.
You gathered beneath darkening clouds.
The sun had grown long in its journey across the sky. The snows had melted and the grasses had begun to turn green again. But still the trees were bare and leafless, whispering dryly when the wind shook their boughs. A snowstorm was brewing in the east, the last reach of winter before the warm light of spring swept it away.
Zenais the Wise was on your side. She had sent Atash and Razaniel an easy half day's journey to Limbyen and called other dwarves to come and meet you at Akron. They would give counsel. "I am old now," Zenais would tell Torvi when no one else was around. "I was old Then, before the Sundering. And I want to see my forge again before I go blind and the rest of my power leaves me." The sky-forge at Pyrsa castle had never truly belonged to her. Now it belonged to no one.
Bain Ironhand had been out tending to his flock when he got her message. He spat on the ground. "Those who held the castle then, still hold it now." He had told the messenger stubbornly. "They took an oath to hold that castle forever. I see no need to change that." He was absent from the meeting.
Volli, Karti's mentor, had been invited too, and had come. "Would that I could join you in battle, my brave young lad," he told Karti before handing him a small pouch of Karti roots. He wore his traveling clothes and carried a sword at his hip. He had talked to his young disciple for some time while the others filtered in. Slate Goldtongue, always ready to travel, had also arrived early, his huge traveler's pack full of its usual assortment of instruments and oddities.
There were a few others. Pious the Frail had come, a tottering old dwarf who had once been a lowly member of the church of Kols. There had been a huge temple to the Dwarven god of Oaths constructed in Pyrsa castle, and almost no one who worked there had chosen to leave at the time of the Sundering. Pious no longer wore his holy symbol, his threadbare grey cloak bare and undecorated. Dimitra the Steward was here too, in her finery, who had some distant blood connection to the former king of Pyrsa. Folk whispered that king still walked his halls, the golden flowers on his crown still shining even as the flesh rotted on his bones. There was one other stranger who you didn't recognize, wearing well made traveling clothes and carrying an axe at her belt.
You gathered in a wide underground room sunk beneath the main hall in Akron. Its walls were decorated with a low relief carving depicting Nain and Mahal. The first two walls showed them forging weapons, the third depicted them smiting the Frost Giants of Yore, and the last showed a castle on a mountainside with a red flame burning within. There was one large table in the center of the room set with mushrooms, fresh cheese and fish. A few lamps glowed dimly at the corners of the room, though they provided little light. Their fires were still and stable, shadows hardly flickering.
Zenais began the meeting when the wine was poured into a large indentation in the center of the table. "We are gathered today to give counsel to Karti and Torvi, brave Torvi, for their journey to the halls of our forebears." She stood and spread her arms across the table. "What an army cannot accomplish, perhaps these two shall. If they install themselves in the castle, we may ourselves be able to follow. But let us not get ahead of ourselves." She sat and began to eat. There was a moment of silence, the only sound the receding footsteps of your serving boy.
Freezing rain beat on the cobblestones outside, the last of winter’s frosty breath. The sun had grown long in its journey across the sky, melting away the snows and turning the grasses green. But the trees were still bare and leafless, afraid to open their green buds to the world.
The two of you were outsiders, and had been sent away while Torvi and Karti received counsel. It seemed like this event might also mark their final recognition of adulthood, young for dwarves as they were, though they had long been seasoned fighters. Perhaps it was also intended as a farewell, in case you never returned. You found yourselves at the Bear and the Baby, a well known inn at Limbyen, while your companions were an easy half day's journey away at Akron.
The first floor of the Inn was a restaurant, serving food to many regulars who didn't have kitchens in their own homes. It was well built, the walls of the first floor were solid stone that had been decorated with dwarven carvings, their low relief flashing occasionally in the smoky shadows. Most of the buildings here used to be dwarven. As the night grew late, the crowd changed from eaters to drinkers. There were a few groups of ordinary common people, some stinking of fish, others happy about a recent sale of sheep or a good omen after their first planting. There was also a nasty looking group of three Autokratorian soldiers, their b#+$$%@ daggers worn tight between their legs. A singer, skilled perhaps for these parts, sang an old song of greed and hoarded wealth.
