The kobold shakes his head, "Thanks but nah. This is my job until you breathe fresh air or I can't do it."
Salt and a once-over notwithstanding, Xira has to convince herself that she is not feeling anything squirmy anywhere sensitive ... or anywhere else really. She will likely take a minute of the next rest break to double-check and probably triple as well. Raka is right, leeches are truly disgusting.
The kobold shakes his head, "Thanks but nah. This is my job until you breathe fresh air or I can't do it."
"Your determination speaks well of you, my friend," she says cheerfully. "But we support each other here, yes? Don't feel like you have to do your job all on your own."
As Xira speaks, she applies chalk to slate and herself to her own job of mapper. The results ... well, she may not do her best work in this medium, but the results are clean and recognizable, which she supposes are all they need to be.
Though she also has other priorities. "Does that leech bite still need tending?" she asks Raka. "I'll dig out my kit if so."
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff (when done mapping)
Effects:
Phantrel gestures again in the direction Thunder-follows-Lightning had indicated. ”I’m afraid I only have the direction, Em. I don’t believe Thunder-follows-Lightning has ever been here before so we have a destination of sorts but we’ll have to work out the route ourselves.”
Em lets the others continue to lead, content to follow for now. She makes only a quick comment about the importance of searching for anything useful, in this trying predicament, before lining up behind Brimble.
Colin would have to get inside the furnace chamber to really be able to analyze what the dwarven furnaces were like and what it would take to get them 'relit'; perhaps he can convince his new companions to let him try the furnace door.... in a bit; they seem to have a new direction just now. He can read the warnings, though; they advise workers to be sure they have both protection from heat and breathing apparatuses before entering the furnace. A meter set into the furnace door seems that it probably measure heat on the other side-- right now the meter is currently in the more 'cool' side of things, the arrow pointing towards a bluish section of the dial. However-- something you all might have noticed sooner, if not for the repeated unwelcome soakings in water-- it's not really cold down here. Once you dried off you were warm enough-- the ambient temperature seems to be roughly that of a pleasant spring day.
It does seem somewhat warmer near the furnace door, Colin can note.
****
I have already told you all I can surmise of the defenses.
****
After more checking of the double doors, Brimble eases them open...
Indeed, this leads to a good-sized corridor that runs east and west. To the west, it extends past the end of Brimble's darkvision; he can make out gaps that indicate other doorways. To the east, the corridor ends in about fifty feet, but turns to the south as well.
After a few seconds to be sure the coast is clear, Brimble slips out into the hallway, confirming quickly that the western ends terminates about 70 feet down, and that the eastern end goes south. As he sees nothing immediately threatening, he gestures the others to follow into the hall.
Looking around, you all see...
There are two doors on the opposite wall from the one you have just emerged from that have plaques that can be read quickly enough, as some of the runes are already familiar to you-- the signs for dormitories again. Another plaque to the west repeats the runes for toilets.
The lights of the intrepid band show that this hallway is perhaps a bit nicer than the level you came from. The floor is patterned with repeating motifs of dark and lighter stone creating a pleasing if repetitive pattern; the walls show more gold linework that, if not the equal of the stunning entrance gallery that was your first exposure to dwarf craft mastery, still show some decorative flairs beyond the purely utilitarian work on the Iron Level. The linework has been shaped into highly-stylized repeating motifs of hammers and anvils, fire and steam, blacksmiths at their craft. The regular placement of the dark crystals that you are currently theorizing might have been light sources are placed wherever the fires would be in the artwork. You can only imagine what it might look like properly lit up.
If you wish to follow Phantrel's Psychic Tugboat, he is still indicating east and south. However...
....Em, Raka, and Phantrel all hold up a hand before you start that way. One of them whispers, Do you hear that?
Something seems to be coming your general direction from the north-south hallway-- there is a repeating noise, gradually getting louder, like slow and heavy footsteps.
Great, Raka thinks glumly as the group makes their way through the darkness. Brimble clearly seems to be treating her differently now than he did before, no doubt as a result of her comments earlier. Then again, such a situation would make things awkward for anyone... right?
"How many dormitories did they have, d'you think?" she asks no one in particular as they pass more doors. Then she stops in place. What was that? She holds up a hand to signal the group to halt, focusing her eyes-- and mostly her ears, given the lack of ambient light-- on the upcoming corridor.
"Brimble," she says quietly. "Somethin' up ahead." She points forward.
