Oddly enough, when Alainn is flailing around with the Forge card, your eyesight sharpens.
Heading up the precarious staircase is quite slow work for Lydia and Sercha and it is rapidly becoming hotter with regular metal steam vents escaping onto the pathway. Some steps a crumbling away and some are missing entirely.
Alain flies straight up, and easily wins her race to the top. Upon reaching the top with glee, they see an outdoor work area near the top of the stairs, complete with anvils, water troughs, worktables, and bubbling pools of magma.
With Alainn casting a large shadow over the area, three brass-skinned humanoids with heads and shoulders ablaze with fire turn to face you as Alainn distract them from their work. They take a few steps forward to find look around the area both up and down.
"Hi!" Alainn calls from above, waving a card at the figures below. "You guys must be the metalworkers I heard. Is it hot down there? You all seem to have tanned something wonderful. We're looking for someone, is there anyone else around?"
The gathlain may be speaking even more disconnectedly than normal but hopefully it keeps them looking up and not down...
Picking out the Brass Dwarf from the pack seems to make no discernable difference but, perhaps you could see their facial features a little clearer through the flame.
"Oi- Look at that flying rat up there!" pointing at Alainn.
"Can you hear an anoyin buzzin' noise?" another creature guffaws.
"Ain't no one 'ere but us tough guys."
The third hurls a loose stone at Alainn with its spare hand whilst holding a large Warhammer in the other. The rock barely makes it past the edge of the crater's edge.
"Were you trying to throw that at me?" Alainn calls down affecting shock. "Should I get closer and give you a better chance?" The gathlain suits actions to words, closing the range to a mere fifty feet.
You lot are rude! Can't we talk like civilised... whatever you are?"
Lydia buffs and puffs her way up the steep steps. Once she sees the dwarves attacking Alainn, her sword comes out and she sliced the air. ”Hey! Throw one more thing and you will regret it!”
"Why, you stuck up, half-witted, scruffy-looking....."
"We're not rude....you are!
They continue throwing scurrilous insults at Alainn for a short while.
---------
One of the flame-headed humanoids, standing near the stairs sees the two women coming from the bottom of last long section of the staircase.
"Theres more'o'them," it shouts. "Get with the plan! Get with the plan!
Alainn sees the creatures rush forward, ignoring it as two of them start pelting a large precarusly poised rock and another starts levering it with a long metal rod. This lets loose an avalanche of gravel and debris which was held behind it, whilst they laugh at the soon to be fate of those below.
Lydia and Sercha notice the sound of rumbling overtaking the sound of shouting from the top of the stairs and see a large amount of rocks tumbling towards them.
one calls.
The Avalanche card practically flies into Alainn's hand and the gathlain waves it in the direction of the natural disaster taking shape.
I hope this actually does something!
Lydia's heart drops when she sees the many tons of rock rumbling down the volcano's side towards her and Sercha. "Get to cover!" she shouts, grabbing Sercha's hand and pulling her towards a nearby alcove!
"Son of a ..." Sercha begins, but is pulled to the side by Lydia's hand.
Lydia pulls Sercha close as the huddle in the small alcove. Despite the thundering of the rocks as they roll past, Lydia is keenly aware of the closeness of her companion's body, the warmth of her skin, the slightly sweet scent of her hair. The half-elf licks suddenly dry lips as she tries to maintain her stoic facade...
Both Lydia and Sercha manage to stay in their safe, cosy, space whist the rocks come tumbling past. After a little while, the roaring settles and it is possible to leave the safe alcove, even if the path is now covered in varying depths of debris and rubble.
Realising their avalanche didn't do much damage one of the now frustrated, fiery creatures yells:
"You ***** ******* how ******* dare you! Don't you dare come any closer or I'll shove my hammer up your ******* ****!"
Lydia helps Sercha up and quickly strides up the stairs again, trying unsuccessfully to run away from her feelings. Once she finally gets to the top, though, she takes out her frustrations on the dwarves, slicing her blade through the air as she yells, "You want to say that again? This time to my face? Stand down or face Desna's wrath!"
Sercha is not immune to Lydia's proximity. Her breath comes a little faster and her pale skin takes on a hint of color.