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Torvi chewed quietly at her meal, her last meal perhaps? At least maybe her last meal among her people, the Sundered Dwarves. She turned to her neighbor, who, having finished his stew, was now eating the trencher itself. "Karti, promise me that you will finish me off should I disgrace our people in this quest."
"I wonder how Ka
rti and Torvi are feeling" - Razaniel raised a hand to signal a serving girl over to their table - "I do think this kind of ceremony is important - helps one netter understand their own place in the World, and the order of things" - he commented to Atash.
Atash sat on a stack of cards on top of the table, using magic to levitate small bits of food and wine into his mouth, unwilling to deal with the enormous dishes or cutlery. He shrugs to Razaniel's words, and speaks back in his own tiny whisper. "I...would think...it would be intimidating. Hmm..." He hovers another tiny piece of meat to his mouth. "Perhaps...inspiring?..As long as they continue with us...it's fine by me..." He pauses, raising his grey furred pointy nose up towards Razaniel. "How...are you feeling?..about this whole mission, that is."
The dwarf accepts Vollí's gift with a wry smile. The roots' bitter taste has helped him swallow down challenging times before, and with what's to come, he knows he'll need every bit of help he can get. "You'll be there, your technique and training guiding my hands and spear." More words were exchanged before the two joined the others for introductions, some small-talk, and a fine meal.
Before they all sit down to dine, Karti steals a moment to soak up the mural decorations. The amalgamation of their people's actual history mixed up with the artist's take on the noble's desired portrayal of their story manages to turn a smile on the dwarf's face. Like a horse that had changed owners a thousand times, it's not quite what it used to be before it was handed over the first time around. And still, there's an undeniable truth in it: that of a people unified in their desire to undo the taint that besmirches their name, who treat their history and past as a measuring stick for their worth and honor, and who care about where they came from. Truth, in the end, is a shifty bastard.
The words that followed, uttered by Zenais, manage to humble Karti. His mind falls quiet as he almost withers under the weight of the collective expectations gathered in the room, but the food turns out to be a welcome distraction. He munches on both the meal and his thoughts, trying to swallow both down at once. It's when Torvi weighs in that he finds his mouth altogether too full. Hastily he reaches for his ale and washes it all away. "Don't think of failure. It's the end of a path, not a path of itself."
Surely, the truth of that could be discussed, but these are the words that came to his mind. "But yes. If it were to come to that, know that I will. And if it is to be, know that the story to be told will be about your bravery and self-sacrifice for all of dwarvenkind." For a moment there Karti feels like it ain't him doing the talking, but Frulli.
"More beer, please?!", he asks the serving boy.
Torvi holds out her stein when the summoned server arrives to dispense more beer. "Thank you lad." She turns back to Karti, "I appreciate the wisdom of your statement. I'll take that as a 'yes'"
"How...are you feeling?..about this whole mission, that is."
As the pair of dwarves turn with their ales in hand, they note that Frulli is looking at them intently, a satisfied smile on his face. "Aye, you'll do alright."
The others had been talking quietly amongst themselves while they ate. It had seemed right, to leave heavy topics until after the food was done. The conversation had dimmed as talk turned to death.
"Hopefully, it will not come to that," says Zenais quietly.
"The flesh on your bones is still strong and stiff, yes," adds Pious the Frail, his voice a shrill raven's croak. "I would join you, were I a different dwarf." Slate Goldtongue laughs open mouthed at that, Fruilli and Dimitra the Steward chuckling as well.
The stranger with the axe at her belt had been quiet nearly the whole meal. She had said a few words here and there, but mostly listened with a look of mild concern. Now she sat up and pursed her lips, ready to speak, if you would let her.
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Razaniel cannot find the service at the Bear at the Baby lacking in any way. Atash notes a few odd looks, beyond the usual reactions his tiny frame garners, as he uses magic to eat his food. Magic users were more common here than in many other parts of the world, but still rare enough that common folk viewed them with a mix of wonder and distaste.
Outside, you can hear another party approaching through the pouring rain.
For once it wasn't Karti who soured the mood and, knowing that if he won't let this stranger have the honors of doing so he sooner or later would do it instead, Karti shut up and clears his throat. He demonstratively focuses his eyes on her, hoping that the others take note of this subtle hint.