Weapon Equipped = Sling (loaded)
Sling Bullets = 9
Conditions = Light (Raka’s ax)
Melee: Attack: BAB +0, Str +2 Damage: Str +2
Ranged: Attack: BAB +0, Dex +3 Damage: Str +2
Called: Reroll a one on attack (1/1)
Healer’s Hands: (0/1, 1hp)
Spells Memorized (Caster Level 1, Concentration +2)
. . 0 (11): Create Water, Light, Purify Food & Drink
. . 1st (12): Burning Hands, Cure Light Wounds
- - -
Argatha doesn’t hear it, but when he’s informed there’s a sound, his mind works overtime suggesting what it is. He expects it’s the dead dwarves come to reclaim their hallowed halls…
Well, they won’t get him without a fight! He’s had his sling out for a while now, but he checks it to be sure it’s ready. He feels his doom upon him. How can they possibly succeed against so many? Well, at least if they’re making noise, they’re not incorporeal. He thanks Cernunnos for small favors.
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Absorbed by arcane speculation over exactly how the dwarven technology was powered, Colin is completely oblivious to anything up ahead. He muttered, "I'd like to open that furnace door later, seeing what's inside might be vital to understanding how this complex was powered and perhaps even restoring it. Given the size I'm speculating it's an alchemical process of some kind, because if it was fueled by pure magic it wouldn't need to be so large, but beyond that the details are anyone's guess."
Brimble halts at the warnings. He doesn't hear whatever-it-is, but he assumes it is very real. The kobold makes quick chopping motions toward the shower room, trying to coax people in that direction. He hisses quietly, ”Back to the shower and douse those lights!”
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
Xira is with you, Brimble! Thoughts of mapping and leeches flee her head as she kills the light spell on her staff and nips back through the double doors, giving Em and Raka's sleeves a tug as she goes. She waits silently, hoping that whatever it is hasn't already seen the light or heard their voices.
Brimble hisses a quick directive to retreat and Xira is already moving before the words have died from the kobold's lips . You end your light spells, hoping the possibility of stealth outweighs the fact that this means six of you are now effectively blind.
For those of you who aren't Brimble, it's a tense number of seconds waiting in the dark, unable to see anything at all, though shortly after Xira and Brimble urge you back into the baths chamber, you can all hear a heavy tread and the sound of something metallic.
Brimble alone can see-- peering through the tiniest crack in the baths door, Brimble watches...
He can see a figure of sorts move into view at the end of the hall, about the size of a short and stocky human, though it moves with a gait too regular to be that. The body appears to be smooth and angular, and it is in the rough form of a humanoid, with two golden lights glowing softly where a person would have eyes.
Another six seconds counted by tersely, and the creature comes down the hall towards Brimble. As it nears the area where the group stood but scant seconds before, it stops, and the 'head' rotates a full circle, spinning smoothly as it presumably surveys the area from a mere thirty or so feet from Brimble's spot behind the door.
After another handful of seconds, it moves west-- stopping almost immediately in front of the door and once again repeating an apparent search.
Steam occasionally erupts from vents on its body. In the barely-there illumination from the creature's eyes, Brimble can just make out the reflective sheen of metal.
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Argatha, from the back somewhere, is aghast at what they hear. Wow! It must be manufactured, and hundreds of years old. Buildings fall before that time!
He's impressed, but doesn't want to face whatever it is in battle, so he remains silent and un-moving. He has a light spell ready though, and his sling.
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Brimble eyes the machine-creature with a mix of wonder and dread. He decides pooping himself would be an undignified and unhelpful reaction. He watches for the glow cast by the creature’s eyes as it nears the far end of the corridor. Please turn the corner… please turn the corner…
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
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Raka waits in as much complete silence as she can manage, hardly daring to breathe in the hopes the creature-- automaton?-- will pass them by without noticing their presence.
If Em could see what was happening, she might have already slipped through the door and made her way down the hallway to the East. She's been called smart, but never cautious.
As it is, she cowers. Em is fairly sure that if demise is imminent, it will be for someone closer to the doors first. She herself has retreated to what she thinks is the back of the group, resting a blind hand on someone's bony shoulder. Em has vacillated between mortal terror and brash confidence enough times now that she should be feeling practiced. She isn't.
As the machine-man walks past with its even gait, Brimble presses an eye to the door-gap, trying to study it closely for any hint of any way of how to hurt such a thing, should it come to it. But nothing occurs to him beyond just 'have someone hit it really hard.'
