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You could swear that the last shadow moved of its own accord, but it was probably just a trick of the light.
You were hired several days ago to accompany a pioneering caravan traveling via the "Old Dwarven Road", an underground highway built centuries ago by an ambitious, but now forgotten dwarven king. For the last two days you have been moving through darkened tunnels, crossing rope bridges that span crevasses, and squeezing through small gaps in natural caves, following a route that once was well-maintained and patrolled, but has deteriorated considerably after centuries of neglect. What once was a wide road paved with broken stone that was regularly patrolled is now a broken path frequently interrupted by fallen rock and patches of subterranean flora. For this and other reasons, no one has used the Old Dwarven Road in a very, very long time.
These obstacles did not deter the dwarven spice merchant Amelius from hiring all of you to accompany the caravan and protect his mules for three days until you reach the coastal town of Sandpoint on the far side of the Old Dwarven Road. A young dwarf of high birth, Amelius bought a map of the Old Dwarven Road in an antiquarian's shop, and has invested a good deal of his inheritance on this expedition. Having no first-hand experience with the route, he hired an ancient dwarven miner named Grakkus the Deaf to lead the way. Grakkus is one of the few people old enough to have traveled this route during its heyday, and claims to "remember it like it was yesterday". In truth, Grakkus' memory has deteriorated over the years, and you have had to backtrack three, perhaps four times in the two days you have been underground.
You have seen a healthy amount of vermin during your travel through the darkness, but none larger than a large rat. You have been told that there are goblins in these tunnels, but have not seen any so far. Grakkus has mentioned that Underdark trolls took over parts of the Old Dwarven Road several decades ago, but they haven't been seen in these parts for years.
You have taken a mid-day break in a carved room with a fountain to rest, eat, refill your canteens and give the four mules a good long drink. Grakkus, as always, is studying the map, and Amelius is sitting on the ground next to the fountain, eating a piece of yellow-gold cheese and taking bites of meat jerky.
Bizzle sits down, opening his canteen with an almost theatric sigh, as he wipes the couple of drops of sweat from his brow. Thudding his enourmous backpack down, almost larger than he is, he grins. "That was a good workout!", he blurts out, rubbing his hands and beginning to stretch, rhytmic grunts following each movement.
At first, most thought the three-and-half-foot-tall creature to be a short and stocky dwarf, but the lack of beard, the cheerful attitude and the big, almost childlike eyes spoke that Baz was, in fact, a gnome, if an overgrown one. Wearing an almost comical leather vest, the lack of sleeves putting accent on the gnome's arms the size of a grown man's legs. A large, two-headed axe hung on the gnome's back, and his white-and-blue striped trousers suggested he was an entertainer.
A week of living together proved he was a rather below average one. His calisthentics seemingly done, Baz pops down next to the two knights, taking out a pouch of seemingly nothing but jerky, and with the good-natured tone of a commoner out of water offers the sac to the two knights, mouth still full. "D'ya'are for shum?", he pushes the surprisingly appetising cured meat towards the two, his expression suggesting that questions are soon to follow.
Brother Silver bends over his hands on his knees and tries to get is breath, sweat drips in streams from his matted hair, and his face is red as a beet. I'm not sure but this might be worse than travelling on a cramped ship. At least there I could catch a breeze between the frequent trips to puke over the rail. Nothing is made for a man my size.
He again considers whether wearing his armor full time is a good idea or not, but the trade off in heat versus tearing his clothes constantly was a sound one. Besides he might lose a few pounds from perspiration.
He reaches into his ration bag, and takes out a healthy portion before settling on a semi comfortable boulder to rest. Wiping the sweat from his eyes he replies to the muscular Gnome. "I'm not sure the words good and workout should ever be used in the same sentence... still we're closer to being back above ground than we were at this time yesterday".
The Balkuni woman is also breathing somewhat rapidly, but in her case not from vigorous exercise, but rather from fear. Quresha hadn't imagined that an underground route would be quite so cramped and she is keenly aware of the thousands of tons of rock and soil that stand between her and the open sky. This was a very inconvenient time to discover that one had claustrophobia, indeed.