Torvi looked the stranger up and down, and finally made a beckoning gesture with her hand, "come far traveler, your body says that you have words to speak. Let's hear them before the cook fires dwindle and the beer warms."
The dwarf opened her mouth, narrowed her eyes, and shut her mouth again. There was a long moment of silence. She adjusted slightly in her seat. "It is easy to speak of the deeds you will do, when you are well fed and surrounded by friends." She twiddled an eating knife in her hands idly. "Much harder when you are cold and hungry, and the ground has already been watered with your blood. But I suppose you are no strangers to battle."
She was quiet again, surveying you closely. "No one else is like me. I only speak the truth, and for that I had left these lands. Our kin are no liars, but they have always been loath to speak of our past with younglings such as yourselves." She was looking mostly at you, it was clear that the others at the table meant only so much in her eyes. "Tell me what you wish to hear of now, the castle grounds and battlements, or the story of our people in the first few years after we left those grounds forever?"
"You will find no words of glory and deeds from my mouth sage one. As you surmise, I am no stranger to the horrors the world can offer, either in peace, or in war. I am no wilting lily of young dwarfhood. Nor am I an epic figure about which the scops sing in their sagas. I am but one dwarven maiden, with her dorn-dergar, and a love of the dwarven people, our history, our culture." She claps Karti on the shoulder, "Nor am I alone. Karti here is as brave and stalwart of a huntsdwarf as one could hope to have by your side. I am blessed to have known Karti for some years, so I can say, without reservation, that I place my life in the hands of him, and the others who may accompany us on this effort." She looks back to the dwarf that had queried her, "I have no illusions that there are others, such as yourself, who likely know much more about what we will face, and the history involved. I would ask that you regale us with all that you know. What horrors might we face? What difficulties of ingress, and egress? Know that what you tell us, will not dissuade us from our course of action. Rather it will enable us to be better prepared for it, and hopefully raise the likelihood of our success. So, in all humility, I ask that you tell us what you know."
"How...are you feeling?..about this whole mission, that is."
Atash ignores the onlookers. At least he appears to, making sure to give a casual glance here and there if anybody was going to be so bold as to try their luck. He responds to Razaniel. "The...castle...it's warm now...and we have the dwarves...still a lot...that we don't know though."
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”Me?” - Razaniel replied, as if pondering out loud - ”I don’t know, to be honest my friend… I do prefer to stay in the Sun if I can” - he smiled, Sarenrae’s holy symbol dangling from a simple cord around his neck - ”Yet like we have discussed before - if dark places are where I must go, then it shall be so” - he added just as the waitress arrived with another glass of wine for himself, and a much smaller second one for Atash.
”You should perhaps consider purchasing a set of fork, knife and spoon adequate to your size Atash” - the half-orc added - ”Or do you intentionally like to draw attention for yourself? Even when you know it can bring problems which could be avoided?”
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"I am glad to hear that you have such confidence," said the dwarf dryly. She had introduced herself as Aftonio during dinner, you remembered. She gazed at you for one more moment before rubbing her hands and getting down to business. "I know of two entrances to the castle. The first is the main gate, which you can enter only after climbing the side of the mountain and following the mountain road. The second is the stone gate on the North side of the spur. It is smaller, and you have to cross a stream at a water's fall to reach it." She sipped her drink thoughtfully. "And I had heard tales of a third entrance, deep beneath the ground. They say that all the waters of the world connect together beneath the mountains, and that in elder days our forebears dug deep down into those subterranean caverns." She waved a hand idly, "But everyone knows that's just an old tale for grandmothers with their grey hairs." Aftonio obviously didn't notice Zenais, whose hairs were entirely grey, wince at that comment.
Dimitra the Steward chuckled haughtily. "So you don't know about the passages that lead into Pyrsa from under the ground? What a surprise." She scoffed. "All the waters of the world certainly don't connect under our mountains, but there are at least two underground passages into the castle." Dimitra licked at a finger that was still salty from dinner, her nails clean and polished. "Typical lowlander, to think so little of us castle folk, and yet in truth to not know what you're talking about at all. The next lord at Pyrsa ought to have intimate knowledge of the grounds such as befits their birth." She smiled at Torvi now, eyes lighting up at the sight of her strength. "But as Zenais knew when she invited me here, I do not recognize any legitimate claimants to that title. Nor do I plan to share all my secrets with any lowlander or newborn Dwarf tonight, I do not think."
