Harvald leads the expedition through the expedition through Fasturvalt, not pausing to explain several of the strange sights in svirfneblin town. He takes the group north, following the Snabbinflod, and then west, crossing over a carved stone bridge over a canal that diverted the swift river into a lake at the western end of the cavern. The lake appeared to be the main source of the foul smell in the cavern. Hundreds of clumps of bioluminescent algae float on the surface, giving the water a sickeningly pale green glow.
The town square is a large open area paved with what appear to be soft white mushroom caps. All of the buildings are carved from fine quality marble, the likes of which could only be afforded by nobility on the surface. This area is abuzz with activity, with svirfneblin hurrying from place to place, stopping to socialize, or buying toadstools or pale eyeless fish from street vendors. As the expedition moves through the center of town, a hush falls over the crowd. Large pale eyes follow the strange group as they continue north.
A natural staircase leads to the second rise and this is where the group must abandon the carriage. A pair of the rescued guards offers to watch over it while the explorers visit Lord Geirni's Hold. A top this rise is another line of buildings which sit in front of a massive set of natural pillars that rise all the way to the ceiling of Fasturvalt. Stained by minerals seeping in from above, these columns are a rainbow of brilliant colors – red, ochre, vermillion, and blue. Into these columns, the svirfneblin have carved the faces of their deities: young and old, wise and petulant, man and woman.
Beyond this holy site is the Hall of the House Geidne. Easily the largest and most imposing structure in Fasturvalt, a pair of guards stand at attention at the front door. They call out to the dwarven explorers as they approach: "Kuka lähestyy? Mikä on yrityksesi Lordi Geidne Geirison, hän puhuu totta mutta hitaasti?"
Bali bows, and then rises with a friendly smile, then looks to her companions.
Reginald steps forward has herald. He replies in flawless gnome. The sons of Clam Tarnhammer have come for audience. We bear gifts from the surface world and wish to discuss certain topics with his Lordship
One of the guards narrows his eyes and points at Ivy and the skis'raal captive. "Why do you have a spider and what is she doing here?"
Witnesses to certain matters by are best left to your Lord's ears. Reginald says, daring the lowly guard to press the issue.
Pravic leans towards Grimdahl and whispers, Guess I didn't consider bringing a gigantic spider and an exile to the governor's hall might not have been the best idea... at least for getting past the guards. You think the drow are in there right now?
He doesn't know exactly what his companions are saying as they speak the strange language, but when he recognizes they might be talking about their prisoner, he gives a scowl and shakes his hammer in the direction of the spider.
Nurin allows the others to speak for the Tharnhammer line even though he could understand the Gnomish language just as well. He makes a show of prodding the spider with his axe, just to show it is under their control.
The guard glowers at Reginald, but ultimately relents and ushers the party into the hold.
Inside, a short atrium leads directly into a large columned hall with a great fire pit at the center and the almost comically oversized throne of the svirfneblin lord at the far end. The walls are adorned with richly made tapestries and banner woven of fungus fibers and even surface silk some of which are older than the town itself. The fire pit burns low, the flames fed by mushroom bark. It is well lit by Underdark standards, dry, and a little smokey.
The room is currently unoccupied. The guard motions to a couple racks towards the entrance before taking his leave. "Please hang your cloaks and arms here. No weapons are permitted in the presence of Lord Geirni. Please wait here while I summon his lordship."
Once the request to disarm is translated, Pravic bristles.
I'll not leave our prisoner here without threat of instant death should it decide not to cooperate. Once ye know the evidence we bring to yer lord, ye'll understand we are here to be allies. I'll leave my shield if it makes ye feel better. Ye can even put a few of yer guards around me to make sure I don't cause trouble.
Pravic removes his cloak and unstraps his shield from his muscled arm. Setting it near the racks, he holds his hammer in front of him, pointed at the spider. He is careful not to make any sudden movements that might make the deep gnomes nervous.
Bali chuckles to herself at Pravic as she similarly disarms herself, keeping her mug in hand.
Nurin grumbles at being disarmed, but when he sees Bali give up her weapon, he begins dropping his dagger and throwing axe on the rack. He looks hard at the gnome before setting down Grunwald's axe. He grabs the Sskis'raal again. "Don't think just because I'm weaponless that you're out of any danger. With just a word I can send acid and lightning through you. You do what we say and tell the Lord of the Drow plan." He pushes the spider forward.
