"Not really," he replies.  "Our home is in the city below, at the heart of the world, not up here near the top of the world."  He stops for a moment, then continues, "Have you been wandering around up here for long?  Do you require rest, refreshment, or the simple joys of conversation among friends?"

"I think the answer to all of your questions is simply, 'Yes'. Particularly as regards refreshment and conversation - one can only listen to Dwarven ramblings for so long...usually about half a second. Pray tell, how large is the city below?"

Lanliss speaks both calmly and politely, as a polite guest would. His curiosity is at the max, however.

Plathstream nods at Lanliss' well-asked question.

"The city below is not as large as it once way, alas," and the man seems to droop just a bit at this, with several of the other congregants nodding slightly at this.  "Legend speaks of many thousands of people in the world, years beyond counting ago, but there are less than 600 of us presently.  Even older legends speak of the people descending from this place in the sky, to populate the city, in the time of the gods and cataclysms.  We are here to be close to our ancestral origin, and petition Usamigaras to help us ease our dwindling numbers.  Were it not for being even closer to our point of entry into the world, we wouldn't have risked conflict with the priests of Zargon."

At this, he motions several of the others in the sliver masks forward, who bear benches, bread, mugs, and pitchers, offering them to the party.

Roak bows at the offer and thanks these people warmly.

Plathstream accepts these as well. "We are on a quest to explore the deeper parts of the world, and perhaps to challenge the followers of Zargon. What help can you give us on our quest?"

Albricht's wariness waned considerably when presented with mugs and bread. He retired his old bones upon the presented bench and began stuffing bits of bread - and by bits it should be understood that they were fist-sized chunks - into his whiskered mouth. The bread was dry, but the old dwarf was used to dry, he'd spent several hundred years wandering the deserts and finding water sources that were later turned into, presumably, flourishing oasis.

"Zahgahm? Whath 'ith deal? 'ow come 'ou don'th like the priethth?"

A half millennia wandering the dunes ought to have provided time for learning not to speak with one's mouth full, but in Albricht's case, he'd not really gotten around to those sorts of advanced etiquette techniques.

"Zargon is a newcomer to the gods of our people.  It came up out of the depths, and its preists have a stranglehold on the city below.  It is rumored that they come up there, into the ever-decreasing world, somewhere, to worship their god most directly.  If you are truly going to attempt to rid us of this foul cult, then you will find them - I believe - somewhere below where we are now, but yet still above the city.  We have regularly gone down two more floors, to the tunnel that leads to the city below, but we have been told that the world above goes somewhat further down than that before Zargon."

He seems to fold in on himself a bit after that, but shakes it off in a moment.  "If there are magicians or the cunning among you, the hand of Usamigaras may also be able to protect those who pledge themselves to him, and we can provide some additional aid to those who are devoted to the Laughing Youth, Master of Coin."

Sherborne raises an eyebrow at that last comment but remains silent.

<ooc - I never really seriously considered a specific deity as that really wasn't a serious part of this version.  Presumably it wouldn't be any of the deities down here as they seem exclusive to this area.  But with that in mind, what would Sherborne see as the consequences for considering one of these deities?>

Plathstream nods. "Can you show us the way to this tunnel? And is there anything on the intervening two levels that we should investigate as well?"

He doubted he would get quite the answer he was looking for, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"Ahem." Albricht cleared his throat of a few straggling bits of crumbs. He was now intrigued by these odd fellows and their tale of a deep city. Downward, ever downward...

"Say lad, there is one thing we know, and that's spooking around in dark tunnels! But we've run into some beings down below we're not able to fight! Thrice cursed things got less substance than a goblin graduation discourse. If the God of Treasure and Fun were to grant our weapons some magical enhancement, or if there is lore among you that might lead us to weapons which could smite these wispy foes, then we'd be much better equipped to put out your turf-war fire... What say ye follower of Usmigras?" Albricht, even without wads of bread in his mouth, was still having trouble convincing his thick tongue to make the sounds for the proper pronunciation. "Can we be of service to each other?"

<OOC to Sherborne:  There are no mechanical consequences to changing deities, and other than specific encounters like this, Standard D&D simply referred to the religious institution as "The Church", from what I recall.>

The man turns to Plathstream, saying, "We have heard rumors of a force that destroyed many of the Brothers of Gorm up here.  While they have not been particularly stalwart allies of ours, it is still bothersome to hear of such destruction being visited upon them, and even more so because we have no idea who or what did this.  Beyond that, I couldn't even begin to tell you where to start, except that we share this level with those humorless harridans that follow Madura, and all is well here, aside from there lack of a sense of humor."