The way Dimitra's eyes flashed at you when she said 'I do not recognize any legitimate claimants to that title' indicated that she might be interested in endorsing just about anyone for the throne of Pyrsa, should that happen to align with her interests.
The way Dimitra's eyes flashed at you when she said 'I do not recognize any legitimate claimants to that title' indicated that she clearly viewed you with disdain. She might not be much help to you tonight.
When Dimitra references lowland dwarves, this specifically refers to noble, wealthy, upper class dwarves who were born and raised outside of a mountain-castle, especially Pyrsa castle.
It is also obvious to anyone familiar with dwarven politics that should living dwarves re-enter Pyrsa castle safely, that would place them in an enormously advantageous political position which could easily be parlayed into at least a noble title, if not substantially more.
Atash leans back, staring up and pondering his companion's words. "Hmm...comfort is...comforting...but purpose...is what drives us...does not bringing light to the darkness...give you drive?" He pauses, looking intently at Razaniel.
Atash shrugs at the words of warning. "I draw attention...either way...at least this way...they know I may be small and hold money...but also that I am not helpless." He finishes with a sudden bite to his voice, although he quickly hides it.
"I am not much for rhetoric matches" - Razaniel shrugged - "Bringing light to darkness drives me? Yes, I guess you can say that" - he pondered - "I would perhaps not say it in such a black and white way, but the gist of it seems about right" - the half-orc added, taking another sip of his wine - "I still rather enjoy basking in the Sun though"
Atash shrugs at the words of warning. "I draw attention...either way...at least this way...they know I may be small and hold money...but also that I am not helpless." He finishes with a sudden bite to his voice, although he quickly hides it.
"So this... 'Showing off' is a roundabout way of flexing your 'muscles'?"
Atash does not push Razaniel on the rhetorical match anymore. "The sun...can certainly be a comfort..."
Atash gives an amused smile. "Well...yes...ha...that is what I'm doing...isn't it?"
+2 for dwarves and their enemies
Torvi nods, as she takes in what she is hearing. "I very much appreciate your knowledge of the castle, and the ways of gaining entrance. We may be young, mere striplings by some standards, but what we lack in gray, I hope to make up with hard work, a dedication to the task, and our trust in one another. I know not what route we shall take to enter the castle, but you have given as much to think on." She turns to Dimitra,and with a smile ignores the disdain in the woman's voice "I would hear more of what you know about the underwaters Steward, if you would deign to tell. What of these two underground entrances? For, if they are less well known among our own people, then perhaps they are less well known to the rest of the world, although likely fully known to the denizens of the castle itself."
While Atash and Razaniel talked, a small party blew in with the wind and the rain. They wore sailor's clothes, tight wool buttoned against the cold spray. You recognized one of them, Greyton Saltbeard was his name, and the flecks of white in his jet black beard did indeed look like salt. He was a retired ship's captain, out of place in this room, far from the water's edge.
He wore a dagger, but carried no other weapons. He was flanked by two others, both burly and both wearing a small wooden club and dagger. He glanced around the room briefly, spied the pair of you, and began heading in your direction.
”Continue flexing” - Razaniel smiled at his companion - ”We’ve got company”
Atash floats a particularly large morsel towards his mouth, almost the size of a half-peanut, and starts chewing it as he appraises the newcomers. Luckily for him, being this small, it made it hard for the biguns to really see what he was looking at.
You thought back to all you had heard of the rivers. There was some large underground cavern in the area, that much was apparent from the unusual fish and other aberrant creatures you had seen and heard of. Some sects of the church of Kols had prized the ability to swim well and hold one's breath for a long time, which may have been connected to some kind of spelunking. And there was a minor line from a poem which popped into your head. It referenced a hidden door at Bath, the name of a hot spring at the Skirling Pass.