More to distract herself than anything else, she sits on the edge of the basin, letting the water run over her hand. "Where do you think this water is coming from? Interesting that the pipe is still here and functioning after all this time. I wonder if the water is good to drink?"
Not waiting for a response, she cups her hand under the trickle and brings a handful to her lips, taking a sip.
Not waiting for a response, she cups her hand under the trickle and brings a handful to her lips, taking a sip.
Grakkus had assured the caravan that the water at this well is fresh, and is the main reason for your stopping here, as many of the other water sources along the Old Dwarven Road have become fouled.
Quresha Shifa takes a long drink from her hands, but other than a noticeable mineral taste, it seems sweet and refreshing.
"Hm.", Baz grins, leaping up as Brother Silver explains his complaints. "I think this is nice. I, for one, am trying to imagine what happened here, ages ago." He smiles. "You're breathing ancient dwarven air! There was caravans like ours, and there was probably dwarven entertainers doing, well, dwarven entertainer things, and..." The gnome leaps up, then after giving a piece of rubble a studious glance, then his attention flies somewhere else, as he finishes his drink, dropping the two last drops to the ground and continues towards the fountain.
"That's a question.", Baz nods, seemingly pondering the same thing alongside Quresha. "I think water usually comes from rivers. And also when it rains, it fills the rivers up?", he states, half unconvinced himself.
"You think we're going to find a treasure in a tunnel?", he whispers conspiratively with anyone else's barroom voice.
"They say silence is golden," the slight woman with elven ears answers with a wry smile as she takes her turn to fill her waterskin at the fountain, "perhaps if you are very quiet, we will find some."
In the week since the others have met the diminutive woman, she's spoken without prompting maybe a dozen times. She's also proven that she isn't much of a picky eater and her rations were the cheapest she could find. A tasteless cheese, some dried sausages with more filler than meat, and a piece of hardtack make up her mid-day meal.
Seeing, Quresha having trouble catching her breath, Allysen walks over to her and taps her arm with the full waterskin.
"You'll feel better if you drink this," she says in a voice she hopes is comforting.
The old dwarven miner's ears prick up when he hears Bizzle speaking of treasure.
"Oh sure," Grakkus mutters quietly, trying to not let his voice carry too far, "it's said that my people left plenty behind when they fled these tunnels. But they sealed the best of it behind carefully stoneshaped doors, so that only the wisest of the stonesingers know the difference between a treasure vault and a slab of normal rock. Most came back a few years after the fall to recover their goods, but many didn't. Others came back to get the things they had left behind and were never heard from again."
His voice trails off as he gazes out into the darkness.
"Yes, this water is good to drink." Quresha proclaims after sipping from the fountain. The offer of the waterskin confuses her briefly - she had plenty of water to drink right there, and her own waterskin, but not wishing to offend she accepts it and takes a polite sip from the other woman's waterskin. In return, she offers Allysen some of her dried fruit and nuts which she keeps in a leather pouch at her belt.
"But wouldn't the treasure be cursed? It usually, is, in stories. The hapless peasant tilling his field and coming across an ancient sealed urn, thinking his luck has turned, but instead..." She wiggles her fingers in what she hopes is a suspenseful and spook-inducing manner.
"And in any case, we have a job to do. Maybe we can come back after and look for treasure." A thought occurs to her and she suddenly sits up straighter. "Master Grakkus, were your people in the possession of any... artifacts? Sacred objects from far away?"
Grakkus slips off his half-helmet, revealing a bald scalp underneath, and scratches his head. "Hmm, artifacts, sacred objects? I don't know. Perhaps, people tend to not let it be known if they've gotten possession of important things from far away. Most of the items of value here were from the mines, here beneath the hills. They weren't nothing like the gold and silver mines you find up north, mind you, but they found other items of value here. Gems, I believe."
The old dwarf returns the helmet to his head and strokes his beard absentmindedly.
"Are you looking for something of value, Mistress Shifa? You have that look in your eye. There's not a dwarf in the Flanaess that hasn't had that look in her eye at some point in her life, that look of longing."
