"Or at least let Raka and I know before you head off on a mission, hm?" Xira gives Em a playful squeeze around her shoulders, careful to keep her staff out of the way. "That way we can protect your person and admire your splendor, and that of your companion as well."
Around a stifled yawn, she adds, "But do give us some time before your next mission, or I may collapse trying to keep up with you."
Xira sends Zenith a wryly amused thought. :: Here's hoping I haven't doomed us to visiting every mirror in Thurznchakh.
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
"Speaking of missions" said Colin, "Later I'd like to go through the office notes, in case they reveal any important events that happened here. I expect that will take quite some time... Also there was a door leading south from the office that we've not explored."
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"Or at least let Raka and I know before you head off on a mission, hm?"
"It is a fine plan. Good things never happen to people when they are alone." Em returns Xira's touch, resolute, though inwardly not a little worried. Brilliance, dangerous, captivating thing that you are, I must be wary of you. Or is it myself I must beware?
Sighing inwardly, Phantrel adds, "If our goal has now changed from simply getting out of here to finding those dwarves who are still alive - and I think we are all in agreement that it has - we may also need to consider going back down to the level below to fully explore. It's where we found the daggers," he adds by way of rationale.
Brimble keeps walking. "We need to find out the range of those, uh, soul crystals. If they can spot their owner 500 leagues away... there may be no stoneborn left in here. Maybe Forgewise knows."
"If he doesn't know, it could be documented somewhere. I might ask The Professor." commented Colin.
"Speaking of missions" said Colin, "Later I'd like to go through the office notes, in case they reveal any important events that happened here."
"If our goal has now changed from simply getting out of here to finding those dwarves who are still alive - and I think we are all in agreement that it has - we may also need to consider going back down to the level below to fully explore. It's where we found the daggers."
Xira nods slowly in response to both men's words. "We do need more information on what caused this disappearance if we're to have any chance of finding anyone. And we should probably check the Steel Dormitories for more daggers. But Forgewise's requests should come first, certainly--" She cuts off abruptly, shaking her head.
"So much to do, but I can't help worrying about Lady Highcliff. Her father clearly thought she was in danger. Is she still? Are we too late already?" She nibbles on her lip, thoughts racing behind her eyes. "Maybe I should ask the Harrow."
Xira walks on, brow furrowed, but after a few more strides she looks at Colin. "'The Professor?'"
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
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The group chats a bit as they retrace their steps through chambers already explored and back towards Forgewise....
----
----
The celedon nods at your return and solemnly accepts the clan daggers you have brought back, adding them to those he is sorting. Should you ask about the distance a clan dagger can still indicate its bearer's life or death:
"The distance? Oh, my darlings, anywhere upon this plane! What use should it be left here, if it only spake its knowledge at a hundred paces, or five hundred? Nay. The stoneborn could be on the other side of this world and still their daggers wouldst be true to their souls. That is a large part of why they should be left-- to communicate life, or death, to those left behind."
Well, it's an answer, even if not the one you all wished to hear-- as it does seem to mean the 'survivors' could be... anywhere. What that may mean for your sense of obligation to find them, well, that's up to you.
Should you relay the sighting of 'slagborn' and ask if Altynbekh might be dispatched as a guard, Forgewise hrmmms! in his barrel chest and tugs on his fiery beard a few moments.
"Aye, I can send Altynbekh to this point or that, though he cannot remain there indefinitely. An hour, at most, before he must return to me to have his eternal thirst quenched. And, well, he hath trouble with doors, so the halls are all he might manage. Do not tell him I hath said this, he shouldst be embarrassed. Still, if thou hast seen intruders by the baths, I shall post Altynbekh there post-haste!"
Forgewise's cheer seems largely to have returned, though also a bit of his ... off-ness. But he still seems in touch with reality, overall. He moves to the golden figure and finishes pouring water into Altynbekh's back. Then, Forgewise reaches into the delicate mechanisms with his blazing hands and does.... something; you cannot see what. But the effect is quick: after a few seconds you hear a hiss and clicking start to come from within the figure, and then steam puffing from its various vents. Altynbekh's eyes gleam with faint light.
Forgewise closes up the construct's back panels and then whispers presumed instructions into the figure's... well, it doesn't have ears. But near the head. Altynbekh clanks off towards the western exit, presumably en route to the baths.
"There! Do not trouble thy minds about slagborn coming from THAT direction, at least, for Altynbekh shall be vigilant!"
Brimble leads the way back through the large hall that runs past the various 'smithies' or workshops, indicating the ones that he mentioned in his report. It is a short distance to the door marked as Verrik's. It's got one of those small glass panels and looks to be a sliding door such as the dormitory entrances, which you know by now will yield to the crowbar if enough force is applied.
It seems deathly quiet here, with no indication of any motion or sound behind this closed door.
Brimble tries to move quietly up the corridor, despite the retinue. It’s a habit by this point. At Varrik’s door, he gives it a thorough once over, trying to spy and foil any traps or locks.
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Smite (1):
Vengeance (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
Argatha follows along, until it's time to open the door. He puts his dagger away, takes out the crowbar, and goes to work, prying the door open.
