"Enough of this vermin - all this exercise will tire out Master Talas," Baird said cheerfully, not having seen the spider descending on Vannah and Boreyn. Taking advantage of the wounded spider's preoccupation with its many attackers, he plunged his axe into the thinner area between its head and thorax.
Kurth brings his hammer crashing down on the spider.
Imperia piles on, swinging at the spider until it's paste on the floor.
After staring at the shadow for more than a second in confusion as it grows, Vannah turns her gaze upwards, seeing a large spider descending on herself and Boreyn. Noticing that Boreyn hadn't yet realised his peril, and was still in song, she begins to tug at his clothes, pointing upwards with her other hand, her eyes wide with fear.
Boreyn looks up in slight fear and stops singing, then focuses on this new enemy by murmuring a few words and then inhaling greatly, then suddenly a deafening sound like a greatly enhanced sound of sharpening swords is heard, but the new spider takes the brunt of it.
"No sneaking up on us! Fear the sounds of the deep forges!"
With Baird's axe lodged in the spider's throat, preventing it from moving, Kurth has an easy time using his hammer to separate its head from the remainder of its body. It slumps to the floor, long legs still twitching sporadically.
Upon hearing Boreyn begin shouting, everyone turns to see a second spider, suspended on strands of webbing, recoil in pain, and nearly fall. It manages to regain its footing, and moves further up to avoid another such scream, it looks around at those who have entered its lair, and its many eyes finally settle on the decapitated spider, whose white luminescent blood covers several of our heroes.
Knivy Ivy looks at it with distrust written all of her face. Walking towards Boreyn, should the spider descend again, she looks towards the older Dwarf, and speaks to her companions, though loud enough for the Skis'raal to hear, and in a language she knows it understands. As she speaks, she gestures behind to the webbed-up gnomes, hanging from the ceiling, awaiting for their fate.
Azraak: Dead
Skethyk: 6 Damage
"Eh? What's that? Do you mind translating for the rest of us, darling?"
"Yes, afraid I haven't studied that tongue," Talas calls in agreement with Kurth. He keeps his grip tight on his rapier, uncertain as to why they are not pressing the attack against the eight-legged horror.
He does follow the gesture Ivy makes up towards the webbed bundles. "Ah-- those look like the gnomes! Most excellent!"
"It's saying it wants to cut a deal," Baird said, nodding his respect to Kurth for the killing blow. He approached Boreyn as well, making sure he wasn't far from Talas. "It'll answer our questions if we let it live. Ivy there just told it that it wouldn't make a deal if the tables were turned." He shrugged. "Is there anything we want to know, anyway?"
Talas quirks a brow at Baird having picked up the language of the deeps. Well. That's... studious of him. Talas tries not to feel slightly insecure over the fact that "the boy" has a leg up on him.
"Hrmnf," he says aloud. "Yes, I somehow doubt it would be so merciful! That writing at the entrance, did the spiders do that? If so, it was extraordinarily threatening and I believe included the idea that we would be eaten for trespassing."
His gaze on the spider is cold. "I would make no bargains with a thing like this, myself. In any case, I am cutting down those poor gnomes."
Imperia nods at Baird. "She also said they're outcasts. I'd wonder what they're outcasts from. I wouldn't want to run into a whole city full of these things. But I wouldn't be averse to saying we'll spare them, talking, then finishing the job. They're clearly ambush murderers; they deserve a taste of their own."
Baird raised a hand to scratch his beard, then realized there was white blood all over it and lowered it again with a grimace. "That doesn't sit right with me. Everyone knows you can trust a dwarf's word," he said disapprovingly. "But we don't have to promise anything to hear where they're from first, and decide after."
He trailed after Talas, not putting his axe away just yet, but helping to bring down the gnomes.
Kurth thought about their dwindling supplies and the fact that they had no antitoxin. Torag understood strength. But he understood restraint as well. This battle was won. No point pressing it any farther.