Don't be needy! Don't be needy!
Once the rumbling fades, she's quick to slip free from the space - and Lydia's closeness. She takes a moment to summon her sword - and get her emotions under control before racing up towards the brass men.
"I've had people threaten worse!" she shouts back. "And I'm still here! Do your damnedest!"
Thankfully for our heroes Alainn is utterly clueless to such things as mutual feelings, unless its a dramatically appropriate moment of course! As such the gathlain doesn't pick up on any signs of flustering and simply berates the fire creatures until Lydia arrives and puts an end to all arguments.
"Didn't your mothers ever teach you not to play with boulders? I've got a mind to come down there and give each and every one of you a good spanking! In my day children knew how to play nicely outside without making a load of noise and collapsing the sides of a volcano! Kids these days, no respect!"
The fire-headed creatures scatter at the display by Lydia and Sercha; the scolding by Alainn going unnoticed. They retreat swiftly into the mountain through the door shutting it behind them.
You are standing in an outdoor work area complete with anvils, water troughs, worktables, and bubbling pools of magma.
Before the group progresses further, Lydia casts shield of faith on herself and both her allies. She also casts weapon of awe on her curve blade.
”They won’t have gone far. Stay sharp.” She leads the way through the door.
The door opens to a giant-scaled public house that shows signs of wear, and a layer of dust covers the lone giant-sized table and bar. Two sets of double doors in the southeast corner lead out of the room.
There are nine fire-creatures clearly enjoying their alcohol around the table and struggle to fill the chairs at which they sit. You recognise 3 of them as they are much less inebriated than the others and look at you shiftily, pretending not to notice you. The rest of them ignore you and carry on with their merriment.
Only the cyclops bartender, cleaning a tankard with a filthy looking rag, acknowledges you all as you enter the bar.
"Strictly giants only. You can leave where you came from."
Sercha almost flinches when Lydia reaches out to touch her with her defensive magic, but she stands fast. She can't bring herself to meet the half-elf's eyes, though.
"Thank you," she says. "And thank you for before as well. When you pulled me out of the way of the boulder, I mean. Not when ... I mean ... the boulder." Her stammering ends and she readies her shield to follow Lydia through the door.
"We will leave once we've accomplished what we've came for and no sooner," Sercha declares to the cyclops.
"They aren't giants." Alainn points out, leveling a finger at the fire beings who definitely can't see them. "It's nice to meet you Mr Publican." The gathlain produces the corresponding card out of nowhere. "Can we stay, please? I'll buy a round for the whole tavern!"
The last sentence is much louder, even a landlord will have to give in if the patrons want free drinks!
"Fine, be nice about it and see what it gets you," Sercha mutters under her breath.
The cyclops doesn't register the card you produce and clears his throat gruffly.
A couple of the hotheads turn around when they hear free-drink but turn back to the cyclops checking what his reaction is first. The rest seem so drunk, that they didn't register your announcement.
"Well, no, they're honorourary giants. You can pay for a one-day membership of giant-hood for just 1000gp, and you can stay to accomplish what you came for. I'm sure that lot won't mind a free drink either.
”You’re welcome, Sercha,” Lydia says, watching as the fetchling step away.
In the bar, Lydia counts out enough platinum pieces and hands it over to the bartender. ”Here you go. We’re looking for somebody who calls themself Tick Tock. I am sure you have heard of them.”
He takes the money freely and puts it straight in his pocket.
"Honorary giants, always welcome here....for the next day at least! We've heard of him. You're gonna find him through here." He walks over to the door at the east of the room and pulls out a bunch of keys and unlocks the door and steps back gesturing you through.
"Look, I gotta keep this door closed because of these rowdy honorary giants here."
--------------
Heading through the door, you hear it lock behind you before you enter into an impressive and unusual room.
A massive sinkhole hole takes up the southeastern half of this workshop, leading to a blazing hot chamber beneath. More astonishing, however, is the massive stone head poking through it, attached to a far larger body below. There are many signs and placards around the walls in the room.