With a good deal more serious demeanor than in his previous interaction with Albricht, "Ah.  Magical weapons.  Usamigaras has not gifted us with such in a great while, and we certainly don't have any here.  Still, we can, perhaps, exchange spells with some of your magicians, if you have any."

"Well I can play a fair mandolin," pipes up Lanliss, "and have a certain touch with the lute, if I do say so, but...I neglected to bring any such instruments along for the ride.

Wait...

Did you say 'musicians', or 'magicians'?"

The Elf furrows his brows for a long moment, then relaxes and smiles.

"Whatever. We have some of those too. What do you have to offer?"

At the mention of the slain Gormies, Albricht became somewhat fidgety. Glancing over at Plathstream he asked in what might be considered nonchalance in dwarven circles - possibly not so much in mixed company - "Remember those screams we heard down below? Coming from, ye know, that one room? Shrieks and pleading prayers to Gorm? Aye, a room full of shadows and dead bodies when we peeked in..."

Turning to their newest host, Albricht continued. "Putting an end to such a threat - to us all - might be wise! Mayhap a few of your more magical adepts could help us investigate?"

Vsaati gulps down an enormous quantity of beer, then wipes foam off her chin before letting out a tomboyish belch.  "Pardon me.  So what does this Zargon fellow look like?"

Sherborne is still just content to listen at this point and eat enough but conservatively.

Plathstream eats and listens for the answers to his friends' many questions.

The man turns back to Albricht, a pointed and searching look in the dwarf's direction, and asks, "You have some information regarding their disappearance?  Who else knows about this?  Where was it?"

The remainder of the masked figures in the room seem to be a bit more on alert.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:16, Tue 29 Nov 2016.

Plathstream's face goes solid as he lets the dwarf hang himself on his own petard.

Noting Plathstream's neutral expression for what it is, Lanliss bumps his fellow elf with an elbow and nods at the dwarf, grinning.

"Oh this will be good..."

Albricht took a deep breath. A veeery deep breath. But his attempts to inhale himself into sudden, unexplained unconsciousness were futile. Having stored up so much air, the laws of nature quickly required that said air would need to be expelled in some manner. The manner which manifested at this particular moment to the nervous dwarf was that of voluminous words, many words, spilling out like a flood held back by a shoddy dam.

"Disappearance? No they didn't disappear. They still be lying all over the floor! See we were resting in the Jester's room down below, we were looking for water, and everyone knows that water is downward, ever downward. There was a very large boulder that these dainty-foots triggered to roll down the hall! Apes with boulders flattened this one here, and several dozen evil, animated mummies nearly pulled us into their crypt! Long story longer, we wandered, bruised, bleeding, broken, beaten, baked, bashed,  bounced, bonked, bonsai'd... we heard screams coming from the tunnel up ahead didn't we lads? The door was stout, we got there too late to save'em. But I'll admit, my friends here were frightened - for when we took a quick peek, the only thing beheld was retreating shadows!"

The dwarf's nose had begun turning slightly blue after this burst, for by now the chestful of air he'd stored up was fully expelled, leaving him in desperate need for a follow up breath.

"Listen lads, we be fighters, tough as demon-stone, but how do we fight shadows? Ye be they that know things! Share with us Usimgrasises's secret technique for dealing with such. Bob, weave, duck, shuck, jive, dance-step, dosie-doe...? There's gotta be a way! Surely your great God would not wish you to turn a blind eye to such a threat beneath your feet! Right? Be I right?"

Albricht shrugged, very worked up now and shuffling from foot to foot like a halfling dancing in a storm giant's skillet.

Plathstream, still poker-faced, whispers something in elven to Lanliss.

Dabbing some wine from his lips onto a handkerchief, Silverglade nods in agreement. "I believe that what my diminutive colleague is attempting to say is that we are available for hire, at a very reasonable rate, if you should want any of your, err, monster problems cleared up.

Just a few of the party members catch the sharp, considering look that the silver-crowned man gives Albricht before he laughs, saying, "Shadows!  Of course he won't leave us to such horrors!  The next level down is known to be filled with traps and all sorts of haunts.  Take heart, for we shall do what we can to assist you with supplies and what magics we can.  Make no mistake, these things cannot be hurt by mortal weapons, and while we don't have any of the magic sort of weapons, there are some spells that may injure them, even unto death."

<OOC:  The offer is up to two new spells each from the first level list for the elves (as we don't have any magic-users), plus food and water for four days for each party member, plus an assortment of gemstones.>

Albricht nodded, physically relieved. "Aye, killing things to death is usually the best way to go about it... as long as it's effective."