The metal figure moves on down the hallway and for a brief moment, Brimble's prayers to an unspecified deity are answered; the creature takes a left and disappears through the gap on the southern wall of the hallway. But a mere handful of seconds later, it reappears, and retraces its steps once more across the length of the hallway, though this time it does not stop to "look around" as it had before.
It clanks its way past the door where our heroes wait in various individual states of tensions, then keeps going, and you can all hear the sounds of its passage slowly receding to the south from whence it came. There is one blessing: it's not exactly a quiet creature, and you have a decent sense of how far away it might be by the sound of the metal feet treading on the stone floor. The noises fade to the same silence that had prevailed when you first emerged into this hallway. The whole affair took perhaps a minute, though it might have seemed longer.
When the noise recedes, Brimble shuts the door quietly and turns to the team. ”Lights are fine now. So, there’s a… a… like a clockwork thing that patrols the hall. It’s close to human size, made of metal, vents steam, and has some awful big fists. It’s got glowing eyes and it stops every so often to spin its head full around looking for… well… us, I guess. I’m not sure it stops by every door but it sure did stop by ours before. It’s got no problem seeing in the dark either. And it moves about as quick as we do. We should check the floor in the hallway to see if that thing disturbed any dust. Might let us know if it’s been running on a path for a hun’ert years and what that path is. Could show us where we can hide.”
”To me, the problem is we don’t know the layout of this level so we can’t predict its path. We start wandering around here and we might get caught somewhere with no place to hide from it. I didn’t see it open any doors, but that’s no guarantee.”
”Maybe the best option is to wait til it’s out of sight and sound – like now – and then follow Thunder’s sense of direction. We go quiet and look for hiding spots, maybe pop a door or two. Then, when we hear it coming… we try to hide or run back to any safe spot we’ve found.”
He shrugs, ”that’s the best I got.” Brimble moves back into the hallway briefly to check for dust on the floor and any signs of the creature's footprints.
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
Brimble eases the door back open again, cautiously, and this time devotes some attention to the floor. There's less dust than he'd hope for when it comes to track-revealing; very little airflow results in, it seems, very little dust. Still, he is able to determine that there does seem to be some wear on the stone where the machine stepped-- it's not a deep-worn groove or anything, but it does show that it probably repeated this path more than a few times to cause the marks you can see.
At the far west end of the hall there is the gap that the machine briefly disappeared into-- it didn't sound like it opened any door there, so you could duck into that room, hall, or whatever it is without having to wrestle with a door. (Of course that's the opposite of the direction that Phantrel is indicating.)
The dormitory doors are just like their counterparts on the level below you-- glass panels that you have not yet figured out the secret to opening, meaning they must be opened with brute force. Which you know is not quiet.
The toilets door is easy to get through, like the baths door, so you have at least two doors you can duck through easily and quietly. At the far eastern end of the hall, Brimble was able to see that there are open gapways into a large room with tables, so no need to force doors there, either.
You could also make Colin thrilled by choosing to try and go through the furnace door-- you know, the one covered with warning labels-- and try to bypass the machineman altogether.
The kobold catfoots down to the edge of the North-South corridor and checks it briefly before skirting across to what he assumes is the Steel dining hall. In addition to basic reconnaissance, he’s looking for scuff mark evidence of the clockwork’s path. Does it enter the dining hall or simply bypass it and move up the corridor. In his haste, his claws scrape along the floor a lot more than he'd like.
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
Brimble does his best to sneak-sneakity and do a bit more recon. Straining his ears as he is for the sound of the metal-man returning, he is hurrying and is neither as quiet nor as perceptive as he might be with a bit more time. He makes it to the dining room-- or at least it sure looks like one-- thankfully, there's no huge mold cloud in the corner of this one.
He doesn't see any ruts worn by the machine's passage in here, but it's a big room and he's looking quickly. Another issue is that there's no doors to close like in the baths-- so you'd really have to hope that it didn't step in here to look around.
There appear to be exits on the far wall, and Brimble was able to catch some quick glimpses of other hallways and doorways during his transit.
Brimble wishes Phantrel was with him to give him some idea where Thunder was guiding them. But seeing the large cross corridor, and the chance to see more of the North-South corridor was very likely worth the risk. Again he crosses diagonally and peeks around the corner. He may be a little too concerned to look carefully but his sneakiness is first rate.