Quresha glances at Father Abraham before answering. "What I am looking for has value beyond gems and precious metals. It is an artifact sacred to my faith, and it pains me to say that it was lost a long time ago. It is the holy duty of the paladins and clerics of my order to seek for them." She pauses for a moment as her gaze is briefly lost in the distance. "The qadi who taught me suggested that I might search for it here. He was very enthusiastic in his recommendation, so my hopes are high that my quest will be blessed with success."
The Bakluni woman's eyes shine with excitement as her fist clenches.
Bizzle's eyes glaze as he listens about the treasure. "So does this road also go down, and not only through?", a question blurts out from the gnome's agape mouth, before he shudders, remembering tales of those who live below. "And are those, collapsed, too?", he adds in a hopeful, almost afraid tone.
Leaning a thick forearm between his axe's twinned head, his interest is turned towards Quresha's tale. "A magical artefact?"
The other elf walked near the front, around the left hand side of the caravan. And like Allysen, he has said little.
Introducing himself originally was one of the times he has spoken, in his clear, aristocratic accent.
"Greetings. I am Lord Belros Sunwalker, now of no place, servant of Pelor."
His leather armour is of good make, clearly fitted for him. His short sword and knife likewise are quality weapons. His backpack and other accessories seem much newer and much more utilitarian, more human in make.
With fair skin even for an elf, his head is adorned by earth-brown hair and deep brown eyes.
And those are normally looking ahead, around, behind, below, above. Seeking danger.
Seeing none for now, those eyes turn to his companions.
"Fallen halls of nobility. Despite my unfamiliarity with underground tunnels, this feels all too familiar.", he adds with a twinge of bleak humour.
He continues, musing out loud:
"I am sure there are treasures and terrors alike down in these old dwarven places. For now, we have a task to attend to. After that...I seek to find how best to serve Pelor. Perhaps sweeping these tunnels would be best. Perhaps aiding the town of Saltmarsh."
In contrast to Lord Belros, Allysen gives a much more ragged appearance. Her clothes, armor, and weapons are all worn and ragged. The weapons and armor look as if they'd been scavenged off a battlefield, with her knives being mismatched and her shortsword having a number of nicks in the blade.
Seeing that Quresha had already gotten some water, Allysen feels her cheeks flush with embarrassment.
"S-sorry, just tryin' t'help," she mutters as she looks away.
Quresha fiddles with the hem of her white robe as the attention from Bizzle becomes a little much for her. "Err, not magical as such, no, it is a sacred item mostly. There are two, in fact - The Cup, and The Talisman - but they are thought of together, like so: thecupandthetalismanofAl-Akbar. They are so important that their loss caused a rift in our faith."
Again, she glances at Father Abraham. If she had understood correctly, he was from Ket, a bastion of the True Faith, which was the other major faction of the faith of Al-Akbar, and opposed to her own, the Exalted Faith, which was prominent in her native land, the Caliphate of Ekbir.
Allysen's mutter grabs her attention, and she waves her hand reassuringly. "Oh, no need to apologize, after all it make sense to consume the water in the skins first, and refill them with fresh water." She smiles in what she hopes is a friendly manner.
Moves With Grace (she'll acknowledge "MWG" or "Grace" for short) arrives in the cavern not the least bit out of breath, thankful for her years of martial arts training.
Altho human, she has said as little as the elves, but readily answers questions asked of her. Unless someone has asked, she has not said where she's from or what her past is.
Her combat abilities are obvious, and during the trip thru the forest to get to the caves, she supplemented the travel rations by killing small animals. If anyone looked closely enough, the throwing stars she uses to kill them seem to appear in her hand just before she throws them. If asked about that, she says "it just happens".
After dropping her backpack, she goes thru 5 minutes of stretching and tai-chi-like moves, then eats some jerky, drinks some water, sits down in a lotus position and closes her eyes. It's hard to tell if she's even paying any attention to the various conversations going on around her.
Too long, I have dwelled on my own regretful thoughts., Belros decides.
In a soft but clear voice he speaks for longer than usual.
"Companions, have any of you besides venerable Grakkus been to Saltmarsh? Is there anything ye can say of it?"