(crowbar)
(crowbar)
(crowbar)
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Brimble assures you he can see no traps, and no lock other than the glass panel that you have yet to grasp its solution....
Argatha gives it several good tries, his muscles straining, but in the end he must yield the crowbar to Raka, surely the strongest among you. After a few attempts, she wrenches the door far enough open (with a loud grinding scream of protesting metal) that Brimble could easily slip through, and the rest of you could squeeze.
It is dark inside. Or-- no, wait, there's a single point of light that flares into being, a tindertwig struck in darkness and birthing a moment's flame. It briefly illuminates the face and beard of an elderly dwarf, sitting at a table in this darkened room, and then the flame dies down and is used to light a pipe, judging by the sudden fragrance of tobacco and smoke.
A tired, thin, and wavery voice says in Dwarven, "Well. You might have knocked. Dim your lights, if you be courteous invaders, for I am old, and it hurts mine eyes."
Argatha smiles as he hands over the crowbar, "Man these doors are tough!"
His smile fades as one of the stoneborn sits within, comfortably smoking a pipe.
"My lord, apologies." He replies in Dwarven as he snuffs the light on Raka's ax, but the spell to re-light it in the event of hostilities is on his lips. Something is wrong here...
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By the stars...
Instinctively, Raka holds the golden shield in front of her at the first sign of movement inside the room. When its source is revealed, the part of her that feels foolish for brandishing her fine shield at its own maker (or one of them, at any rate) is pushed down by the weight of the years that brought her up.
Every legend (particularly those about what lay behind The Door), bedtime story (like Kishrak the Giant Dwarf and his sack of misbehaving children), and turn of phrase ("That merchant dwarfed me on every item") Raka had ever heard concerning the ancient people had always led her to the same conclusion:
Dwarves were not to be trusted.
Her new companion certainly gives her reason to think perhaps not every dwarf was what everyone said they were. But that's hardly comforting in the face of the first living dwarf anyone had seen in generations. Who knows what he's capable of.
"V... Verrik?"
Between the stench, and the impossibilities, only one explanation makes any sort of sense. Brimble finds the pick in his hand and his eyes see beyond common place light, seeking a deeper, internal, darkness.
He hisses to his allies in the common tongue, ”Back away and draw weapons! Turn ON the lights!” The kobold holds his ground.
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Smite (1):
Vengeance (1):
Effects:
none – xxx.
"'The Professor?'"
Colin explained, "Yes, that's what the book I found calls itself. Fascinating thing, it contains a wealth of information. It spoke into my mind briefly, but so far it's mostly been content to let me read. I get the impression some of the other courageous have been far more talkative."
Colin was rather taken aback by the discovery of a dwarf, he really wasn't expecting to find a live one so soon or so easily. Could this really be Verrik?
"Is she still? Are we too late already?"
"I expect the Lady Highcliff will be able to take care of herself. Though she must be grieving." Em watches Zenith, her eyes flicking up to Xira's. "Let me help you with your new friend," she says, hoping to keep her friend in the present.
Before moving to Verrik's office, Em tries to help Xira set up a better way to carry Zenith.
----------------------
Em backs up away from the door, heeding Brimble's words for once. She does not call out to Verrik right away, waiting to see what happens first.
Evil....
Evil, confirms the voice of Houndsfang to Brimble, dispassionate and dry.
Not all is right here! Bastion calls inside Raka's own mind-- though she is slow to react, still reeling at the notion this might be a living stoneborn.
Brimble's cry and vigilance cause the stoneborn to look his way.... As he turns his face full towards you all, your lights spill over it and you can see that there is something very wrong about his face. The further eye socket is dark and empty, with small maggots writhing in the vacant hole. His skin on the far side of his head is flaking away, revealing pale bone beneath. He opens his mouth, revealing teeth as sharp as needles and as yellow as bile.
"Ah. So much for hospitality, then," the creature hisses, and stands with speed that belies his apparent age. However, Brimble's shouted warning means several of you were already on guard, and act before he can lunge towards you.
Brimble recalls the effort it took to get the door open. Slammin’ it shut ain’t gonna happen. They were going to get bloody. Brimble silently calls on Dranngvit to help him strike down this abomination. Then he quickly slides to the opposite wall and readies himself to bury Houndsfang in the creature’s chest as soon as it comes out of the room.
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Smite (1): x
Vengeance (1):
Effects:
Smite – +2 to HIT, +1 to DAM, +2 deflection bonus to AC.
"Cold is withered flesh and bone, and cold is sleep under stone," Em begins, knowing not whence come the words that tumble from her trembling lips. She moves to one side, hiding the monster from her sight and gazing fearfully at Raka.
No longer a servant. A mockery of one. One who turned his back on his god, blasphemed against him! False priest, a crafter now only of treachery! Brilliance says to Em.
DESTROY IT!
Xira sidesteps to the wall at Brimble's warning, angling for a look at what caused him to react. Her first sight of the foulness within the room doesn't make her retch, but she does clench her teeth. She at first thinks to provide the light the kobold called for, but when she reaches for her magic, she finds a different spell, one that wasn't there before.
With ancient words on her lips, she fires a ray of positive energy at their enemy.
