself.
"So many have already given their lives before us to make of this place a home," says Glenda. "We will return the favor by bringing life back once more."
"No dawdling, let's find the bad guys, while our magicks are at their greatest strength!"
Garnet continues to advance forward cautiously towards the ruined double doors, keeping a lookout for the strange black fire that has seemed to inhabit their enemies so far.
Gunnar holds out a hand, signaling caution in proceeding. "Beware! Our foe appears to sit at that end, but were they to come from here they would encircle us!"
The hunter moves towards the closest of the doors and lays an ear against the bronze, listening for every whisper.
"If they surround us, that would certainly simplify our tactical situation."
Gunnar reaches down to respectfully touch the bones of his contemporary.
"Anchorites. Never did I wish for their life, but their devotion was absolute. Perhaps even the Flame could not turn them. Rest ye in peace, brethren. I shall fulfill your duty."
Snorri gazes upon the dwarves of so long ago that fought so bravely with a resigned but extremely proud look about him. "Truer heroes there cannot be, of this I am certain. No matter how many Dammerhall's I am a part of in restoring, no matter what I accomplish in this short lifetime that I live, never shall my legacy be as great as those who gave everything they had and gave without hesitation for Dammerhall. Truly a sacrifice that will live forever in the annals of Dammerhall ... this I vow." Snorri then turns, with his greataxe resting upon his shoulder, and continues on towards their destination.
Gunnar holds out a hand, signaling caution in proceeding. "Beware! Our foe appears to sit at that end, but were they to come from here they would encircle us!"
The hunter moves towards the closest of the doors and lays an ear against the bronze, listening for every whisper.
"If they surround us, that would certainly simplify our tactical situation."
Snorri holds at the behest of Gunnar. He then cuts his eyes toward Torvi and ponders her statement a moment before eventually shrugging and nodding, finding it impossible to disagree.
Snorri listens in at the next set of doors, motioning to the others by pointing that there is something residing within.
Garnet moves up to stand next to Snorri, thrumming with the anticipation of ferocious battle, saying, "Shall I open it, my Prince?"
Grabbing his axe just a bit tighter, Snorri gives a nod to Garnet and prepares himself for whatever may come their way.
Glenda keeps her hammer stowed, ready to cast further spells.
Torvi prepares herself for a whirlwind of combat, to destroy those that defeated their people in the past would not be easy, but with Torag's grace, they would be victorious.
Gunnar stands ready, his body coiled and tense as the springs in his pelletbow.
This time, none shall falter. This time, Dammerhall stands.
Garnett shoves the door (into area 20) open, and her hair flies backward as though from a hurricane wind. Hair singes as if she has opened the door to a great forge, and light pours from the gaping door, blinding after so much darkness.
You can barely see into the room beyond the light is so strong, but from what you can see, everything in the room beyond is melted metal and charred cinders. Another doorway within is missing, no doubt burned and melted away. The intense light comes from beyond that door.
The runes on her fireforged armor and weapon starting to glow from the heat (Fire resist 2), Garnet says, "We have found the fire, or at least the light, but not the shadow. Should we investigate further, or keep heading towards the double doors at the end of the hall?" she asks.
Dasur squints into the sudden light, pitchng his body forward against buffeting winds. "Onward!" Dasur yells over the assualt of Air that is surely attempting to impede their progress. "Forward! This is our destiny!"
Cloak fluttering behind him, he marches towards the powerful magics beyond.
Shaken out of her uncertainty by Dasur's brave words, Garnet charges into the room, shielding her eyes against the bright light and making for the source of that heat and light!
Iverna and Erebos, rarely in agreement about anything, both cringe away from the light.
Garn and Dasur stride into the first room to the empty door. Beyond, you see a strange scene. In the middle of the room is a magic circle inscribed in the floor. The whole room glows with heat, molten glass puddles the floor, and the source of all of this is clear in within the magic circle.
Here is a tall lithe humanoid figure, 20 feet tall and glowing white hot. The figure writhes in apparent pain.
Next to the magic circle is a small machine. Some sort of dark crystals provide the rhythmic hum that you could hear from without the door. A gunzarak rod sticks up from the mass of gears, and the rod is as dark as the rest of the room is not.
Snorri simply grins at Dasur's proclamation and moves in with them.
Looking quite taken aback upon seeing the tortured figure, "By Torag's hammer, how can we free that creature from its torment?!"
Garnet pushes into the room, relying on her armor and the spell of fire resistance to protect her, asking, "Do I pull or push this lever to free the creature?" perhaps making an unwarranted assumption, adding, "or do I just bust the chains holding it?"
Snorri looks to Garnet pensively before turning his attention to Dasur. "Dasur! Any idea on how to work this contraption? I fear I am at a loss."
, minus 20 +2 points fire resistance (if the spell and the armor stack)
Gunnar strives to move towards the room, but the winds buffeting his body are merciless. "Fie upon this torrid air! I know of mechanics, I could tell ye the workings of gear and lever, were I closer!"
Sweat has no time to bead along Dasur's forehead as they near the source of the wind and heat, for it is immediately blown flat by the wind. The magical shield of protection provided by Torag shimmers and forms a corona around him, but he knows the magic will not last forever.
"I know not! But be warned, that creature is not of this plane, its thoughts and motives are alien. It is bound here for an unknowable purpose, though seemingly tied to that machine! If you disrupt the magic circle binding it, it may not be grateful to be free and could lash out!" Dasur warns their king-to-be, for he knew the goodness of Snorri's heart would compel him to act in the outsider's rescue.
Dasur pushes his way into the room, grabbing his cloak to use it as a paltry shield against the hot winds. "Torvi, I require your aid! Study the creature while I examine the circle! Tell me all you know, I will try to find a way to send it back to its native plane!"
Using his obsidian staff as an anchor as he struggles across the floor, the wizard gets close enough to lay eyes upon the magic circle. Even as he does so, he calls out in a strange language none have ever heard from his lips, addressing the trapped creature.
Torvi isn't rushing in, quite yet. She figures she has spells and a song to use from here, until a clear threat to fight is identified.
The shining creature turns its gaze to Dasur, and his cloak bursts into flames . As it speaks, the stone walls crack and rivulets of molten stone trickle from the cracks. "Release me from this torment, life-child. Break these bonds. Send me back to the LIGHT, to the SKY."
It occurs to Dasur that the magic circle is containing the creature's power, and that unleashing it without care could be quite destructive regardless of the creature's intentions.
Gunnar, the rod of gunzarak seems more like an antenna or magical focus of some sort than a lever. Magic from the machine might be focused into the rod.
"Naarah, thou blasted fool!" grumbles Gunnar, pushing through the wind and towards the device. "What manner of fiery madness didst thou bring forth?"
With the protective spell quickly giving way, he slams a gloved hand against the device and quickly whispers the name of an unusual god for dwarves, but one respected by tinkerers everywhere.
"Brigh, I beseek thy insight!"