"Hey, Ivy. Tell the vermin to turn tail and run. We won't follow. But if it tries anything funny, its life is forfeit."
Of course, Torag wasn't an idiot either.
"You don't want to follow up on that 'outcasts' thing?" Legion shrugged its massive shoulders as Imperia indicated her own indifference. She turned and addressed the creature in Undercommon. "Go. Anything here in your lair is forfeit in return for your life. We will be moving on shortly. I'm sure we won't be taking everything. Try to remember our faces in case we come back this way. It would be a waste if we just had to kill you in the future."
"I presume they are outcasts from some other tribe of horrible spider things," Talas says with plain distaste. "I'm not sure I want to know what crimes spider-kind might exile their own for..."
He supposes he had better learn the underground language, though. Tsk.
"Indeed... Exiling one's own kind is a harsh punishment, not seen that much, only for severe crimes or acts that go against their society. I'm not well-versed in spider communities however, so their crimes could be too aggressive of nature or too soft in nature, depending if their community was warlike or not."
As discussions are had, Baird and Talas begin to assist Ivy with cutting down the gnomes, herself being too short to be of much use. While the large spider cannot be too happy about what they are doing, it's hardly in a position to argue, and waits patiently (though not without the occasional outbursts of fear and sorrow) as the group deliberates among themselves.
Once threats are made, the situation easily rectifies itself, and the Skis'raal makes one last longing look towards its dead companion before beginning to retreat, muttering sorrowfully to itself.
Ivy scoffs as it moves away, clearly not feeling any compassion for the lone creature. Without giving it a second thought, she turns her attention to the bundles of webs being pulled down by Talas and Baird. With her dagger, she begins slicing the webbing quickly, but careful so as not to hurt anything underneath. Of the six captured gnomes, all of them are discovered to be alive, though more than slightly disoriented from the entire ordeal. Their initial responses are mostly groans, and tired (yet joyful) smiles at not being eaten. Only one of them moves to stand up nearly immediately, unsteadily as he is.
"Thank the gods you came along." He says with a nod to the adventurers. "My name is Harvald. We were attacked by a-" Upon seeing Ivy, his eyes light up some and he smiles. "Clever girl. I'd wondered if you had made it out." She only smiles in response, her dark eyes glittering in the cavern like jewels.
Harvald looks around the cavern to get a sense of his bearings, until his gaze comes to rest on the (still hanging) body of Gunther - a jagged cut across his throat. Harvald's eyes begin to well up with tears. "He was the greatest gnome I ever knew. He deserved better. Please, help him down?" As the group complies, Harvald walks slowly over to Gunther's body, and closes the gnome's eyes, before resting a hand on the man's chest and muttering a prayer in Gnomish. Picking up a badge from Gunther's chest (identifying the man as Sheriff), he turns and hands it to Ivy, who accepts it without either of them saying anything. He swallows hard, looking at the group. "My friends, we are weakened with hunger and strong poisons. If you could but let us rest a bit, and then be so kind as to escort us back to Fasturvalt, I can promise you a reward. The Lord must hear of what has happened here."
- A mithral ring with "G&E Forever" inscribed in Gnomish.
- A masterwork short sword.
- An iron key with the Gnomish character "A" engraved into it.
- Misc coins (mostly gnomish) worth roughly 77gp.
Spider Lair:
- A bag of 20gp. The coins are engraved with Elvish characters.
An old Dwarven Skeleton:
- One potion of Cure Light Wounds
- A Masterwork Greataxe engraved with a Dwarven runic "D" on it.
Baird poked Talas, then indicated for the elf to lean in close. "The spider mentioned an Azraak; does the name mean anything to you? And something about a bargain - I think it attacked the caravan because of it. What could anyone offer those bugs?"
As they divided what they had found, Baird poked a finger at Gunther's ring. "That will be a wedding ring, I expect. We'd best see that it gets to the Sheriff's wife." Squinting at one of the coins, he glanced at Ivy. "Does the name 'Satha, Baronness of Vothys' ring any bells?"