You also knew that the Pyrsan royalty had always been extremely jelous with their information. They had extreme desire to prevent any secret passages into the castle from being known about, since keeping an army outside the castle grounds was always of paramount importance. Dimitra's arrogance about her knowledge was understandable, and certainly underscored that fact that she was only barely less legitimate than any other heir to the throne who still lived.
"I have already said all I need to, I think," said Dimitra, measuring her next sip carefully. "But if you want to hear more, I suggest visiting me. I live in Limbyen, for as we know, we dwarves must stay on good relations with the Outlanders." She tossed her hair once over her shoulder and was quiet, savoring her power.
Aftonio, whose jaw had hung open since she had been one upped, began to fluster noisily. "What are you saying? Just because these two are yongue you want to send them to that castle without everything you know in their heads? Is anyone who doesn't have royal blood in their veins some kind of nibbling insect to you?" Aftonio was clearly very upset, nearly standing in her chair.
There was a quiet moment, most of the other dwarves looking very concerned.
Greyton was a tall and lanky man, with sunken craggy eyes and stiff wiry muscles. The hand that he offered to shake yours with was rough and hardened by years at the till. "My name's Greyton. I've sailed the lands north and south, from sunscorched desserts to frozen wastes where ice mutters in the mouths of the sea. And if you'll listen to me, I'd like to offer you the deal of my life." He smiled faintly, eyes slightly hopeful.
The Autokratorian guards sitting across the room had stiffened when they saw Greyton, and now eyed you two with suspicion.
Torvi will relay her thoughts to Karti regarding the waters and alternate ways in.
Torvi offers, "perhaps we shall come and visit you Dimitra, to learn more." She looks around, at no one in particular, and queries, "is there other wisdom that any else would offer?"
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"I think it more likely...that you sailed the waters." He fusses over his whiskers for a moment. He does not return the handshake. Would be a bit silly anyways. Instead he gives an apologetic shrug. "You have had...a long life...I'm curious...what kind of offer that may be."
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"Loss can make one cling to what's left. In a sense, our collective loss is the reason we're all here, brought together by a pain that we can't stomach. We all deal with that pain in our own way ... ", Karti says in a perhaps futile attempt to diffuse the situation. "Torvi and I are about to embark on a venture that might very well be doomed, so please, I beg of you all, while we're here, united under one banner, let us be friends, if only for tonight. We've got plenty of problems and enemies as is. And plenty of food and drink too, aye?!"
Like Aftonio, Karti too couldn't believe a true dwarf would withhold information from them at this point in time. That, however, only makes him fear the worst as to the intentions of said false dwarves. But, Torvi had already asked the question, and Karti might have to enter the snake's den with her.
"Well Mr. Greyton, pay for the next round, and you've got yourself two listeners" - Razaniel nodded, returning the handshake, and motioning to the table.
Greyton was taken aback by Atash for a moment before laughing heartily. At Razaniel's request, he slapped a handful of coppers on the table and ordered another round. He waved his two lackeys to a nearby table, between yourselves and the Autokratorians. "Well, no use in beating around the bush. There are things in that castle you're going to that are worth a lot of money, and I want them." He smiled. It was that simple. "Here's where the deal of your life part comes in: you give them to me, and I'm willing to give you a markup. Say, 5% more than a normal market price. All I ask in return is that you do a little work for me on the side, at your discretion, of course, but before you make any extra profitable sales. And you don't even have to do anything for me until after you've got the loot that you want to sell." He took a sip of the drink he had bought for Razaniel, realized that it wasn't his, and slapped another fistful of coins on the table.
You could probably talk him up from 5%.
"Aye!" Said Slate Goldtongue quickly when Karti finished speaking, "Let's have a song, before the mood turns any worse." Zenais nodded wearily. She was tired of fighting. Aftonio deflated, shaking her head in disgust before looking at Torvi for another moment. There was more to share.
Slate's song was mournful, reminding everyone in the room of what they had lost. His harp continued to haunt you even when his voice was stilled, the notes long and slow as a night out in the rain.
Things moved more quickly after that. "There are five main regions of the castle itself," said Zenais. "The Front Gate, the Stone Gate, the main Keep, the temple to Kols, and Bald Man's Crown. Hmm, perhaps I should add the mushroom farms belowground too, though those really connect to multiple regions. Which do you want to hear more about first?"