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
A bolt of white-silver light flashes from Xira's fingers, a spell she's never cast before, never so much as seen before... it seems to be bolstered, somehow, by Em's words. Cold is sleep under stone!
The flash of light arcs past Raka and into the flesh of the creature in the room. There's a sizzling sound as it hits, and the thing bares its teeth at Xira across the intervening distance.
"You burn me? I'll offer you up to Torag in flames, then! Burnt sacrifice to the old bastard!"
Weapon Equipped = Dagger
Conditions = Inspired
Melee: Attack: BAB +1, Str +2 Damage: Str +2
Rune-that-Destroys: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Magic +1 Damage: Str +2, Magic +1
Called: Reroll a one on attack (1/1)
Healer’s Hands: (0/1, 1hp)
Ranger Focus (1/1, +2att/dam)
Spells Memorized (Caster Level 1, Concentration +3)
. . 0 (12): Create Water, Light, Purify Food & Drink
. . 1st (13):
- - -
::We are in total agreement!:: he thinks back without thinking.
Argatha heeds his bows advice, noting it reached out to him without touching him at the moment. He rushes into the chamber, still having no arrows, and stabs at the dead dwarf with his dagger - inspired by Em.
(inspire)
(inspire)
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The tactical plans of those flanking the doorway are undone as Argatha rushes in with similar bravery and/or foolishness to directly confront the creature....
For a moment he had a strong compulsion to shoot one of his few spells through the bow, as strange as that seems, but he overrides it and barrels towards Verrik, or what is left of Verrik, leading with his dagger.
If his charge surprises his allies, it also surprises the one-time dwarf. Argatha's dagger bites deep...!
....but it does not seem to hurt the creature at all. For a moment, the gold-clad monster just looks down at the dagger planted in its chest, then looks at Argatha, then laughs, a sound like a rusty creaking old gate.
"An eager sacrifice to the betraying bastard, then! The girl will just have to wait in line."
Verrik strikes at Argatha, one hand empty, as if he just meant to slap him, but the old dwarf's fingers end in long and ragged nails..
...and the other holding the tobacco-pipe like an impromptu shiv, stabbing Argatha with the stem.
The slap/claw catches Argatha across the cheek, leaving bleeding welts in its wake, and the pipestem right in the farmer-cum-miner's shoulder.
Rune-that-Destroys says somberly in Argatha's mind: I did not mean 'destroy it' quite like this.
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"Argatha no!" With the man now front-and-center and taking the full brunt of the definitely-not-living dwarf's attacks, Raka can't possibly stand back and watch.
She charges into the room and pulls the axe from her belt, her shield held in front of her. On a silent suggestion from her companion-- not even spoken into her mind like before, but felt like an instinct-- she calls out a single word. "Challenge!"
Six translucent shields, like small versions of Bastion itself, surround the undead creature. One interposes itself unerringly between Argatha and the enemy, the other five surrounding it on all sides-- except in front of Raka, occupying the only gap between them.
Whoa.
Understanding immediately the implications of this new effect, she braces for impact.
Not used to either the number of bodies or the cramped quarters, Phantrel can't see a lot of great options. With his view obscured by the melee combatants, he enters the room and with a arcane turn of phrase, looses a jet of ice at the former dwarf.
Weapon Equipped = Dagger
Conditions = Inspired
Melee: Attack: BAB +1, Str +2 Damage: Str +2
Rune-that-Destroys: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Magic +1 Damage: Str +2, Magic +1
Called: Reroll a one on attack (1/1)
Healer’s Hands: (0/1, 1hp)
Ranger Focus (1/1, +2att/dam)
Spells Memorized (Caster Level 1, Concentration +3)
. . 0 (12): Create Water, Light, Purify Food & Drink
. . 1st (13):
- - -
::Well I don’t have any arrows, do I?!:: He ignores, for the moment, the bow’s abilities in that regard. Damn dagger ain’t worth much more than cutting supper.
Argatha steps back 5’ and casts light on Raka’s axe once again while he plans his next move. He knows it won’t do more damage but he wants to irritate the dwarf anyway.
He sees the shield between him and the opponent and smiles, "Nice one Raka!"
"Raka!" Xira calls, hoping the monster doesn't understand Taldane, "draw it out, into the hall!" Brimble looks poised to commit mayhem if he can just get at the thing, and Em ... who knows what her new abilities are? Besides the crown, of course.
As for Xira herself, well, it worked once! She reaches again into that place of pure energy and lets fly.
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
”No light in darkness gleaming, to wake us from our dreaming,” Em continues. Her words are felt more than heard, though whether they inspire courage or dread is, at this juncture, an immaterial distinction. She wants to cry out, to warn the others to fall back, that their blades will do little to harm this thing of malice and decay, but her tongue continues to move of it’s own accord.
Several things happen at once..... (or close to 'at once')....
After Argatha's brave but, perhaps, not terribly-well-thought-out charge inwards, several of his companions rush to join him-- Raka especially personifying her sense of of protector of the others. She learns that Bastion (or Trudd? Or both?) is willing to help her in this cause, judging by the appearance of ghostly shields! 'Woah' indeed.