When his eyes fell on the greataxe, he knelt beside it, raising it reverently on his palms. "The work of Dammerhall," he breathed, his eyes hungry. Reluctantly, he stood and offered it to Boreyn, as if the old dwarf might bless it. "Our home leaves memories scattered in the most unlikely places to find, but at last they shall be called back, to live among us once again."
Talas swats at Baird's poking finger but dutifully peers close at the treasures.
"Azraak, you say? There was a name, Azaak, on the inscription when we came in. Well, I think it said Azaak. My grasp of the language is limited to deciphering some runes here and there-- I can't understand it spoken aloud.... but if I read the inscription right, I would guess that it was talking about its mate."
The thought of a bargain makes him arch his brows, but he looks to the skeleton instead, carefully divesting the old dwarf bones of scraps of spiderweb.
"Boreyn," he says softly, "should we do the funeral song of your people? Or perhaps we might carry these bones to Dammerhall, to place them to rest in the home this son of the earth was denied a return to."
"That is indeed a Dammerhall forging," Talas said admiringly, brushing the grime and dust and filth off the axe's curved blade with the bottom edge of his cloak as Baird holds it. "Look at the shine of the blade."
Kurth says a prayer to Torag for the dead.
"Dammerhall is too far to carry this dwarf sadly. But fret not, friend Talas. We dwarves are a pragmatic people, and he would not want to slow us down. But we'll return him to the stone, all the same. I only wish we had his name so that we could notify the family properly," Kurth says with a sigh.
"No matter. The stone remembers. And the stone endures. There are no mysteries to Torag. This one's soul is in his proper place. Of that I have no doubt."
Boreyn nods at Kurth's estimation.
"Indeed, it would be too great an effort now to carry him with us. Perhaps dangerous too for the same reasons Kurth gives, but also there might be creatures able to smell his corpse deep in these caves. We would be wise not to attract them yet."
Boreyn scrapes his old throat and begins humming a low tune, then in a soft and low hymn he starts chanting.
"Beneath the earth... Rock and Stone... Lies Dammerhall... Forges alit, the ring of steel, dwarves will hold our city fair. Though your life, has come to end, your deeds are known, to earth and time. We will hold you close, one last time, rest now in peace, our dwarven-kin..."
After that Boreyn looks up at the others.
"It's not what it sounds like anymore, no echoing grand halls or anything and we didn't have time for all 16 verses, but it's still an homage to all our fallen brethren. Hopefully I won't have to sing this again for one of us."
Kurth smiled at hearing the old song. Even if it was as sad an occasion as this.
Afterwards, Kurth felt a little odd looting the corpse of the Sheriff at first. But survival was their priority. And the gnomes themselves seemed to have no reservations about it. So with a shrug he got to it.
"Gather around fellows, and feel the blessings of Torag."
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Since no one else had addressed them, Imperia flips up Legion's faceplate and smiles at the gnome who had spoken. "Of course we can give you time to rest. We would be happy to accompany you to Fasturvalt. We're planning on traveling through; if we could get some recent information or especially good maps, that would be a great help."
Baird grumbled at leaving the dwarf behind, even with Boreyn's beautiful elegy. "He wouldn't slow us down. It's a sad day when a dwarf is left unburied, far from friendly hearth and home," he grumped, though he had no answer as to how to keep the smell of death from lingering about them.
Per This Knowledge, you also know that Fasturvalt has had some contact with the Drow before, but all knowledge suggests that this is not exactly close by for them.
Harvald smiles with thanks at Imperia. "Many thanks." He replies. "Of course, you shall have maps and information. It would be the least we can do."
Kurth's power is met with some skepticism, but afterwards the Gnomes are pleased to find how much more energy and strength they have. After a small ceremony is had, both for Gunther and for the Dwarven remains, a small fire starts going, and the Gnomes begin to cook spider-meat over the flame.