Karti's instinct is to tell Zenais, with too much enthusiasm, that he'd love to hear about the mushroom farms. A hand goes up but is quickly put down and into place as the thought comes and then forcefully is told to go. "Since we'll have to peel this onion layer by layer to get to the center of it, how about the front gate and, if it offers a way inside, the mushroom farms? It's clear there are underground passageways, so perhaps that's an avenue of approach worth checking out."
Asking for information on both is a compromise he can live with.
Atash narrows his eyes at the seating of the lackeys. He's more observant than he lets on. Be cautious with this one.
However he was too discrete for Atash to pick up anything particular on. "Sounds...intriguing...what is the...side work?" Atash feels his companion's temper flare from under the table. With an absentminded hand he uses mage hand to pet her, glancing through the crack in the table. Be calm now, feel my own calm.
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The Stone Gate and the Main Gate are the two main entrances to the castle.
The Main Gate leads to the Keep, but is separated by fortifications from the Stone Gate and Bald Man's crown.
The Main Gate features two approaches, one passing the Skirling Pass, the other passing Sheppard's Shield.
The Skirling Pass and Sheppard's Shield are both referenced on the zoomed in regional map, which is also under my profile.
The Main Gate features a dry moat with a single, narrow bridge perhaps 10' wide.
There used to be multiple siege crossbows on the wall around the gate. They are probably in good repair.
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The mushroom farms are a wide, central space connecting to the other regions of the dungeon.
The mushroom farms lead into the kitchens of the main Keep.
The mushroom farms feature a dangerous type of fungus called a Voriperae.
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"You won't want to attack the main gate directly." Said Aftonio quickly, "It really is hard to attack. There's a dry moat and just one bridge of stone leading over it. They would see you coming and ready their siege crossbows to murder you. Gladly, they would do it, the moment you came within sight." She chuckled. "The thing about our rotting dead is, they still know how to maintain their weapons. And those fools can't tell friend from foe."
Zenais tsked noisily. "Show some respect," said Volli, his tone kindly.
"Well, it's true that they attack anyone who visits the grounds, no matter who they are or what they say, carrying a flag of surrender or our most holy relic. Ever keeping to their oaths, isn't that right Pious?" Aftonio clearly did not have much of a relationship with any of the other dwarves.
"Ever keeping to their oaths, as they should," said Pious dryly. "They will be well received, if you would send them on to the afterlife."
"This does not mean that they deserve your disrespect," said Volli, his tone firm.
"Our ancestors kept a sally tunnel from the main gate." Dimitra said quietly. "It goes under the dry moat and leads back to the mountain road a short distance away from the gate, out of the sightline from right at the gate." The dwarven word for such a sally tunnel had been translated into the common word for 'surprise' by Autokratorian scribes at Theisgraph. "It has several different entrances in the woods around the final approach to the castle." She paused to read your faces. "In the final stages of the siege, our enemy found a few of them and destroyed them, but we always had more. I suggest you look for the one by a gnarled old pine, black and twisted with knots, which lies some distance into the woods from where the two mountain roads become one." No Autokratorian scribe had every written of such a tree. Aftonio began to laugh loudly.
"And the Main Gate leads out to the Main Keep." Zenais added helpfully. "But, there are walls which separate areas out, to contain attackers from breaching too many places in the castle at once. You can't get to the Stone Gate or Bald Man's crown from the Main gate." She sipped at her wine. "Well not without climbing the walls, I suppose, but that would be dangerous, slow and noisy, or magical." She winked when she said the word magical. The power to cast spells was not shared by any in the room except the three of you.
"I believe Pious knows something about the mushroom farms,"
"The mushroom farms were never terribly cavernous or overdug," said Pious. "There were small narrow tunnels which connected each of the regions of the castle to a huge central hollow used for feeding. The one to the main Keep went down straight from the kitchens, which were in the basement. You wouldn't have to bash through any doors if you came up through there. There was another tunnel from the feeding room for a small wooden village, but those structures were mostly all gone in the time of the siege." His voice was at times a shrill squeak, at others a dry croak. "That space itself was huge and open, with many stone bowls for feeding the Voriparae." He looked at Dimitra with the faintest hint of pleasure in his wobbly old eyes. "Those were a type of mushroom that could digest wood and other organic materials quickly. They are known to be dangerous, and have been said to survive long periods of statis when they are not fed." He adjusted his elbows on the table quietly. "You could not access the tunnels until you went through the Main gate or the Stone gate, however."