She swings her axe, which connects with a flash of white-gold light. Verrik cannot ignore this like he did the dagger, it seems-- not judging by the howl he makes in answer.
Right on Raka's heels, Phantrel darts in and conjures a darting icicle, which is also bolstered by Em's ethereal whispers-- it seems to hone in a bit better, hit a bit harder-- in fact, it hits hard enough that the frost from it seems to rim over the figure...
...and he stops moving. A spiderweb of ice, light and thin as morning frost, congeals over his limbs, and the creature that was once Verrik Brightbrass goes still, unholy life and intelligence fading from his one remaining eye. After a second, he topples to the ground and lies still.
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Your breathing is ragged as you wait with weapons raised to see if that truly is the end of the corpse... but seconds pass and Verrik doesn't move. Eventually it is obvious he is truly, properly dead.
Cautiously entering the room and gazing around, you see...
The body of a dwarf, albeit corrupted. Still, for those sensitive to historical impact, you are indeed looking upon one of the stoneborn, somewhat decayed but in better shape than the skeleton you found on the Iron Strata. No artwork, but flesh and blood: like unto a very old, very short, very stout human man. Broad in torso and shoulder despite his apparent advanced years, perhaps four feet tall when he was standing, though he had a stoop. A younger dwarf might have stood taller. His hands are old and knotted, the flesh receded from the fingertips to expose those terrible nails. His beard and hair were long and stark white, the beard reaching nearly to his belt; it might have once been well tended but now the hairs are brittle with death. Like the fingertips, the flesh has pulled back from the teeth, which are bared still in a rictus parody of a smile. You assume that living dwarves did not have such horrific-looking dentition.
He was wearing long robes of grey cloth with a golden surcoat over them, and while the bottom edge is tattered and torn, and there is some blood on the chest region, most of the garment is still in fine shape-- the gold surcoat looks to be silk, delicately embroidered with a mountain-and-stars motif.
Em was not inspired by sewing kneepads for digging in dirt, as needed as the items were. She is inspired by the idea of crafting a cradle for the orb that seems to whirl with stars at its center, speaking of mysteries and dreams untold... and here is suitable material, for one such as Zenith.
Should I be jealous? Brilliance chuckles to Em.
While Zenith doesn't vocalize particular thoughts about the carrier, Xira can sense bit of pleasure and anticipation as the golden fabric is considered for a carrier.
The stoneborn was also holding that pipe-- now wet with Argatha's blood-- but aside from that gruesome detail, it's quite a nice pipe, fashioned from brass in the shape of a dragon breathing out a plume of fire. For craftsmanship alone such a pipe might fetch a good price, but with the right buyer and the awareness it's dwarfwork, it could be triple that.
If, of course, you could find a buyer. If you could get back to the world where people buy things, if you could keep the pipe from the GMC's eyes, if you could find a quiet purchaser, somewhere.... many ifs, there.
The sapphire and moonstone rings in the stoneborn's ears and on his fingers prove the same riddle: you have here small, concealable items of value-- value such as most of you have never owned in your life-- and yet, what good is gold and gems if you cannot spend it? You can't eat it, and the GMC legally owns all this... supposedly.
The dead dwarf bore no holy symbol of Torag that you see. A clan dagger, similar to the others, with pendant inserted, is worn at his waist-- the gem is dark.
With the immediate danger past, you can look around this room: comfortably enough appointed for a single person-- a large stone shelf on the eastern wall is topped by a comfortable mattress, with stone shelving and carved alcoves above it, holding various small personal items. A desk and a comfortable chair abut the bed, the desk's stone surface smooth and polished, the chair itself metal but with a thick stuffed cushion on the seat. Against the desk leans a simple but well-made cane. A few metal-bound books are stacked neatly on the desk; the top one is open, and looks to be a journal with handwritten runes in it....
The dwarf was seated at a table that, like the cane, is plain but well-crafted. A slab of polished stone two inches thick on metal legs, surrounded by four chairs. A tin on the table, still open, reveals very-well-aged tobacco with a strong, earthy scent.
Other shelves and alcoves in the room hold the things you'd expect of a living chamber: boots (the leather brittle with age), garments, grooming items, knick-knacks, a portrait done in the same etched-copper style as the family portrait in Kazha Hammerfast's room, though this depicts a man and woman dwarf of middle years, standing with two young men who must be their sons.
A sink is set into one wall; a little alcove holds a privy bench similar to the ones you've seen in the toilet chambers. This man apparently had a personal loo.
A door with the familiar glass-panel lock leads to the south.
----
The Professor lets out a dry chuckle when Colin remarks that he's been allowed to read uninterrupted. Of course. Why would I interrupt thy acquisition of knowledge? Once thou hast learned some fundamentals then we can speak further. I have my own research, meantimes.
---
Argatha points out that he has no arrows, yet. Rune responds in measured cadence: You may send arrows of pure life from my string, if you have such to hand with your understanding of healing. Better to strike down the undead before they can injure you, than to save such gifts for healing after the fact.
---
Brimble receives a certain sense of mild disappointment from Houndsfang as the short violence concludes, and then the familiar raspy chuckle. Tactics is not the specialty of thy companions, is it? Dranngvit's gift goes unused, and I go unblooded. Next time...