As the Gnomes feel more like themselves, they become more aware of the strangeness of their rescuers. "What's Torag?" one asks. "You aren't like any Dwarves we've ever seen." begins another. And a somewhat awkward silence falls when one points at Talas and says, "Wy is your skin so pale? Are you sickly?"
Imperia chuckles at the question directed at Talas. "I've often wondered that about his people, too." Her tone was amused, as she enjoyed poking fun at people. It was even funnier when someone else did it for her.
Having turned down an offer of spider-leg, Baird had still settled by the fire alongside the gnomes. "Aye, he's sickly and frail," he told them, waggling his hands as though they were about to drop off. "Almost as old as an old dwarf, but not nearly so hardy. Why, he can hardly drink an entire tun of beer! But don't let it fool you; he knows a thing or two about what's what." He put a finger alongside his nose and winked. "Secrets and sorceries, and tales old as time, he knows. Master Talas is the finest of a fine lot, and they..." he trailed off, suddenly looking uncomfortable. Maybe it was the look Talas was giving him, though it hadn't stopped him earlier.
"A funny lot, elves," he finished, scratching his beard. "You never know where you've got 'em, but they're there when you need 'em. As you can see!"
"All those that are loyal to one another are kin -- so teaches Torag," Kurth said sagely. "Elves may not be the most sturdy of folk, and they could certainly do with cooler heads. But they're loyal to friends. And that ain't nothing," he said with a teasing smile Talas' way.
He turned back to the gnomes.
"Torag is the patron God of the dwarves. But he looks after all goodly folk who toil for a better life. He is the Father of Creation. God of the Forge. He teaches us craftwork, tool-making, and strategy."
Kurth smiled.
"If you wish to know more, I can teach you."
Talas bows his head during the elegy. It's different, hearing the words sung properly, as opposed to merely reading them...
He nods slightly at Baird's estimation, but doesn't dispute the decision of the others. Instead he turns the drow coinage over in his fingers, thoughtfully.
"A drow coin, a drow name, though I do not know it beyond that. Let us pray we run into none of the foul... I won't call them 'elves'," he sniffs.
Gathered around the little fire, together, Talas amuses himself with listening to the many questions. When one is aimed his way, his pale brows arch in startlement, and then he laughs.
"I am pale as moonlight and starlight, because that's where elves come from," he says with a twitch to his lips. "But neither of those ever come down here, so you'll have to take my word on it. As for sickly and frail--"
Talas's hands snatch a pebble from the cavern floor and flick it Baird's direction.
The rock pings right off Baird's forehead, and Talas continues smoothly, "--I may not be as robust as a dwarf, but I am quicker."
When offered a spider-leg, he declines with an obvious grimace-- and then his face abruptly sobers at Kurth's words.
"No, Kurth. The heads-- and often hearts-- of the elves are all too cool. Would that they were hotter!"
He leans back against his pack, arms crossed over his chest, and lapses into a brooding silence.
Boreyn accepts a roasted spider-leg and looks at it inspectingly, rotating it in his hand and eyeing it with care. Eventually he decides to take a bite out of it and it crunches in his mouth.
His mouth grimaces at first at the taste of it, then takes two more bites before setting it aside.
"Never had spider before," He says as he looks at Baird and Talas staring back at him in surprise. "What? I'm old enough to try a few more things before I kick the bucket. The taste is strange to me though, but it's not that vile as you would think."
Boreyn nods at the gnomes about their perceptiveness.
"Aye, we're not the same dwarves that inhabit these caverns of recent times. We're more akin to the ones that lived here two-hundred years ago in the city called Dammerhall. Most of the dwarves from there have fathered and mothered children above-grounds that's why we're different from the dwarves that stayed down here."
Baird chuckled ruefully as he rubbed the spot the pebble had hit. "I can think of a hot-headed elf," he grinned.