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
Feeling like he’s pushing the limits of his luck, and conscious of the rough direction Thunder suggested they go… Brimble snakes back through the southern end of the dining hall to the intriguing possible second North-South corridor for a quick looksee.
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
The quietest kobold in all the land...
As sneaky as a really sneaky thing, Brimble darts from hallway corner to hallway corner. In short order he has seen an east-west hallway with yet more doors and plaques; the general gist of the mess hall including a door on its southern wall, and the general gist of the second north-south hallway-- at the north end it terminates in a pair of familiar-looking golden double doors. Near them is a stairwell that looks similar to the one you saw on the floor below- although, if your mental map of this place is accurate, it can't be the exact same one.
He sees more doors, more plaques, but probably more interesting than either of those to him is the fact that he sees a small pile of bones in the center of the floor here. The flesh has long since dessicated to near nothing, but even a cursory glance would tell Brimble that this was not likely a dwarf-- instead, one of the small races, like a halfling, a gnome, a goblin, or... a kobold. (No, he sees no tailbones. That's something.)
There is faint discoloration all around the sad little heap of bones, as if blood might have once stained the spot around it.
If he's inclined to investigate more closely, he thinks the better of it-- because he can hear that even, ominous machine tread coming up from the south. He can't yet see it, but he can hear it.
The dead shorty stops Brimble in his tracks. The clanks of the machineman, sets him in motion again. Time… to… GO.
If he’s interpreting the echoes right, the machineman is in this corridor, not potentially blocking his route back to the team. He tries to slink through the dining hall. Again, his dew-claw scrapes the ground. He pauses for a moment, wincing. Hoping to NOT hear the sounds of pursuit. He prepares to sprint if the tempo of the clanky footbeats increases.
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
His claw catches on a crack in the stone and Brimble freezes, not even blinking. But the sound of the steps continues at the same measured pace.
Phew. With an exhale, Brimble is able to make it back the rest of the way to the others without further issue.
Brimble makes it back to the team as quickly as possible, shuts the door gently, then signals the others to douse the lights, just in case. He says very quietly, ”Nearly stumbled on the Clanker. It’s coming this way… maybe. Let’s give it a minute.” While they wait and listen, he borrows a piece of chalk from Xira and sketches on the floor a very rough map of what he’s seen.
Once the Clanker danger is over and the lights are back on, he reports what he saw.
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
Brimble swiftly makes it back to the bath chambers, where the others are cautiously waiting. Lights are put back out (if they were ever re-ignited) and the group duly waits in a tense, stressful silence for the sounds of 'the Clanker' as Brimble has dubbed it.
Though he could hear the metal-man as he retreated, the bouncing echoes of its tread off the cavernous stone halls quickly made it difficult for Brimble to get much of a bead on its progression.
You wait. You wait some more.
Someone has the bright idea to count; by the time three minutes have elapsed you still haven't heard the sound of the tread returning.
You can continue to wait, if you like. The only clock in play is your own mortality!
"Been a lot longer this time since it came back this way. D'you think we, I dunno, activated it somehow? Maybe there's another pressure plate in the hallway or somethin'.
"Where d'you think we should go, Brimble? Seems like now's the time to get there.
”There are some floor scuffs that show Clanker has walked around a bit… but it isn’t like he wore a groove in the floor. So maybe we did wake him up. I dunno…”
"Where d'you think we should go, Brimble? Seems like now's the time to get there.”
The kobold sits on the floor, trying to file down a pesky dew-claw against the tile. ”Way I see it, we got two tasks and likely we can do both in one go. We should head to the dining hall area and follow Thunder’s lead to find his pals. And we need to look at that dead fella really close. He just might get us out of here.”
"And we need to look at that dead fella really close. He just might get us out of here.”
Xira blinks. "You just lost me there. How?"
Brimble smiles briefly before returning to work on his claw. ”How did that fella – a fella like us – get in here? And how did he get this far down? Unless he is the greatest genius since the dwarves, he didn’t come in through the front door. And if he wound up in the underground lake by accident, we’re no better off. BUT, if we’re lucky, his entrance might be our exit.”
Argatha remains in the dark as Brimble comes and goes. He's secretly happy they're not stuck between the metal thing and the rats. One requires darkness, the other light.
He's ready to move out with the group, and does his best to remain quiet - moving carefully through the halls.
He kicks an unnoticed rock against the wall clattering a bit! Ugh...