---
Bastion, however, is delighted with how the fight went. Ha HA! We have worked well together, defending your friend! it says to Raka. No matter that the defenses hadn't actually been tested. And a goodly cut! Whack! Like that! The wicked struck down! A blow for righteousness-- I only grieve to see that one of the stoneborn had become lost, like that.
---
Phantrel's blade, however little he might like to consider it 'his', says nothing just now. The sensation of weariness persists.
Should anyone investigate the journal...
At least half the pages in this book appear to be missing, mostly the earlier half. Some of the later pages have been scribbled over so heavily the runes cannot be read. What is left would take time to go through, though if you flip to the last dozen entries you can read the following:
...so empty now, with so many having taken this gamble. Still I do not know if it is madness or brilliance. They looked to me to know Torag's will and my mouth was full of ashes, and I lied and claimed to know.
Forge Lord, I beseech you for wisdom, for your guidance! A few words only is all I ask. I will atone for my earlier doubts...
----
...what I had suspected to be true but the confirmation is bitter as acid: Varyn fancies that he loves her, and she him, and no good can come of this. If only any of the Mother's faithful were left to us! This would be their realm to navigate. But they are gone. Gone. O Kella, half of my heart died with you.
I know the crafting of metal, not the working of soft words, but I must try to talk Varyn from this path before it leads to great pain.
----
Discussion went poorly. Fool boy!
----
Forge Lord, Father of All, I pray you, I pray you, I pray you to answer me. I know you wish your children to stand on their own and thus maintain your distance, but we are lost in a deep darkness, my lord, my master. Craft hope for me.
----
Chest pains again, waking me from sleep. I called the chirurgeon. Part of me wishes I had not.
----
...Struck Varyn today. I am ashamed. Kella, what can I say to our boy? He is stubborn as stone--
----
You mock me, Father of Creation. You give me orisons and prayers daily yet you do not answer beyond this. Why? Am I to be punished forever for a few moments of....
----
I spake of duty in sermon today, to the handful of us who remain. I did not look at Varyn, nor G., nor K. Does she know? I...
----
Vorly and Chraine were lost today in the caverns. We do not know what, we only heard the screams. Forge Lord, take their souls back to your bosom and forge them anew, as is fitting... if you care.
----
chest pains worse last night
----
The last entry is nearly illegible, the runes like a chicken's scratching:
DEAD dead my boy is
I tried to
madness has her. i must get
hurts. I can't...
damn you Torag, damned to you, damned to you, you are no father but a careless child who leaves his toys when bored
I spit on you, you old liar. I spit on you and damn you. Damn you and damn me.
::I see...:: Colin signed inwardly.
To take his mind off the implications of that, Colin asked to see Verrik's journal and he read what he could. After a few minutes he shook his head, "A tale of woe and no mistake, still one phrase sticks out: 'So empty now, with so many having taken this gamble.' This suggests some calamity, lead to most of the stoneborne deciding to leave. Also it seems Verrik has struggling with his faith which failed in the end, he mentions being punished forever for a few moments of something unspecified. Not sure what to make of that!"
Tentatively his mind sought out the professor and he asked, ::Professor, according to Verrik's journal most of the stoneborne decided to leave which he described as a gamble. This place is remarkable, can you tell me why they'd choose to leave?::
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"I expect the Lady Highcliff will be able to take care of herself. Though she must be grieving." Em watches Zenith, her eyes flicking up to Xira's. "Let me help you with your new friend," she says, hoping to keep her friend in the present.
"You're probably right. Although--No, never mind." Xira smooths her expression into a rueful smile as she unwinds her scarf from her neck. "Maybe we could knot Zenith into this for now? Though I'm sure they would prefer something more purpose-built, so long as it lets them see."
Once they have established that the once-stoneborn will not rise to the attack again, Xira turns to doing what she can for Argatha's injuries. "Here, let me see that shoulder." She starts with creating pure water to wash out both the wound and the ugly nail-scoring on his cheek. Once both are as clean as she can make them, she lays on her hand and speaks in soft Thassilonian for the third time in as many days.
"That should do it." Xira smiles in satisfaction, but still digs out her healer's kit. "Hopefully there's no deeper infection, but just in case. I don't even want to think about what might be under those nails."
After dressing the shoulder wound, She closes her eyes, once again probing her newly-expanded mystical abilities. Is there anything else I can do here?
Yes.
After a brief, rhythmic chant, Xira takes a deep breath ... and blows a strange, silver-gilt sparkle from her lips, that drifts down and sinks into Argatha's body.
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
Weapon Equipped = Dagger
Conditions = Light (Raka’s Ax)
Melee: Attack: BAB +1, Str +2 Damage: Str +2
Rune-that-Destroys: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Magic +1 Damage: Str +2, Magic +1
Called: Reroll a one on attack (1/1)
Healer’s Hands: (0/1, 1hp)
Ranger Focus (1/1, +2att/dam)
Spells Memorized (Caster Level 1, Concentration +3)
. . 0 (12): Create Water, Light, Purify Food & Drink
. . 1st (13):
- - -
”Well struck everyone. We really piled on!” Argatha grins at the teamwork.