Reginald walks to the rack and, 'midst the many mighty weapons of his kin, places a single leather strap.
Knivey Ivy placed her crossbow on the weapon rack. She then looked around and slowly drew six knives from various locations on her body, and then backed up to stand with the party.
We do not have the time to quibble over the captive, while the Lord's life is in danger the stern Dwarf said. He hastily surrendered his spear, sling and warhammer and was keen to prevent any Drow treachery.
Grimdahl nods imperceptibly to his brother: She's telling the truth. He takes a long drag on his cigar. Dwarves are traditionally not impressed with thieves, even more so those who steal from their lord; but he's been away long enough to be aware of the fact that other races (especially humans) take a more relaxed view of such matters. In his view, Ivy has been mistreated.
Part of the druidic faith involves balance, restoring the order of things. Breathing out a cloud of smoke, Grimdahl addresses the young svirfneblin girl: "I'm fairly sure we brought some candy on our wagon, among other things. If it doesn't make it to the lord here, well, lots of things go missing on a journey..." He doesn't see a need to consult with the others on this; there's plenty of other things (including the oxen) to offer as a gift to this lord.
Grimdahl has no idea what anyone is saying, and is wondering whether he can get someone to teach him Gnomish and/or Undercommon; he can tell he's going to be at a significant disadvantage without them. As matters are translated, he shrugs: he has power other than the purely martial. Lifting his masterwork scimitar and other items from his person, he places them with the others.
As he does so, he takes a look around, either for clues of the drow or that matters are not all that they should be.
After a few moments, Ingrid places her precious axe on the rack. The shield is even harder to let go - as she places it beside her axe, she feels powerless.
Lord Geirni and a male drow arrive shortly after, with guards in tow, two gnomes and two drow.
Geirni is stout for a gnome with large, watery eyes. A violet tunic and a brown fur shawl give him a a lordly appearance despite his stature and somewhat vacant gaze. A heavy golden pendant bearing the sigil of his house.
The drow also has the bearing of a noble. He is young, handsome, and well-dressed in a crimson overcoat over a puffy spider-silk shirt and dark leather breeches and boots. He holds a slender cane topped by a red crystal flower. His guards are outfitted in ornate leather armor.
Geirni strides to his throne to sit before holding audience. The deep gnome lord gazes down at the dwarves from his comically over-sized throne, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. The drow stands at the side of the hall opposite the dwarves, smirking.
"The hall of Geidne bids you welcome, dwarfkind. What brings you to my hold?" As his name suggests, Geirni speaks slowly.
Reginald, to his credit, doesn't even flinch when the Drow walk in. He remains the very form of courtesy and respect as be waits for his Lords to do the talking, or give him permission to so.
Pravic steps forward boldly, bowing in respect to the gnome, holding back his sneer for the drow as best he can in the interest of diplomacy for the moment.
He takes a deep breath, and begins speaking deliberatly, and more smoothly than he typically might around his kin.
M'lord Geirni, we have come for aid, though our task has changed between the time we set out originally, and now. While at first we set our sites on Fastervault in the hopes that our old allies would be able to aid us, it seems there is business that must be taken care of first.
We believe we have uncovered a plot against yer life, and against the best interest of this underground city.
He nods to Reginald, Please, fill in the details where necessary. I do not want to leave anything to mis-understanding.
At that, he prods the battered spider forward. Speak, Skis-raal, tell your tale, and let yer victim's kin judge ye.
Bali bows and smiles at Geirne. My Lord, we have come to your hold to make acquaintances with you and your other guests. Bali nods towards the Drow Elf, trying her hardest not to choke on her subtly building rage. Perhaps we can start by discussing our most precious belongings. Bali lifts her mug for all to see and grins widely. And perhaps over a drink from those belongings! Indeed, it would be an honor.
Azraak scuttles forward and confesses to the murder of Sheriff Gunther and claims that he and his brothers were paid by the drow to ambush the hapless deep gnomes.
Lord Geirni stares at the skis'raal, eyes wide from the shock, while it relates the news of Gunther's death. When he is finished, Geirni stands up and commands that the skis'raal be imprisoned to await his punishment. When that is done, the deep gnome lord turns to the dwarven expedition. "This is a tragedy for all of Fastervalt. Gunther was a beloved figure, even if he did disobey me." He gestures to the drow standing off to the side. "This is Garius Malathorn, an ambassador from the Baroness of Vothys. He wants to build an embassy in my town. Garius, do you have something to say about these accusations?"