(to learn what he can of their demise)
"Huh." Xira thinks as she adds some reference points to her map based on Brimble's sketch. "That makes sense, if these bones are more recent than that poor dwarf downstairs. And if he was on his own, he probably wouldn't have tripped the trap over the lake. Minty didn't after all."
Minty. Now there's another question, though not their most urgent. The gnome might be the only other survivor of their team, or he might be ... something else. She hopes he got away.
"I'm for it," she says at last. "Two goals pointing us in the same direction seems as good a guide to me as any."
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After some planning and discussion in the relative safety of the baths chamber, you set out. Trying to find a compromise between enough light to see by and not enough light to announce your presence to the world is difficult; ultimately the best solution appears to be just one light spell active, cupped in someone's hand and held low to illuminate where you are stepping and little more than that.
Using this scant illumination, you make your way as quietly as possible down the big hall towards the dining room, converging in the southwest corner of it while Brimble checks ahead.
From there, Phantrel is close enough to the door in the southern wall to read its little bronze plaque: STEEL COMMON ROOM. Phantrel can relay this in a whisper to the others, as well as the information that the 'tug' appears steady and in the same general direction.
Brimble once again detaches from the others to slink ahead. He's no doubt been glad of his ability to see in the dark many times in his life, but perhaps never so much as right now. He tiptoes (tipclaws?) ahead to try and make sure the hallway is clear enough to get a good look at the body.
Now that he's prepared for the sight of the body he's able to notice more details about the hall in general. Probably the most pertinent one is that there seems to be a light source to the south-- there's a gap in the wall, and through that, some faint illumination is coming through. It has an unsteady, flickering quality-- like flame rather than a magical light.
If he strains his li'l kobold ears, he can just hear what he thinks sounds like indecipherable muttering from the same direction as the light.
From twenty feet away, the body is a difficult subject for study. It looks as if a number of the bones have been, well, smooshed, making species ID even harder-- Brimble would have to get closer to try and really study the old corpse.
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Phantrel doesn’t have a strong feeling about their current actions, though he does his best to step lightly and carefully in the dim light towards the destination they are slowly but inexorably heading towards. Instead he is preoccupied by whether what they are doing is the right thing. On the one hand it’s undeniable that powerful magic would boost their chances of getting out of here alive. On the other, there’s a cost to it and he’s still figuring out quite how high a price he has paid in picking up Lord Highcliff’s sword. And he’s not just talking about Thunder-follows-Lightning’s somewhat abrasive personality. If it was something of a prototype, maybe the other items were crafted to be slightly more amiable, he muses to himself.
There’s the physical pain of his bonding with the blade, of course. But it’s more than that. Phantrel doesn’t exactly know how to describe the burgeoning relationship he has with the sword; parasitic is unfair and inaccurate, but neither could he honestly describe it as symbiotic. He searches through his botanical knowledge, struggling for a good comparison. He has the wisdom at least to understand how much he doesn’t know, how out of his depth he is. He didn’t pick up the sword deliberately, though he did willingly choose to accept the knowledge Thunder-follows-Lightning offered. But he doesn’t want the others to go in blindly about what it is to wield such a weapon, even if he is still slowly learning of the bargain he made even now. It would not be right to say nothing, of that he is certain. Although how to say so diplomatically in front of the blade when Phantrel currently seems unable to say nothing right to it is a dilemma he has yet to resolve.
He sighs silently, regretting - and not for the first time - the situation he finds himself in. Still, he is where he is and that can’t be wished away. But if they do make it out of the dwarven city alive, the half-elf doesn’t expect he will feel anything except relief to be rid of the sword. As the group discussed, to surrender it to the GMC doesn’t sit well with him and would feel like an abdication of responsibility. But given that he expects its rightful owner is Alithea Highcliff, from the little he has seen of the young noblewoman, he suspects she would wear it well. Yes, he could live with that.
He sets aside his mental distractions temporarily at least to translate a plaque: Steel Common Room, before focusing once more on his surroundings and the task at hand.
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Brimble sneaks across the corridor and pauses briefly near the unread plaque by the large double-doors. He’s a tad irritated he doesn’t know enough of dwarven runes to read it. Hearing no ominous clanking, he slides south along the wall until adjacent to the dead guy. Without drawing any closer, he looks for indicators of what killed the fellow. He suspects it was Clanker but it could very well be a trap in the ceiling or floor.
Having finished a look at the corpse (and floor/ceiling), the kobold moves with extreme caution even further south. He carefully plants each foot and scans the darkness to his limits, looking for even the slightest hint of Clanker’s silhouette in either the southern or large side corridors. He hopes to see the glowing eyes when they are barely a glimmer.
