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Grimdahl is quietly relieved by this: the prospect of being entirely surrounded within a metal cocoon was not a good prospect. Druids tend to eschew metal as far as is possible. He stands quietly and lets the more technical-minded dwarves get on with it.
"Very nice." Grimdahl does his (poor) best to be diplomatic: he has known the fey of the Seelie Court to change their shape to glide on the air currents or swim through the deeps, and he harbours ambitions to learn how, someday. This toy is all very well and will doubtless prove useful right now, but the clear disadvantages strike him as obvious. He gives a sympathetic glance at Ingrid, being wise enough to discern her distress.
Grimdahl is just relieved it's not what he feared; although he is not especially keen on trying to cross the lake with something that clearly doesn't seem to have succeeded. He says none of this, unwilling to dampen the old dwarf's enthusiasm. Instead, he puffs on his cigar, and keeps watch on the lake and the shore as best he can, for anything that might be disturbed by their activities.
Ivy suddenly stands up. "Uh, could somebody come over here and tell me what I'm looking at?" she shouts, pointing into the water near the dock.
Grimdahl sighs wearily, assuming that Ivy's stone has woken some horror in the deep water best left undisturbed. He wanders over, cautiously, drawing his scimitar as he does so.
Ivy walks to the end of the dock, careful to avoid slipping on the muck-covered surface. She takes a rock and skips it on the water of the lake. Grimdahl shakes his head wearily. "Don't you know what happens when you do that...?" He turns his attention back to the writings he has uncovered. "Master T'jener: do you recall anything about the Vostenstod Mining Company? Or Himmelsvard? What about the city of Xan or the White Queen?" Musing further, he considers things. "We've found the dock, but no boat. If we want to get to the island, we'll have to make a raft. Or we can explore one of the other places."
Grimdahl investigates the ruin closely, scraping the mud off the stonework and looking for clues, heedless of the dirt that sticks to him - it's only dirt after all; and dirt from the Azathyr can't be much different from dirt in the surface world, can it?
"Fish, cousin. Use it as a water supply. A defensive moat. Water has all sorts of uses." Grimdahl shakes his head slightly at Bali's question.
Grimdahl frowns, concerned. Everything he knows of the Azathyr warns of its dangers, the perils, the constant struggle to survive. The idea that this much food is simply roaming around the jungle bothers him. Where are the predators? "Keep an eye out. There may be more to this than we can see." He offers, by way of advice.
Grimdahl shrugs, sourly. "Should have brought that drow boat with us." He pauses. "Didn't Miatha say that there were dwarven ruins on the island? I am open to ideas. Make some sort of raft from the fungus?" The druid is annoyed. It was his job to think about what they might need to be prepared for.
Urgh, I miss it already! I'm going half-mad, and I have so long to wait! :P I feel your pain: I dropped my smartphone last year and although I got a replacement within a week, it felt like forever. It really is scary how much a part of my life it's become! Hang in there...
Grimdahl rolls his eyes slightly at his brother's question. "We're underground, Prav. I think it was more likely a vast herd of animals stampeding somewhere." The druid does not actually know for sure if the Azathyr has weather systems or not, but thinks it unlikely. It's possible the condensation from the forests creates cloud and precipitation, but the idea of a thunderstorm strikes him as implausible. On the other hand, he's been wrong before...
:0 Wow. Thanks!
Grimdahl, despite himself, is quietly awed by the majesty of the subterranean jungles of the Azathyr. There is nothing comparable in the sunlit lands, and he is aware of vast gaps in his knowledge, despite years - decades - of patient study.
So it comes as something of a relief to the druid to be able to confidently recognise some of the features they pass by: "These red-brown mushrooms are properly known as Agaricus fantaforus. They grow at an incredible 1-2 feet per day, making them a wonderful renewable resource for the races of the Azathyr. You normally harvest them half-way through their maturity: the stalks are cut into boards and dried, producing a wood as strong as cedar and as flexible as bamboo." He's not sure if his fellow dwarves even know what 'cedar' or 'bamboo' even are, so he moves swiftly on. "They are also remarkably fire resistant."
He moves swiftly back to the front, hoping that nobody will ask him what's causing the thundering noise. If anyone asks, he looks severely at them, with a "shushing" movement, and indicates the potentially hostile territory they are in.
Hi guys/gals, I want to try out at least some of the new Unchained rules, and I've set up a thread to gauge interest. Feel free to dot in (here) if you'd like to be involved! Be good to get your input.
The druid looks solemnly at Master T'jener. "I see our youth are becoming soft. Best find Dammerhall while they still call themselves dwarves." Grimdahl can't quite resist the jibe, but there's no malice in it. He flashes his younger cousin a quick half-smile.
Grimdahl nods, silently. It's as sensible an option as any other. North it is, then. Hefting his pack back onto his shoulders, he walks in front, eyes - and ears - open for trouble.
Congratulations!
Grimdahl shakes his head at his companions' inability to scout properly. It's really not something you can teach - it's just something you learn, by spending hours and hours at a time silent, still, watchful. Most dwarves just don't have the patience to be really good observers. He hates to admit it, but elves and fey really do have the advantage there. Stepping forward, he moves with his cousin Bali to the waterfall, doing his best to see what's there.
Grimdahl slightly alters the balance of nature by stomping on the eggs, ensuring that they are completely destroyed before he descends to re-join the others. "All alright? Where to now?"
I laughed, too - I guess our GM is a veteran of the 'olden days' when all monsters had a treasure type, and you didn't worry about how (say) a giant scorpion ended up with a gold ring...
Grimdahl nods in assent. He's in the lightest armour, so he can climb easily. "Good thing we brought rope" is his only laconic remark.