Malathron glides across the floor to stand beside the guards and bows low, the slimy smile never leaving his face. When he speaks, his voice is soft and every word seems like it is drenched in honey. "My dear lord Geirni, we mourn with you the loss of this svirfneblin hero. Even though we never met, he seems a kindred spirit. But to blame us for his death? Preposterous! I neither travel nor consort with giant spiders, my lord, and of course neither I nor my mistress the Baroness had anything to do with this wicked crime. I would ask these strange newcomers that counted the skis'raal amongst their number if they know more of this tragedy or if they simply want to start trouble."
The drow offers the dwarves a sly smile and Geirni looks expectantly to the Tharnhammers.
Point of fact. Reginald politely interrupts, As they are worshipers of the Spider Queen, the Drow, as a rule, DO consort with giant spiders on a regular basis. They could not resist the lure of plotting with their one of their Goddeses favored species, had they known of the Sisk'ral's presence.
Nurin watches silently as the Drow has the gall to deny their involvement after the testimony by the Skis'raal. He glances at the others and at the gnomes who were part of the sheriff's contingent. Surely we can't let this liar have his say!
The environment of Lords, Great Halls, and politics has muted the dishonored dwarf however. This wasn't a setting he was comfortable in.
Having, at least in his own eyes, proved his worth in battle, the stern Lothar had little to add, instead apparently content to keenly; and obviously, observe the Dark Elf before him.
Pravic, completely distrustful of the Drow, searches for some clue that would give his party an upper hand in the discussions.
Bah, I should have figured ye'd have fallen to the honeyed words of the drow.
Before ye take the spider away, ye didn't think we'd have come all this way without any evidence? But first I must ask, if ye haven't seen a dwarf in these halls in an age, as evidence by the looks we received on our way in, why would we suddenly show up out of nowhere, at precisely the time when yer halls are about to be overrun by drow? Its because in our travels, we came upon yer kin, who are here with us now. They were beset by this spider, and his 2 companions, who are now both dead. Our hearts were moved by their story, and a dwarf doesn't forget an ally, even though centuries pass.
Pravic stands in his most regal posture, as he might speaking to a congregation of his kin, his words heavily emphasizing the former friendship between the deep gnomes and the dwarves.
Before ye listen to another of the sweet lies the drow drips into yer ears, at least take a look at this, Pravic says, motioning to pull the gnome poison out to show. Are there any yet who oppose the drow in yer court? I suspect they are about to be poisoned by yer company here. I would be willing to bet there is much more of this... vile, evil liquid in their belongings. Even if ye don't believe me and my kin, I would think it would be prudent to at least verify the motives of yer new, 'friends'.
Malathorn sighs and offers a placating gesture to Geirni. "Long have my people endured such slander. It is true that criminal elements have done horrid deeds in the past, but is that not true of all free peoples? Are we to be held accountable for their crimes and made to appear as villains for something we did not do? The dwarves come here with a single vial of poison and claim that the drow are going to murder you. Where is the proof? Where is justice, noble Lord Geirni?"
I have lived and studied for over 600 years, my Lord. In all that time, I have only once heard of a Drow honoring the spirit and intent of his word. All evidence suggests that this is not one of those times. Dwarves do not forget.
Grimdahl scowls. They should have brought along a bard, or diplomat. He lacks skill with words, but he has insight. The lord distrusts them, and is slow of speech. Let's start there, he thinks to himself.
Motioning for Master T'jener to translate, Grimdahl opens his speech in the Common tongue:
"My lord, they call you slow of words. It is no insult. The world would be better if more thought before they spoke. I, too, am slow of speech. I watch, and observe the nature of things."
He pauses. "I know this much: individuals may change. I have hopes for example that Ivy here - " he gestures to the svirfneblin girl " - may learn the difference between what is hers and what is not. But a race?" He scoffs. "A race is what it is. It is its nature."
Grimdahl turns and fixes Lord Malathorn with a glare: "I know you, drow. I know your nature. It is to exult in lies, to rejoice in the death of innocents. It is to worship demons." Turning back to Geirni, the druid continues, but not before pulling from under his jerkin his holy symbol: a rock of meteoric iron with a hole in it, on a leather cord.