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
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While he's hardly a trained medic, Brimble can at least tell certain types of injuries from others. His quick, cautious glance at the corpse seems to lend credence to Clanker: there are multiple broken bones, some of them nearly crushed. In the little pile of jumbled and crunched bones, a few bits of metal are visible-- a rusted dagger, a few other odds and ends. No obvious trap caused this that Brimble can tell.
Taking a deep breath, Brimble edges further down the hall.
The gap that he had thought might be another corridor going east-west turns out to be double doors. A few more steps and he can see the apparent end of the north-south corridor, ending in a T-juncture.
A few more careful, careful, ever-so-quiet-steps and he can see around the corner into the room with the flickering light.....
He spots the machine-man. He also spots... something else. Someone else.
Is that a @#$^ing dwarf??
The figure in this chamber is certainly rather dwarf-like in terms of all the representations Brimble has happened to see thus far: about five feet tall, built like the proverbial brick wall, muscular, bearded...
It's just that the beard and the hair are on fire. Or they ARE fire. And the skin appears to be ... copper? Burnished bronze? Something metallic, anyway. The flame of their 'hair' is a living, moving flame-- and the source of the illumination that Brimble noticed.
From the waist up, the figure is bare-skinned (or bare-metalled, whatever). From the waist down it, or he-- it certainly appears masculine-- is wearing a sort of armored kilt and golden cloths. It bears no weapon that you can see .
He is the source of the muttering as well as the light, for he is seemingly talking to himself, or perhaps to the machine-man, as he stands behind it and does something with its mechanisms.
Brimble also notices, distantly, that the room has a number of stone benches all facing inwards towards a central anvil and a statue of an imposing dwarf that appears to be gilt with shiny metal. The walls here are especially rich with the dwarfgold linework, all of it dancing with the reflections of the dwarf's (?) flames. He is probably more focused on the figures.
Neither machine nor dwarf (????) seem to have noticed Brimble.
Em follows close behind Phantrel, trying to use the little splashes of light to avoid bumping into anything. She still has a little fire poker which she might use as a spear, though Em suspects it would be wholly inadequate against a creature of metal and stone. Is there a shred of flesh, within that automaton? Or is it born wholly of an inventor's hands? She sits slowly on one of the benches, trying to stay as much at ease as she can.
In the faint half-light, Em can't tell if her hands are shaking.
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Brimble peeks around the corner for as long as he dares. He wants to press on but he needs to warn the other miners. This news was too important. Using utmost caution, he sneaks back up the corridor, past the corpse, until he is at the plaque again. He does his best to memorize the runes. He scratches them repeatedly into the hide on his arm. When he feels confident that he has them committed to memory (or at least scratched well into his own flesh as a cheat sheet) he moves back to dining area where the team waits and points to the bath. He whispers ”Go back now. Quiet as you can.”
Once they are shut safely in their base (which is now no longer safe), he borrows Xira’s chalk again. Using his arm as a reference, Brimble transcribes the dwarven runes on the floor. ”This is from the door across the way. But we’ve got a problem in the southern room. Clanker has a friend. He looks like what legends say dwarves look like, but the hair on his head and beard are real fire and his skin kinda looks like bronze or something. That room is like a forge or maybe it’s an altar – or both. Lots of dwarf-gold on the wall, big statue, the works. There are a couple doorways out of it I couldn’t see into. But maybe it’s like a temple to their gods. And the… fire-dwarf was fixing or changing Clanker. Now, maybe Clanker would ignore closed doors but I’m betting the fire-dwarf is like regular creatures and wouldn’t. So, if we go making too much noise and they come looking… I don’t think this bath is very safe for us.”
”The fire-dwarf is talking to himself. I don’t know if that’s bad or good. I wish he’d like some visitors but since that corpse looked like Clanker beat him into the ground… I got doubts.”
Brimble turns his attention to Phantrel. ”We could use some advice from Thunder right now.”
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
Em wracks her brain and her knowledge of dwarven myths for any hints about the 'automaton', but nothing comes to mind immediately....
Brimble reappears at this juncture and urges you all back once again to the baths chamber. Sneak, sneak, sneak....
Once there, he is able to relate what he saw.
Squinting at the runes that Brimble painstakingly transcribes, Phantrel or Colin or Em is able to translate them as STEEL GUILDHALL.
