"I suppose I can hold onto it for now but someone else might have more use of it later. Hopefully we wont need it."
Bastian attempts to explain the sleeping threat to the others without being too loud, "Some kind of animal or animals is sleeping in the room beyond. I would prefer if we didn't have to kill wolves for being wolves, but if we must to get the ironblooms... Perhaps we can just sneak by?"
"Let's hope that we just don't wake it"
'Makes sense if we're not going to go drive it out.' Dugan casts a last longing look toward the side room and returns to the hall. The dwarf makes his way to the double doors down the hall.
The double doors hang open on rusting, cracked hinges to reveal a badly neglected dwarven shrine.
Pews of darkwood lie tipped over on either side of this ancient shrine.
At the far end sits a large ceremonial anvil, but its surface is defaced and ruined.
Dust is layered thickly across every surface, yet patches of fungus grow rampant across some of the rear walls.
"Let's see if any of the fungus is the Ironbloom." Inconnu still keeps his sword to hand as the dead do not rest easily in this forgotten place.
Dugan frowns when he spots the defaced altar. He approaches the anvil and slowly rests a hand on it's surface. 'I'm beginning to worry they were driven out. Maybe those poor sods in the cells were trying to hide out in there and got stuck. Terrible way to go.'
While not a particularly religious sort, Dugan whispers a prayer to any Dwarven gods who might still be listening. Touareg, Angus, Coal, and Flagrant... I think, whatever souls left the mortal world from this place, I hope they found their way to your halls.
Joanne checks the large anvil
The anvil-shaped shrine was clearly defaced long ago, as evidenced by the chipping, scoring, and vandalism inflicted upon it.
Additionally, the top of the shrine bears five small, empty depressions.
Other messages seem to venerate someone called Droskar.
One axiom, carved in very deep runes, declares "Toil is our only salvation."
A cruel taskmaster, this god is often seen as a mocking inversion of traditional dwarven values - espousing the act of creation as an endless obligation, without thought to quality, originality, or pride.
A sizeable colony of mosses and fungus has flourished at the base of the anvil, among which grow three large Ironbloom Mushrooms.
As Joanne peers around the anvil, she is briefly started by a flash of movement from behind the shrine.
Some small animal scampers under an overturned pew and hides there, whimpering.
”This is...a shrine to Torag? Huh. Well, at least we have some mushrooms here. One more gift from the forge father.”
Joanne curiously looks for the animal.
Half expecting to find Dugan's fox friend lurking under the pew, instead Joanne discovers a small dog curled up in fear.
Its fur is ragged, and it is likely only a couple months old. However, it does not appear to be wolfkin. Perhaps it is the pup of some local wild or stray mutts?
Dugan notices Joanne peering around the anvil and leans around the other side of the shrine. Spotting the small dog, he chuckles softly. 'These woods are crawling with all kinds of helpless creatures. Want me to lift that bench off him or should we leave him be?'
The cur whimpers and curls up against the rear of its hiding place.
Inconnu takes a little bit of jerky from his rations and from a distance with jerky offers it to the animal... he doesn't want to risk being bitten!
Ulark is still here.
Dugan hunkers down next to Inconnu and begins clicking his tongue at the small creature, trying to appear welcoming.
The dog creeps forward, its head lowered and tail between its legs.
It sniffs the jerky in Inconnu's hand and wrinkles its black nose a little. It looks between the bard and the dwarf before gingerly grabbing the proffered food.
Quick as a bolt of lightning, the dog suddenly darts away. It runs out into the hallway, and you can hear its paws padding through the main doors into the yard.
'I think he liked you more than me.' Dugan stretches back to his full height and claps Inconnu on the back 'Or maybe he just wanted the food'
The dwarf makes his was to the door to the south and looks it over.
"It'd be the food I suspect... or maybe you're just the first dwarf shaped thing he's seen that can move."
Inconnu casts detect magic, so see if there are any magical auras in the room.
”Well so long as it does not eat mushrooms. Speaking of which, we should find as much as we can before heading back.”
Inside the shrine , Inconnu detects a very faint resonance of magic from the anvil-shaped altar.
He cannot discern any function or effect, but he suspects the empty depressions on the surface may be related. Perhaps something is missing?
At the far end of this hallway, there are two doorways on opposing sides.
The door to your left is still closed, but on the right the doorway yawns open.
The double doors leading into this chamber are splintered and broken, one of them lying on the floor.
The room beyond is in an equal state of disrepair. What was once a library is now a shattered mess with one corner being completely collapsed and dominated by a wide pool of stagnant water.
Thick fungus grows on most of the books that still remain on the shelves lining the walls.
As Ulark examines the moldering books on the rickety shelves, he disturbs a thick colony of mold, sending up a cloud of spores.
The cloud induces a brief fit of coughing and choking. He stumbles while trying to catch his breath and bumps into a tall shelf.
A thick book with metal bindings, looking quite intact, tumbles off the top and lands with a heavy thud on a dry patch of ground, launching another plume of dust and mold into the noxious air.
Ulark withdraws back into the hallway to catch his breath, and after few moments he has recovered himself, feeling no lasting ill effects.
During his search, however, Ulark does not observe any ironbloom mushrooms. It is likely that this other, quite toxic fungus has prevented any of the mineral-dependent ironblooms from growing in this dead library.
As the walk out of the shrine. "I think there's a missing part of the altar or something, there's a faint magical aura coming from it but it doesn't appear to be active or functional."
He pats Ulark on his back "Take any time you need. We've made good progress so far at least, skeletons and all."