"I believe in Earth and Stone. This is my symbol. What is yours, drow? Show us. Let your guards show theirs. You follow demons, you worship those who slay without question, without remorse. It is your nature. My Lord Geirni, put your trust in Earth and Stone, not in the honeyed, lying, words of demon worshippers."
Spent at this long (for him) speech, Grimdahl resumes his watch, gazing at the drow for signs of trouble.
Nurin opens his mouth to speak several times, his brain moving quickly and finding up facts against the Drow faster than his mouth can form correct words. Anyone watching him sees only him open and close his mouth like a fish, however. When he finally finds the courage to speak, he says, "Why have Gnome's Bane poison if not to plan to use it?"
Malathorn throws up his hands. "The courtesy of your hall has diminished of late, noble Lord Geirni. Thus must I depart. Regardless to show that we hold no grudges, I was instructed by the Baroness to give you this gift. Obtained at great cost from the surface, it is merely a token of our esteem.”
With this, Malathorn presents a brightly wrapped box. Lord Geirni rips it open and inside sees a box of beautiful hard candy. The gnomish lords eyes light up. “Candy! I so rarely get it down here.” For a moment, the gnomish lord expressed almost child-like glee. The drow emissary bows low and then takes his leave, his guard falling into step behind him.
After all we have spoken to ye about the poison these Drow carry, yer still going to take that from him? And for someone who seemed so intent in setting up an embassy, to run away scared as soon as someone stands up to him, that doesn't raise any red flags m'lord? Yer smarter than that sir! Use yer gnomish noggin!
My lord, Reginald says in a low voice to Pravic, forget not that we have our own gifts to give.
Reginald, could you please present our gift to the Lord?
Reginald bows, As you wish, my lady.
He retrieves the bounty he had secured from the Tarnhammer larders on the surface. It's a trifle to the surface world, but made sure it delighted the lightless races. He brings it forward and lays it out for display, making sure to emphasize the rarity and value of each as he does so including the advantages each might have beyond simply eating them.
Geirni's face positively glows as the treats are presented. "It would appear that I have misjudged you. I do not trust dwarf-folk. My people have suffered for too long at the hands of duergar. You are welcome to stay in Fasturvalt for as long as you like. Is there anything else?"
Ingrid smiles somewhat at Reginald's presentation. This was how she remembered him - clearly the old dwarf was in his element right now.
She remains silent at Geirni's words, waiting for others to speak.
Pravic swallows the ire in his heart before he says something that jeopardizes the entire mission. Instead he speaks calmly, trying to remove some of the fiery emotion that could potentially put the gnome lord off.
duergar He says with derision, spitting on the ground at the same time. Don't ye compare us to those wretched, cruel slavers. Just because we are all technically dwarves doesn't mean we are all the same.
Grimdahl clears his throat "Master T'jener, please would you advise the Lord that the candy offered by the drow is poisoned. He need not take my word for it; I am sure that he has his own retinue who are able to cast the same spell that I just have. If he would like us to bring the drow back to face justice, I would be more than happy to oblige."
He scowls. The idea of letting a drow walk away to set up Earth-knows-what sort of ambush later on is not appealing.
Ivy leans in behind Pravic and Grimdahl, and stands on her toes. She very quietly whispers in their ears. We must not forget all of the evidence of Gnome's Bane we found. Even now a Drow army could be on the march equipped with the poison. The dunce won't listen to me, but maybe you could convince him to be on alert at the very least.
Her bright eyes followed the Drow parties trail as they left.
Reginald relays Grimdhal's message.
Duergar share only physical characteristics with us. You will find the same relationship between Drow and Elves. Both the Duergar and Drow should be dealt with using extreme caution. I don't doubt that these...emissaries are only here to further their own ambitions. It would be wise of you to find council with your fellows here in Fasturvault regarding the "gifts" the Drow have given you. They should also inspect this foul liquid and seek its properties. I assure you it is of Drow make.
Geirni lets the poisoned candy fall to the ground, his face twisting into a mixture of remorse and anger. "Poison? Who would ruin some perfectly good candy with poison?" He stares at the fallen sweets, a genuine look of loss showing on his. Then, he blinks twice and remembers that he has guests. "Yes, right. Could you arrest them for me? Sheriff Gunther took care of that sort of thing when he was alive."