For Phantrel, Thunder-follows-Lightning is still silent. Presumably it can hear what's being said, but it doesn't immediately volunteer anything. Phantrel might have to try to find... the right thing to say, whatever that may be, though he has hid little luck so far, as he was just musing.
Phantrel or Colin or Em is able to translate them as STEEL GUILDHALL.
The kobold’s look is rueful. ”Guildhall… so not likely the place they store all sorts of grand weapons. But there might be some useful stuff in there.” Brimble considers where Phantrel indicated Thunder was pulled. Maybe there’s another exit to the guildhall and a third corridor. Could we sneak around the fire-dwarf and Clanker that way?
HP: 8 / 8 | AC:15 / T:13 / FF:13 | CMD:11/9
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
"I could go talk to him. If he's a dwarf, he's been alone for a long, long time the poor guy. I think it should only be me who goes though. No sense risking all of us. He might be angry." He thinks a long moment, "Or insane."
Argatha isn't sure this is a good idea. But then he's had weak ideas before and done OK. They can't hide and search forever, and getting caught is worse than direct confrontation.
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"The fire-dwarf is no dwarf, friend," Em says, beginning to relax a little. "He sounds more like a divine servant of Torag, famed enemy of Droskar, whose influence has spread nearby. You might have luck with your plan, Argatha, but let us not try that path yet. It is risky, as you say, and besides," Em's grin is a little wicked, sometimes, "we'd be better off sending someone with a little more, shall we say, flair for the dramatic?" It is entirely obvious that Em is referring to herself. She considers her next words carefully.
"Thunder-follows-Lightning, as death follows the cradle. Tell me, what does your strong spirit desire?" Em looks at Phantrel. No, she's looking at the sword he carries. " You will have drunk much blood from many foes, in your long life. But have you had many friends? I mean people who can see that you deserve more than a comfortable sheath"
"I think all of our options carry an element of risk, probably a sizeable one. If we could find another route - quietly - I think that would be my preferred option. But I don't know how feasible that is, when opening doors is noisy and we may find ourselves trapped in a dead end." Phantrel looks to Argatha. "Your courage is commendable and I think there is something to be said for trying to approach as friends rather than being caught and perceived as invaders."
He looks curiously at Em. The young woman has a plan but as he tries to parse her words, the half-elf isn't quite sure what she's intending. She's trying to flatter its ego, that much he grasps, and he can't argue with that. Thunder-follows-Lightning is also a weapon while Phantrel is obviously no swordsman, an odd couple come together by chance and circumstance rather than design on the part of either. But he's not quite sure what she's trying to propose.
Phantrel engages himself mentally and speaks to the sword. He prays to the Green that the sword is more amenable than it has been since they rested.
If we were to speak to this divine servant, do you think it would hear us out? he asks. I assume that an automaton would simply follows its instructions and would likely attack. He carefully formulates his next words. If it were me acting as our representative, would bearing a weapon clearly of the stoneborn be a boon or a hinderance? Bluntly, would I be perceived as on some level worthy to hold such a blade, or presumed to be a thief? I won't ask you to intervene on my behalf but you have seen inside my heart so I'll leave that in your gift.
Xira listens intently to Brimble's description and the resulting discussion with her brow furrowed and her lower lip caught between her teeth. The corners of her lips do twitch up at Em's questions. Here's hoping they help.
In the pause that follows, she turns to Brimble. "Were you unable to understand what this being was saying because you were too far away to make it out, or because you didn't understand his language? No problem if he's speaking Dwarven, but if it's something else entirely--" Xira pauses for a steadying breath. "If it's something else, my language spell will let me understand him for about ten minutes."
A shrug. "It might help us find out his state of mind before we try talking to him, anyway."
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
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At the back Colin didn't see much but when Phantreel spoke of finding another route, Colin spoke up "At some point we'll be forced to interact with the things that live here. Knowing potential hidey holes is good, in case that goes poorly, but I don't think we'll be able to sneak around undetected forever. No idea when we should switch from sneaking around to taking though!"
Brimble idly fiddles with the talisman around his neck. "I don't know many languages and it wasn't familiar. So not Common or Draconic."
What I 'desire', as the girl phrases it, is for you to tell the tall one that the stoneborn did NOT fall to greed or a lust for gold. As I instructed you already to do-- but it is clear you do not believe me. Still, relay my words to her and I shall answer your question.