He grimaced openly at the sight of Boreyn eating the spider, though. Pfaugh! No proper meal for a dwarf! After all, where was the beer?
"The look of it reminds me of a sea-spider - what Master Talas might call a lobster," he said, shaking his head. "I'll stick to red meat so long as I can, but velbekomme!"
Kurth chewed happily on the spider leg.
"Not bad. Bit chewey. Could use some butter. But not bad."
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Imperia grimaces at the spider leg but takes one to be friendly. She bites into it with a delicacy out of odds with the bulk of her armor. "Butter could be a trade item, too. Better for a caravan, but they can't have cows down here. Milk, butter, cheese. They'd probably all do well for trade."
The joking between the group is enough to lift the gnome's spirits, and that more than even the healing and food, produces a remarkable change in them as the band begins to set forth to Fasturvalt. They continue to ask questions of Kurth as they travel. The deep gnomes worship a pantheon of many gods, and find Kurth's monotheistic views very interesting.
Everyone travels together, leaving the spider's lair from the direction that they entered, and seeing no signs of the one that fled. The group leads the gnomes back towards the road, and collectively they begin traveling.
Within a few hours, they come to a large rock that someone has taken time to chisel. "Ah, the Waystone." Ivy mutters. Seeing confusion on the faces of others, she points to the Gnomish markings. "Directions. 3 1/2 days north east to Fasturvalt. 9 days west to Kladdenvalt. 32 days east to Kraggodan."
"This might be a good place to rest a few hours?" Harvald suggests to the group, seeming somewhat worried.
Baird, who had been traveling with his new axe proudly over his shoulder, turned from examining the Waystone to regard Harvald. "What's eating you, Harvald? You seem a bit tense. Why shouldn't we press on for the remainder of the day?"
Imperia half listens for Harvald's response as she looks over the Waystone.
"Are we being followed?" Kurth asked noticing the worry.
"I don't see anything out there." He continued looking around before accidentally stubbing his toe. "Yow, that smarts."
"Is this a normal place for travelers to camp?" Talas chimes in to the questions, though in truth, he wouldn't argue overmuch for a rest. The post-adrenaline crash from the battle, as well as what seems like endless walking, has tired him out. He throws envious glances sidelong at the dwarves, who seem to be able to walk forever.
His legs are longer, but he privately thinks that if they weren't, he'd be unable to keep up. Dwarven endurance is an admirable thing.
"Not that I saw" Harvald replies to Kurth. He holds up a stubby finger, pressing it to his lips.
Nodding to Talas, he turns to his men. "Let us rest here for the evening. We still have a ways to go." While the other gnomes begin settling in for the evening, seeming content to have nothing for comfort, whether because they're accustomed to it or have no other options, Harvald moves back over towards the adventurers.
Looking at Talas he replies, "Yeah, lot fewer travelers down here these days. But used to be one of the better places to camp. I'll tell you one thing about the Underdark, brother. It's not ever safe. You can be quiet like Ivy here, you can have a lot of numbers, but sooner or later, something gets you."
"Let me tell you a story of Fasturvalt. We have a river that splits the town, a river so harsh and rapid that trying to ford it is certain death. Every year we lose children in that river. Every year. In our own backyard. This is not a forgiving place."
He sighs, looking to Baird. "My worry is because of our attack. Nothing here is safe, true, but it plays by certain rules. The river races, smashing you against rocks or pushing you over the falls. What happened with Gunther and the Skis'Raal, it was more like the river had come into your home and attempted to strangle you. It's not natural behaviour."
"We're not being followed, but something is upsetting the balance here."
Talas adopts a cross-legged posture, long pale fingers resting loosely in his lap as he listens to the gnomes talk.
"Something upsetting the balance?" he echoes, pale brows rising. "How long have you felt like something is... off?"