Torvi nudges Karti, "you writing all of this down?"
Ale spurts out from between Karti's lips as he realizes that his booze-addled mind might not be able to remember all of this in great detail. Hastily he reaches for a pocket diary and starts scribbling. "Guess the ale will have to wait for now!"
He starts off by penning down main gate = skull and then moves on to the bits and pieces that might be of use to them. Not that avoiding certain death isn't useful. He makes a quick sketch of a gnarled old pine with twisted knots and writes longshot - 'some distance into the woods from where two mountain roads become one' underneath it.
What follows is a disappointment. Wood-eating mushrooms that also have an appetite for organic materials - ahem, us!? - is one thing, but Pious' words quietly insist on there being no other way to these caverns than by coming down from the main or stone gate. Of course, someone had hinted at there being a way to these caverns from down below, but yeah ...
"This is all very helpful, thank you very much," Karti says as he finishes writing down his notes. The words sound neither warm nor sarcastic, and just 'are'. "It also gives us a lot to digest, reflect on, and discuss."
"5% seems like a nice starting point, but maybe we can push it up to a more agreeable... 10%?" - Razaniel retorted, grabbing his own drink - "In any case, I will echo my companion's words - what is the side job? That will make or break this deal"
"The side work? Oh it really depends." Greyton tilted his head towards the Autokratorian guards, who were still occasionally looking over at you. "Perhaps we can speak somewhere more private?" You had your rooms upstairs, which were indeed more private. "As for raising your price..." he looked Razaniel straight in the eyes, "...it's a deal. 10% above market value."
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Karti racks his brain on what the dangerous plant could be and if he had ever heard or read anything about it before.
The Voriparae is a virulent and potentially quite dangerous fungus. While they are not used as a main food supply, they are used to supplement other commonly farmed mushrooms due to their ability to quickly digest food and reproduce when demand peaks. They are also prized for their ability to survive extremely long periods of stasis, remaining dormant for essentially as long as they remain in a cool, dark place.
A stationary hazard that expels a cloud of spores when proximity is detected. Will not attack anyone who is carrying an open fire as large as a torch or larger. Gardeners commonly keep a supply of torches nearby.
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"I am glad to see that you've learned to use your head, just as much as your weapon," Volli smiled at Torvi.
"And she's figured out how to get someone else to do the writing!" Chimed Slate merrily, "We singers know how to get our friends to do the heavy lifting, eh?"
When you were ready, the others would tell you more.
"The side work? Oh it really depends." Greyton tilted his head towards the Autokratorian guards, who were still occasionally looking over at you. "Perhaps we can speak somewhere more private?" You had your rooms upstairs, which were indeed more private. "As for raising your price..." he looked Razaniel straight in the eyes, "...it's a deal. 10% above market value."
"I really have nothing to hide from anyone around here" - Razaniel raised an eyebrow at Greyton - "But perhaps we can simply step outside and take a walk?" - he added, looking at Atash - "Are you ok with it?"
Atash shrugs and stands. A weight detaches from the underside of the table, and Atash's capybara nimbly leaps to a chair, allowing Atash to easily jump down on it's back. He ignores any further looks and starts heading for the door. Can't give any onlookers a chance to cause issues if he leaves before they can stop him.
With a sudden jolt he levitates back a few coins to pay for their food and drink.
The person who had been serving you snatched the coins as Atash levitated them over, smiling. "Thanks for the magic money, eh traveler," he said sarcastically. Then the night opened up around you.
It was cold now, colder than it had been in several nights, and faint ice crystals could be seen covering pools and puddles that shivered in the rain. "Hear this," said Greyton when you were alone, his two lackeys having stayed behind, "there's a band of mercenaries about. I'd think your type would have heard of them by now, dangerous as they are. The Whispering Riders." He spat. "But I know that you're even worse. I can smell it on you - no fear." Greyton's right hand couldn't stop feeling at the hilt of his dagger. There were six notches carved into the hilt.