He’s disappointed that his dagger did so little, but then he’s not traditionally a melee fighter. So he doesn’t chastise himself overmuch. ::I promise to use you, er, at all, but definitely more once I get some arrows. I agree, my few spells are better used in offense against undead, but I also wanted to pin him down.:: he replies to Rune-that Destroys.
He considers healing his injury, but decides to hold off for the moment. They may encounter more undead dwarves in here, and if so that might be his only attack. He prepares to bind the injury and clean with conjured water when Xiramona bounds over and cares for the wound.
”Thank you for that Xira. I need to get used to not being the only healer.” he grins. Haphazardly, without a healer’s kit, he tries to help.
vs DC 10 to aid
When he's healthy, he searches about. In the privy, he finds... well, stuff. Dry at least, he fishes out a few pieces of paper and some gold and put it all on the table. He considers washing it with clear pure water, but decides against as it may ruin whatever's on the paper.
Brimble stews on the bad decisions even before Houndsfang speaks up.
:: Tactics is not the specialty of thy companions, is it? Dranngvit's gift goes unused, and I go unblooded. Next time... ::
For the moment, the kobold makes no reply. He mulls how to solve the simplified version of the issue: How do I herd these f*&^ing cats?
”Well struck everyone. We really piled on!” Argatha grins at the teamwork.
…Or maybe one of them will have to die before they learn. The kobold enters the room long enough to take the crowbar from Raka and rain on Argatha’s parade. ”You got lucky. Do that again and someone might get dead.” Brimble heads back into the hallway and goes to the nearest door into the Vault. He inspects it carefully.
Bullets (20):
Frost Spitter (1):
Smite (1): x
Vengeance (1):
Effects:
Tentatively his mind sought out the professor and he asked, ::Professor, according to Verrik's journal most of the stoneborne decided to leave which he described as a gamble. This place is remarkable, can you tell me why they'd choose to leave?::
No.
A little pause, then, To elaborate: I CAN. I will not.
*****
Em is able to warn the others that the corrupted priest might have carried diseases, so Xira takes extra care to cleanse the wounds before she brings healing magic to bear. As near as Xiramona can see, there's no sign of infection, but only time will truly tell.
*****
I promise to use you, er, at all, but definitely more once I get some arrows. I agree, my few spells are better used in offense against undead, but I also wanted to pin him down.
Rune-that-Destroys is silent a moment-- it does nothing hastily, it seems, other than urge the destruction of the undead. Finally, slowly, it says, 'Pin down'...? Where would it have gone? Out into the hallway, where you would have had the advantage of numbers, and position, and would have surrounded it? Where your companion who has armor might have held a defensive line against it? Running into the room to confront it - and thus drawing your companions after you - was not... a wise choice, Argatha Clanless. Do not seek to dress it in the language of tactical warfare.
Argatha can at least use his privy-discovery as a distraction from the chiding. The pieces of torn paper appear to be pages from a book. At first you wonder if they might be from the journal, but the journal was handwritten, and the runes in the book are incredibly even and regular, as if some sort of machine imprinted them on the page. From a brief look at a few of the fragments, they appear to be forging instructions?
The golden metal is, well, gold. It looks as if it was originally a thin, hammered cover for the book, bent and crumpled into a rough ball now. There is also a thin gold chain, and a symbol hanging from it that has been, by the looks of it, stomped on and crushed and warped until is no longer obvious what the original design was, though you can certainly make the educated guess that it was a Toragdan hammer.
*****
Brimble heads out to inspect the vault door. His instinct to look for traps is finally rewarded: yes, there is some sort of... effect on this door. It looks primed to deliver an electric shock to any 'unauthorized entrance.' Though Brimble takes a few moments with the picks that he got from Ubek, he is unable to disable the mechanism that seems to be built into the doorframe.
There is no sign of any keyhole, only the dark glass panel a few inches square.
Xira smiles and nods at Argatha's thanks, but can't quite manage a You're welcome. Because Brimble is right. Those words are turning into a mantra, it seems.
Her smile fades, replaced by a shudder as her attention returns to the de-animated dwarven corpse. Her gaze catches on what was once the clan dagger of a holy priest of Torag, and she wonders how long ago the life-proclaiming gem went dark.
She starts to reach for it-- surely they should take this to Forgewise --but then she pauses. Reminded of the virtues of caution, she extends her mystical sense.
If she senses nothing uncanny, she'll unfasten the dagger, making sure only her gloves make contact with anything on the corpse, and carry it out to the hall and by the vault door where Brimble is working.
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
Weapon Equipped = Rune
Conditions = Light (Raka’s Ax)
Melee: Attack: BAB +1, Str +2 Damage: Str +2
Rune-that-Destroys: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Magic +1 Damage: Str +2, Magic +1
Called: Reroll a one on attack (1/1)
Healer’s Hands: (0/1, 1hp)
Ranger Focus (1/1, +2att/dam)
Spells Memorized (Caster Level 1, Concentration +3)
. . 0 (12): Create Water, Light, Purify Food & Drink
. . 1st (13):
- - -
The kobold enters the room long enough to take the crowbar from Raka and rain on Argatha’s parade. ”You got lucky. Do that again and someone might get dead.” Brimble heads back into the hallway and goes to the nearest door into the Vault. He inspects it carefully.
