Reginald mutters a few arcane words and a the rock under the scorpion above Ingrid becomes dangerously slick.
Seeing the scorpions laying in wait, Ivy lifts up her crossbow and takes aim, knowing she wont be much help crowding around the rope to get down.
The stone beneath the scorpion's legs turns slick from Reginald's spell and the two creatures fall from their perch. One crashes into the stair, its carapace cracking from the impact. The other manages to land on its feet, looking slightly dazed by the fall. It lashes out with its stinger at Pravic, while the other lurches back onto its legs. The point punches through the paladin's armor.
Grimdahl gestures, and the surrounding plants come to life, wrapping around the two scorpions.
Grimdahl points at the scorpion not in combat; a dart of acid lances towards it.
Seeing the stairs clogged with people, Nurin runs up and hurls a throwing axe towards the scorpions. "Get away, you damned bugs!"
Pravic shakes off the poison and just growls at the blind bugs.
"Stupid Vermin..." he mutters, pulling out his war hammer and taking a swing.
for
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"Stupid they may be, but it looks like they got you!" Ingrid calls to Pravic, drawing her axe and bringing it down on the scorpion before her.
Lothar hurled his spear at the closest scorpion, irritated that he had not seen the ambush coming. The spear clattered against the floor, utterly missing. Lothar then moved into melee with his targeted foe...
A combination of Nurin and Ingrid's axes smash one of the scorpions. The other backs down the stairway slowly, lashing at Pravic with claws and stinger. Both claws catch the paladin, crunching armor and breaking skin.
Nurin pumps his fist as he sees his throwing axe sink into the scorpion. He looks down to see the other scorpion crunch into Pravic. With all the others on the stairs, he opts for magic instead, pointing at the scorpion and sending a glob of acid at it.
Realising that he isn't equipped for direct combat with a scorpion - and, more importantly, that he's blocking the way for those who are - Grimdahl carefully steps away from the melee and back toward the rest of the group.
Pravic grunts as the scorpion lands a solid blow, but shrugs it off and otherwise shows nothing for the sharp pain the gash has caused. He wades in closer to the gigantic insect, making room for someone else to get close and swinging his hammer hard.
for
Seeing an opportunity, Bali closes in and swings at the creature furiously.
Grimdahl's decision to step out of the melee is prudent, as it allows Bali to step in and smash the other scorpion with one overhead swing. Bits of carapace and goo splatter everywhere, coating the cavern wall and closest doors. Messy, but doubtlessly effective.
Reginald grunts in approval. Well done, young warriors. Your tactics were sound and were executed well. Now, who feels like climbing? I'd rather not have cave scorpions at our back as we explore.
Nurin retrieves his throwing axe from the scorpion's corpse and tries to help anyone looking to climb up to the cave. "Once you're up, you can lower a rope down for everyone else."
Unfortunately, Nurin's help is less than adequate, as he restricts the climbers movements as much as he helps boost them.
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Pravic grunts, still smarting from the slashing he took from the now dead scorpion.
"Aye, clean out the dung hill if you want, but we should keep moving."
He wraps a bandage around the wound, resets his armor, hefts his shield and warhammer, and waits until the group is ready to push further into the jungle.
Grimdahl nods in assent. He's in the lightest armour, so he can climb easily. "Good thing we brought rope" is his only laconic remark.
Seeing nothing left to do but keep on, Bali begins to descend to the cavern floor to inspect the small river.
Bali notices that beyond the veil of the waterfall, there is a small cavern.
Looking back over her shoulder Bali signals the group with a wave. There's something over here...
Grimdahl slightly alters the balance of nature by stomping on the eggs, ensuring that they are completely destroyed before he descends to re-join the others.
"All alright? Where to now?"
Nurin comes over to help Bali inspect the waterfall. "Hey, she's right. There's a cavern back here."
Lothar picked up his tossed spear.
"No harm in exploring it while we're here? Might be a good bolt-hole if we need to spend a night out here..." the powerfully built Dwarf suggested.
"Not a bad plan," Ingrid nods. "Always good to have the known at our backs rather than a mystery."
"Watch my back. " Bali clambers over to the waterfall and peers in.
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Pravic follows Bali towards the waterfall, just in case something jumps out at her. His warhammer remains drawn.
I wonder what is inside? With the roar of this water, it wouldn't be to hard to sneak up on whoever is in there...
Grimdahl shakes his head at his companions' inability to scout properly. It's really not something you can teach - it's just something you learn, by spending hours and hours at a time silent, still, watchful. Most dwarves just don't have the patience to be really good observers. He hates to admit it, but elves and fey really do have the advantage there.
Stepping forward, he moves with his cousin Bali to the waterfall, doing his best to see what's there.
The cavern is damp, but well-sized, able to comfortably fit the Tharnhammer party. Its ceiling is adorned with a few fragile soda straw formations that are stained blood red thanks to iron filtered through the stone. The floor is strewn with a few bones where once a predator laired. Amongst the bones is a strange corpse, a mushroom-shaped humanoid with arms and legs.
Beyond, the Fungal Jungle awaits.
Nurin goes to check the odd corpse. "Have you ever seen anything like this? It's a mushroom creature." He searches for any belongings.