With this message relayed, the sword doesn't exactly warm up right away, but it does keep its end of the bargain:
A servant of Father Torag is just and righteous. He will not strike at you without fair cause.... though, yes, perceived theft might be 'a cause.' If you will attempt to speak to him, do so with respect and state that you are carrying me temporarily until I discover where I am meant to be, and what it is that I 'deserve'... Say that you do not presume to 'own' me. Do not try to hide that I am with you - it would not be wise.
Brimble is hardly an expert on Dwarven, but he has heard it spoken several times now-- by Lord Highcliff at the least-- and if he had to guess he would think the language the firebeard spoke sounded like that-- harsh consonants and all.
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Phantrel mentally chides himself for not having corrected the record. My apologies, he says, biting his tongue for the moment, at least until he gets the information he is hoping for. He suspects that Thunder-follows-Lightning is not going to be particularly happy about what else he has to say.
”Raka,” he says quietly. ”I appreciate this isn’t the ideal time but I meant to say this last night. Those stories about dwarves and their lust for gold? They aren’t true. Thunder-follows-Lightning feels strongly that I mention this and I can only apologise for my oversight at the time.”
The sword is quiet for a while but does then speak up. To Phantrel’s mind the words are somewhat grudging but they are undoubtedly useful.
”I have some advice about how we might approach the servant of Torag,” he says to the group in a hushed voice. ”Thunder-follows-Lightning does not believe it would attack without just cause so let’s try not to give it one.” His mouth quirks up in a slight smile. ”I’m not sure if that should be our first course of action but it is on the table at least. And I think we should still try and avoid the metal walker,” he adds.
He does not voice his concerns that they are placing an awful lot of trust in the sword’s information and beliefs. In this instance it would almost certainly mean putting his life in the hands of blade. That has been true the entire time, however, and so far Thunder-follows-Lightning has not led them astray. Phantrel is fairly confident that at least some of the others will also have the same concerns, but from a diplomatic perspective it may be easier if someone other than him voices them. Although he didn’t do a great job of refuting the previous besmirching of the good name of the dwarves, and that is certainly a sore point for the sword.
Speaking of which, while it may have been something of an oversight on his part not to tell Raka, Phantrel hadn’t been particularly minded to either. Generally he prefers to smooth things over and keep everybody happy, at least as far as he can, his attempts to be polite with the sword seem to achieved little so he feels that now he has the information he was after, it is time for the sword to hear a few home truths.
"Incidentally,” he begins, "I don’t disbelieve you about the stoneborn. You know far more than the rest of us combined and have first-hand knowledge of them. I have no reason to doubt you. But what you take for granted is a mystery to almost everybody else. Nobody knows what happened to the dwarves. Very few people know anything about them and so they remain a source of fascination. I am no expert but what scholars and archaeologists may have learned, I imagine is still probably based on piecing things together and conjecture. Everything we have seen in the course of the past day," he makes a small gesture with his hand to signal their location, "is likely far more than all but a handful of people have seen. Lord Highcliff – Auric – is probably an outlier in what he knew and I would imagine that much of what he knew of the stoneborn he learned from you." A little flattery can’t hurt, he supposes, before continuing.
"However foolish or misguided you may believe Raka’s beliefs to be, such stories are not uncommon. When people know nothing, they fill the void. The heavy use of gold and other precious metals, whether for practical purposes or otherwise, it is not difficult to see how somebody comes to the conclusion that the stoneborn liked them. Stories get told and retold and twist over the years. Again, it is not much of a leap to turn this into a tale of hubris leading to their downfall. Such tales are probably as old as all peoples, the stoneborn included. You may know otherwise but I reiterate, few people know anything about them. What you would consider to have the obvious ring of truth or be complete nonsense is nothing of the sort to almost everybody else."
Phantrel pauses, weighing up whether to say what he would like to even though he knows Thunder-follows-Lightning is unlikely to take too kindly to the words. But his patience has been tested and respect cuts both ways. "I, too, am largely ignorant of the truth of these matters. While I appreciate the guidance and the knowledge you have imparted, I do not particularly enjoy being spoken to in that manner." He keeps his tone firmly neutral. "I have been polite and respectful and have not always been greeted with the same. Screaming and shouting, periods of sullenness, “instructing” me rather than asking: perhaps it is you that has been around humans for too long. These are not qualities that I would have associated with the stoneborn from the little I have heard." He finishes, unsure if the sword is going to berate him or fall silent again, but given his attempts at diplomacy have so far not gone well, he prepares for the worst.