”Sure thing boss.” Hey, that’s my crowbar…
Rune-that-Destroys is silent a moment-- it does nothing hastily, it seems, other than urge the destruction of the undead. Finally, slowly, it says, 'Pin down'...? Where would it have gone? Out into the hallway, where you would have had the advantage of numbers, and position, and would have surrounded it? Where your companion who has armor might have held a defensive line against it? Running into the room to confront it - and thus drawing your companions after you - was not... a wise choice, Argatha Clanless. Do not seek to dress it in the language of tactical warfare.
Argatha shrugs, then laughs, ::I see I have much to learn from you. That said, it was tactical, just poor tactics I see now. Still, I'm not worried. I just need arrows...::
He moves into the hall following, a ways back, Brimble. Assuming Brimble mentions the trap, he takes out his bow and steps back further, but makes sure he has a clear line of sight.
”You got lucky. Do that again and someone might get dead.”
Phantrel raises an eyebrow at the kobold's comments. As far as he could tell the group had fought bravely and effectively enough. There's always some risk involved in fighting, though perhaps that's why he has never sought out such situations. "Do you have some military training, Master Brimble?" he asks. "If you have ideas on how we might work better then please share them. I can speak only for myself but I've never found myself fighting a walking corpse before."
The half-elf glances down at his still-silent sword. For all that Thunder-follows-Lightning seemed to have a certain amount of prejudice against the kobold, given the blade's disparagement of Phantrel's martial skills - or lack thereof - he suspects that in this matter the two would be aligned.
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"If we are to fight a walking corpse, or any other darkling horror, we would do well to surround it." Em still clutches tight to her improvised spear, merely a poker intended to be used in the ovens. "I for one intended to deliver only the most dastardly of blows, when that late creature of shadow and malice was otherwise occupied by those more tenacious than I."
-------------------
Entering the room last, Em peruses Verrik's journal after Colin is done with it. Reading clears her mind quickly, making her feel distant and safe.
"Verrik clearly turned his back on Torag. See how he has gone so far, in death, to defile that text which, while living, he must have sanctified with each breath." Em indicates the papers Argatha found in the toilet, which once belonged to a copy of Hammer and Tongs, as well as the hammer that still hangs around Verrik's neck. "We should bring his remains to Forgewise, that he may be set to rest. Tis a grim business, but one that must be done." Em eyes the golden robes he wears as she says this, beginning to consider how best to retrieve them.
::Jealousy is permitted, Brilliance.:: Em considers leaving it at that, thinking only of how to antagonize, but after a moment her better nature wins out. ::Though I will not allow that a few stitches of fabric would in any way enhance thy form, refined and shapely as it is.::
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"Do you have some military training, Master Brimble?" he asks. "If you have ideas on how we might work better then please share them. I can speak only for myself but I've never found myself fighting a walking corpse before."
The kobold doesn’t slow down as he heads into the hall. He’s got a task to accomplish, made more urgent by the events in the priest’s quarters. ”You want an answer? Keep up.”
At the Vault door, Brimble almost smells the electricity in the doorframe. He says to anyone in the vicinity, ”I think it’s got a zap-trap. Unless we can figure out what ‘authorization’ is needed real quick, I’m gonna try to break it.” He presses the silver key against the glass panel, hoping (despite strong doubts) that it is the authorization needed.
Brimble keeps trying to disarm the trap, hoping to get lucky before he gets very unlucky. If Phantrel follows him, the kobold answers the question as he tries every trick he knows to circumvent the door’s defense. ”No, I don’t have military training. I have common-sense-sneaky-bastard training. First rule is… never chase a badger into its den unless you know you got the bigger set of teeth. I don’t think any of us has fought an upright corpse before - that’s a badger with teeth you can’t know.”
The kobold scratches his eye-ridge, as his attempt to harmlessly trigger the trap fails. He wipes the picks on his pants and tries again. ”Second, like Miss Em picked up, you let a monster come to you and you attack it with every advantage you can get – dirty or not. We were ready to flank it, in the light, at the door. In that room, in the dark, it had corners to hide in that made maneuvering around it hard. It would have had a chance to strike some of us. And most of you can’t see in the dark. That’s a badger with some nasty teeth.”
He hisses his frustration as he fails to disarm the trap yet again. He tries another trick. ”Finally, think with your head - not your fists - and work together. I told folks to back up and draw weapons. He charged in like a hot-head and drew others in after him. If Verrik had been a quarter as strong as that melly upstairs, I bet there’d be a few corpses in that room, maybe more.”
"We should bring his remains to Forgewise, that he may be set to rest. Tis a grim business, but one that must be done."
"Perhaps not." Xira studies the sheathed blade in her gloved hands. "Forgewise did say that the body is not necessary for the Return ceremony, though the dagger is."
Her words slow, become hesitant. "Would it be kinder to Forgewise to take just the dagger to him, and spare him the knowledge of what Verrik became? And is the kinder choice the better one? I don't know..."
The dead dagger gives her no hints, no clues.