Suddenly, you notice a stirring in the other corner of the room and a loud yawn as a giant stirs, standing to his feet as he notices there are new visitors. Shaking off his tiredness in a swift second, he proceeds to fly into a manic rage:
"Look what you did to Smith. All 'e wanted was to forge. How dare you hurt my Smith"
Lydia’s eyes widen as the giant stirs. ”Alainn! Is this the Mountain Man?” She pronounces a judgment of protection and destruction as she rushes to attack the giant.
"Could be!" The fey responds, wrapping the group in magic before scuttling backwards and beginning to fish through the deck.
Sercha dashes forward alongside Lydia to move into a flanking position and slashes at the large man.
Lydia's attack rebounds off the giant's heavy metal armour.
Sercha, observing Lydia's attack rebounding off the armour moves swiftly into position and strikes successfully at the back of its legs.
The giant spins around with its greatsword, striking out at the threat from behind.
The giant strikes Sercha with its first unexpected swing, but she manages to dodge the subsequent attacks.
AC24
HP 117/142
Round 1 = 19+6 dmg from sercha - v to cold
Lydia snarls when the giant strikes Sercha. "Face me, villain!" She infuses her blade with power and slashes at the giant's legs!
Alainn ascends swiftly into the air, buoyed by magic and produces the Mountain Man from the Harrow Deck.
Sercha curses in abyssal (although, to be fair, everything sounds like a curse in abyssal) and spits blood back at the giant before striking at it again with a vengeance.
As one of Lydia's attacks hits true, Sercha proceeds to annihilate the giant and falls back to the floor with a thump, as Lydia manages to dodge out of its way.
As Alainn plays the Mountain Man, it sees the giant stone head carved into the opposite stone wall shimmer for a second.
HP 117/142
Round 1 = 19+6 dmg from sercha - v to cold
Around the room, on the placards and signs is a mixture of writing in both giant and common. The gist tends to be the same no matter what language it is written in:
"Down with Tick-Tock!"
"Smith is ALIVE!"
"Feed him to the kiln!"
"Now you've p***** off Ongaur"
"Bring back Smith"
"TickTock is the devil"
"Get lost Tick-Tock"
To the North of your room is a doorway.
A massive sinkhole hole takes up the south and southeastern half of this workshop, leading to a blazing hot chamber beneath. More astonishing, however, is the massive stone head poking through it, attached to a far larger body below.
To the west of your room is the door you came from which you heard lock behind you.
"Who's Smith?" Alainn asks, looking over at the giant head. "Him maybe?" The gathlain shrugs, the magic required to restore the creature is well out of its ability.
"Let's move on while my spell holds!" It suggests, going for the door next to it.
Lydia looks at the shimmering head, trying to see exactly what has happened. But Alainn's call breaks her out of her reverie. "Good idea."
She heads to the north door and opens it.
Sercha nods and after wiping the blood from her mouth, follows the half-elf.
The door leads into a small room that looks like storage for construction materials of sorts: wood tables, steel bars, pain barrels and threadbare cloth with a door straight opposite you.
Past the next door, you finally find yourself in the beating heart of the Harrowed Realm: this mammoth chamber houses man-sized gears, pendulums, and screws amid puffs of steam. The noise rattles through the room, occasionally shaking free bits of the stone walls. Hammering furiously at a piece of pipe you see a small, halfling-like cowled figure, his skin stone and iron, spouting profanities at each blow of the hammer.
As you enter, the pipe cracks and splinters, and with a yell of frustration, the creature throws the tool at the door. Lydia effortlessly ducks and the Ticktock Man notices all of you, squeaking in fear and scrambling under a nearby workbench.
"She sent, you, didn't she? That cowardly ant! To murder me! ME! The Pillar holding this Realm! As if she doesn't need me! Who sends steam to the Manmolds, freaking Balimar? But you aren't going to take me down easily! Give up! Flee! And I may as well be merciful! And for Sonnorae's sake, LET ME WORK! Isn't it enough that I'm forced to do all this? Just because I'm THE ONLY ONE who can keep things running! Sevenfold cursed the day I struck at her!"
His diction is crisp and rigid and his voice is high-pitched like a silver bell, rising to a metallic shriek as he grows irritated. You feel like he had a great need to vent some frustration.