Too long, I have dwelled on my own regretful thoughts., Belros decides.
In a soft but clear voice he speaks for longer than usual.
"Companions, have any of you besides venerable Grakkus been to Saltmarsh? Is there anything ye can say of it?"
Grakkus chuckles when he hears the elf speak. "Saltmarsh wasn't even there when I last passed through these tunnels. The town is less than a century old and I am pushing almost double that."
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Although always muttering of how fragile and old he is, did he stand erect and speak clearly, some would not put him past 30.
Isagoras seams to sag under the weight of his leather armor and shield, but he refuses to part with it. He sips at his own waterskin before absentmindedly refilling it from the open pipe.
The old dwarven miner's ears prick up when he hears Bizzle speaking of treasure.
"Oh sure," Grakkus mutters quietly, trying to not let his voice carry too far, "it's said that my people left plenty behind when they fled these tunnels.....
"Mm. Yes. It is well known that the dwarven kingdom of Platea, under Datis III, came under a protracted attack by a skurge of wormskulls. Their blood-elf allies pushed the dwarves out rather hurriedly, lest they be used as sacrifice for the Dark Lord Nekron.
The tunnels were abandoned when the blood elves rebelled against their masters, though they themselves have simply died out, presumably when their people all drank from a tainted water source."
Isagoras again refills his waterskin.
"Yeah, I guess," Allysen replies to Quresha, "just should have noticed you had already had something to drink."
Before she can make a further fool of herself, the short half-elf goes to look down the tunnel leading to Saltmarsh.
"Can't wait to get out of here. I want to see the stars again," she mutters to herself.
Allysen's eyes narrow as her ears pick up something from the dark. Her shoulders tense as she holds up a finger to the others in a shushing gesture.
Not liking the feeling she's getting form what she hears, Allysen goes around to the others and whispers the same thing to all of them.
"Something ahead whispers. It knows we are here. Be ready."
Quresha was listening in astonishment to the tales that Isagoras was spinning, drinking in every word. She opens her mouth to ask the barrage of questions that sprung in her mind, when Allysen warns them all to the whispering presence. Hurriedly rising from the rim of the basin, she grabs her spear and falls into a battle-ready stance.
LOL, You mainly use your skills, so feel free to roll anything you might want to use.
At Allysen's warning, Belros immediately resumes looking around for danger, his short sword and shield held firmly.
5
MWG gets up, and quietly prowls around the perimeter of the campsite, looking for anything unusual :
= 13
Anyone watching her is amazed at how absolutely quietly she moves.
She hears a faint whispering, but that is all.
Mouth open, the gnome listens to the storyteller's tales of ancient kingdoms, faraway battles and untold riches with a glean in his eye. "That's why I love this job!", he blurts out, raising his double axe, before grinning.
His grin wanes, however, as the half-elf mentions the whispers in the dark. "Uh-oh.", the gnome adds, shouldering his axe. Staring into the darkness, he takes a step forward, nodding at the others. "We'll go and check that out... right?" The tone of his voice suggests he'd rather be sitting here drinking water.
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Isagoras had been enjoying the company and the chance to orate on what, to him, was current events, and seeing the attention given by Quresha was about to launch in to a comparison to this and the Siege of Petersburg, when the slender elf-woman went about and warned everyone to silence.
"Hm? What? OH! Be quiet. Hm, yes, very good," Isagoras mutters as he stands and straightens, pausing to let his joints stretch and complain. He slowly unlimbers his shield and draws his slender weapon.
"Oh, most definitely, young Bizzle," Isagoras states sagely. "Secrets can tell you the most wonderful things. Indeed, if not for the three cigars, the Battle of Antietam might never have happened and the entire Northern Realm would be far different than the one we know today!"
He gives no explanation of which realm of which country he's talking about as he takes up an attentive position behind Lord Belros.
With (most) everyone on alert, Moves with Grace does a quick check of the perimeter, but doesn't seem to find anything. Grakkus and Amelius jump up and grab the reins of the mules, motioning for others to grab the other two animals in case you need to leave in a hurry. Amelius (who is the person in charge of the caravan) then silently motions for others to investigate the whispers, which according to Allysen are located out in the darkness, at least 40 or 50 feet away.