Realising that he isn't equipped for direct combat with a scorpion - and, more importantly, that he's blocking the way for those who are - Grimdahl carefully steps away from the melee and back toward the rest of the group.
Just to say that I'm on my phone so I can't access the roll20 map; if the Entangle spell won't work without catching some of us, I'll fire the acid dart instead as my surprise round action, and then another one as my round 1 action.
Grimdahl gestures, and the surrounding plants come to life, wrapping around the two scorpions.
Grimdahl points at the scorpion not in combat; a dart of acid lances towards it.
Grimdahl slowly makes his way down the stairs, keeping a wary eye out for trouble.
Grimdahl snorts with laughter at Ivy's comparison. "As long as there's no bloody fae, I'll consider it an improvement!" He looks with a certain awe at the vast expanse: "Earth and Stone! I never saw anything like it." Keeping a wary eye out, he moves to the end of the path and looks down at the platform below, as well as across at the vast expanse. "So, onwards and downwards?" Fetching a rope out of his pack, he looks around for a suitable tether.
"Sure, why not? The more the merrier." Grimdahl is preoccupied with trying to find the way there and with what they will encounter on the way. The discussions of what will happen when (if!) they succeed are premature, in his view. Hence his slightly gruff reply. He softens slightly. "Glad to have you along. Anyone stealthy enough that I can't see them is welcome. Try not to get killed." Hefting his pack, he considers that they have tarried long enough at the waypost. "Onward - and downward." He follows the directions towards the Fungal Jungle, guiding the others from the front of the group.
The druid nods, slowly. "Right." He ensures that everyone has supplies and gear and then moves to the front to lead the way.
Foraging would not appear to be a problem!
Yikes, for some reason I completely missed your last post in the gameplay thread, GM. Catching up now.
Grimdahl remains in the background while negotiations are ongoing, not having anything to add. He nods approvingly at his brother's speech, which is indeed fine. When Miatha produces the map, however, his interest is greatly rekindled. "The Great Jumping Off Point? What do you know of that?" He racks his brains to see what he has heard of it.
Grimdhal is characteristically blunt. "If not you, then who else?"
Despite the solemnity of the occasion, Grimdahl can't suppress a dour chuckle at T'jener's words. "Risky? How does that risk compare, say, to a mere handful of dwarves entering the Underdark to take back their ancestral halls, not even knowing where they are? Just curious."
The druid shrugs. He didn't have much respect for the gnome, although he did die in combat at the end. "Lie. Say he's ill. Too ill to be disturbed. Form a council who will 'advise' him. Once everyone's got used to the council and the city is stable, you can announce his death then. Most people will just nod and get on with their lives."
Great, levelling up! crunch: Woodland stride Hit points BAB +1 Will Save +1 Fort Save +1 6 skill points: Knowledge dungeoneering Perception Stealth Handle Animal Heal Knowledge nature +1 Orison +1 level 1 spell/day
Grimdahl acknowledges Bali's comments with a fierce smile: "What do you call a few hundred dead drow, orcs and others?"
He looks around, to check everyone is ok. Including the Lord. Fop that he is, he fought well by all accounts.
Grimdahl again swings his scimitar, leaving another dead drow broken on the floor. "Pravic, we've got this; you see that?" He points toward the leader "That's evil, that is - go smite it, would you?"
Cool imagery, though! Would be interesting to explore this AP as the drow at some stage.
Grimdahl hefts his scimitar; it sits well in his hand. An ancient weapon, forged in Dammerhall itself, it was a gift from the late Magnar Tharnhammer; proof (if any were needed) that the ancient dwarf did not regard the druid as an outcast. Grimdahl strikes at the nearest drow, the blade moving almost faster than the eye can follow, leaving the dark elf dead in its wake.
Grimdahl positions himself by the gap, ready to fire the last of his magic at the drow. "Bali, Ingrid - I have no healing today, best you stay back. Pravic? Nurin? Lothar? Let's end this."
Grimdahl nods silently, falling back with Reginald to their next fortified position.
Opting to stay with Reginald rather than leave with the gnomes, Grimdahl now uses his last bit of magic. Placing one of the three enchanted pebbles into his sling, he whirls it around in an arc, sending them flying at the drow. The magic accelerates the pebble with lethal force, making it unexpectedly dangerous.
He then glances at Reginald, and prepares to move out with the venerable dwarf, to follow the gnomes.
As the drow slowly close in, Grimdahl casts his final spell: Magic Stone. 3 enchanted rocks appear in his hand: he loads one of them into his sling.
Grimdahl concentrates on bringing the power of nature to bear against these demon-worshipping foes, and entangles the bridge in a morass of trailing river-weed and fungal strands. "That should slow them down - keep shooting!"
Grimdahl blinks "A boat?! How many can that hold? Few, I'll wager. Bali, Pravic, Ingrid - crush them. I have another entangle spell; with spears at front and archers behind this bridge is a choke point." He smiles wolfishly at T'jener. "Are you good for choking some more drow?" It's a risk to split their force, but it's a bigger risk not to. He sighs. At least if it comes to it, he'll die underground, as a true dwarf should.
Grimdahl nods in acknowledgement of his brother's praise, and flashes a rare grin: "Magic, brother - you should try it one of these days!"
Grimdahl can see little of the opposing force through the smoke, but he knows drow: as a druid, he knows their nature. And it is in the nature of drow to mislead, to hide their intentions. "He's stalling." the dwarf says bluntly. "If he wants to delay things, then want to get them done. Don't wait for them to finish their plan - strike now, while they wait." A potentially rash plan, to be sure - but more sensible than waiting for a drow plan to unfold, at least in Grimdahl's view
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