| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
And now you are denied that which you have sought for so long! Denied the opportunity to forget those ugly sights. To forget the past. To truly numb yourself from the gnawing demons within your own heart and soul.
The voice and most faithful companion inside for so many years calls for more of that fine, blessed, golden water of forgetting. It is the dream you've sought for so very, very long. Dragons and hags, priestesses and prophets be damned. YOU WANT ANOTHER DRINK!
Raseri snatches the jug away from Ingryd and jams the cork into the top. A series of expressions ripple across the bearkin's face. A low threatening grumble echoes deep in the big warrior's throat like a rapidly approaching storm. Looking into the bearkin's whirling eyes, Raseri feels a cold chill race down her back. A chill that quickly spreads to the rest of the Narg Nasty Six as they sense the internal battle for control taking place within their companion.
Darrell, seemingly unaware of the sudden danger standing only a few feet away, nods at the markings on the second jug.
"Aye, that's the old symbol my grandsire used." He says, his brow furrowing in puzzlement. "Strange though. I'd always been told the jugs were usually kept in a more secret chamber, well hidden and secured." He shakes his head. "Not just kept on a shelf out in an open tunnel. But it's all long ago, so who can say what stories are true or not I suppose."
"Those Brewers wont miss it trust me" she says as she drinks more in her cold cup.
For a moment, Raseri isn't seeing Ingryd, but a large, ugly hag looming over her. She shakes the memory away, but the chill remains as she puts as much iron as she can in her voice.
"Growl at me all you wish. Luthael and Gunnar speak the truth. We have a hag to slay and a clutch of dragon eggs to save. All of us will need all of our wits, now drag your hairy hide out of your cups and save your ire for the damned witch! Two's more than enough until we complete that labor."
" Fine!!" She growls and heads down the hall.
The halfling furrowed his brows "Eh damnit...spoiled with juju after all. I knew I tasted newt juice in there. Screw this brew." tossing the jug violently against the wall letting it shatter and go wasted. "I'll just meander over here while Griz settles her tab..."
The sound of the jug shattering against the rock wall crackles through the chamber, followed by the soft drip-drip-drip of alcohol dropping from the rocks and quickly drunk by the thirsty dirt. The smell of whiskey, spring meadows, and smokey oak fill the air. For a brief moment nobody moves except for the halfling who starts walking into the darkness of the eastern tunnel. The second jug still sloshing about within her stuffed pack.
A small part of your mind tries to break through the screaming fury. Tries to say the halfling and the priestess may be right. There was other work to be done. It is lone voice caught within a raging tempest of shattered dreams of relief and release from that ever present sorrow, guilt, and pain. Still, it shouts out against the boiling storm, trying to stop more pain which will surely come next.
" You owe me!!" Ingryd growls looking at Scram vitriol and venom oozing from her as she leans down to glare menacingly. Her eyes almost alive with a raging swarm of bees as her heavy finger points directly at her face.
"There was a leprotic nose wart fallen into that one, you almost drank it...and that would've been Narg Nasty 6-billion. We want the recipe to be unsullied for our first replica batch, right partner?" the thief hand-waved as she walked off.
Leaving Ingryd to ponder the truth or falsity of her words, Scramsax slides into the shadows and along the eastern corridor to scout the way ahead once again.
This time the journey is shorter before the halfling comes upon another intersection. North and south. North, the passage continues to slope upward past at least one opening she can see twenty feet further along the corridor. To the south the path levels off until coming to a set of rough hewn stairs before it opens into another wider chamber.
Searching around for any sign of the smuggler's mark, she finally locates it on the ceiling of the south corridor.
Scram found the ceiling mark highly suspicious and took a few moments to double her trap-sniffing and secret compartment detecting efforts...
...before continuing south.
Finding no traps, hidden dangers or surprises at the intersection, Scramsax moves along the southern corridor, down the short flight of steps and thirty paces into another dark, dusty chamber. The pungent smell of fermenting barley still lingers in the air here even after decades of inactivity. Even the rock seems to smell. A trio of large fermentation vats line the west wall. One is marred by a large hole in the side, while the second and third appear mostly intact if covered by an inches thick layer of cobwebs and dust. The collapsed remains of a large worktable and workbench fill the other side of the room, also covered in thick dust and dirt. Bits of shattered glass are scattered on the bench and the nearby floor.
