Felwyst/Tatsu
You notice the traffic in this area heads north. Among the the tracks are wolf prints and numerous small reptilian tracks.
Laz
"Felwyst, you see what I see? Goblins, I'm thinking. They like to ride wolves or worgs. If we can avoid them, let's do so. I am tired of fighting everything that lives in this gods-forsaken place." Tatsu points to the tracks as she talks with Felwyst.
"Oh, I see them, but I don't think they're goblin, unless they're were-crocodiles." Felwyst draws his sword and uses it to point out reptillian scales that cling to the stones. "It looks like they went north. We can go in another direction, but we should stick close and be prepared for trouble."
Thumpy scratches his head.
"Were crocodiles? We're not crocodiles ..."
"Crocdiles ... do we eat them or ride them?"
Laz
"We eat them, Clovis, and then make boots and belts out of their hides." She smiles at Clovis, then turns to Felwyst, "Were-crocs, not likely. Kobolds, then. Let's be wary, people. Since we don't know which way to the forges, we will have to just start opening doors and looking the old fashioned way." With that said, she opens the door next to her and looks in the room. "Check that one, Felwyst. I don't think the stairs are here, but better safe than sorry."
Amongst a soiled hat and moth-eaten rags is a short, stunted mushroom. It matches the description of the Ironbloom completely
"Crocdiles ... do we eat them or ride them?"
"We avoid them, Clovis."
Thumpy nods vigorously at Clovis' answer.
Ser moves along with the group, keeping his eyes and ears open.
Felwyst will carefully open the door next to him and look inside.
"We eat them, Clovis, and then make boots and belts out of their hides."
"We avoid them, Clovis."
"Something I can make boots out of is not something I want to avoid. As long as someone else is doing the making. I think it would be a good look."
The acquisition of a pot hat and a zombie cloak have clearly given Clovis a sense of style he feels he's been missing before. He's oblivious to the fungi.
Tatsu says to her companions,
"Here we go! Finally, one Ironbloom mushroom coming right up."
She moves into the room and carefully plucks the mushroom, putting it into her beltpouch.
"Yup, that looks like Ironbloom. Hooray!"
"How many do we need Thumpy?"
Thumpy shrugs. "Um, I don't know. The more the better, I guess."
"Might have to fight the crocodile then."
Clovis looks optimistic.
Laz
Felwyst goes to open his door, but finds the door jammed. With a quick kick the door swings open. A "CRACK" is heard, and the remains of an ancient chair lay nearby.
The room, a waiting room from the looks it, smells of dust and decay. In the center of the room lays the spread out, mummified remains of a dwarf. On closer inspection the shattered shards of a vial are in one hand, and a scrap of parchment in the other.
Thumpy gasps.
"That's ... that's a dwarf!"
He stays planted where he is, not daring to approach.
Felwyst approaches and takes the parchment as gently as possible.
"You OK, Thumpy?"
"I ... what a sad place to die."
Tears well up in the dwarf's eyes.
"I guess..." Clovis thinks about it for a second. "... where's a good place to die?"
"When I die I want to be at home. But I guess that's hard to do sometimes."
"When I die I want to be at home. But I guess that's hard to do sometimes."
"No one dies while I still have breath."
Felwyst approaches and takes the parchment as gently as possible.
As Felwyst retrieves the parchment he notices something glimmer in the torch light. A silver hammer with something engraved into it's head.
Runes and letters cover the inside of the parchment, obviously dwarven.
Dwarven
“Forgive me, dark father of the forge, my toils shall never be enough.”
Thumpy reads the note aloud (assuming Felwyst let him read it):
“Forgive me, dark father of the forge, my toils shall never be enough.”
"'Dark father'? Who's that supposed to be?"
Clovis listens to Thumpy and pats the dwarf on the back in a comforting manner.
Felwyst readily hands off the note. "Uggh... these cursed, blocky, geometric patterns make my eyes cross."
Thumpy scratches his head.
"I dunno. Maybe his dad was a really mean smithy."
Infront of the group the double doors hand open leading into darkness. Peaking around the south hall Tatsu can make out doors. The northern hall seems to continue for a bit and then turn.
Thorin
The symbol, a fire burning under stone arch, belongs to Droskar The Dark Smith. Cast from the dwarven god Torag's kingdom for creating copies of great works and claiming them as his.[/ooc]
Clovis and Thorin spur their comrades on to the double doors.
Tatsu takes her torch and leads the way. As she opens the double doors, she looks around for any signs of traps or ambushes.
"What do we have here?" Tatsu asks as she opens the doors.
As Tatsu opens the doors, Thumpy gazes at the engraved silver hammer he retrieved from beside the corpse.
"Uh oh. This hammer here is the symbol of this bad dwarf god named Droskar. If this place used to be his temple, we'd better watch out."
"Just so long as there are no dwarven zombies or something like that, we'll be okay." Tatsu tells the others. Under her breath, she says to herself, "Of course it is a EVIL dwarven monastery. Nothing on this trip goes right."
"This is the kind of place you end up if you don't pay your rent apparently."
"They lock you with dwarf zombies? That's harsh."
With in the torch light Tatsu and the others casn see pews of darkwood tipped over and covered in dust on either side of this ancient shrine. At the far end sits a large ceremonial anvil, but its surface is defaced and ruined. To the south a broken door opens to another room
Felwyst will lead the way across the room.
Clovis moves to see what's down the side corridors and feels surprisingly alert.
Tatsu moves her way in, investigating the left side of the room, working her way to the anvil. "Anybody spot a mushroom? This appears to be a forge, albeit also a sanctuary for church services. Thumpy, do dwarves usually use forges for altars?"
"Um, my father once told me that every forge is an altar to our gods, and they smile happy when they hear us go 'clang clang clang' with our hammers. But I don't think priests could pray in a working forge. That gets in the way of the smith-master's work."