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"Anything useful Nurin? If not, we should be pressing onward. We can make up some time before settling down to rest next."
Pravic hoists his pack, his warhammer dangling from his side as he looks around at the cavern walls.
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Reginald identifies the corpse as belonging to a myceloid, an enigmatic race of fungus-like creatures that bear a resemblance to humans, except for their mushroom cap heads. They are extremely rare on the surface world, preferring to stay underground among their own kind.
Turning to his kin, "We've got a lot of ground to cover, and only guesses as to which way is the best. What say we head north, and see what we can find on that mountain. If we can get high enough, we might just be able to get a better view of the area."
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Grimdahl nods, silently. It's as sensible an option as any other.
North it is, then. Hefting his pack back onto his shoulders, he walks in front, eyes - and ears - open for trouble.
Reginald tells what he knows about the myceloid. Better get used to seeing stuff like this. Myceloids are not the only odd race of the deep.
He then shoulders his pack and starts off toward the northern high ground.
Nurin looks at Reginald and merely nods. He looks back down to the mushroom corpse. "Definitely odd." He stands and joins the others heading north.
"Let's continue on. Unless we intend to rest."
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The druid looks solemnly at Master T'jener. "I see our youth are becoming soft. Best find Dammerhall while they still call themselves dwarves."
Grimdahl can't quite resist the jibe, but there's no malice in it. He flashes his younger cousin a quick half-smile.
"I'm sure we can all keep going. We have strength in our bodies, and faith in our hearts. Let's see what the higher ground shows." Agreeing with the general consensus, Ingrid removes her helm briefly to scratch at her scalp, before following the others.
Nurin catches the jest and laughs. "Don't worry. I'm sure we can carry the load if the elderly cannot!" He follows the others to the north.
A day passes as the Tharnhammers press into the Fungal Jungle. Mushrooms, molds, and ropey vines press in from all sides, giving the massive cavern a claustrophobic feel. The vast majority of these are 'treeshrooms,' enormous red-brown mushrooms that tower overhead.
When passing underneath a smaller (30 ft), wider white mushroom with an inverted cone-shaped cap, an unusual phenomena occurs. A distant thunder rumbles from above, like the sound of thousands of heard animals moving together. When stepping out from underneath the mushroom, the noise disappears.
The thundering noise itself is actually many miles away. The cap of the mushroom catches sound and amplifies it, sending it down the stalk. Some clever races have been known to grow these mushrooms as a instrument of defense, as they can pick up the sound of marching feet from many miles in the distance.
Finally, the flesh of a funnel's cap can be used to augment spells that use the power of sound to destructive effect.
Grimdahl, despite himself, is quietly awed by the majesty of the subterranean jungles of the Azathyr. There is nothing comparable in the sunlit lands, and he is aware of vast gaps in his knowledge, despite years - decades - of patient study.
So it comes as something of a relief to the druid to be able to confidently recognise some of the features they pass by: "These red-brown mushrooms are properly known as Agaricus fantaforus. They grow at an incredible 1-2 feet per day, making them a wonderful renewable resource for the races of the Azathyr. You normally harvest them half-way through their maturity: the stalks are cut into boards and dried, producing a wood as strong as cedar and as flexible as bamboo." He's not sure if his fellow dwarves even know what 'cedar' or 'bamboo' even are, so he moves swiftly on. "They are also remarkably fire resistant."
He moves swiftly back to the front, hoping that nobody will ask him what's causing the thundering noise. If anyone asks, he looks severely at them, with a "shushing" movement, and indicates the potentially hostile territory they are in.
Reginald is experiencing a kind of internal change. A... Settling. A release of stress he didn't know he was experiencing. Walking beneath the world again was doing wonders for his soul. He felt younger, lighter. A hundred years were slowly falling from him as he walked these lands.
He appreciates Grimdhal's lesson. A quiet smile settles onto his face. If there was one passion that remained for him in this world, it was learning.
Dammerhall used few of these in my day. Stone was used to shore up stone for construction, a rather inefficient method, but staunchly traditional. Mosses and dung were preferred for fires. Other less suited species of mushroom filled various other needs.
It was known that the Royal line used their resources, especially these wonderous plants, inefficiently. Wastefully. They took this stalk's fast growth for granted, and began to cut it too early. This stunned the growth and, eventually, after many decades, the forests supplying the Throne were gone.
He looks pointedly at the present Tarnhamners and his student, Nurin. Remember this lesson.
When Grimdahl is less forthcoming about the cone mushroom, he takes over the lesson. This exotic mushroom is called agaricus boletus audiere or the 'funnel'. Subsisting on the vibrations of sound as much as nutrients from the soil they grow from, they can range in size from a child's finger to the giant we stand beneath.
The thundering noise itself is actually many miles away. The cap of the mushroom catches sound and amplifies it, sending it down the stalk. Some clever races have been known to grow these mushrooms as a instrument of defense, as they can pick up the sound of marching feet from many miles in the distance.
Finally, the flesh of a funnel's cap can be used to augment spells that use the power of sound to destructive effect.
He keeps an eye on Nurin as he teaches and watches for signs of understanding.