Two exits leave the room, both along the south wall. The first is a narrow arched opening while the second is a standard rectangular exit that once held a door. Only the rusted metal hinges and a few scraps of worm riddled wood remain of the old barrier.
Raseri fills a chill roll down her spine as for a brief moment she's sure that she'll have to step between Ingryd and Scramsax, and that is a fight she's not certain she could win even if she weren't trying to avoid killing the bearkin. The moment passes, but the chill remains, and she holds Gunnar and Luthael back for a moment.
"Did your eyes see what mine beheld? She hides from her pain in drink," she tells the other two softly. "If the hag keens her weakness and turns her against us, I fear we may be hard pressed to not kill her."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Luthael replies to Gunnar and Raseri, "Thank Khors, we do not have to face a mad Ingryd. We have to hope that her hatred of hags will overcome all effects to deceive her."
"Fighting her would be like fighting winter. I do not think I would live through such a battle."
Remembering the fight with the false prophet at the site of the airship crash, Gunnar says, "Ingryd fights her demons every day. Let us hope saving the dragon eggs from the hag will bring her some peace."
Scram returned relatively quick, but noted well the intricate apparatus of a master distiller. One day, the thief may need to replicate this...
Untying her gag "Lost the mark in what seemed like a brewer's prep room...but its clear to advance, Six. Griz, certain new thoughts have just occurred to me. You gotta check this out, come here..." she motioned to Ingryd to follow, pointing out the professional if web-covered brass barrels. "Darrel, I need you too. Looking at a branch with no clear right o' way."
Ingryd looks at them. She is still furious at rhe loss but this could be something interesting.
" Well lets see what this is"
Pointing out the old apparatus "You know about this kind of stuff, don't you? How to brew and what not? I never understood the difference between a pot still and a column still. But...hey, these are old Fuzzy's trade secrets, right?! The key to Triple-bolt Black's tart, dry finish that likes to suggest smoke and fruit somehow simultaneously. Give a man a whiskey, he can mellow out one day. Teach a man to make world famous whiskey, he can get freaking rich! 'Crafted with Passion, Sipped with Pleasure' right, Griz??" the thief beamed, glad her friend wasn't so drunk she wouldn't remember seeing the setup here.
"I question not her fight nor her willingness to do so. I question if she is winning or losing that fight," Raseri tells Gunnar. "Fighting demons of the heart and mind is something I have some experience with. I fear it is a dreadfully easy thing to believe you are winning when each day you give a little more ground without realizing it. Over the days and weeks, you steadily lose yourself, until there's nothing left of you but a hollowed tree, rotted from the inside."
She snorts and gives Gunnar and Luthael a wry smile.
"Truth be told, I wish I could just ignore what I beheld in her eyes. Still, I owe you a debt for saving my life, several times now, I think. Even if it is mostly from my own recklessness. After we deal with this hag and fulfill our bargain with the wyrm, I think we should not tarry in helping Ingryd slay the demons she carries. Drink is meant to be enjoyed, not wasted on drowning one's sorrows."
Darrell examines the old vats, finding nothing unusual except for a lack of an easy way to transfer the wash to the actual still. Until he takes a closer look at the narrow area between the back of the vats and wall. There he finds the fixtures for attaching a pipe or spigot. Scratching his head the foxkin isn't sure of this particular setup.
"Usually these vats would be tied directly to the pot still." He says. "That way you don't have to manually move the wash when it's ready."
"I don't think this is the main brewery." A shake of his head and twitch of his tail confirms his uncertainty. "I guess, these were just extra vats, or maybe they were used for some other fermentation experiments." He adds pointing out the work area with a shrug. "I was told he was always exploring new methods, new mixtures, for wines and beers as well as whiskey."
He glances at the two exits. Arched and rectangular. "Only way to know for sure is to keep going."
"he is not wrong, these would be storage for experimental brews and methods. Lets look underneath." Ingryd gets down to look and see if any heating element remained beneath or at all.
Scram raised a very hairy, unplucked eyebrow at the 'guide' before shrugging and giving a good peeps down the rectangular passage with her golden orbs. "Alright, alright...I'll check it out while Griz works her magic."
Ingryd gives the underside of the vats a look. In addition to the usual spiders, mouse droppings, and accumulated dirt and grit she does find the remnants of some type of heating device beneath the two vats that are still intact. The third, damaged vat, doesn't appear to have one.
Leaving her business partner to determine if the find could be salvaged and used to reduce the usual brewery start up costs, Scramsax slips through the old doorway and into a short hall. The end appears to open into a larger chamber. But almost immediately Coin lets out a soft screech of warning. Through the owl's eyes, Scramsax spots the thin seam in the floor only a few feet ahead. A seam not filled by dust, dirt, and grit like every other place in the complex so far. A second chirp points out the ring of runes lining the hall a few paces further ahead. The thief can't help but notice the distance to the runes is about the same as if a person were to try leaping over the oddly outlined stone.
Scram promptly returned "Well, some kind of ensorcellment lie that way guarding the chamber beyond. Guessing its a trap, but not the mechanical sort...so yeah, all my tools are useless. Wild guess, summons forth chicken livers from the 11th layer of hell the hag turns into sentient muppet copycats. Or a big fireball. One of the two."
Nodding, Gunnar says, ”Right. I’d better get to work, then.” The Dwarven abjurer wizard starts his ritual for the Detection of Magic, then prepares to try and diagnose the nature of the trap before them.
Gunnar moves into the hallway, cautiously staying back from the suspect stone and the runic ring on the opposite side. Suspicions are soon proven correct as the dwarf's detection quickly illuminates power coursing through the ring and its arcane symbols. Unfortunately, being forced to stay several feet away makes it difficult for the wizard to interpret the entire design of the trap. He does however recognize the potent elements of Conjuration and Transmutation magics.
Focusing on the powerful magical auras, Gunnar says, ”If we are sure this is the right way, I will try and unravel the magical threads comprising the trap.”
If it his is confirmed, Gunnar will start casting Dispel Magic, focusing on the Conjuration first.
"Well no, not sure. Think our guide's expertise has gone fuzzy, or things have changed since the fox last traced these halls...his confidence is gone. Almost as if he is waiting to pounce on an opportunity..." Scram quietly informed the wizard.
"I'll check the other way in the mean time." Scram offered, turning back to the fancy arched hall.
Raseri stands near Luthael as Gunnar and Scram look to see what lays ahead.
"My apologies for what happened at the confectionery. It needed to be ended, but--but it could have waited. I am most sorry for splattering you with that sludge," Raseri quietly tells him as they wait.
After checking and securing the pit trap stone with a set of wedges, Gunnar begins the slow task of dispelling the magical secondary trap. A stone tossed through the trap definitely confirms the conjuration element as there is a minute flash of light as the rock breaks the plane of the ring and disappears.
A few minutes later, the dwarf is scratching a series of counter runes upon the rock outside of the ring while Luthael and Raseri keep watch for trouble and Scramsax explores the second passage.
Scanning the rest of the chamber you and coin find another series of fermenting vats, but these connect to a good sized pot still which in turn connects to a secondary set of smaller containers and another still. A copper pipe runs from the first set of vats to a pump and from there back into the pool. More mushrooms have taken up residence on the wooden lids to the vats. More can be seen coating the remains of several barrels located next to the secondary still.
One exit leaves the chamber leading south. You start to move in that direction, when Coin's eye catches sight of a slight oddity in the northern rock wall just beyond the field of mushroom coated rotting barrels. A few cautious steps closer, careful not to disturb the fungal forest, and you see the thin seam of a hidden door. The cleverly crafted disguise fouled by time and a slight shifting of the rock over the years.
"Thanks. The factory needed to be closed, but we need there's a village counting us to recover those dragon eggs." Luthael replies to Raseri with a sad smile.
The prophet looks toward their wizard and offers, "Gunnar, I can try to dispel the magic too if you need it. I can also fly us one at a time over the runes, if that can avoid the trap."
"You're right, and the Margreve needs us to end this hag's curse," Raseri says. There is no temptation to return Luthael's smile. If they win at all, it will be a hard won battle.
Scram didn't trust the pool. It was probably acid or blood n' bones hiding under another of the hag's juju veils. Spotting the door lodged in the stone, the thief perked up and set out a few tools...suspecting another trap. Browsing a small leather pouch embroidered with a velociraptor, the professional went to work.
First was a new type of thin tin foil leaf from the Ligenau underworld. Sly Laura had explained how electric current provided the metal with an alchemical sheen of silver. The delicate mirror could slide through the tightest crack, while crinkling at the slightest resistance.
Next was a light, collapsible cone. The concentric rings were made of powdered clam shell and gypsum, and could elongate into a resonant sound chamber exactly 1/2 the standing wave frequency in the audible range. Sly Laura had swiped it from an old, deaf knight.
Scram also took from a small wooden box a soft, color changing brush thinking it would serve well here. Its bristles had been soaked in a dye carefully extracted from dendographa leucophoea, a type of lichen found on the west coast. The bristles would turn red in the presence of acrid fumes, or blue in the presence of alkalinity.
Accompanying these curious items, the rogue selected a few other bits from her expansive arsenal. A lodestone, set of ivory needles, the resettable spring-loaded tension tester.
The final delicate item was a rare type of snail Scram kept alive in a tiny jar. When gently tapped, the snail would protest, emitting a high-pitched vibration in consternation.
The mirror was inlaid all around the seam of the door checking for catches and wires along with the ivory needles. The lodestone was hovered around the perimeter, letting the thief find any metallic hinges or other buried mechanus by carefully observing the pressure by hand. The cone and snail helped Scram create a mental picture of the variations of density in the door, finding any ticking gears or subtle movements within by echo. The brush was dusted around for an signs of gas.
After a final obligatory test with the tension indicator for any concealed pressure plates, her analysis was complete.
After several long, somewhat awkward minutes Luthael and Raseri hear Gunnar's chanting come to a close. Another rock is tossed through the ring of runes which now appear faded and little more than old scratches on the rock. The rock lands with a harmless clatter, rolling to a stop several feet beyond the ring.
A further check with his arcane sense and enhanced sight, reveal nothing but the cold blank surface of the stone and the lingering traces of his own countermagic slowly dissipating into the aether.
Peaking beyond the ring into the next room. Gunnar finds nothing but an open room and a exit on the opposite wall.
Meanwhile, at about the same time, Scramsax is rewarded with the pleasant sound of the final lock tumblers slipping into place and a burst of stale, dusty air as the secret door slides open. There were a few worrisome moments when the halfling encountered the well hidden trigger mechanism for a trap that would have likely coated her with some highly flammable and sticky goo, but caution and experience won the day, and once recognized the trap had no chance.
Pushing the door open a bit further, Scramsax sees multiple large barrels packed in like a well ordered platoon of ancient wooden soldiers. Stepping inside, she runs a hand over the oak surface of one of the fifty gallon casks and sees the now familiar triple lightning bolt stamp of the old smuggler. More importantly all seem to be quite intact. Undisturbed for a decades. A quick knuckle rap on the two closest barrels quickly reveal to the practiced ear of the halfling that both are quite full.
Somewhat embarrassed it took him so long, Gunnar finally unravels the trap’s magic and says, ”The way is clear, let us proceed.” A nearly invisible barrier now protects the dwarf, an arcane ward activated by his abjuration magic.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
"Thanks Gunnar. We appreciate your expertise," replies the prophet. He follows along.
Raseri nods her thanks to the dwarf and follows along as well, at least once she sees Scramsax coming back.
'We need to get more of that booze started. Though alot of work will need to be done" She says absently working on the pots and wondering what the rest of the set up is like.