Allysen decides to see if she can catch a glimpse of the mysterious talkers.
Quresha fiddles with the hem of her white robe as the attention from Bizzle becomes a little much for her. "Err, not magical as such, no, it is a sacred item mostly. There are two, in fact - The Cup, and The Talisman - but they are thought of together, like so: thecupandthetalismanofAl-Akbar. They are so important that their loss caused a rift in our faith."
Again, she glances at Father Abraham. If she had understood correctly, he was from Ket, a bastion of the True Faith, which was the other major faction of the faith of Al-Akbar, and opposed to her own, the Exalted Faith, which was prominent in her native land, the Caliphate of Ekbir.
Allysen's mutter grabs her attention, and she waves her hand reassuringly. "Oh, no need to apologize, after all it make sense to consume the water in the skins first, and refill them with fresh water." She smiles in what she hopes is a friendly manner.
Brother Silver catches Quresha glancing at him and smiles at her.
Brother Silver first turns over onto his hands and knees, and uses the wall to raise to his feet with a grunt. He then puts on his helmet, straps on his shield and picks up his flail when he sees the others alert.
His heart begins to race as he waits for the others to tell him what's happening.
Notice
WD
His head turns in the direction of the noises, though he makes no effort to move to the front.
Allysen decides to see if she can catch a glimpse of the mysterious talkers.
Belros whispers a plea to his god.
"Pelor, grant me sight!"
Power: detect arcana, 5 round duration, Range Smarts (6), 8/10 PP remain
A golden shimmer crosses his eyes briefly, and the darkness falls away.
He follows Allysen's path, hoping to aid her.
Belros is attempting to move quietly.
Be careful. Quresha directs a thought and a prayer to Allysen as the half-elf woman advances into the tunnel.
"Hold on!", the gnome's voice comes from behind the others in a minute, as he shuffles past in the darkness, axe beared at the ready. "If I see anything out of the ordinary, I'd let you know.", he mumbles. His eyes piercing the darkness, he crouches down, axe raised in a threatening manner. While his footsteps are quiet, his voice echoes in the dark tunnel.
Allysen and Bizzle head off into the darkness to look around, moving to the edge of their enhanced demihuman vision. The hairs rising on the backs of their necks, they look around, but there seems to be no one there, if there ever was.
Allysen taps Bizzle's shoulder and nods back to the others. Her instincts were screaming for her to get to safety and she hadn't survived as long as she had by ignoring them.
"We should head back to the others," she quietly tells the muscular gnome.
All too soon, the divine sight fades and Belros can barely see.
He too returns to the caravan. Quietly.
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Starting to follow the half-elf into the darkness, Bizzle feels the magical power run through his body. Arms thickening, veins popping out, and fury rising. "I am unstoppable!", he roars out, tossing the massive two-handed axe in the air as if it were a knife, then catching it with his other hand. Grinning, he realises that everyone else is already trying to make their way towards the caravan, and follow suit, still holding his axe in one hand.
Starting to follow the half-elf into the darkness, Bizzle feels the magical power run through his body. Arms thickening, veins popping out, and fury rising. "I am unstoppable!", he roars out, tossing the massive two-handed axe in the air as if it were a knife, then catching it with his other hand.
Bizzle's voice reverberates loudly throughout the caverns as everyone freezes in place. The echoes take several seconds to die out and the entire group holds their breaths, hoping that his bellow did not alert anything. Only the quiet splash of the fountain and the nervous hooves of the mules break the silence as everyone is silent for nearly 30 seconds.
Then far in the distance behind you, there is a deep bellowed screech unlike anything you've heard before. It has the base notes of a black bear's charging bellow, but with a metallic quality of a knife being dragged across a metal bar.
Grakkus and Amelius immediately jump into action, giving sharp commands to grab your belongings and ready the mules for travel, telling you that you need to leave as quickly as possible.
Belros winces at Bizzle's shout, and is not keen to hear the reply.
He says:
"If it is single file, I had best take the rearguard."