Baird scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Those bloody big spiders were a surprise. Not because of their attack, mind, but because of their intelligence. I'll believe you if you say they wouldn't normally attack an armed caravan. That one did say they'd been exiled. Exiled by who, I wonder?"
He grunted, slapping his thighs and standing. "Whatever the case, I'm looking forward to grub made of real, red meat. I'll bring a bowl for you, Master Talas, don't get up."
Imperia nods at Baird. "The best place for that- food and answers- has to be Fasturvalt. Out here all we have are questions."
Boreyn holds still at the waystone and inspects it for a long time as well and plucks his beard as he does so.
An audbile "Hmmm..." is heard and as he rises he looks at the others.
"Fasturvalt seems indeed like the most logical choice, from there we can make more forays towards these other cities. Also we could make more inquiries at Fastuvalt how we should best equip ourselves in these dark caves. They know more about these caves of recent times than an old dwarf like me that hasn't seen these caves for over 200 years."
"Aye. And perhaps we can get a proper map, or maybe even a guide. Fasturvult is the clear choice by me thinking."
"How many days travel to the city then?" he asks the gnomes. But then he frowns. "Though I suppose 'day' wouldn't really be the proper term for it, given the lack of ball of a fire over our heads."
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Harvald looks uncomfortably at Talas and shifts his feet. "The thing is, I didn't. Not until now." He looks over to where Ivy is. While the other gnomes have begun to settle in for the night, her eyes continue to glow in the dark as she paces around the outskirts of their small camp. He looks back at the group and nods over towards her. "She did, though." He shakes his head. "This entire expedition was her idea, you know. Gunther was the only one to believe her."
"Now we return home, having failed. Having barely got beyond the limits of our own homes. And we do so without Gunther, and without hope, or any kind of a plan." He sighs, and peers off in the distance.
At Baird's discussion of the spiders, Harvald seems to come back to life. "Aye. They're sneaky buggers. Tend to go after weaker creatures. Never things that outnumber them, or that are intelligent enough to carry weapons." He chuckles, but it comes out hollow-sounding. "Course, they got the best of us anyhow."
"Can't say I know for sure about them being exiled. It's rare for them to come out these parts. There's a tribe of them further in, in the Fungal Jungle. Probably close to two weeks walk from here, not exactly a short trip."
He smiles at Kurth, and points out the gnomish characters on the waystone, explaining them carefully, and pointing out that they're about 3 1/2 days away from Fasturvalt. "We measure days more in stopping when we get tired, though there are enough biological clocks around." At the looks of confusion, he explains. "The Fungal Jungle has some light sources, so many creatures down here have their schedules adjusted by their predators. Like to spend some time studying them and learning about it, but probably won't be able to this life."
"Anywho. We will make better time tomorrow, when we have rested. Since we're light on supplies, we might be able to shave it down to closer to 3, provided you outsiders don't slow us down." He chuckles good naturedly. "Course, if you want to take a bit longer and stop to see the sights, there's lots of rocks and danger around."
"There will be plenty of time for sightseeing once we've resupplied at Fasturvalt," Baird opined, returning with a bowl of stew for Talas in one hand and for himself in the other.
He eyed Ivy a bit suspiciously, but then, that wasn't an unusual expression for a dwarf. With a shrug, he sat down to eat. "What was it your expedition was after, then? Something that no one - almost no one - believes in sounds like it'd make a good tale."
Talas frowns to himself, brooding over the ominous words that Harvald speaks. He tucks one leg under the other and drums his fingers thoughtfully on his knee.
"Fungal jungle... now there's a name. Hopefully not ruled by a... a lichen lich, or a master moss..."
He blinks up at Baird's proffering of the stew, and gives the young dwarf a smile and nod of thanks, taking it in hand. He looks intently at Harvald, just as curious to the answer to Baird's question as he is.
"I'm not too familiar with the underground fauna and flora-- what sort of biological clocks exist, down here?" he asks when, or if, Harvald finishes answering Baird.