Ulark nodded as he fought the urge to throw up. He went through his pack looking for water. ”Never...eugh...thought looking for mushrooms would be so dangerous.”
Dugan waits patiently until Ulark has recovered and appears ready to keep going before checking the other door down this hallway.
The dirt and dust on the floor betrays that this, the last door of this arm of the monastery, has seen frequent use - and recently.
The door is locked, yet that proves to be little impediment as whoever has been lately lurking around this place has actually left the key in the lock!
With a click, the ancient lock allows the door to easily swing outward.
Beyond, this small chamber appears to be some sort of sitting room, complete with a single table and a pair of chairs, both in relatively good condition.
Resting atop the table is a half-eaten crow next to a crude knife and a cracked mug.
Set in the room's right hand wall is another door.
Dugan stops anyone from blundering inside, though, as he quickly notices a crude tripline running along just inside the room.
His eyes trace the rope, and he discovers a net strung from the ceiling, ready to drop a number of stones and even a small black iron anvil on unsuspecting intruders.
'Watch your step here, looks like someone's been protecting their home.' Dugan carefully steps over the tripwire and makes his way to the table. He places a bare hand on the crow, trying to tell if it's still warm.
Inconnu carefully examines the door making sure it or it's lock aren't trapped. If they aren't he'll remove the key. "I don't want whoever it is coming back and locking us in."
Surprisingly, the crow carcass is still warm, but just barely.
Likely, this was something's breakfast this morning. Tiny bits of bone, feather, and gristle are scattered across the tabletop.
Inconnu can hear shrill snoring emanating from the adjoining room, beyond the closed door.
"There's someone snoring in the next room, we could remove any weapons from the area just in case they are deciding not to be friendly." He keeps his voice low so as not to disturb the sleeping person.
”Agreed. Though who could it be? Are there any dwarves left?” He mused as he went to work.
There is not much here that could be lethal, but the party errs on the side of caution.
The crude cutlery on the table and even any particularly large sticks and bones are confiscated and discarded, lest they be troublesome later.
Joanne reminds everyone to be wary of the tripwire, in the meantime.
'Dwarf snores are usually deeper than that. Suppose we knock and introduce ourselves?' Dugan offers quietly.
"I'll meet you halfway, we'll knock but no waiting for a response... no need to give a potential enemy time to get their weapon and put armour on. But giving some warning would come across a tad less aggressive than just standing there with weapons drawn and poking them."
After knocking, you push the door open to reveal a small, cramped room with two beds.
The occupant of one bed is startled awake by your entrance.
The small, reptilian creature with yellowish eyes leaps up and screeches in fright.
It tumbles to the floor and climbs under the bed to hide.
The other bed is covered in a bizarre collection of bird bones, old stonemasonry tools, and a small burlap sack.
'He don't look like much.' Dugan says disappointedly.
"Sorry to disturb your sleep but we were wondering who you were... and if you knew anything about mushrooms?"
”We mean you no harm. It’s for medicine.” Ulark added with a toothy smile.
From under the bed, the creature barks plaintively in a strange language.
When no response comes - at least not one the creature can understand - it decides to make an escape.
You hear a rustling sound from beneath the bed.
Bending down to investigate, you find that he has removed a mound of moldy straw that was blocking a narrow hole in the base of the wall and has used this to make his escape.
Ulark shrugged. ”No idea what it was saying. At least it didn’t attack us. Let’s no get distracted. We need to find the mushrooms.”
"I'm not inclined to attack or pursue him either. Hopefully he gets the point from our actions."
"Let's just hope that his escape doesn't cause trouble."
Dugan grunts to himself as the small figure scrambles it's way out of the room. He shrugs and turns to leave, making sure to step over the trip wire, and walks down the hall to the unopened doors they passed earlier.
Dugan discovers an old cloak room, likely once used by visitors to the monastery long ago.
Only a few moth-eaten rags now hang from the wooden pegs along the walls, and a soiled hat sits upon a small table that has not yet collapsed.
In a corner of the room, Dugan discovers a few rusted nails and iron fittings that have served as fertilizer for a single ironbloom mushroom growing through the cracks in the stone.
This is the sixth ironbloom the party has found. Laurel will only need one more to formulate a cure for the Blackscour.
"It shouldn't be hard to find the last one surely, let's keep going and hope our new friend doesn't decide to stir up trouble for us." Inconnu is careful to avoid the tripwire as well.
'Unless he's gotten cozy with those wolves, I don't think we've seen much he could warn about our being here.' Dugan checks the facing door before attempting to open it.
Dugan finds that the illusive resident lurking around the monastery has not rigged the door.
However, when he attempts to push the door open, his shoulder crashes against the aged wood as it refuses to budge.
When Dugan is unable to force the door open, Ulark politely steps in and offers to try. His effort finds more success.
With a loud crack, the door finally gives way and opens, shattering an ancient wooden chair that had been propped against it on the other side.
The room beyond is dark and smells deeply of dust and decay.
A table dominates the center of the room, flanked by another chair - hosting the mummified remains of a dwarf.
The body is slumped upon the table. He wears the moldering remains of a blacksmith's garb, and a ragged-edged sheet of parchment is clutched in his stiff grasp.
”So...another undead dwarf? Let’s be careful in here so we don’t need to put down any more corpses. Though, I wonder if that parchment might shed some light onto what happened here?
'Surely they can't all get up and start moving again.' Dugan scoffs as he holds a hand over his mouth and brazenly steps into the room to retrieve the scrap of parchment.