"The Smith. The Locksmith?" Lydia says to Alainn. She steps forward and speaks louder. "We are not here to murder you. We are on a holy mission from the goddess, Desna. We are working to free this realm from the Tyrant who rules it, and to rescue a missing asscoiate. To do so, we need all of the so-called Conspirators' tokens. We have already acquired one from the Rakshasa, Bernaditi. Hand over your token and we will be on our way without a need for bloodshed."
His had snaps towards you all paying full attention to Lydia's demand.
"My what?! Ah, the token. Wait. The token? Why d'you need the token? Unless... no. No, it can be. Can it be? Is it? Are you seeking to slay Zassrion?"
Without leaving you time to answer, he peeks cautiously up allowing you to see his well-groomed goatee under his cowl.
"Right ..... erm right...... all right, how about this. A favour for a favour. Marzalee the Weaver has a collection of larvae that I need to keep this damned machinery running."
He looks back at his work and starts fiddling with it again.
"This good for-nothing machinery is going to stall if I do nothing about it but she would never part with the larvae knowing it would help ME! Just don't let her see you or she will go one one again."
Starting to screw some bits and pieces he points to a tool box to the left of the door.
"How's that? Oh, can you pass me that hammer?"
"We're absolutely here to save the world and right the wrongs!" Alainn declares, stealthily producing The Locksmith. "We're happy to slay dragons and other evil monsters as required! So yes please, your token would be great!"
"We can do favors! That would be friendly, ok. Friends. But you should do something nice for us too!" The gathlain declares. "Or would you prefer to owe us a favor...?" An undertone of cunning enters the fey's voice. A favor is always powerful currency in stories!
”We will acquire these larvae for you,” Lydia says, handing the hammer to the locksmith.
Sercha rolls her eyes.
"Why don't we just pound him until he tells us where the token is?" she asks, leaning over to whisper in Lydia's ear.
Lydia smirks. "Tempting. But it's better to conserve our resources and only fight when absolutely necessary."
"Fine. Be all rational and ... and everything."
Tick Tock's gaze focuses on the gathlain and speaks slowly as if he is not sure it quite understands the deal. "Absolutely, quid pro quo. Your favour to me is to gain the larvae. My favour to you is to hand you my token."
"Thanks- I'll look forward to trading favours with you soon." He waves his hand as if to dismiss you.
You leave the volcano, having to hammer on the door back to the inn to regain entry - convincing the cyclops that no danger would pass through.
It is getting darker now, with a deep red sunset forming on the horizon.
"Do you both need to stop and rest?" Alainn asks as our heroes descend the volcano's side. "Sercha seems to be getting cranky and I understand that that happens when mortals have not had enough sleep. Perhaps you could help her relax Lydia."
It's very hard to tell if the gathlain made that comment innocently... or not.
”I don’t feel tired yet. I think time passes differently here. We should press on,” Lydia says, refusing to rise to Alainn’s nudging.
Sercha glares at Álainn. "I'm fine to continue on and I'm not cranky," she snaps.
The light doesn't change much during this journey and it settles on a moody dusk by the time you make it there after a few hours o trekking through the woodland.
Coming across the expected opening, you see greasy smoke reeking of soot and rendered fat belches forth from the twin chimneys high above this imposing manor. Dozens of tall windows, all barred and boarded, adorn this formerly beautiful estate, but peeling paint and crumbled ornaments testify to its disuse.
At dusk, this manor has a thoroughly foreboding aura attached to it.
The door is open slightly ajar.
Alainn promptly produces the Waxworks and waves it around a little.
"Does it only work if I wave it?" The gathlain asks, "It's hard to tell. Who wants to go first?"
Alainn accompanies whoever goes first with Dancing Lights.
”I’ll go. We may not be able to talk our way through this place. Be ready to fight.” Lydia casts heroism and shield of faith on herself and Sercha and then leads the way.
As Alainn waves the card through the air, you all notice your senses sharpen. You can smell the mustiness emanating from the manor and can see the delicate cracks running up the brick work.
---------------------
A half-dozen wax mannequins clutter this dark, wood-panelled lobby. Two doors occupy the south wall. A brass plaque, written in ancient script, hangs from the wall opposite the front door.