GM Dien's page

:Not terribly faithful? Then you must yield often to caprice. Perhaps that means you will yield to me.

:I'm afraid yielding is not in mine nature, darling... I suppose it's best the dress IS illusory, no? Given the briny bath we art bound for. Again, Brilliance-of-Heaven observes drily as our heroes prepare for yet another unpleasant crawl through the stagnant leech-ridden waters. It's no nicer than the other times, and the water bobs with dead rats and dead leeches alike. You've also used up the last of the salt bag that you found in the kitchen, meaning that if you come this route again, it might not be as safe as the salt has made it.

Still, you reach the other side without incident (and it's definitely easier to make this trip without the chest holding the Courageous), and resume a dripping process up the ladder and back to Steel Strata, emerging in the maintenance corridor that runs behind the baths. All seems quiet.

The bathing chamber still has the burn marks of your battle against the rats and the presence of the dead, partially-eaten goblins, which have become no prettier in the time you've been gone.

If you wish to try and follow the general direction of the goblin who'd had the sickly orange-hued skin, that will mean, generally, south. (Marked the direction you saw Orange Gobbo fleeing in on the Steel Strata map, which we are now back on.)

Brimble watches the light of the chest distort as it sinks beneath the surface of the pipe's water. The water here is lightly murky with a scum of intermittent algae on top, but he can still see the glow of the chest going down, a bit at least. He thinks it falls at least twenty feet, possibly more, but cannot be positive.

The moment has an oddly funereal note, but the kobold is pragmatic and doesn't let it get to him. Houndsfang 'whispers': :Rest well, kindred.

Back up the rope, and then it's a matter of reassembling the pipe. Unfortunately it was easier to take apart than put back together JUST right... the screws that had been stuck and needed lubricating to undo have their threads grimy with calcification, and resist being put back into place. It takes Brimble a number of minutes with some help from Colin-- a little solvent to strip the mineral build up from the screws, then carefully realigning all the panels back into place....

Take 10 is fine. Colin can still give me an Alchemy check for the fake patina to cover up any tool scratches yall left, etc

During this task, no goblins attack you. Yet.

Two of you have voiced an interest in the Softworks. Will that be our heroes' next destination?

On a whim he decided to consult with The Professor, he explained what they where doing and asked ::Can you suggest any improvements to this plan?::

(Sorry, Colin, I just forgot to reply! The Professor is no more miffed than their baseline :P )

It takes the 'Professor' a few minutes to respond, during which Colin wonders what he's done to annoy the disembodied voice. But eventually: :Hn! Thou interrupted something I wast pondering. What, now? A plan? Well. If the concealment is going to pass the inspection of anything but a blind deaf-mute, then thou wilt need to put in a bit of work when that hatch is screwed back in place-- restore the appearance of old, undisturbed metal, yes? What it looked like before the drakeborn set to with tools and oil? There art alchemical solutions to create the semblance of age's patina....

Go ahead and give me a Craft: Alchemy check for funsies, Colin

****

The combined strong arms of Raka and Argatha have no trouble lowering the chest, hand-over-hand, into the darkness of the pipe. Well, not really the darkness, since the warm glow emanating from the chest does a nice job lighting up the pipe. Brimble peeks in, watching the chest's smooth descent -- occasionally it clangs against the pipe walls, sending a musical-if-deep echo upward, but the pipe seems clear of obstructions that might snag it. By the light of the descending chest, Brimble can see that there are branching, smaller pipes going off horizontally only five or so feet beneath your own, uh, feet. Too small for tallfolk, certainly, and tight for a kobold but doable. His mind no doubt files this away as a last ditch emergency hiding place should worst come to worst.

When ready, he is able to climb down the rope, using the pipe walls to brace. It echoes curiously around him, and smells lightly fishy, but the descent is mostly dry other than a few trickles of water on the pipe walls.

Brimble: No climb check needed here, the DC is low and you're not in danger/a rush; no check needed to just undo some knots, and no check needed to be a passenger on the rope ride back up, assuming that I understand the plan correctly to let the chest drop into the water at the bottom of the pipe. When you return to the kitchen, make me a Disable Device check to reassemble the pipe as you found it.

********

While the chest is lowered with the intrepid kobold following it, Phantrel takes a moment to have a conversation he doesn't particularly want to, but feels honorbound to have, at least. He rests his hand on the sword's dragonhilt and carefully, lightly, enquires....

Phantrel Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

The sword does not immediately answer. After a pause, it says, :No. It is nothing you would comprehend-- we have established that our natures are very different.

In the temple

Bastion can only be felt, not seen, but Raka has the strong sensation that if her shield had a head, it would nod along with her vigorously as she repeats the words about Trudd.

:Yes, that's good! And in the name of Father Torag too. Well done!

Something does seem to shift, when the words have been said. The air seems cleaner and lighter, somehow. Perhaps you're all imagining it, but you could swear you almost hear the ghost of a relieved sigh gusting past your ear.

Brilliance-of-Heaven isn't as openly encouraging to Em as Bastion is to Raka, but the diadem does respond: :Oh, I cannot say I am terribly faithful at any thing! But wert I to choose, then only the fairest for me- bright Bolka, the creator's greatest gift to his children.

(For future reference, Em, if a check is an "or" (diplomacy OR religion, etc) I generally mean you can make one of the attempts but not all. No impact here since Raka did fine with it, just FYI)

****

Back in the kitchen, once all are reunited there...

Xiramona peeks in the pipe to watch her lit stone plummet to the depths-- her sense of magic will be blocked in short order by the metal of the pipe itself, otherwise. It is difficult to judge exact distances when you are watching a tiny light get smaller at a very fast clip, but at the least you'd guess it drops at least forty feet away below you before you hear a tiny plop! as it hits the water. The lit stone continues to sink past that, and in another second or two, Xira can no longer see any gleam from it.

Zenith sighs at the suggestion of being lowered down the pipe shaft, but keeps objections to pointing out to Xira: :If you feel it is necessary, very well- but we will not be able to share senses in this manner again, to-day, so consider if now is the time you wish to use this.

Just a reminder that the 'remote viewing power' is once per day, Xira, so up to you if you still want to use here

Rune-that-Destroys speaks in Argatha's mind: :The other Courageous have no objections to this location. It is.... perhaps not the most dignified. But effective. They are ready.

The focus of the group drifts in multiple directions...

But most of them reconverge in the shrine with new tools. Brooms and brushes will make the work go much quicker, and better: scraps of rags only do so much to get soot out from between small stone crevices, while the scrubbing brushes are literally made for the task. And the ashes on the floor can be swept up with the brooms. A task that might have easily taken more than an hour is reduced to ten minutes or so, with all of the group save Brimble thus working at it.

With the room as clean as tools, water, and six pairs of hands can make it, something in the air here seems to lighten, slightly. The stones reveal their original colors again, shining wetly from their bath and giving back the reflection of your magical light. It feels... better in here, to be sure. It feels like the room is holding its breath, almost. A few earnest words might finish the cleansing thus begun.

Kn Religion, Diplomacy, or an Intelligence check here may be useful. Or you might have some other bright idea.

****

For Brimble, the distance he puts between himself and the others earns him a dry chuckle from his own weapon. :Thou remainest a member of no tribe, whether it be drakeborn or other sort, I ween. Walking alone-- though now, of course, thou hast me. It sounds as much threat as reassurance, somehow.

The pipe mechanism requires some poking at. Like so much else here in the dwarven halls, thin lines of dwarfgold work around the knobs that must be controls, and yet, pulling and tugging on the various knobs doesn't seem to do much, at first. They seem immovable.

Xira does one other thing before she reaches out-- at the last second she recalls that new spark of magic in her mind, the one that is supposed to bolster defenses and help you resist malign magic... (per OOC discussion with Xira)

Xira Will, DC 15 (+1 vs enchantment, +1 for removing the Droskar symbol, +1 for resistance, aaaand +1 for RP...: 1d20 + 3 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 3 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 = 15 And you needed every bit of it, too

Xira's solemn, earnest words and supplication to the long-gone dwarf's shade seem to hang heavy in the air. She pauses a moment, hoping her beseeching words have had an effect... and then takes Kazha's dagger in hand.

For a moment, the world seems to drift away, becoming distant. On some level Xiramona knows that Argatha, Colin, and might-as-well-be-her-sister Em are still there, in the hallway, watching her. But that knowledge is far away... buried under exhaustion as intense as any Xira's ever known. She can barely keep her eyes open. And there's so much still to do...

No. This isn't her. This is Kazha-- Kazha's spirit she is feeling, Kazha's exhaustion and despair dragging at her. Xira uses that knowledge, breathing out forcefully through her nose and gripping the clan dagger tightly, tight enough that the pommel digs into her palm with clarifying pain. The cotton-fuzz of the world dissipates and she is herself, no more tired than usual, clutching Kazha's dagger as a prize for the ordeal.

Kazha's spirit is clearly still active-- and lost to its despair to the point that Xira doesn't know if her words reached it at all. But at the least, Xira herself is well and in command of her faculties.

The clan dagger also contains Kazha's pendant, which, like the others from Iron Strata, is set with a chunk of iron, but with much more dwarfgold linework surrounding it.

Moved some tokens accordingly on the map to where it sounds like everyone is

:I doubt it will affect me, but neither can I shield you, Zenith answers Xira's query. With that dubious reassurance in hand, Xira leads the way back to the Hammerfasts' residence, whatever her internal anxieties say.

The room seems as you left it. Dark, empty, the wall-scrawlings a mute testament to the collapse of Kazha's mind. With utmost caution, Xira enters, edging towards the tools. Argatha, Em, and Colin watch, in case they need to tackle her.

But Xira achieves the hoard of brooms, brushes, and mops without any undue influence or horror seizing her. Even when she tentatively touches the first tool... nothing happens. The effect, whatever it is, seems tied to Kazha's corpse, at least.

You have a bunch of cleaning tools, which will certainly improve the work of cleansing the Iron shrine

Xira professed some interest in Kazha's clan dagger; it's still there, resting next to the skeleton's brittle pelvis, only a few inches from the bony hand clutching chalk and the last words Kazha Hammerfast wrote: -Kill the rats; seal their entrance holes. -Attend to the shrine. -Repair the furnace.

D'ya... d'ya want me to clean the place up a bit? she asks Bastion.

....
Who was this? she asks as she works.

It would be... appreciated, Bastion says, sadly. :As for the statue... I would think it was probably Arkhoria Skywatch, the settlement's founder.

By merit of mutual action, most of you begin to start cleaning the defaced shrine, and those of you who had hoped to move on to other things sooner rather than later double back to help with the work. You are slowed by the lack of good tools, having to make do with improvised ones.... though it occurs to you that you know where all the cleaning tools are: back in the chambers of the dead dwarf that Xira just mentioned. Kazha Hammerfast seemed to be collecting every broom, mop, and scrubbing brush on the level-- at least, you haven't seen any others.

Anyone going back there to grab tools? Anyone? Bueller?

Cleaning would certainly go quicker with the appropriate tools. The effect in Kazha's room didn't trigger until Phantrel moved to interact with the corpse, for what it's worth. That said, nothing stops you all from cleaning the shrine with your makeshift tools, it'll just take longer.

:It would be right, to cleanse this room, Rune-that-Destroys answers solemnly, to Argatha. :Whether that task should take precedence over your other ones... that, I cannot say. It does seem as though your tasks are mushrooming.

Back in the hallway, Em repeats her call that they investigate the furnace, though as yet her feet keep her near the others. (Brilliance-of-Heaven chuckles appreciatively over her remark about 'recommendations.')

Em Per: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

The doors to the Softworks are also temptingly near. Less tempting is the mess room at the end of this hallway, where the silverspore colony occasionally glints back your own light sources towards you, like stars in a dark sky.

Xira edges south enough to read the plaque on the double doors. 'Softworks.' Whatever that means?

Zenith chimes in helpfully. :An idiom of sorts. I have granted you knowledge of the stoneborn tongue, but the translation afforded is very literal.... The stoneborn consider crafting in more durable materials-- stone, metal, and so forth-- to be a higher art form than leatherwork, weaving, textiles and so forth. 'Softwork' is the general name given to those sundry arts.

The plaque behind Xira repeats its label of 'food stores', confirming that that door opens back into the Land of Many Rats (though less rats now than yesterday to be sure).

Raka muses about the elevator and easier access while Colin and Phantrel debate rafts.... and Em and Brimble peer down the hallway that is arched with dwarfgold.

It's short, going no more than fifteen feet into the stone before emerging in an almost-but-not-quite round room, with eight walls each boasting a small alcove. A stone statue stands here, though it's difficult to make out who it might be meant to represent-- it looks as though it has been intentionally damaged, blow after blow of hammer or chisel or both defacing it until you can only guess if it depicted a god or a hero or a king, a man or a woman. About all you can safely guess is that it was probably a dwarven figure. The stone has been further marked with fire, blackened and sooty. Bits of rubble from the defacing are scattered around the floor.

The eight wall alcoves might be a minor mystery, if not that you saw a somewhat fancier version of this upstairs and can make the connection without too much strain:

Each alcove belongs to one of the pantheon-- Torag, Trudd, Magrim, and so forth. These are very simple altars, lacking the statues you saw on Steel Strata. The alcoves are just backed with mosaic stonework in each deity's respective colors-- except that damage has been done here as well. It looks as if little fires were started on the alcove shelves, to blacken and mar the mosaic patterns. Once those shelves might have boasted small offerings like you saw upstairs; now they contain only smeared ashes and cracked pieces of broken stone. The floor is littered with debris and coal cinders.

Put simply, this small temple is a mess.

Glancing around reveals nothing of any apparent value, though you do notice that from the interior of the room, the archway back out has a charcoal outline over it with a fire burning above - the same symbol of Droskar that you saw in the overseer's room.

Bastion makes a sound of wordless, shocked dismay in Raka's mind to see the defacing of this shrine room. Rune-that-Destroys is more reserved, but still quite clear about their feelings to Argatha: :Blasphemy has happened here.

Sorry for the delay, been feeling a bit under the weather.

Though Brimble methodically tests the nearest areas, and finds some variation in the depth, it's only a few feet or so, and not enough for the deep hole that you're hoping to hide the Courageous in.

The rough consensus appears to be to see if there are ways over to that ledge and skiff that don't require a swim through spikemouth infested waters. Wisdom! The group carries out the somewhat laborious process of climbing back up the ladder they just painstakingly climbed down. Once more, ropes are used to haul the chest containing the Courageous back up after you.

Brilliance-of-Heaven seems to find that process amusing. :No doubt my kin are finding the journey to be jarring. Well! perhaps if they wert more adventurous they might travel in the same sort of style I currently do.

Bastion, on the other hand, expresses a bit of anxious concern to Raka during the hauling that she and Argatha must do. :Oh-- oh dear, try to be steady with the rope, please...

But the task is managed.

The question remains of whether to go directly for the furnace door, or to try the other exit from the kitchen. Xira proposes the latter, and hearing no immediate arguments, the group proceeds to that door. Though still dutiful about listening for danger and checking for traps, you cannot help but feel a bit more secure now about your surroundings-- they are no longer wholly unknown vaults of mystery and lost lore, but rather, reassuringly mundane in some ways. You are in a kitchen, after all. The other exit probably doesn't open into a vault from hell.

Indeed, when you open the door, you see more hallway, very similar to the one on the kitchen's other side. To the north, it terminates in a pair of golden double doors that experience would suggest are probably another set of elevator doors. If your mental (and slate) map is correct, that would make sense, as these doors would be directly below the set you found upstairs next to the dining hall on Steel Strata. You hadn't yet found a kitchen up there, so maybe this kitchen supplied food for the whole complex? If so, it is logical that the elevator would be right next to it.

Only a few feet from the elevator, you see a set of stairs leading up as well. Twenty-odd feet south of that, you see an open archway of dwarf-gold set into the stone, leading into a five-foot wide passage that goes east.

About sixty feet south of you on the eastern wall are a pair of closed double doors; on the western wall somewhat closer is a single shut door that-- again, if your mental map is correct-- must lead back into the warehouse of food and rat nests.

Phantrel's keen eyes can just make out, to the far south, the tables and chairs of the Iron Mess... and the distant glitter of the silverspore colony there.

Iron Strata map updated

It becomes quickly evident to Xira and the others that Zenith is a very effective focus for spells of illumination. The light seems refracted by the crystal globe, brighter and further-reaching than when cast on ordinary pebbles, and shines out over the dark water like a lambent full moon.

By the expanded glow, those with especially keen eyes-- Phantrel, for instance, with his elven heritage allowing his gaze to pierce the gloom a good distance-- can make out a few more details of the cavern.

Due 'north' of your current island, perhaps eighty-odd feet, you can just make out a cavern wall, with two truly massive pipes set into it-- each one must be about fifteen feet in diameter. There is a ledge there as well, running along the base of the cavern wall where it nears the waterline. Perhaps most interestingly, there appears to be some sort of small watercraft moored here, though how water-worthy it might be after this much time remains to be seen.

To your 'southwest', there is a dim gleam that might be the light reflecting distantly off another bronzed pipe-- this one at least a hundred feet distant from you. To the 'northwest', Phantrel's eyes strain to their utmost and can just make out a faint interruption in the blackness-- another possible pipe, perhaps a hundred and twenty feet or more distant.

Zenith sighs in Xira's mind.

:You intend to lower me into the water, don't you. If a fish eats me, I may seek a new bearer. Very well...

Brimble's suggestions are sound, though Colin can certainly weigh in if he likes. Phantrel's gardening twine proves useful once again, in the same place that it previously had. Anything from a dagger to a chunk of stone rubble might work as a plumb weight. No doubt something in your pockets or packs suffices.

Unfortunately for your goal, a quick test with the string indicates that the water immediately around the platform island is no deeper than thirty feet. You check different points around the platform, but the string tells the same story. Those of you with the ability to sense the presence of magic-- whether an ability you've had for years or one you have developed overnight-- can doublecheck the math using Brimble's second suggested method: magically-illuminated rocks definitely still "ping" when they rest on the bottom hereabouts.

(A fish or two investigate the chucked lights. Small ones compared to the behemoths of yesterday, perhaps the size of your arm only.)

Carver's body is stiff in death, her limbs rigid and livid with bruises. She presents a grim sight, a mute witness to your experiments with her eyes open but unseeing. How disturbing you find this is up to each of you.

The water here is not deep enough for your original plan. Choices abound: explore (somehow) for deeper water... return up the ladder and continue your explorations, leaving the Courageous for now... commit ritual suicide by jumping into the water and waiting for spikemouths to eat you... probably there are other options.

Brilliance-of-Heaven answers Em's mental query. :Wings? I'm afraid not functional ones. The appearance, yes.

Em's magic may not be yet able to conjure the fireballs she dreams of, but it makes the aftermath of the leech-infested sump so much nicer. Yesterday you had to stand around in your wet, salty, squelching clothing and shoes; today, a wave of the young woman's hand and you're clean if nothing else, clean and possibly even warmer.

Em also raises the question of the elevator shaft- a topic that can be further debated as you all like, though for getting down to the water level, you so far have only the ladder rungs set into the giant water pipe. Accordingly, our heroes cautiously open the kitchen's two access hatches-- cautiously, in case there's something on the other side, such as the 'melly' or some yet unknown threat.

But all that awaits them is the sight of the ladder going down to the small platform, and the dark water that rings it round.

Ropes can be wrapped around the container you've found, and the strong arms around you can easily lower it down until it rests on the stone of the platform/island.

Carver's body, much the worse for wear, still lies here, her blood and other bodily fluids having leaked out to fill the cracks between the tightly-fitted stones of the platform. (Since I don't recall anyone doing anything in particular with her body after taking her belongings) The light from your advance flickers over her body unsteadily-- odd, given that it's no bobbing flame but steady magical illumination.

--oh, never mind, it's not the light that's moving, it's the many small creatures that have found her body. White many-legged worms, nearly-translucent crayfish, tiny blind beetles.

The light doesn't deter them, but the impact of the chest settling on the platform scatters them. The creepy-crawlers slither or dart or scuttle away from the vibration, to the edge of the platform and over the side of it. There is no longer any sign of the bodies that were left in the water.

In short order, those of you who wish can stand on the circle of stone that was so recently your refuge from the water and the spike-toothed fish. You see none of the dangerous fish at the moment, but who knows what lurks under the dark water around you? Somewhere overhead, you hear faint clicks, chirps, and high-pitched noises that Phantrel (or anyone else trained in Kn Nature) can identify as bats.

The Courageous sit on the stone in their container, sealed against water as well as you can make them. What's your plan?

Back to the reservoir map! As a reminder, from this platform all you see in 60' all directions is more water. If there are other pipes/platforms out there, which is a reasonable theory unless the settlement gets all its water from this pipe, they must be further away than sixty feet.

Please be sure you keep your stat lines up to date with your HP; to recap, damage take that fight was:

Colin, Em, Xira: 2 hp damage each; Raka & Argatha = 1 damage

---------

Only Phantrel and Brimble escaped the tide of rats entirely unscathed. The two of them almost immediately move forward-- or Brimble does, to check his security measures, and Phantrel to follow him Just in Case. Fortunately, the piton system appears intact and untouched.

The goblins in the bath were definitely not playing possum. Or if so, it's the most convincing act you've ever seen, what with their gnawed-open innards and all.

Before continuing, Xira takes a moment to draw a card. She is less than delighted to see such an ominous, apocalyptic card, and gazes at it a long moment before returning it to the deck.

::Cartomancy? I suppose that's one method of divination, Zenith remarks, with what seems to be a certain polite reserve.

Xira, as per your feat, once today you get a +2 to a Dexterity-based check. Your mage armor is definitely still up for Em to poke at it and ask questions. Take whatever RP beats anyone wants, but I'll keep overall story moving forward so as to regain our momentum.

---------

When ready, our heroes make a cautious way down the ladder back to the nasty leech-infested pool of the day before. The surface of the water is dotted with a non-zero number of rat corpses that must have succumbed to those leeches-- the bulk of them getting across through sheer strength of numbers. The crawl-swim-wade back the other way is even less appealing than the first day. You can't help but wonder if there's some other way back. But here you are..... and you still have plenty of salt on hand. For now.

After dosing the water heavily to guard against leeches, whoever wishes to try and return to the reservoir level holds their nose (at least metaphorically) and pushes back through the cold, oily water that has collected beneath the vast pipes until they reach the other side. From there it's a matter of retracing your steps: back through the narrow service corridor, into the toilets, the hall beyond, the dormitory, then the kitchen....

You see the occasional rat or two in corners, but it seems that the bulk of the swarm has been scattered-- for now. No doubt the survivors will regroup in the old food warehouse, or whatever ones remain there will sally forth, but at least at this moment in time, no hordes dare attack you-- the few solo rats you see hide at your approach, lacking the courage of maddened numbers.

Moved Brimble's token back into the Kitchen on Iron Level map - as a marker for the whole party right now, but if you're not in that group, do say so. Anything else anyone intends to do on Iron Strata before climbing back down the big pipe-ladder to the reservoir?

Botting Raka

Like Xira, Raka isn't eager to let her 'sister' go off in the lead. She hurries after, looking for rats and not finding any as she enters the bathing chamber. Moving to a stop just in front of Em, Raka raises her sword, ready to strike at any sign of danger....

GM mystery roll: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

The warrior woman doesn't have long to wait. The other half of the rat horde seems to have recovered from their momentary fire-induced panic. They stream back in through the doorway, beelining (ratlining?) with a maddened fury for Raka and Em as the two closest.

Raka Readied Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Slashing damage: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Both women get a chance to swing or stab at the rats as the animals mill forward.

Em AOO: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 2

Raka AOO: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Slashing damage: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 Half damage becomes 4.... but that's enough, after the bomb hit they took earlier.

Raka's first swing goes wide, but her second sweep of the blade catches half-a-dozen of the vermin, flinging their tiny, horrible little bodies back against the far wall. It seems to be all that is needed to convince the remaining rats that these are very difficult meals indeed-- the last of the vermin scatter, bolting to drain pipes or back out the door.

Several dozen rat bodies lie twitching or motionless on the bath chamber floor, most of them charred. The smell is awful. But you're all alive.

(End combat)

Xira rains down some blows with her staff that crushes a few rats underneath before hurrying to get free of the bulk of the horde....

Hissing and squeaking demonically, the rats look for a new target. They spill towards Raka and Argatha...

Raka gets an AOO: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25 If only rats could be crit
Damage, slashing: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 4 after reduction

Raka sweeps out with her blade as the rats close and manages to chop several furry bodies in half. The swarm appears reduced but still very much active and dangerous...

Damage to Raka and Argatha: 1d6 ⇒ 1

Argatha vs distraction: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Argatha vs disease: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Raka vs distraction: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25
Raka vs disease: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Fortunately, the damage of their teeth and claws to Raka and Argatha is minimal.... unfortunately, Argatha is thoroughly distracted by dozens of rats on his person. Nauseated for 1 rd, Argatha

(Round 2)
Phantrel
Argatha (nauseated)
Raka
(Round 3)
Em
Brimble
Colin
Red swarm
Xira
Blue swarm

Blue swarm has 14 damage; Red swarm has 13 damage

Perhaps mindful of how she'd damaged one weapon attacking something on the floor, Raka pulls her blow just a bit as she swings at a clump of rats-- and they scatter before her blade can connect.

Similarly, members of the group scatter as well, hurrying to put distance between themselves and the chittering horde!

The more-heavily-burned half of the rat horde does not run back into the bathing room.... at this time.

Xira's up

The frenzied rats are nimble creatures, but they seem caught off-guard by Xira's sudden appearance-- luckily for her. The bottle of lamp oil sails into the midst of the remaining clump of rats, and shatters.

But does it ignite? 51+ is fire: 1d100 ⇒ 51 Ha!!!
Splashy fire damage: 1d6 ⇒ 1 Lol

Well, the further good news is that it ignites. The bad news is that it only ignites briefly before sputtering back out.

The worse news is that now the rats are pissed. And it's their turn.

The half of the giant horde rats that caught less of the brunt of Colin's bomb seem bolder and not yet as ready to flee madly. Instead-- they scamper towards you. Sparks still smolder in their sparse and patchy fur but madness gleams in their eyes as what might be as many as a hundred rats mob Colin, Em, and Xira....... Biting, clawing, hissing!

Automatic swarm damage to Colin, Em, Xira: 1d6 ⇒ 2

Colin roll vs distraction: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Colin roll vs disease: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Em roll vs distraction, w resist: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Em roll vs disease, w resist: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Xira roll vs distraction: 1d20 ⇒ 12
Xira roll vs disease: 1d20 ⇒ 14

Colin was not expecting to have a dozen rats leap onto his legs and start trying to scramble up to his sensitive face and eyes as vengeance for his firestorm. The engineer finds it suddenly quite hard to try and focus on anything but getting away from the rats! Colin, you are nauseated for 1 turn - move action only

Em and Xira, though no more thrilled with the presence of rats trying to scale them like edible mountains, are able to keep it together a bit better.

Round 1
Phantrel
Argatha
Raka
(Round 2)
Em
Brimble
Colin (nauseated)
Red swarm
Xira
Blue swarm

Phantrel knows, and is able to relate to the others, that the rats can still be attacked with weapons -- bludgeoning weapons are the most effective, but even other weapons can still do some damage. He also knows that anything that affects an area will be extra effective against the rats.

(The swarm is made of tiny creatures, so can still be attacked for full damage with bludgeoning weapons. Piercing and slashing weapons will do half damage.)

Em is somewhat let down by the lack of glorious fireball such as she had envisioned. Instead of a result of crispy rat corpses, all that happens is a few of the nearest rats scuttle away from the outstretched flame, barely pausing in their feast...

Then Colin comes up and demonstrates precisely what knowledge he's been absorbing from his unusual book.

Reflex save Blue: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

9 direct damage to red, + 50% swarm weakness = 13 damage. Blue fails save and takes the full alchemist bomb splash of 5 damage

Fire explodes in the room, and the rats shrill in fear and fury. The sound of the explosion is followed by the scent of burning rat fur-- very unpleasant-- and small chunks of rat-and-goblin meat flying through the air-- equally unpleasant.

With a maddened screeching, half of the horde of smoldering rats...

Morale, Red: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

...turn tail, scattering away from the source of the flame, and back through the northeast door.

Guess Em didn't get bitten after all. ;) Yet, anyway.

Round 1
Em (opens door, creates fire via prestidigitation)
Brimble (throws ineffective splash weapon Readied never triggered; so technically, he's still on readied mode
Colin (moves up, throws bomb)
Red swarm (flees)
Xira
Blue swarm
Phantrel
Argatha
Raka

Belatedly:

(Pre-fight Courageous chit-chat)

Zenith, to Xira: ::That's alright, I am striking enough for the both of us.

Bastion, to Raka: ::Y-ee-sss I'd prefer not to be used to squash rats! If there's any other option.

Brilliance, to Em: ::Liar~ the diadem says in a sing-song response to Em's assertion she'd be happy to wear this dress forever.

********

With the threat of the rats known in advance, you grab oils and various alternatives to stabbing, and arrange yourselves in the hall. Em announces herself confident to create a maelstrom of flame and disaster, and Brimble accordingly lets her take a spot before the door...

Em trying to get to the door without alerting the rats?: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 Ha.

Round 1
Em (opens door, creates fire via prestidigitation)
Brimble
Colin (readies? to throw a bomb at one of the swarms. Or moves up and throws if you prefer. We'll use what you already rolled)
Red
Xira
Blue
Phantrel
Argatha
Raka

Brimble's thoughts turn out to be fully correct. He edges the door open just a hair...

Per vs Stealth 20: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
Per vs Stealth 20: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Rats. Rats, rats, rats.... the rats from below have followed you. They must have swum through the leech-infested waters, or perhaps they just scurried along the network of pipes that ran over them, or perhaps they even had some other way up you haven't found. They found the dead, though, that much is clear. The three dead goblins are serving as feast enough for the horde of pallid, misshapen rats that are currently moving over them like a furry and ravenous carpet. The disturbing metal teeth of the goblin that had bitten Brimble are, in fact, more disturbing yet when the soft flesh of lips and cheeks nearby have been stripped away and the metal shards stand out from a pale jawbone.

Either the rats do not notice Brimble, or they simply are far more interested in devouring the meat of the unresisting goblins. Either way, they do not pay the cracked-open door any attention, and Brimble can let it swing back shut gently if he so desires.

Several of you are able to detour to the Vault again to find a suitable chest. The construct-steward does not object to you taking both a container and some sealing wax, as long as it is duly logged. You return to the dormitory, where most of you work on sealing the chest carefully while Brimble and Argatha go to ensure the path back to the Iron Strata is free of vicious goblins.

Brimble Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27 Show-off
Argatha Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Brimble makes his way to the swinging door to the showers, but stops before opening it. He... hears something? Yes. Through the door, there is something moving. The kobold pauses, head cocked as he tries to place the sound.

It sounds like... a lot of small things? Clicks and rustles and things shuffling and ... chewing?

Map updated; I put all the PCs except Brimble and Argatha back in Dorm 1. Assuming the Dorm door is still open. Brimble and Argatha are in the hallway, but any PC can adjust their position if they wish.

As Em works to carefully wrap the water-bound Courageous in silk, Brilliance continues a languid conversation. ::It's lovely, yes. Perhaps we'll keep it as your usual?

Woops, yeah - no noise on the headset except for ongoing static.

Brimble listens via the helmet but hears only that odd Ksshshsh-noise, sort of like a waterfall perhaps.

Though Em puts her best foot forward with the remaining Courageous, she hears not even a whisper in response from any of them. Brilliance remarks, ::Perhaps they don't like thy dress! Rude of them, the stuck-up prigs![/i] and makes a noise that is almost certainly a giggle.

Rune-that-Destroys comes to the rescue, after a fashion, telling Argatha: [b]::The other Courageous are not bonded to your companion, so they will not speak to her. I will translate, however.

With Rune serving as an intermediary, a number of the remaining items are bundled onto Em's silk for transport. For the remainder, all that must be done is the re-sealing of the secret chamber, which, from watching Forgewise, you are fairly sure there is some switch or something on the statue of Torag.

Then remains the question of how and where to hide the others. The simplest method would be just to return to the Iron Strata kitchen, go down the pipe to where you originally entered, and toss the items in. However, you have no awareness of how deep the water might be, right there, or where the deepest spots of the cistern/reservoir are.

The Courageous, even those bonded to you, are of little direct help on that front. Rune seems the most knowledgeable on the matter, but even it cannot offer more than the knowledge that the reservoir has varying depths.

Rune says: ::I cannot advise swimming in it, unless you wish a fight with the fish. They are aggressive creatures-- both food source and defensive measure-- and will likely come to investigate the source of any disturbance. Somewhere there is likely to be a skiff, for travel between the various maintenance islands, but I could not say where. Determining depth does not require you to immerse yourselves, however. A plumb and string of sufficient length would suffice, as one method. Or you might lower Zenith.

Zenith says (apparently able to 'hear' Rune's words): ::Ohhhh let's go with the plumb, shall we? I didn't agree to this adventure only to be used as a fishing lure for a spikemouth, thank you~

::And I'm afraid vision alone is all that I might give you, Xiramona. But thank you for the carrier, and thank your friend: this shall be much better than riding in a sack or a pocket.

(Indeed, Em's crafting has resulted in a rather nice cradle of gold silk and deep purple thread, in which Zenith gleams all the prettier.)

After all these words are relayed aloud to each of you, Rune has a bit more to add on, with the odd psychic sensation of a throat clearing:

::As for a 'living flame,' as the drakeborn mentioned.... I believe that was merely some poetry on the celedon's part, for his dialect was rather archaic. The rune-script for the owners of each dagger and pendant is visible by firelight-- simple fire, nothing miraculous about it, other than the miracle that fire itself may be considered to be.

Colin has a solid question about the damage posed by the water itself to these fine items. The Professor stirs from whatever thoughts occupy it 98% of the time in order to respond. ::Water and pressure and algae wilt not be terribly pleasant for us, but we art durable entities. A chamber would be more comfortable, yes, but not required. In the interests of expediency it may be foregone.

::We will have to go up at some point so I think the wiser course is to leave them be rather than risk falling into a trap and having to come back down to the Steel level later anyway. How would you assess the situation?:: he asks, interested in the blade's thoughts as well as wanting to ensure Thunder-follows-Lightning feels involved. Not that the sword has been slow to voice an opinion when it has one.

The blade takes a few moments to respond. Its demeanor seems much more withdrawn than yesterday to Phantrel.

::Tactically speaking, you are not yet fully familiar with this level. You know part of it. But you have no awareness at all how many points connect to the level above you, through which the slagborn can travel; therefore you have no knowledge of where to best position yourselves defensively. If you wish to fortify defensively then you must gain more knowledge of your defenses. But that is short term tactics. Your greater strategy is your desired escape. At some point you will no doubt have to pass through the areas the goblins hold, unless you can find a path around them.

*****

Altynbekh's motionless, expressionless face swivels in Phantrel's direction. After a long pause, the machine-figure moves methodically towards Phantrel, and will follow him back to the temple area.

::Good morning Rune-that-Destroys. Ready to kill some goblins today?::

The bow takes its time to respond. ::Is it morning, then? If slagborn threaten you then yes. I am ready.

::Yes, that would come in handy! Though of course I wouldn't want to send you anywhere I couldn't easily retrieve you. Do you have darksight, or would you need my light spell?

There is a light sound of bells ringing which appears to be Zenith laughing. ::Yes, please do not lose me so soon after finding me. And certainly not in some sort of dank hole that you thought to investigate! As for darksight.... a complicated question. It is more relevant that you do NOT have darksight. You would 'see' through me-- using your own senses. If there is no light where I am, you would feel that limitation moreso than I would. Clear?

Breakfast is consumed with more, or less, personal eagerness depending on your feelings about magically-flavored mushrooms and pickled fish. The group discusses a little as they eat: Xira's right that the list of tasks seem to be growing as fast as rabbits. Goblins above you, the Courageous, trying to reposition Altynbekh, the clan daggers, and far far above-- the shadow-thing, and the GMC.

Xira is also right to want to inspect the two who had been injured the day before. If Argatha's cheek is infected from the claws of the corrupted priest, she doesn't detect it-- no heated skin, no reddened flush. Brimble, on the other hand... the flesh beneath her careful fingers is-- well, scaled, of course-- but it feels warmer than it should be. She thinks. It's not like she's had much chance to practice medicine on kobolds before. But it's warmer than his hide is on other parts of him. It's not exactly conclusive, but she still doesn't like it: those metal 'teeth' had been a nightmare of rust and gods-knows-what-filth lives in a feral goblin's mouth.

Xira thinks it is strongly possible that Brimble might have caught something from the goblin bite. Since the wound is closed over now, flushing it out won't really help. When the party goes to rest "tonight", Xira can make another heal check to try and help Brimble resist a possible infection.

In between bites, Phantrel slides Thunder-follows-Lightning into the newly crafted scabbard.

::Yes, it is fine work, the blade echoes Phantrel's praise. ::What will you all do now?

That is the great question for today, fledgling heroes. The most time-sensitive might be trying to convince Altynbekh to move into a specific spot before his inner furnace cools down.

Giving new orders to Altynbekh will mean a Diplomacy check or a Deception check - the latter to insinuate that Forgewise or some other suitable individual has given new orders

(The scabbard is also brought back-- made of scraps of leftover darkleaf for the leather, embellished with gold from the ingots you procured, and decorated with the single good-sized moonstone that Argatha found in the vault. It is a fitting home for Thunder-follows-Lightning.)

The spot where Brimble had been bitten seems healed. Argatha's magic had nearly sealed the bite; the night's rest means only a little tender spot remains under Brimble's pale scales. Having investigated his injury, the kobold decides to go investigate something else: Forgewise's progress!

He doesn't hear any sounds as he approaches. He also doesn't see the flicker of fiery light that had filled the room. It seems dark in there. Could Forgewise be... resting? Does he need to sleep?

Tiptoeing all the way to the doorway, Brimble peers in...

There is no sign of the celestial smith, but there is what looks to be a dark jerkin resting on the anvil, sized just right for a kobold... Assuming Brimble approaches to check it out:

The darkleaf that Brimble had brought back has been reworked into a well-crafted tunic of sorts. He holds it up and can't help a little noise of appreciation: it's perfect, and sized just for him. Not cast-off clothes made for talls... not mass-produced garments that the GMC loans out that have been worn by creatures of his same general size but different anatomy-- halflings, gnomes, goblins-- and then turned back in to be given out to someone else... no, the durable jerkin is a custom-for-Brimble special. He's eager to try it on but knows already that it will fit like a glove. It's mostly made of the darkleaf, with a few fastenings and clasps here and there of metal, though Forgewise thoughtfully darkened them to keep any gleam from breaking Brimble's attempts at stealth. The darkleaf has been cut into small overlapping shapes, rather like a dragon's scales.

(You gain one suit of masterwork lamellar darkleaf, small-sized)

A note, written on a scrap of gold silk, fluttered to the floor when Brimble lifted the armor. Dwarven runes have been inscribed in charcoal on the fabric-- small enough that you wonder a bit how Forgewise managed to write in such tiny script, but apparently he had a way.

My guests: I pray the armor and the scabbard meet with thy delight and that they serve thee well. I beg thy grace that I didst not stay to see them in thine hands, but on their completion, I could no longer bear to stay apart from the perfect forge that is my true home. The Courageous art in goodly hands, I ween. May Torag guide thee and protect thee in thine paths.

P.S. Presenting a clan dagger before a living flame shouldst allow you to read the name of its owner.

P.P.S. Altynbekh will return to this chamber for water. You may take the decanter if thou wishest, but I doubt thou wilt be able to heat his innards sufficiently to grant him his semblance of life. Do not trouble thyself over him- time shall not pass for him.

Farethee well and well and well again,
Forgewise

The decanter mentioned is the same one that you have seen Forgewise pouring water for tea from: a pretty silver vase with blue gemstones on it, resting on a low shelf, not far from where the copy of Hammer and Tongs also rests.

*****

Em quickly understands that she no longer has control over her outfit. Frowning a bit, she examines what she's been given to wear. Her frown deepens. ::This does not exactly display my sense of imagination, originality, and creativity.

::Oh, is it not to thy liking? Yet it was the first you attempted, Brilliance answers her, undeniably sounding smug and insufferable. If Em is annoyed over it, at least she has the new distraction of realizing she can do magic. True, real, magic!

*****

The white mushrooms Phantrel is able to retrieve from the box's insides smell fragrantly earthy, and look as perfect as any he ever found growing at the base of a tree in the forest. Sliced up and mixed with spikemouth, they are hearty enough-- and much tastier once Xira thinks of attempting to experiment with her own magic, seeing if she can impart a kind of flavor to them. It works, to her delight.

Just as the group is pondering where Brimble might have gone-- without telling anyone, tsk!-- the kobold reappears in the doorway, clutching a few new items, including his new armor. Unless for some reason Brimble wouldn't return to the dorm right away.

A roll for Em: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

What would you like your outfit to be today, Em? That deep purple gown of yesterday? Something new?

....doesn't matter. Your dress changes to blue and cream. Specifically, an azure dress, trimmed with gold needlework and flounces of cloth the color of fresh cream.

The search concludes relatively quickly once begun. The others are able to return from Forgewise with no ambushes to report, though paranoia keeps you company now as you pass through any room that might offer sufficient cover to the small, stealthy goblins. The mess hall, for instance: soooo many goblins could be hiding under those tables!

(But they aren't.)

(But you still feel you have to look.)

Every shadow could hold deformed goblins eager to murder you! Raka's hands stay near her new weapons with latent anxiety all through the process.

It's several minutes until everyone is back together at Dorm #2, a few people fighting yawns as adrenaline has faded once more. Xira and Brimble are able to finish out their shift, which, thankfully, is uneventful for the rest of it.

They are able to yield the watch to Raka and Phantrel, Altynbekh's departure to refill his water tanks serving as a good marker of the hours. Brimble climbs happily back into bed, though the sheets are no longer toasty warm.

Raka and Phantrel: Feel free to slip in any RP you might want to do via asynchronous tags, as I never want to interrupt the chance for PC bonding/chatter. But mechanically speaking, nothing happens on your watch.

The greatest danger to Raka and Phantrel on their watch is perhaps dozing off. The complex remains at that same mild temperature, and it's quiet, and there's only so much to talk about... though Bastion chatters cheerfully at Raka through the watch and that likely makes it impossible for her to fall asleep. Bastion asks questions about Salt Spire, Raka's friends, her childhood, things she's seen, things she's done....

Thunder-follows-Lightning maintains its silence, unless Phantrel attempts to interrupt it.

Finally, the watchers are able to relinquish the stage to Argatha, Colin, and Em. The first few hours pass uneventfully, though Colin and Em might continue talking alchemy and deflagration during it, if they wish. Colin's mind is abuzz with the new knowledge from reading the Professor. In fact, not just his mind... even his body seems to still feel remnants of yesterday, in odd twinges and aches.

It's true for all of you, really. There is a lingering soreness in your muscles, your bones, and even your skin. If it's possible for your hair to be tender, it is. An echo of the strange bonding of the day before, perhaps. You each dreamt, during your sleep: not of anything you could easily name, no familiar places or faces or things, but rather... sensations, vague and fleeting: a thousand winding twisting tunnels, and yourself, a swarm of... rats, maybe? flooding through them, claiming them as a lair. You were many, and one, and all, and none. You were a knife piercing unarmored flesh. You were a creeping plague. You were a mist trickling unseen through a village at night. You were alone. You were surrounded.

About an hour before the last watch ends, Colin, Em, and Argatha hear what sounds like a muffled and distant boom overhead, somewhere. They tense up and stay on heightened guard for several minutes, but nothing seems to happen in the wake of that noise, or nothing that they can detect, at any rate.

Altynbekh makes another patrolling loop sometime after that, and you realize that you have, officially, survived your first night in Thurznchakh.

Hope you like pickled fish for breakfast.

Now what, heroes?

****

Brimble gets only a few minutes' well-earned rest before Argatha's healing magic makes it apparent he can still move - and the stealthy kobold is still one of the group best suited to sneaking and checking out dark areas. He and Argatha work on clearing the immediate hallways and ensuring no goblins are hiding here still, while Xira and a few others go to ask Forgewise about once again modifying the construct's orders.

The celestial smith is hard at work on the requested suit of armor, but pauses what he is doing to listen, looking thunderous at the mention of the slagborn. He agrees readily to set Altynbekh on a circling route, and will give the golden figure new orders as soon as Altynbekh returns to him for more water.

Until then, the construct has tramped steadily back to stand in front of the still-spiked toilets door.

Kobold and human make their way south, as quiet as they can, not stopping to read plaques-- just checking for goblins. They pass a small, plain door; the much fancier golden doors that you surmise lead to the lift; and the open maw of a wide stairwell that leads both up and down, then eventually hit the T-end of the broad corridor. The golden doors both seem not to have been disturbed in a while, and have the usual small-glass-panel lock. The small door has no such lock and looks as if it can just be opened, like the door to the toilets.

The open stairwell is concerning in that you have no easy way to secure it. Doors can be spiked, but trying to block off the stairwell itself would take significant time and materials. It is possible the orange-hued goblin retreated up this stairwell-- you would have been able to see it if had used either of the prior two doors. Looking up it right now, you don't see anyone, but Brimble's warning about traps seems wise: there is a rather old and withered looking goblin (or at least small-sized and large-skulled) skeleton on the landing, the small body blackened as if intense fire had charred it.

It's also possible that the runner went all the way to the corridor's termination. Again, pathways branch east and west. To the east, the corridor continues as a broad gallery that goes towards the temple. There's furniture here-- low sofas and chairs, made of stone but covered with softer cushions, the cushions old and musty. Of interest here is that there's also a window -- a large, almost floor to ceiling, panel of thick glass (or something like it) that runs along the southern wall. It looks 'outside' - not the outside you're hoping for, but the interior of what must be a large cavern. Your search for goblins keeps you from gazing too long through it, but you get a brief glimpse of large mushrooms on the rough, unworked-stone walls.

The western hall is smaller. It features three doors with plaques-- names of individual residing dwarves, looks like-- and all of them have the glass-panel lock and have, presumably, not been opened in a while. No goblins here.

Doubling back, Argatha and Brimble check out the nearer east-west corridor. It runs past several doors that also list dwarven names, and another entrance into your own dorm, and a second entrance into Dorm 2. The final door at the end has a plaque saying: STEEL OVERSEER - Jotur Sparksong.

Again, no goblins that either man can see... Does that mean Argatha can finally go to sleep?? (he probably wonders groggily).

Raka uses the hatchet and it's more than effective enough to send the blue-specked goblin, already wounded, on to that great goblin hell in the sky, or wherever it is. The thing falls without a sound...

Argatha hurries forward to Brimble, with his numerous bites and arrow wound. A quick touch and prayer ensures that the kobold won't die, at least. His eyelids (or nictating membranes?) flutter weakly, but there is more to be done.... Argatha tries to tend to his wounds further, but kobold anatomy is new to him.

Brimble is conscious but at 0 hp

The orange-hued goblin does not reappear. Altynbekh moves to each of the three goblins still in the hall with you and, dispassionately and methodically, steps on their torsos, each one in turn. You hear the sickening crunch of splintering bones.

By the light of your spells you can see the goblins more clearly. They are.... strange. For one thing, their skin is very pale compared to goblins you have seen before, who almost all tend to be some shade of green. These goblins are almost white, a sickly white like a fish belly, with only a lingering tinge of green persisting.

The one that had bit Brimble appears to have teeth made out of pieces of metal-- various bits of scrap, really. Nails, knife tips, needles... it's like a toolbox spilled out in his mouth (you can confirm it is a he, now that you have full time and light for investigation). The blue splotches all over its skin seem to be its innate coloring, not dye or paint, and loosely track with major arteries, as if the blood beneath the surface were discolored somehow.

The lead goblin who had shot Brimble with an arrow also seems to be misshapen. She, for it is a she, has a noticeably protruding jaw and brow, giving her a weird 'caveman' sort of look that you've never seen on a goblin before, and one of her arms is overdeveloped and muscular while the other seems almost atrophied. The dark spots on her skin turn out to be merely soot and charcoal, no doubt applied to make her less visible in the dark.

The last of the three goblins you were able to kill has odd bony protrusions at his joints-- elbows, knees, shoulders and so forth-- bone extrusions splits his pale skin there, and the skin around the emergences is thick with scaley layers of growth.

Each goblin was carrying a bow, though a bow made out of improvised materials-- scrap metal and wire, mostly, no wood to be seen-- and a dozen arrows of the appropriate length for their bow. They also each had a shiv of sorts, and armor made of patchwork bits of hide, metal, and bone.

(3 small shortbows, 3 small shortswords, 3 small improvised armors that are treated as leather armor)

Arrows and icicles hurtle down the corridor but do not find their mark. The orange-hued goblin does not reappear.... but the one with blue warts or whatever it is takes one last bite at Brimble.

Chomp?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 Ruh roh
Chompfirm?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19 Double ruh roh

Critical chompination: 2d4 ⇒ (2, 3) = 5

And thus falls Brimble of the drakeborn.... at least for now.

The goblin shrieks triumphantly with its lips frothing with fresh kobold blood.... turns with unholy madness in its eyes... and then lopes towards Argatha.

Once near him, its expression seems to clear somewhat, and a look of panic to spread over its face instead, as if it's wondering why the f$!@ it just ran closer to the enemies instead of away. Oh well, it's here now. The look of fear on its face increases, however, as Altynbekh implacably rounds the corner and starts towards it.

Party is all up! And Brimble is unconscious. Bleeding. Oozing.

Will save: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1
Confusion result: 1d100 ⇒ 83

Xira feels as if her efforts did... SOMETHING, but as yet the results haven't been made apparent.

The goblins have not mastered the art of punching, it seems... but the blue-flecked one that Brimble attacked HAS mastered the art of biting. Without releasing its grip on its bow it snaps its head forward at Brimble, and bites at him with teeth that seem to be oddly metallic-looking. The other one merely snarls, not seeming to have the same kind of impressively horrible dentition. If they understand Raka's challenging bellow they show no signs of it, and make no answer.

AOO Bite vs Brimble: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21
Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 3

Make me a Fort save, Brimble

In response to Xira's shout....

Altynbekh seems to know its name, if nothing else: the golden head swivels in Xira's direction, and after a ponderous pause, the construct begins to clank her way....

The reverberating echoes of its heavy metal feet strikes fear into the remaining goblins, as the downing of two of them hadn't quite managed to do. The goblin with an orange bandanna around its head turns and breaks, running down the hall it came from and disappearing past Argatha or Brimble's ability to see.

The other one, whose skin seems flecked with blue spots and bruises (as well as his own blood) takes a wary step around Brimble, then tries to bite him once more.

Bite: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Fortunately, this time the kobold is able to avoid the attack.

Party is up! Full actions for everyone but Em who is sleeping the sleep of the just beautiful.

Don't mind this roll: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

-----------

Houndsfang makes a noise of deep satisfaction in Brimble's mind as the pick bites in-- no words, but a sound of pleasure, almost a purr, if the iconography were feline rather that canine.

-----------

Colin dreams.... as he works with the recalcitrant chemicals, with the sensation of many eyes upon him, he tries asking again. The professor is somewhere behind him, its strange 'pages' glowing and flashing various bits of dwarven text that he doesn't dare take his eyes off his experiments to try and read.

Perhaps in time, I will tell you, comes the acerbic voice. If you prove yourself worthy.

It sounds like a watermelon being chopped into with a heavy blade, the sound of the pick going in the other creature's skinny chest, penetrating some makeshift armor.... the snuffler is still standing, but it seems unlikely it will do so for long... Argatha's arrow, sadly, misses, or it surely would have dropped right there.

It screeches again in its goblin tongue - stumbles back from the doorway - and looses an arrow of its own at Brimble.

Vs Brimble: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
Damage: 1d4 ⇒ 3

The arrow bites - and then he hears the sound his logic had already prepared him to dread: more running goblin feet, joining the fight.

The good news is that the effort of shooting him seems to have been the last thing that the lead goblin could have managed -- the creature collapses to the ground, blood pulsing from the deep puncture in its chest.

Red is dying; Orange and Purple came up from the south, double moving; Blue emerged from the east-west corridor and now takes a shot at Brimble

Vs Brimble: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

But even without his dreamed-of armor, the second arrow misses.

(Round 3: Xira woke Phantrel; Raka got up and grabbed one (1) weapon)

Round 4:
Argatha (shot, missed)
Phantrel (stood, grabbed TFL - not yet moved to doorway)
Brimble (picked!)
Em (Em can make a Per check DC 5 to hear combat and wake, if Dreadful wishes; if she succeeds she gets a normal round of actions)
Gg-g-g-gobbers (one died, three more rushed up)
Xiramona
Raka
Colin (Colin can make a Per check DC 7 to hear combat and wake; if he succeeds he gets a normal round of actions)

Round 5:
Argatha
Phantrel
Brimble
Em (If Awake - effectively she gets 2 rounds of actions if so)
Gg-g-g-gobbers
Xiramona
Raka
Colin

Brimble slips closer, his claws scuffing more than he'd like, but luck is favoring him: when he dares to steal another glance around the edge of the wall, the goblin across the hallway, now less than thirty feet away from him, is still gazing expectantly down the hallway in the direction he'd originally come from. The goblin is clutching a shortbow that looks to be made of metal scrap, and has a nasty barbed arrow on the string already, waiting for a target.

He has a brief moment to study the goblin. He's known at least a few goblins-- the GMC is perfectly willing to use them as laborers as well, though they are rightfully wary of the chaotic tendencies of many of these particular smallfolk. Goblins aren't the most reliable of miners when it comes to observing safety protocols, and they love open flame just a little too much. But there are exceptions to every generalization, and a few goblins take to the mining life well-- such as the engineer Zrmlix, who you presume is still somewhere back at camp.

This goblin does not look much like the ones who have successfully made it in the GMC.

His or her (difficult to tell) has pale skin with dark smears and smudges all over it, and something about the goblin's large head seems somewhat... lopsided, with a more prominent jaw and brow than Brimble can recall seeing on a goblin before. Something about one of the hands is also off, but Brimble can't get a good enough look at it in the space of a few seconds, especially since he's also trying to scan for signs of any reinforcements. If they're there, he doesn't see or hear them.

The goblin sniffs the air and opens its mouth a bit like a panting dog, displaying many needle-like teeth. Its head swivels left and right, and then the sniffing gets more emphatic.... its head turns in Brimble's direction.

It lopes forward to him, head moving side to side as if it's still looking for him -- even while moving directly towards him. Only when it's nearly on top of him do its beady red eyes go wide, registering he is in front of it!

"Krgizl!!" the goblin hisses.

(Goblin used two move actions and has now found you, Brimble, but had no actions left to do anything else)

Round 3, technically:
Argatha
Phantrel - Currently asleep
Brimble
Em Salt - Currently asleep
Gg-g-g-gobbers
Xiramona
Raka
Colin - Currently asleep

Which will lead us into Round 4:
Argatha
Phantrel
Brimble
Em

Xira and Raka are up for their Round 3 actions; Argatha, Brimble, and Phantrel* can take their round 4 actions (*assuming Xira's action is still to wake Phantrel).

Brimble drifts across the hall like a small scaly ghost, trying to combine speed and silence as he darts to the cover of the other wall opening. Once there he flattens himself to the stone and sneaks a glance down the hallway. Empty, still--

--no, wait. A flick of movement, he just saw it, on the south side of the wall block that holds Dormitory #1!

The small figure is doing the same thing Brimble is-- using the corner of the wall for cover, trying to peer around to look for him.... but hasn't noticed Brimble, it seems, based on the fact that it hasn't yet attacked him.

(Brimble, you (just) spotted the enemy; the enemy failed to spot you.)

Meanwhile, Argatha hurriedly slithers out of the bunk and lands on his bare feet (unless he slept in his boots!), grabbing for the bow on automatic, as if he'd wielded one all his life and not just a long time ago at a circus. Rune seems 'awake'-- if the weapons even sleep-- since as soon as his fingers brush the bow he senses the weapon's readiness for combat.

Xira moves on to Raka, gently shaking her, whispering the situation.

Putting us into proper Init now.

Round 3, technically:
Argatha (currently standing. I'm letting you have grabbed both bow and quiver with one action back in Round 2, but I'd say you'd need to use a move action to 'don' your quiver or otherwise free up both hands for using your bow)
Phantrel - Currently asleep
Brimble
Em Salt - Currently asleep
Gg-g-g-gobbers?
Xiramona - Action pending (probably to wake Phantrel)
Raka - Awake, action pending to stand and get one weapon
Colin - Currently asleep

Xira gets to her feet and moves back in the room to jostle Argatha, while Brimble tiptoes along the wall to go look at the corridor. As he does so, he sees that 'Clanker' is still in front of the toilets door, unmoving. Definitely no fresh goblin corpses under its feet that you can see.

Brimble creeps to the edge and sticks his head around the corner to see what can be seen... Nothing. He listens, and hears nothing as well. The corridor seems empty, though of course there are numerous branching hallways off of it that could serve as hidey holes for enterprising sneaky sorts. Brimble himself used some of them earlier today.

We're not in an Initiative right now, but we'll stay in single round's worth of actions. So Round 1: Xira moves to Argatha and, I presume, uses a standard action to shake him awake (and he can act in Round 2). Brimble moves to the hall corner and peers for trouble, seeing nothing. What are Xira, Argatha, and Brimble doing in the next six seconds?

After a bit of chatter as everyone settles down, and perhaps eats a few pieces of pickled fish, everyone eventually falls quiet as sleep claims them- except for your two doughty sentries, speaking quietly amongst themselves, at times.

A deep silence settles throughout the Steel Strata of Thurznchakh. Somewhere, way way overhead, the stars are wheeling, the moon is high... you think. Your sense of time is fractured to say the least. If you were above ground, it would likely be around midnight: it would be cold, in Salt Spire this time of year, with the winds whipping from the ocean and bringing salt spray in the night, howling through the abandoned and scavenged husks of buildings that once housed other villagers, before they all left...

It's not cold, down here. That surprises you, a bit, if you think about it. You imagined that underground would be cold. But the temperature has been fairly pleasant throughout your time here (not counting the dunk in the drink), and also steady-- holding even at about what you'd expect of an afternoon in late spring. It doesn't vacillate with the hours; night or day, it seems the same.

The watchers watch.

Xira perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21 Showoff.

Perhaps an hour into their watch, Xira becomes aware of a noise. It sounded like a small impact... then a shrill voice exclaiming once, shortly, and then quickly falling silent. It seemed to come from the north-south corridor that runs between this dorm and the mess room, if she had to hazard a guess as to the direction.

Brimble didn't hear it. If he glances out into the corridor, Altynbekh is still motionless at his-or-its post, having gone back to Forgewise and then returned a few minutes later.

Bastion seems to gleam just a bit more brightly when Raka talks him up, though maybe it's a trick of the light. The shield doesn't 'say' anything, anyway, either to Raka or the others. Rune is similarly silent-- but Brilliance-of-Heaven has commentary, if only for Em's ears.

:: Oh-ho-ho, you WANT to antagonize me? My darling little Em-ber, are you certain you wish to play that game? For I play to win...

*

Colin doesn't introduce 'the Professor' here, but he does read, finishing one of the lessons before his eyes drag down too heavily to stay open further. Don't forget to select a skill to apply your +2 insight bonus to for the next 24 hours, Colin (or +1 to a save if you prefer).

*

Xira aims a query at Zenith and feels a little tingle from the glass ball under her palm, as if in answer, and then the words: :: 'She' will do, I suppose. Courteous of you to ask.

*

Phantrel is delighted with his mushroom kit, even if the enchantments escape his tired brain, just this moment. He carefully follows the instructions, and watches as the contraption disperses the water he added into a fine mist throughout the inner compartments, hydrating the soil. A small inset vent in the top starts to hum softly with airflow exchange. Truly a fascinating device!

Through the night, Thunder-follows-Lightning doesn't say anything to Phantrel.

"Nay, this shall be a fine challenge," Forgewise says blithely, already laying out items on the forge with a certain boyish enthusiasm, for lack of a better word.

Tiredly, Brimble works his way back up the halls to roughly back where they had entered this level. The good news is that there is no sign the spike-job done upon the toilet doors has suffered any disturbance: the door there looks just as you left it.

The dormitory sounds silent. Brimble does his habitual check, finds no traps, and once more the group works on opening the door, the broadest shoulders among called into service once again...

As is becoming familiar: the trusty crowbar manages to grind the door back into its housing with the usual metallic complaints. Beyond, you see another dorm room, both similar and not to the ones on the level beneath-- there are overall less bunks in this dormitory, only twelve by your quick count. Each one has a small personal desk or workspace as well-- desk and storage chests on the ground level, bunk placed above it, with the ladder going up to it. While this is hardly a great deal of 'personal space' as some might reckon it, it would no doubt seem a good upgrade over the Iron Strata's dorms.

A cursory inspection of a few of the trunks reveals possessions of a similar sort to what you found below: well-made but utilitarian garments, socks, boots-- everything a bit wide for your frames, and rather too short unless you are Brimble, in which case they are rather too long... the occasional memento or diversion such as a little tin whistle - a pipe and accompanying tobacco tin - a scrimshaw kit and a few pieces of half-carved bone... and clan daggers. Lots of those.

The room has an exit on each of the four walls, though you know by experience those doors will open neither quickly nor silently. By the time you have checked out a few chests, you hear Altynbekh clanking back up the hall to resume guard at the toilets.

As below: the beds are very old, the stuffing brittle, the sheets a bit musty.... but right now, tired as you are, they might as well be silk and eiderdown.

I'm not assuming a full thorough search of the dorm before you sleep, so I won't list every little thing you might find here, at least right now. Altynbekh will be 'watching' at the spot where he's at on the map right now; every hour he has to return to Forgewise and is gone for a few minutes, but he makes a rather regular clock for what it's worth. I assume you're also posting your own watch, go ahead and determine your watch order.

The steward seems to accept this. "Very well. I will note the situation in the log."

The little bundle is passed over to Brimble. It doesn't really look very dwarven-- or, perhaps, like with the swordcane, your definition of what 'dwarven' materials and gear looks like has been limited to popular conceptions. It consists of thin strips of the nearly-black substance, woven together in a tight mesh-- so this is darkleaf, apparently.

Tired from the day's escapades (and recent inhalations of toxic gases), the three make their way back down to the temple to rejoin the other four...

Forgewise inspects what Brimble has brought with some tapping of his fingers against his metal chin, pondering the creation of a suit of armor from this motley collection of materials. "I am most customed to working in metals, but I can make thee some sort of protection from this, I ween. Stand for me a moment, drakeborn, I must needs take thy measure. Arms out!"

On the long list of things you didn't expect to see, let alone experience firsthand, when you woke up this morning: a kobold holding still while a blazing faux-dwarf from Heaven stoops and crouches by him, assessing the length and breadth of his wiry little scaled limbs and torso. Forgewise thoughtfully banks the flames of his hands, beard, and hair down to a mere flicker so as not to accidentally catch Brimble on fire.

As he does this, Forgewise addresses the question Xira had asked before she'd headed off with Argatha and Brimble: "Nay, the pendants are not needed for the Return - but they do make identifying the owner of the dagger much easier!"

As Em sits and observes, feeling weariness start to catch up to her and wondering what the dwarves had against cushions on their stone benches, she and Brilliance continue their unique conversation-- the diadem laughs a bit at her words.

:: 'Just rule?' The celedon is no ruler, no king. A servant. Oh, a good one, of course, but rather lacking in... initiative.

After he has satisfied himself to Brimble's measurements, Forgewise straightens back up, his flames returning to full strength.

"I do not know how long this crafting shall be, but certes, at least more than a few hours. I shall craft while thou shall rest; perhaps I will have something to show thee by your waking! Perhaps not. Ah-- I hear Altynbekh returning for water. I shall re-post him back at the baths entrance once that is accomplished.... unless he may be of more use elsewhere?"

Indeed, you can hear the heavy tread of the bronze man returning, and shortly after see him entering.

Time for the party to figure out where they want to try to sleep-- you have a lot of still-unexplored rooms, etc! Or there's a bunch of hard stone benches.

A close call, but after a few minutes breathing deeply, our heroes seem none the worse for wear. They are ready to call it a night, albeit after one more stop...

The vault steward pauses at hearing Brimble's query. Perhaps it's thinking that that darned Forgewise sure is requesting a lot of material today. Or perhaps it's not really capable of thought in that regard, only a series of scripts.

"I apologize, but inventory shows no current stock of mithral chain in Steel Vault due to a requisition order. I will note your request and add it to the production list for the Fires of Torag. Please check back in two to three work shifts."

As for darkleaf cloth... the steward taps one of its pincers against the counter in a curiously human (or should that be dwarven?) gesture of thinking. "Bide, please."

It trundles to the cabinets behind it and rummages among them a moment, then returns with a small, rolled-up bundle of semi-stiff fabric, so dark green as to be nearly black. "...Forgewise requested this?"

Brimble, a Bluff or a Diplo check here- or Xira could, as she's right there. Or one of you could primary and the other aid.

Brimble and Argatha both still feel exceptionally tired and somewhat short of breath, even out of the room and with the door slammed shut.

Argatha Heal?: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
Xira Heal?: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7

Argatha remembers what you all were being given out at the time that Ubek talked about the gasses: air crystals. Maybe breathing the clean air from those will help with the lingering symptoms, if you're worried.

As for what Brimble got....

A steel gauntlet. A left greave without a partner. A broad belt of the sort that could hold a lot of tools or weapon weight. A spare shield boss.

In short, not much of what he really wanted.

Fortunately for both men, Argatha had recognized the symptoms of reactions to bad air before things had gotten any worse (like needing Fort saves vs unconsciousness worse). Brimble runs-- and if it looks like a rather drunken run, his limbs suddenly less cooperative than they had been five minutes ago-- at least he doesn't fall over.

Xira can't clearly see the two men bolting out from the room, but she can feel them running past her. Uhhht?

Argatha manages to breathlessly yell something about closing the door, and Xira complies with alacrity, fumbling for the metal frame and shutting it in a maneuver somewhat reminiscent of the fight against the puddle.

Okay. You're out of the room. Nothing seems like it's trying to eat you, still. No doubt Argatha is the recipient of some questioning looks from his companions.