You rounded a corner and the old sailor stopped under an eve to light a pipe. Smoke drifted slowly out into the rain. "A man like me has too many children." He admitted after a moment. "Time was when I looked after them all, kept them close to me. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone. That time is past us now." He seemed pragmatic, the words neither tumbling out of him nor difficult to say. They just were. "Two of my children are in the camp of the Whispering Riders, though whether they are there of their own will or not I cannot say. Perhaps they're just hungry for camp-scraps." He shrugged. "I want you to check on them, and if they need it, for you to help them escape. You must understand that this isn't work for any common numbskull, nor something I trust to anyone who has reason to want leverage over me." He looked the two of you over one more time. You would do.
"You check on those two, and you agree not to sell to anyone else in town or on the lake, and you've got yourself a deal. Now what do you say?"
Atash's whiskers quiver in annoyance as he gently bounces back and forth on his steed. "We can...still sell to others...You get first...refusal...or if we have to wait...two days without you." Atash counteroffers. He didn't want to be stuck unfairly.
The capybara growls and Atash scratches its ear affectionately. "Who...are your children?..what do they...look like?"
The Stone Gate is difficult to access, requiring you to follow a now definitely overgrown path and cross a waterfall before ascending a very steep slope.
The Stone Gate has a narrow landing area perhaps 20' wide just in front of it, which twists up to a gate about 10' wide.
There was only one siege crossbow on the wall above the entrance, but there were numerous buckets of rocks and other dumpable projectiles above the gate.
The Stone Gate sits above an abandoned mine, which likely has at least one access point to the Farms, and may have an additional access point inside the Stone Gate's ward.
The abandoned mine's entrance has been made to look like a fake gatehouse, encouraging attackers to charge into it. The real entrance is just a little bit higher up.
The Stone Gate has a small ward behind it, but once breached you can access all the areas of the dungeon except the Main gate.
The Keep is a tower made of four walls that surround a small courtyard. It has four aboveground stories and two belowground ones. Each wall has one fortified entrance.
The entrances are large doors of wood heavily reinforced with iron. The entrance leading to the Main Gate also has an iron portcullis. They are all surrounded with at least four murder holes for archers.
The first underground story include the kitchens, several storerooms, and servants quarters.
The second (deeper) underground story is the Sky-Forge and attached rooms.
The first floor contains a wide hall, two smaller halls, and numerous smaller rooms. It is highly defensible.
The second floor contains sleeping rooms for low officials and soldiers, two armories, and several meeting rooms.
The third floor contains two temples, private quarters for high officials, and guest quarters.
The fourth floor contains the personal chambers of the king, a small library, a private map room, and the treasury.
The exact layout of the interior of the Keep is unclear, and has probably been changed since the Sundering.
There are numerous smaller structures immediately surrounding the Keep which are of little importance.
The Keep can be accessed from any other region of the dungeon. The path to the Mushroom farms leads underground, while the path to the Main Gate leads through a fortified area.
The Temple to Kols is a wide tower three stories high and three stories deep with one large additional building next to it.
The first story belowground features mostly administrative rooms, and is relatively small.
The Crypt of Alexius, a legendary pontiff who died long ago, is located in the second story belowground, alongside the hall of Kings.
The third story belowground was off limits to almost everyone, and was seldom visited.
The first two stories aboveground are mainly devoted to a central prayer room with an overhanging balcony and numerous small oath-rooms.
The outbuilding next to the Temple of Kols was used to refine Drownstone.
Bald Man's Crown is a tall, narrow tower with an expansive underground section including dungeons, storerooms, and even a small mine.
Spellcasters living in Pyrsa were required to reside at Bald Man's Crown. Their personal laboratories and libraries grew over the years.
Zenais lived on the fourth floor, next to the observatory. She can provide you with a more detailed description of each floor if you want.
The Sundering Ritual took place on the ground floor of Bald Man's Crown.
There was a magical lock placed on the main door which required drownstone keys to open.