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects:
Colin nodded, "I think it would be kinder just to bring the dagger, and honestly who wants to touch those remains let alone carry them?!" He shuddered at the thought.
He paused for a moment before tentatively broaching a different topic, "We've all been talking to the courageous, perhaps we should compare notes? I just found out that there are some topics The Professor flatly refuses to discuss. I... Uh.. I guess it would be good to understand which things they're sensitive about to avoid straining relations."
"It would seem fitting for his body, wretched, corrupted thing that it is, be reduced to ashes." Em does not press harder on this point, assenting to the wisdom of others. It is true that Forgewise would despair at the sight of his old friend, but would he believe that Verrik had fallen without proof? What choice does he have? Forgewise must trust us, there is nothing else for him to do.
Her words slow, become hesitant. "Would it be kinder to Forgewise to take just the dagger to him, and spare him the knowledge of what Verrik became? And is the kinder choice the better one? I don't know..."
Argatha nods along with the other responses to this question, "I agree. Let him rest in peace, and let Forgewise have the dagger only. No need to explain what happened or that he lost his faith by the end - or after it."
Xira listens to Colin, Em and Argatha, though her eyes remain fixed on Verrik Brightbrass' clan dagger. Once they are done speaking, she takes a slow, shaky breath and walks back into the room, over to the journal, and reads those last dozen entries. Her lips press tight together in distress.
an engraved dwarfscript message of To Varyn from Goldie. All my love.
IRON OVERSEER Kazha Hammerfast & Golden Hammerfast & their children
I killed her. I killed him. I killed them both. I am damned.
Her head bows. So we just hadn't found the bodies after all. She now has a guess as to what let that patch of silverspore grow so large.
Finally she breaks a long minute of silence. "I think ... I think we need to be very careful not to confuse what is best for Forgewise with what is easiest for us.
He likened his stay in the temple to a soldier steadfastly remaining at his post. With Verrik, his superior, gone, will he stay there, or return immediately to the forges of Heaven? Or might he, before his return, leave the temple to learn more of what happened himself? I have heard nothing to say that cannot happen, and surely it would be a crueler shock to him to stumble across the full horror here than to learn at least the outline of it from us.
I think that we should take the dagger and the journal with us and give him the dagger, along with the explanation that Verrik went through an agonizing, demoralizing event that cost him his son and his faith. Then give him only as much further information as he asks for. I also think that, in case the news throws Forgewise into another bout of despair, only one of us should be exposed to the danger that may follow."
Xira lifts her head. "I volunteer."
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To live is to learn, ongoingly. All shall be well, Rune-that-Destroys says in Argatha's mind.
So much to discuss - tactics, the Professor's refusal to discuss certain topics, what should be done with Verrik, the journal's contents, jealousy-about-other-Courageous - but Brimble at least is only willing to talk if he can do other things during it, such as attempt the door mechanism again... and again...
On his fourth try overall, he feels a satisfying little click and feels the hum of electricity that had permeated the door's frame quiet down to nothing. As near as he can tell, the door should now be safe to enter. (The key never did anything, it would seem.)
'Safe to enter' still means some elbow grease, as experience has shown you.
Raka sets to with the crowbar and eventually forces the doorway back into its housing. Light from her axe spills into the room beyond, revealing...
A good-sized chamber filled with a number of tall standing stone shelves. There are also two three-foot-high counters at the entrance, with a lattice-grid of thin bars that creates a sort of cage around the area that is enclosed by the counters . A door is set into the cage wall between the two counters. Most relevant to all of you is that the counter appears to be manned.
A creature? of bronze-hued metal is standing behind the counter 'looking' your way, although it doesn't seem to have anything you can register as eyes. It says in tinny-sounding Dwarven:
"Unidentified entrance observed. Please present proper authorization for Steel Vault access."
Desna weeps. Another one. Though it shouldn't come as a surprise, given their experience thus far with dwarven security measures.
Zenith, Xira says, trying to control any desperation leaking into her mental tone, Do you or any of the other Courageous know what would constitute 'proper authorization' here? And what is this metal creature likely to do if we can't come up with it?
After a three-second pause that likely would have seemed just as eternal had it only been two, Zenith responds. No doubt it would like you to present the clan pendant of someone who has authorization. Though it's true you don't exactly look much like a stoneborn.
If you can't convince it you have the right to be here, then it will most likely attempt to call for reinforcements - which might be fortunate for you in that I doubt there are any remaining. Failing that, it probably has some sort of simple ranged weaponry capacity - a projectile, I should imagine.
A pendant-- Xira hastily fumbles at the hilt of the dagger she stowed in a trouser pocket. Didn't she see -- yes!! Verrik's clan pendant still sits in its slot. She pulls it out, then sends her gratitude to Zenith and a prayer for luck and confidence to Desna before walking up to the creature behind the counter.
Laying the pendant on the stone surface, Xira tries to keep her voice as steady as her stone-language is fluent. "Forgewise requested some goodly materials for his crafting projects. The good priest sent us with this so we might fetch them for him."
Breathing slowly to hide her tension, Xira waits for a response.
Weapon in hand: Quarterstaff
Effects: