Determining to seek out the Halls of the Master (to recover Calanor's blade and perhaps prevail upon Lord Diker to use the mirrors that are now his charge to transport you to where the city of Kalibar once stood, that you might find the lost entrance to Garek Enkdal nearby) you set out beneath the shining sun that drives away the mists, heading north west, skirting the foothills towards the Sankaduin, the Snake River that was, and the hamlet of Osen'tauri.

Alasha'an and Brugar have been this way before, and are able to guide you well enough ... though neither are familiar enough with the land to be able to locate the stone-covered shallow grave wherein they laid the body of Martje, the seer who gave her life to awaken the Sleepers of the prophecy she believed in when there were few others who did.  Perhaps for the best, for the old woman in life would have pointedly asked if you did not have more important matters to attend to than wasting your time and disturbing her rest ...

You pass by twisted and withered trees that sprout from the sparse tufts of grass and gorse that spring from the ground, surviving till now on what little light had filtered through the mists, yet looking even more miserable beneath the light of day.

The trees thin even more, ... and you cannot avoid noticing the bones, both animal and human, some disturbingly fresh, that litter the worn trail you now follow amid the tussocks.

Before long the path dips, and you are forced to slow, loose gravel making footing uncertain.  The splash of water reaches your ears and shortly thereafter you catch sight of the Sankaduin, flanked by black banks, its waters turgid, not free-flowing, the smell unpleasant - more so than either Elf or Dwarf recall from last time.

North lies Osen'taurie, a mean village, little more than a hamlet that was no more pleasant than the river it lies besides ... but your path lies south, and your destination is now close.

The land gradually rises as the twisting trail you tread follows a passage between low hills that soon becomes a ravine, sheltered between sheer walls of rock that loom to either side.

Not much further along, the ravine opens out into a wide depression, the path leading out onto a rocky peninsula with sheer sides dropping twenty feet or so into marshland, the muted roar of falling water in the distance indicating perhaps how the swamp is fed.

At the end of the peninsula stands a building that might once have been impressive, but now seems a little unkempt, with its stones crumbling and the roof collapsed in places.  The spires atop the central tower and a lower dome are carved in the fashion of beasts, maws wide open, staring down upon you.

Ahead the path leads to an entrance arch, through which can be seen the form of a large figure which  Hamin, Yetta and Ayas, not having seen it before, at first mistake for a guard of some sort, though as you draw closer, you see that it is but a statue, fashioned of granite, in contrast to the iron-tinged rock of these hills.

The Halls of the Master.

Brugar's eyes scan their suuroundings intently as the party approaches the Halls of the Master. He scowls when he sees the statue in the entry hall.

"That damned stone golem be still there, curse it. Myshrall were the only one as made it past unscathed, and only 'cos 'e were too little and nimble for it to clobber. Axe an' sword didn't even scratch it, so the rest of us climbed up and over the roof instead. Ye can see where the roof be caved in, though. Footin' up there ain't good. Then there was a whole pack of some sort of feral beasts prowlin' round inside an' climbin' up on the roof as well, an' a huge ape-like demon-thing inside. Weren't no easy way in, that's for sure, though we did kill 'em all eventually. Ah wonder what'll be waitin' for us this time?"

Hamin grimaces at Brugar's tales, "So what do you suggest?" He asks the dwarf.  "Do you think we could we run past it?  Or do you think our weapons might be more effective this time? Or perhaps we should try and climb again?"

He looks around at the others, "Perhaps Ayas has  something that will be effective?  But then, we don't know what to expect once we get past it ..."

"I can try to slow it with spider-webs," Ayas suggests. "That has worked for us before.. though I doubt this one will be so obliging as to desist if Yetta asks it nicely."

The elf shrugs. "Last time here our reception was not friendly, but the new Master of these halls might now be counted as a friend. Perhaps we should just announce ourselves?"

"Maybe we're on the guest list !"

"Running past it didn't work last time. Ye'd be surprised 'ow fast that big hunk of granite can move," Brugar tells Hamin.

"Ye might be right, lass," he says to Alasha'an. "More likely to get a friendly welcome that way than if'n we drop in through the roof again."

"So where do we knock?" Hamin asks?

"Let's ruin all of Ayas's illusions and just ask nicely." Alasha'an shrugs, grinning broadly at the young elf.

Matter not that the Halls have a new master now, the courtyard beyond the archway is in much the same state of disrepair that Brugar and Alasha'an might remember from their last visit, with what were once decorative urns lying around the gravel yard before a pair of heavy metal bound doors, cracked and overgrown with weeds.  To one side is what seems to be a stable block, also fallen into disuse.

As you approach, the towering metal statue that stand twice the height of a man stirs, moving towards you ... yet stops as Alasha'an tries her luck with a polite request, and indeed turns about, pushing the huge doors open as it heads into the sprawling and labyrinthine building, proceeding at a pace that you can easily match.

The doors give way to a large room, seventy feet long and fifty wide, the ceiling thirty feet in height beyond.  The stone floor is layered with dust, though tracked by many footprints, the smell of stale air lingering.  A large table has what would once have been pride of place, though now the wood is splintered and neglected, chairs broken and scattered for the most part, though one or two remain intact.  The smooth stone walls are lined with tattered tapestries and pennants, colours faded so as to be barely discernible.

The statue does not linger, moving steadly to the far end of the room and passing through a smaller set of double doors that lead to what might once have been an audience chamber from its ornate but dusty decorations.  What you can see of the floor indicates that it is fashioned from marble, with sweeping patterns and strange symbols. Torn and rotted purple drapes hang on the east wall behind a throne carved of ebony upon a dias.

Again, the statue does not slow its progress, turning west and through another pair of double doors into a passage that seems narrow for it, though not for you.  To the south the passage continues, and you note a number of doorways, though the statue turns instead to the north, intent upon the single door that stands at the west at the far end.

Following close, you find yourself in what was once perhaps the servants dining room. Here some effort has been made to clean and tidy and while the furniture is in a sorry state of repair, it is at least free of dust and seems sturdy enough.

Upon one chair, sits Diker, a giant of a man with a trim beard, picking at a plate of food.  He looks up, startled, as he sees you, adjusting his grip upon his eating knife, then breathing a sigh of relief as he recognises the Dwarf and Elf.

"Glad am I to see you once more," he smiles, lowering his blade.  "Yet this time with different companions, I see ?"

Hamin nods his greeting to the man, but stands back and lets Brugar and Alasha'an do the talking.  After all, they know the man.

Brugar returns the big man's smile as he replies.

"Aye, Ah be glad to see ye again too, Diker. We were none too sure what we would find 'ere. The paths we've trod since we was 'ere last 'as not been ones we'd recommend a friend to follow in our footsteps. We've lost too many good friends but made a few new friends along the way."

He proceeds to introduce Ayas, Hamin and Yetta but doesn't provide any details beyond those names.

"There are many ways to die out there," Alasha'an says bluntly, "though it's good to see that you're still with us!"

"Is Lothar?" the elf leaves her question regarding the fate of the priest hanging.

The Master of the halls, acknowledges Hamin, Yetta and Ayas with a wave of his hand, beckoning you all to take a seat.

"I have been keeping an eye on Talhamnoduin," Diker tells Brugar. "Indeed, I've just escaped my vigil, driven hence by hunger, I confess."

At this thought, the bearded man reaches for a small handbell, ringing it softly to summon his elderly servant whom he bids fetch more provisions.  The old man returns shortly, placing a tray on the table which contains bread, cheese and watered wine.

"The cuisine has not improved," Diker apologises wryly, inviting you to tuck in as his servant sets out plates and wine cups for you all.

"No ... Lothar left," he tells Alasha'an.  "I do not know if he yet lives or no, but can only hope for the best."

"The Painting shows the Dark Gods forces in disarray - the Drow and their ilk have abandoned the holes in which they hid, braving the light of the new sun as they make their retreat.  Soon the city will be free of them !"

"Far better than we've had in a while," Alasha'an avows, gladly taking a seat and tucking in. While the watered wine isn't her first choice, it'll do in a pinch!

"We might have had something to do with the drow's current unhappiness.. and Tizun's notes proved spot on, if sometimes a little cryptic," she thanks the current Master with an easy familiarity.

"But sadly this isn't a social call - our task isn't done yet. We need Calanor's blade, and a quick route to somewhere near Kalibar or whatever they're now calling the place it used to be, if you could point the Portal there?"

Hamin is quiet as he dines.  Thoughts of Kalibar, Calanor, and many others, including his wife, flood his mind - along with the grey hell that was his life for so long.

Brugar spends more time looking at the food and drink on offer than actually eating and drinking.

"Them accursed dark gods 'as got so much to answer for," he growls to himself.

"Don't s'pose any other clues 'as turned up to add to Tizun's notes, 'as they? Aught about what sword might be Morrigan's key'd be mighty 'elpful."

Diker shakes his head at Brugar's question.

"Being Master in these halls comes with ... certain privileges.  I find that I know things now of which before I had never an inkling."

"But I am not Tizun, and whatever allies and thralls he had do not answer to me.  I doubt many of them mourned his passing."

"Though yes, the sword is still here, and I will arrange for it to be brought to you," he offers kindly, a small smile of sympathy on his lips as recognises Hamin's silence and hopes thusly to spare you the sight of Calanar's corpse or what now remains of it.

"And ... I believe I can direct the Portal to the vicinity of Kalibar.  I had not thought to do so before, but it seems I can point it to any place I've been before, and while the city is no more, I have travelled the south road nearby.  The stone bridge over the Yernaduin should provide the required focus." 

"You are not staying long then ?  Can I offer you beds for the night at least ?"

"We can spare a night," Alasha'an suggests. "Three centuries and somewhat since the Dark Gods came to power, what's one more day?! Besides - I think Ayas is going to need some time to get his strength back before we can call on him to cast many more spells."

"We'd appreciate it.. on both counts," the elf thanks Diker.

Hamin nods his agreement. "A decent night's sleep would be very welcome.  Thank you." he  half smiles  at Diker as he agrees with Alasha'an.  "As has been this fine food that you have offered us.  Sometimes, I think this new version of the world sucks everything out of me.  I was never very talkative, but since I have been here, I am  even less so - I must get out and about more ..."  he smiles weakly, again, at his own poor joke  ...

"If we somehow both succeed in our task and survive, then there will be many grateful souls wishing to shake your hand," Ayas smiles, trying to ignore his nerves.

"Yes," he agrees with Alasha'an, "I'll need that time to recuperate.. and it has been some time too since I lay in a good bed. Sadly the accommodations in Habmor'Anto were not the best!"

"This meal is also most welcome. I am glad that my companions count you as a friend," he nods his gratitude to their host.

Brugar beams with happiness at Diker's thoughtfulness and assistance.

"Thank ye kindly, Master Diker! For the food, the bed ye mentioned, for the sword and for passage through that there magic portal. Say, if'n ye now know stuff what ye didn't afore, d'ye reckon ye could 'ave a look at this puzzling warhammer Ah got? Ah been lugging it around so long Ah don't rightly recall where Ah found it. It be magic, right enough, an' it lets ye keep on goin' longer'n be normal for ye, an' ye can use it to give yerself the endurance of a bear three times a day. But the puzzling bit is it be s'posed to be one of them covenant thingies where ye 'ave to do some special thing to kind of unlock some other abilities what it's got. D'ye know aught about what it might be or any idea as to 'ow Ah could find out?"

Diker shakes his head in apology to the Dwarf.

"What I now know relates only to these Halls - to learn the secrets of that hammer I'd venture you'd need to find either one who is still capable of making such a thing, else scour the records.  The Seekers  at least strive to preserve such things, perhaps their only virtue."

Though the meal is plain, it is far better fare than you have had for a while and all the more welcome for it.

When you are ready, Diker's servants show you to your chambers, and though they are not so fine as perhaps once they were, the beds therein are comfortable enough, and the with the Master's assurances that you are safe within the Halls, you enjoy a restful sleep.

Morning comes and the meal that greets you is much the same, but fills your bellies.

The sword has been found as Diker promised, and awaits you, secure in Calanor's scabbard and wrapped about in cloths.

Once you are done and re-provisioned as best as the Halls can provide, Diker conducts you to the tower, where the Portal now shows the stone bridge over the Yernaduin (black and turgid, unlike the clean flowing Elder River that once you knew).

"I can open the Portal at this spot at dawn and dusk each day," Diker suggests, "should you have need of it."

After a good night's sleep and a solid breakfast, Hamin prepares himself for the new journey.

Ayas will prevail upon his companion's friendship with Diker to try to source from him the components he lacks for some of his spells, along with some other more basic equipment that he lacks.

"If we are to enter this Drow stronghold, then best they don't get too close a look at me," the young man suggests. "Hamin and Brugar would pass as mercenaries, perhaps - no offence meant - while Yetta has proven her talent to assume other shapes at will.  I have a spell that will do the same, but can only use it on myself and for an hour and a half at most.. other than that I must trust to the concealment of a heavy cloak and hope anyone we encounter lacks curiosity!"

"Alasha'an, though.." he shrugs, hoping someone else, not least of which the lady herself, has some ideas as to how she might avoid detection.

The lady snorts, most unladylike. "I'm not worried.. our kin of the high forests or deep woods might attract the wrong sort of attention, but our kind are tolerated if not loved."

"Act like we belong there, and don't do anything to bring ourselves to their notice and they'll ignore us in the main."

The dwarf slept well and certainly did justice to the food on offer, so he was at least as cheerful as anyone else when Diker led them up to the tower and showed them the portal.

"Dawn and dusk, right, that'll be easy enough to remember. Thank ye for yer 'elp, Master Diker. Ah 'ope we be 'aving good news to report next time we see ye."

Though Ayas's fears are but party allayed (and the young elf makes sure to gather his thick woollen cloak about him, pulling the hood up to hide his distinctive features within its folds as best he might), the rest of you are more concerned about how you might determine which sword is the key to the final portal than about such trifles as concealment and recognition.

Well rested, better fed than you have managed for some time, and with supplies to hand, you thank Diker and pass through the portal ...

... finding yourself before the stone bridge that sits astride the dank Yernaduin, as it all but oozes towards the dark waters of what was known in the Fourth Age as the Kalibarian Sound, not far from where you now stand.

The warm sun shines down on you from above having banished the mists that cloaked the land for so long (and giving Ayas no few regrets in his choice of attire as he sweats beneath its folds, even at so early an hour as this).

The road is empty, the lands around little more than parched ground, with the rising foothills of Lonorod clearly visible about a league away.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 06:47, Thu 09 June 2022.

"Twelve miles if we travel across country, perhaps.. a third again if we stick to the road," Alasha'an begs the question as he waves her hand in a vaguely north and westerly direction.

"It is probably just as quick to stick to the road."  Hamin say, with a shrug.  He scowls down at the turgid river, but the warmth of the sun, eventually, brings a small smile to his lips.  "It feels like we are starting to get somewhere ..." he says to no one in particular, as he enjoys the sun's warmth for what feels like the first time in years.

"This alone was worth the fight," avows Ayas, to whom the warmth of the sun is something unknown.

The elf nods his agreement with Hamin's choice. "This.. daylight should suffice to cause the Dark God's servants to seek their hidey-holes."

With Alasha'an estimating it will take you the best part of the day to reach the area where she believes the ruins that Venelia spoke of can be found, you decide that following the road is the best option, if a slightly longer route.

The day is warm, and perhaps uncomfortably bright after so long (for some more than others) in the mists and shadows, and without them the blighted land is revealed.  What once were fields, of grass and farmed crops, dotted picturesquely with the occasional shady tree is now little more than a dusty, barren plain.

For Hamin and Yetta, especially, the contrast to what they once knew is painful.

Around midday, when the sun is at its height (Ayas having long given up with his cloak while there are none around to see him lest he perish from the heat), you halt, those familiar with this road somewhat perplexed as it continues straight as far as the eye can see, with no sign at all of the intersection with the road that ran from the Grunhelm forest to the east to Kalibar in the west.

Certain you have not missed it, you continue on, scanning the sides of the road with care, until eventually Alasha'an spots a fallen marker, all but buried in the ground.  A road, perhaps once crossed here, but it has long gone, not overgrown as one might expect with the passage of years, but covered with soil, blown by the winds that scoured the bare earth.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:57, Sat 18 June 2022.

"Not even so much as a trail, now, where once were a road fit for a wagon train?" Brugar observes. "Don't expect we'll be meetin' many travellers along the way then."

He studies the ground of the road ahead and the soil covering the supposed western road, looking for any tracks on either road to indicate how much traffic the northern road still carries and whether there is any sign at all of anything travelling the western way.

OOC: Brugar Armbuster rolled 27 using 1d20+13.  Survival skill check to find tracks.

The north-south route certainly shows the marks of wagon wheels, though Brugar cannot say how recent they are, for the road is in very poor condition indeed ... and while what was once the western route to Kalibar is heavily rutted, it is so overgrown that the Dwarf is confident that it has seen little or no traffic for a long time.

"Road, or no road, we still need to go that way.  Hopefully we will still find enough of a path to guide our steps." Hamin offers,  as he adjusts his pack.

Brugar looks down the line of the old road and shrugs his shoulders.

"We be lookin' for a city, right? Don't reckon it'd be easy to miss summat as big as that!" he declares.

Then he sets off along what remains of that western road.

"We're looking for some ruins," Alasha'an clarifies. "Kalibar lay much further on than the place that we seek, and besides it is no more."

The elf's lip purse as she looks to Hamin and Yetta in sympathy.

As Hamin says, road or no, your path still lies in that direction.

Though unused, perhaps for centuries, and all but reclaimed by shifting dirt and occasional low scrub, it does not prove too difficult to follow.  Several times you discover that you have wandered away from it only to find it again, mostly as you pick the easiest route where the road once tracked around landmarks or landscape that is no more.

As you make your way, you begin to find bodies, slumped at the side of the path, or even in the middle of it, left where they fell.  Curious you investigate the first few, discovering that beneath their cloaks lie the corpses of Drow, the skin of their hands and faces blistered and pustulent, no doubt burned by the rays of the bright sun above.  Whatever coin or weapons they had are gone, assumedly taken by whatever companions were with them, or by those who later passed by.

Indeed, as you continue on, you find the path all but marked out for you by a trail of corpses.

"Oh, it is still there." Hamin asserts, remembering his life before the veil started to thin, "Just in a grey limbo, and the borders between Kalibar and this new world are starting to thin.  Once we have lifted the last of the curse that this world faces, perhaps it will pop back into it.  If not, we will have to find a way to make that happen." He concludes with a grim tone, "For then Brislar's sacrifice will not have been in vain."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:09, Sat 16 July 2022.

"If we can defeat a few dark gods," Alasha'an suggests dryly, "then rescuing a lost city shouldn't even raise a sweat!"

"Our foe do not seem to be enjoying the sunshine much," the elf remarks of the corpses as she passes them by. "These were no easy deaths."

You press on, as the sun begins its slow descent, the trail of corpses only growing as you head westwards.  At length you notice other travellers on this long-buried road, but huddled in their cloaks as they are, they do little more than glance your way as they struggle slowly onwards.  Indeed, as you press on and their numbers thicken, you find yourselves part of this near silent exodus.

"I hope that is the case, but somehow I doubt it." Hamin responds to Alasha'an.  He grimaces as he sees the cowled and cloaked figures, and adds "I wonder what has caused that ..."

OOC:  Are these figures travelling in the same direction as us,  or the other way?

Brugar studies the other travellers for a while to see whether he can spot anything else about them that might prove enlightening.

Are they carrying any possessions or supplies with them or are they empty-handed. Do they have any animals with them? Do they look starved or sick or tired? Or dead? How do they smell? Do their feet leave tracks on the road?

Indeed, the travellers that you have joined upon this path appear to be heading in the same direction as yourselves, though they are moving much more slowly than you are as they struggle along.

It soon becomes obvious that most, but not all, of the travellers are Drow, the hoods of the heavy cloaks in which they huddle conceal the faces not from you, but from the sun above, though the blisters and burns you glimpse upon their skin mirror those upon the corpses you earlier examined and upon those you have since passed by, lining this sorry trail.  There is the familiar odour of the travel-worn about them, and perhaps a hunger about them, but most noticeable is their slumped shoulders and the look of defeat in their eyes.

None have animals, most have naught but their cloaks and some not even that, relying on blankets or heavy swathes of material for protection.  A few carry packs, but they seem rather light burdens.

And though one might think them but apparitions, doomed to walk this path for eternity, the dust their dragging feet kick up proves that to be untrue, though you are surprised first that they'd even venture out in daylight instead of hiding from the sun and travelling in the shadow of night, and second that they pay you little heed save the occasional glance your way.

Brugar finds the presence of the drow on the road in daylight rather worrying.

"Ah don't reckon this road would be a good place to be after nightfall. Let's press on quick as we can, aye?" he suggested.

OOC: We had an encounter shortly after reawakening in this Age (New Age - Hell on Urthe thread), where corpses slain by the Night Things rose as undead called the Fallen. Is that something we need to worry about here too? Is that a more common phenomenon in this Age or was it just specific to that location?

Both the numbers of Drow (and besides the small matter that they neither threaten nor attack) and the likelihood that the many corpses littering the track might well rise again as evil spirits take possession of the abandoned flesh give the normally dour Dwarf some reason for concern, and he urges you to hurry on in the hope that you can reach your destination before night falls.

And press on you do, your progress now slowed only by the sheer weight of numbers that swell before you as you come closer to your goal ...

... and at last the ruins loom before you.  Through the throngs that head towards it, you can make out the remains of an ancient and imposing stone building, perhaps a hundred and sixty feet long, though but a quarter of that at its widest, that looks as if it might even date back as far as the Third Age.  The walls are crumbling, though somewhat intact, though the roof has gone, the stone blackened around the niches where the roof beams once sat.

The floor of the ruins rise up perhaps ten feet above ground level, strewn with fallen and broken stones and other debris, though a taller tower still stands at one end, albeit in a perilous state of repair.

Yet the ruins themselves are not what you, nor indeed the Drow, seek - rather the line of misery that you are part of leads towards the north-east corner where a huge lightning-burned tree pushes its blackened limbs through the remnants of arched openings.

As you draw closer, you see those before you duck their heads as they shuffle through a large crack in the burnt tree trunk, no more than five feet high and three feet wide to vanish into the darkness therein.


OOC: the Fallen are not a common occurrence, but are not limited to any particular place (as Yetta might attest as she has some experience of them too) ... though you do not know whether the restoration of the sun to the skies and the banishment of the mists that have cloaked the Urthe for so long might now prevent that evil or even make it less likely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:57, Sun 07 Aug 2022.

"What could possibly go wrong?" the elf mutters as she shrugs her shoulders and follows through the narrow opening, ducking her head.

"Don't answer that," she adds, then "and watch the step - don't know how far down this ladder goes.."

With a look at the others, Hamin follows Alasha'an into the hole ...

"Didn't we just get out of one hole?" the young mage complains.

Though the prospect does not at all appeal to him, nevertheless Ayas does not shirk the necessity, bending low that he might enter with the due care that Alasha'an's warning requires.

Brugar chuckles softly at his funny, long-eared friends, clearly appreciating their jokes. Then he follows them through the narrow opening into the darkness beyond.

Alasha'an's question is soon answered, for the ladder descends only ten feet, though even the Elf's keen sight struggles in the darkness at the base and Hamin takes the lead down the spiral stone stairway that continues down.

The first twenty feet or so is marred by broken stonework, the granite disturbed by thick roots displacing flags and pushing through the walls, though thereafter the way is clear.

At the base is a ten foot wide tunnel with a floor of sand, lit by flickering torches spaced widely enough that they seem but a grudging sop to those few travellers who pass this way that do not possess dark-sight.

A little further on your feet tramp upon wooden boards that give but a little, and not long thereafter the sand gives way to stone as the tunnel widens to fifteen feet as it angles left then opens out into a small chamber.

The press of bodies before and after you that has served to guide you thus far now splits, a roughly equal division between those that continue through the passage to the left and those that head through the passage to the north.

Which way will you choose ?

Left?" Hamin asks the others, but a shrug of his shoulders shows that he doesn't really have a preference.

"Why not," Alasha'an has no better advice to offer Hamin, "one way's as good as another for now."

You follow the line that takes the chambers western exit, trudging alone behind the burned and subdued Drow down the dimly lit corridor.

You pass an opening to your right down which you can see a short flight of stone stairs descending to a pair of huge iron bound doors, before the corridor joins another, turning left then through an opening that once held a door but no longer.

Crossing the southern end of a chamber forty feet wide, you see it stretching over a hundred feet to the north, littered with the debris of what was probably once a grand dining room before it fell to wrack and ruin.  Another body lies slumped here to one side.

The corridor twists and turns and branches as you pass through another opening on the opposite wall, but as each person follows the one in front, you pick your way without hesitation ignoring side chambers and passages as you turn north into another large room, bigger even than the last, if not by much.

You cross the chamber, heading towards the opposite corner, picking your way between two thirty feet wide shallow depressions to the exit, then up a short series of stone steps. At the top there is another corridor, with an alcove opposite the stairway in which stands a statue of a hooded figure, head lowered and face hidden, fashioned from some white stone with a powdery surface.

East now, and up yet more steps as the passage turns north, leading almost two hundred feet past more darkened rooms and side corridors from which further travellers emerge to join the line, most like those that took the northern way at the start of your journey.

At the end, the passage turns to the west and more stone steps leading down, then a final turn to the north and you enter what would be a forty foot square room, save for a chasm which runs almost diagonally across.  The ceiling far above is rough rock with many uneven projections, though you note that the walls are smoothly carved in contrast to the stone blocks that you have seen thus far.

Across the chasm, leading to a ledge on the far side is a stone bridge, obviously fashioned much later and much more crudely, with more effort going into the function than the form.

The bridge proves as sturdy as it seemed, as the swollen line progresses slowly across it, following the now rough stone wall on the far side of the chasm to the south west, as it enters a tunnel that grows dimmer and, as you continue to follow along it, more and more endless ...

Brugar grows more and more restless as they follow the seemingly endless tunnel.

"S'posed to be unner the city, ain't it?" he mutters to himself. "Been walkin' so long we ain't unner the city no more, are we? What be behind them big ol' iron bound doors back there, Ah wonder? Least they be unner the city."

Hamin steps aside, out of the queue of Drow, and looks across at the others.  "You could be right." he says to Brugar.  "Perhaps these drow are just returning to the underdark, now that the sun  is bright in the sky again."

"The city we seek was supposed to be far beneath the surface," Alasha'an muses. "And many of those ten thousand blades that were undoubtedly employed in the subjugation of the Urthe above now return to their home."

"At least we've got company," the elf shakes her head at the tide of travellers flowing down the tunnel with her. "This time we'll have an audience to our heroics!"

The walk down the tunnel seems more and more endless as time passes.  The light is, if anything, worse than before for those to whom the darkness is not home, for the torches that light the way are placed at far intervals, and the path twists and turns, so most of the time you find yourself marching through blackness, those that cannot see relying on their hearing or the guidance of their companions in the main, though the frequent grunts of pain suggest regular contact with the rough stone walls.

You lose all sense of time down here, for the line of travellers does not stop for rest, though you assume that all are as tired as yourselves, the journey made so much worse by the increasing warmth as the path delves ever deeper into the bowels of the Urthe, your bodies dripping with sweat from your exertions.

Until at last the tunnel opens out into a huge cavern, the path now a dangerous, narrow ledge that is at least marginally better lit, which descends to the lights of what must be a city below.

Ahead there is what you assume was a guard post, though an attempt to check the flow of travellers has long been abandoned, for the line moves slowly past without challenge as the outer buildings of this city beneath the ground rise up.

"I've never seen a place where even a fraction of ten thousand souls congregated," the young elf looks about him, though a hand at the collar of his cloak keeps his hood tightly in place. "Do you think that number a reality or just a myth?"

"Ten thousand blades. There be no mention of souls an' Ah'd not be surprised if'n many who dwell 'ere 'ad foresaken their souls centuries ago," Brugar mutters. "But no, Ah wouldna doubt the number."

Hamin half smiles, as he hears Alasaa'an's comment about an audience.  "An audience that won't be cheering and applauding at the show." he responds dourly as he pulls his cloak tighter around himself and tries to merge with the other travellers around him, so that nothing looks out of place as they cross the guard point.

There's a snort as one of those in the line behind you overhears Ayas's remark.

"Ten thousand there once was," a gravelly voice corrects your young companion. "Then but a fraction of that number as they left for the world above."

"But now ?  Perhaps two or three times that, maybe more.  At least for a short time till food becomes scarce.  Nothing like an empty belly to keep the crowds down, and most of this lot need no urging."

Hamin ignores the comment from behind, and keeps moving forwards.

Brugar glances back to see who the speaker is.

The speaker is a Dwarf by height if naught else, for he is emaciated and nasty-looking with grey skin and thin patchy strands of hair, his clothing shabby and dirty.  He smiles evilly back at Brugar, revealing a mouth of broken teeth.

Twenty thousand blades? Thirty?! Setting aside his fears as best he can, and forebearing to comment further, the elf copies Hamin, ensuring his hood conceals his face and keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Not that the place was worth a damn anyway," the grey Dwarf continues to speak. "Drow blades perhaps would be something to fear," he admits grudgingly, "but this city was home to Orcs."

"If lack of food doesn't start the killing then old hatreds will suffice."

Hamin considers the grey dwarf's comments, and a grim smile crosses his face as he considers 10,000 orcs.  Yes, somewhat better than 10,000 drow ... but not by much.  However, the words imply that the speaker knows his way around this underground city, and perhaps the way further down.  Or perhaps the stream will continue on down.  After all, beneath the city is the direction they need.

However, prudence says that another dwarf might get more for this one so, for the time being, he leaves it to Brugar.

 Brugar grins at the grey dwarf’s comment about the inevitable conflict to come.

”That’ll be quite a sight to see, if ye be not caught inna middle of it. So what’s yer plan, matey? Ye got somewhere safe to ‘ole up an’ watch from or are ye gonna be there inna thick of it? There be opportunities either way, if ye be still alive at the end of it.”

"I'm just passing through," the grey dwarf snorts. "Nothing here for me.  I aim to be far away and long gone before the killing starts in earnest !"

"Not many paths out of here to the lower reaches, and no chance they'd let such as me cross their precious river ... besides there's no love lost between the orcs here and the hobgoblins on the other side, so that'll be where it'll begin."

"No, I've another route in mind," he taps his long nose, showing his broken teeth as he grins at his own cleverness.  "I know a secret way, though you have to tread carefully."

"That is a lot of orcs," Alasha'an notes. "What about all these dark elves? They 'just passing through' too? Sounds like your secret way is going to be well-trodden."

Hamin continues quietly, waiting for the Grey Dwarf's response.

The grey dwarf shrugs his shoulders. "No orc would cross them ... they'll probably be making for the temple to try to appease their goddess, then make their way down from there."

"Those who don't end up bleeding, that is.  Their goddess won't take kindly to their defeat."

Brugar looks at the grey dwarf appraisingly for a long moment before responding.

"Be ye wantin' company on this secret way of your'n? Be ye thinkin' there be safety in numbers, per'aps?" he asks quietly.

The grey dwarf pauses for a moment, weighing up Brugar's offer.

"Why not," he smiles unpleasantly. "Either you're careful and quiet enough or you're not, and if you're not then, well, there's more meat on you than on me !" he gurgles with laughter.

"Fair way to go yet, and I can't deny it'll be easier getting there with you than without you ..."

"We've two more of these smaller caverns to pass through before we enter Garek Enkdal proper, then we need to go east to the worker's cavern and turn north again through th animal pens."

"Wouldn't rely on stopping for food or rest, neither, so hope you're up for it !"

Brugar grins at the last comment from the grey dwarf.

"Oh, Ah reckon we'll manage," he reassures him.

Then he turns to his companions.

"What d'ya reckon? Anyone still want to go own way?" he asks them.

No food, no rest, the distinct possibility of being eaten. "No, no.. this sounds wonderful," Ayas offers, faintly.

While he's never seen the like of their new best friend, or many other of their fellow refugees and incumbents of the city for that matter, self-preservation overrides any sense of curiosity and keeps him huddled in his cloak.

"We can manage careful and quiet," Alasha'an grins at Yetta.

"But do we want to leave Garek Enkdal just yet?" she asks Brugar, somewhat pointedly. "Don't we have business here, first?"

Brugar listened to Ayas and Alasha'an's replies but offered a brief clarification.

"'E says we've still got two more of these 'ere smaller caverns to pass through afore we enter Garek Enkdal proper," he pointed out.

The line of travellers slows as you approach the guardpoint ... but once you arrive there you find it abandoned, the flow of creatures passing by unchallenged.  Here beneath the ground, safe from the burning rays of the sun freshly shining in the heavens, there are fewer falling by the wayside (though you note some bodies slumped either in death or exhaustion, and some of those being dragged furtively away into narrow alleys).

Even so, the line thins as some choose to take advantage of whatever meager comforts this cavern can provide ... but just a little, for most, it seems, prefer to press on.

The Grey Dwarf leads you now, pushing to the fore, though he takes care to stay near Brugar and Hamin, his thought that none would willingly challenge the passage of either all too clear.  And if the route he takes is scarcely a shortcut, at least you seem to move a bit faster, for all the lack of proper light hampers Yetta alone, and she safely led by Alasha'an and Ayas.

"Malgron," the Grey Dwarf calls back, deciding it prudent to introduce himself at last, his lip curled in a sneer to show his doubt that you'll respond in kind. "We'll be through here shortly and back in the tunnels."

"More like we'll be challenged at the gate to the next cavern."

"Hamin." the one-eyed warrior grunts in return, as he takes a position just behind, and to one side, of the grey dwarf.  Other than that, he remains silent - there is no need to draw any more attention to themselves than is needed.

As Malgron suggested, it does not take long to navigate the twisting streets down which he leads you and you soon rejoin the line of the hurt and maimed as they head down the tunnel of which he spoke.

However, despite the Gray Dwarf's misgivings, when the way opens out to the next cavern you find no guards to block the way, though the dirt beneath your feet is darkened with blood which, while by no means fresh, might indicate that there was some attempt to control access, now abandoned.

This time Malgron chooses to stick with the line as it trails along the rough cavern wall on your left, the stone buildings of the quarter on your right.

The line continues, past a sundered gate of crude ironwork depicting the grizzled visage of an Orc, the Chief, Malgron tells you, one Gardrak Bloodsocket, thence into another tunnel, this a shorter stretch that brings you swiftly to another small cavern - small, at least, in the opinion your guide vouchsafes as he once more leads you away from the slow-moving line down a narrow alley, following whatever short-cut he imagines will speed your passage ...

Brugar had followed Hamin’s example and told Malgron his first name. No need for the grey dwarf to know his family name.

”So, where be we now, Malgron? Which way be the ‘eart of the city?” he asked.

Hamin listens for the response, as he scans the surrounding area.

15:33, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 20 using 1d20+2.  Spot.

"That way," the Grey Dwarf raises his finger, pausing to think for a moment before adding, "to the north."  Indeed, he seems to be picking his path based on his memories of this place rather than any true sense of direction.

Hamin notes the stone buildings you pass are solid enough, but certainly in a state of some disrepair - moreso that breakages have either never been fixed or attempted in an inexpert and haphazard fashion.  His gaze does cause a few heads to turn his way, mostly Orcs, but also the occasional Orog, larger and stronger.  To Malgrom's glee, none of the creatures seem game to meet the single orb of the one-eyed warrior, however, though a couple spit in disgust in an attempt to salve their honour.

Indeed, despite your suspicions, your guide seems almost glad of your company and leads you true, as a wall of rock looms before you, a single opening to a tunnel that lasts but fifty or so paces, though the bottleneck it presents with the number of those who would pass through it makes the going slower than ever ...

... until at last it opens up into a truely massive cavern, greater than half a mile in width and breadth and height, filled with a patchwork of stone buildings.

"This is Garek Enkdal's heart !" Malgrom tells you.

Hamin  smiles grimly as the orcs spit, but doesn't make a thing of it, and glances away so as not to be seen to issue a challenge.  The dilapidated buildings don't surprise him, after all many of the residents will have left for the surface when they had an opportunity.

However, when Malgrom announces that they are at the heart of the city, Hamin nods, hoping they have come as far into this city as they need to.  Now they just need to go down ...

"I wonder not that the denizens of this place might covet the wide lands of the world above," the young man remarks, though keeps his voice low, daring not speak overloud in this place where even a misplaced look might cause a confrontation.

"It might take us a lifetime to search this cavern alone!" he does not relish the prospect.. though neither does simply asking directions to the final portal appeal any more.

"Bah, they can keep their wide open spaces. Give me a few 'undred feet of solid rock overhead any day. Truth be told, even this great cavern be a bit too wide open for me own liking. Must be some nice quiet spots unnerneath all this mess where a tired dwarf could rest and relax in peace. You know of anywhere under this place like that, Malgrom?" Brugar asks.

"The deeper and darker places," Malgrom nods, "aye, though few of us that call such home would remain undisturbed, much less those who come from outside and know not our ways."

"Nearby ..." the Grey Dwarf smiles evilly once more, "... our immediate destination is a cave that most here shun, though we will only find peace there if we tread carefully and quietly."

"You wish to enjoy this magnificent city ?" his tone is scathing, "or are you ready to leave now ?"

Hamin bites his tongue, having just been about to comment that he much prefers to be outside in the sunlight, but then decided that might not be the most appropriate comment.  Instead he just grunts  "Downwards …"

Brugar grinned and gestured forward.

"Lead on, then. Sounds right inneresting. Ye can tell us a bit about what to expect as we walk, just so we don't make no stupid mistakes what'll disturb that precious peace."

Uncharacteristically silent, Alasha'an bites her lip, her brow furrowed.

Hamin also goes silent for a moment, almost as if he is listening to a voice in his head.  he thinks for a moment and then nods.

"Perhaps not.  I am reminded that our destination is in the city itself, rather than under it." Hamin says looking around at the massive chamber filled with returning denizens of the underdark.  It is a grim smile that settles onto his lips and his brow furrows - at the thought of finding his way through this lot.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:33, Sat 17 Dec 2022.

The Grey Dwarf's brow darkens at Hamin's words.  "You'll regret it," he mutters, shaking his head, though his words seem more angry than threatening.

"I warned you before, things are going to turn nasty here as the food runs short.  What could possibly make you wish to tarry here ?"

Malgrom's mood is not improved by a sudden passing elbow catching him in the head, and he turns and sends a stream of invective after the one who struck him.

"Never said we wanted to," Alasha'an replies, not at all put out by the ugly dwarf's bluster. "Just something we have to do."

"It's a bigger place than I'd thought though," the elf admits, "and like it or not, we're going to have to start talking to people.  This one's as good as any other, maybe even better than most.."

"What do you say? If you can tell us what we need to know, we'll help you on your way before we do something stupid?" she grins at Malgrom looking to both him and her companions for agreement.

Brugar is a little confused at first by Hamin and Alasha'an's words but after a few moments of reconsideration his face brightens as enlightenment hits him.

"Aye, ye be right! That do seem like it'd be for the best, ... for all of us," he finishes, turning to face Malgrom.

Malgrom's reply is lost as a rough shout from behind him causes the Grey Dwarf to spin around quickly.

Approaching, rather belligerently you see what you first take for a big orc, perhaps a foot or so taller than the average with a heavy, thick builds.  His broad shoulders anchor a pair of long, powerful arms that reach well past his waist (though not as far as his knees). His skin is tough and he has thick, stringy hair.  A set of sharp teeth that protrude past his lips, and he has a pronounced brow ridge, with long, raggedly pointed ears.

He is garbed in poorly fitting and badly maintained breastplate that still seems functional, and grips a huge blade in one hand.  Behind him another half dozen or so of similar creature crowd close, some with large feral looking animals that bear some resemblance to wild boars on thick leather leashes ... though it is unclear how many of those following him are with him or just looking for some entertainment.

[Language unknown: "Ndeameman Ch es, st ?  Her unofwaesol ?  Dial korresthe sain not e thoas en asil o Ti, ri ndasle latse !"] he growls angrily at Malgrom.

"What be 'e sayin'?" Brugar asks Malgrom.

Malgrom backs away from the big creature, shaking his head to indicate his lack of understanding.

"'E says," the Orog rounds on Brugar, "dat dis stunted worm 'as big mouth an' is coward !"

Brugar looks at the orog, then looks round at Malgrom for twice as long before turning back to the orog.

"Yeah, Ah reckon ye might be right! One thing's sure, 'e ain't worth your time to sort 'im out. Leave 'im to us. We'll make sure 'e keeps 'is mouth shut."

Hamin winks at Malgrom, and grins.  Then he looks around the large chamber, trying to imagine the mayhem that would arise, if it all kicked off in here.

The Orog's eyes narrow at Brugar's words, and the creature stares long and hard at the Dwarf ... though finally his jaw splits wide as he issues a noise that you hope might be a laugh.

"You is smart an' brave for a stunted worm !" the Orog allows.  "You have coin ? You buy Grutok ale an' we drink together !"

Malgrom shows no intent to dispute the Orog's assessment, though he does not seem to find the wink and smile that Hamin directs his way to be at all reassuring, perhaps thinking that the one-eyed warrior is considering starting a fight, the way he's eyeing his surroundings ...

While there would be no shortage of willing participants for such a free-for-all, chaos would indeed ensue - a brawl where luck more than skill might decide the winner.

Hamin, the ex-military commander, was never going to start a fight - but it is always good to be prepared, and he had already come to pretty much the same conclusion that Malgrom appears to have reached.  So he stays silent, waiting for Brugar to take up the Orog's offer - assuming that any sort of coin will do, down here.

Brugar looks around at his friends, shrugs and turns back to the orog.

"Aye, we got enough coin for a drink or two. We'll drink a drink with ye."

Grutok seems delighted by your acquiescence, chivvying some half-dozen of the onlookers - all Orcs and their half-blood kin almost at random as far as you can tell from their appearance, but assumedly members of his band - and yourselves to follow him as he leads the way down a gloomy alley, the boar-handlers to the fore, their snuffling and grunting charges clearing a path through the massed throngs.

The buildings here are uniformly ramshackle, fashioned of stone and rock, of varied size and haphazardly constructed - some don't have a roof, some lean at awkward angles, and some have holes in their walls that have been filled with mud and small stones.  There are no doors or glass windows, only open spaces in the walls.  Smaller Orcs (whether young or otherwise), goblins and the like are chased or kicked out of the way.  Litter, refuse and filth are strewn around outside most of the crude dwellings.

You pass through a reasonably large open area between the buildings, what you would call a square or plaza in a surface city, though here, given the barracks that stand on two sides of it, Hamin suggests is more of a marshaling area, though currently with the tide of refugees flowing into the city, it's as packed as any of the narrower streets.

Down a narrow alley, not much further on though your passage slows markedly as the press of bodies grows thicker and parts only reluctantly to the threat posed by the boars, is what must be if not the Orog's favourite tavern, then perhaps the nearest to hand.  One crumbling external wall is daubed with an image that you take to represent a burning eye, as good a name as any for a drinking establishment.

Inside ... you are not disappointed, for your expectations were low.  What must be the common room resembles more the aftermath of a long and bloody siege than a place where one might relax ... but from the boisterous behaviour in evidence of the predominantly Orcish crowd, patrons do not come here for the ambiance.  E'en so, there is a dark mood on the place, an undercurrent of violence just waiting to be unleashed, again, not surprising in the circumstances.

Hamin follows along as Grutok and his followers batter their way towards the bar, noting the ramshackle looking buildings along the way and unsurpised by the mess.  However, he keeps his views on the matter to himself, trusting the Orog and his followers to know the ways of their own city -  even if they have been on the surface for a long time.

Once inside, the risk of a fight breaking out is obvious, and as he waits for Grutok to clear a table, he scans the room - exactly as he would in any other bar.

Brugar grins and nods to Grutok.

"Aye, this'll do fine," he mutters more to himself than for anyone else to hear.

Hamin's instincts are right, as a group of Orcs quickly abandon their post at one of the larger and perhaps slightly cleaner tables as Grutok and his band make straight for it, the big Orog merely glancing towards the bar (a solid plank atop a couple of barrels) which is signal enough for the Half-Orc behind the bar to start filling cups.

Your companions settle into their seats with easy familiarity, leaving places for you either side of Grutok, the boars straining on their leashes ensuring nobody else will be venturing too near.

"You try proper drink !" the Orog avows as an old stooped Orc approaches, nevertheless holding a heavy tray of skull cups with undisguised ease, placing it down on the table and waiting expectantly.

"They pay !" Grutok exposes his teeth in a broad grin nodding towards Brugar, even as a new fight breaks out somewhere on the other side of the chamber, some of his band calling out what you take to be encouragement, while Malgrom eyes the drinks with deep suspicion.

Brugar looks at the skull cups and their dubious contents and grins.

"'Ow much'll that be?" he asks.

"Does it matter?" Alasha'an asks dourly. "If we somehow survive this, we won't care.. and no difference if we don't."

"Here," the Elf tells the old Orc, dropping a generous handful of gold coins into his hand. "Keep them coming."

She frowns at their new best friends, trying to think of a way to frame the questions she needs to ask without hastening that demise..

"So, I've not been here before - what're the rules? Any places we should or have to avoid?" she tries for starters, dangling the bait as she makes a gold coin dance across her fingers.

The old Orc merely grunts as his fist closes around the coin, while many hands descend upon the tray, though Grutok slides a skull cup across to each of you.

"Many place you should, some you must !" the Orog declares with a toothy grin.

"Stay clear Ogres an' Goblin-men an' caverns north of animal pens," he suggests, his gutteral voice raised loud so you can hear him over the noise of the crowds, shrugging at the last mention to show he doesn't know or much care why, though you note that Malgrom's brow furrows.

"Death to pass Black Gates."

"Why?" Hamin asks as the Black Gates are mentioned.

Brugar grips the skull mug that was slid to him and holds it as the old orc lists the places to avoid.

As Hamm follows up with his question, Brugar lifts the mug to his nose and sniffs, realising immediately that was probably a mistake.   He barely wrinkles his nose at the smell before swallowing his first mouthful of the orcish beverage.

Brugar's misgivings are full warranted.  The scent arising from the beer is almost acrid, the taste little better, vinegary and bitter, though certainly strong and not for the faint-hearted.

"Hah !  Ask why you should not also !" Grutok seems most amused, raising his cup to Hamin, spilling not a little.

"Drow bosses there, holed up in their temple," he imparts, his voice lowered from his usual bellow, to a more conversational tone, still lost beyond the environs of your table given the noise in this drinking hole.

Malgrom's gaze gaze flickers between the Orog and the one-eyed warrior as they converse, the Grey Dwarf seeming more calculating than concerned.

Here he was, an elf (albeit of the grey branch of that kindred), deep underground (though not quite at the fearful depths to which Malgrom alludes), sipping (for he dare not risk more of the swill) at a beer in a building that would not much in the way of improvements before it might be deemed dilapidated with as nasty a crowd of orcs and their like as might fill his worst nightmares.

"Oh, I can guess where this is going," Ayas mutters sourly, frowning at the grey dwarf. "What's the matter? Not planning on robbing the temple were you?!"

"A lot of Drow there?" Hamin asks laconically, fearing the portal they need will be below the Drow buildings.

Sorry.  I thought I had posted that earlier

 Brugar takes another mouthful of ale and only grimaces a little as he swallows it.

”A drow temple? So which of the gods do they worship, anyway?” Brugar asks.

"'er Dark Mistress," Grutok grins toothily at Brugar.  "Most of 'em do."

He shrugs, spilling his drink, adding to the slurry already pooling on the table.

"Same as us Orogs an' Orcs."

"Not many of 'em in Garek Enkdal, this our city."

Malgrom sneers at Ayas's suggestion.  "None but a madman would steal from the temple," he assures the Elf, his tone scathing but with no hint of a lie.

Your bestial companions look up to shout and cheer as a fight breaks out nearby ... though most of the conversations about you seem on the knife-edge of violence anyway, and you suspect that were you not in Grutok's company a lot of that would be directed your way.

A fresh (if one can stretch the truth to use that term) tray of jugs of ale arrives, the old Orc's snout inclining slightly as Alasha'an drops another handful of coin in his outstretched palm.

Hamin turns to watch the fight for a moment or two and smiles slightly.  Not so much from watching the fight, although a good fight is always interesting, but as he decides that the temple is likely to be the place they need to visit.

"I suppose we should drop by and pay our respects while we are here ..." he mutters quietly, but not so quietly that Malgrom and the others can't hear.

Brugar just shrugs at Hamin's suggestion, then nods agreement.

He reaches for a 'fresh' mug of ale, despite not having finished much of the first one, and takes a mouthful hoping it might somehow be better than the first mug.

Your words manage to claim back the attention of your bestial companions.  Grutok, claiming a fresh cup of ale, toasts your bravado, though is not shy in proclaiming such a venture as doomed from the start.

"More than hundred blades on gate alone, more inside."

"Be lucky if they kill you.  If take alive then die painful."

Malgrom looks more thoughtful, though fearful of voicing what he thinks, settling for shaking his head.

Hamin grins, and says  "You looked like you fancied joining us?" then trying to be circumspect adds, "Just to pay our respects of course." although there is a glint in his eye as he adds that.

Brugar sits back and raises his mug to his lips again.

"Them 'undred blades. Be they drow or orcs?" he asks out of curiosity.

"Phhhh!" Grutok spits at Brugar's question.  "They be Orcs. Maybe they keep Drow behind gates, maybe gates keep Orcs out."

He shrugs. "Said that gates locked and barred by magic too."

The Orog shakes his head at Hamin.  "Like fighting ... but Grutok would not attempt gates.  That be death, not battle."

Something in Gutag's words makes Hamin think Gutak has already thought about the 'problem' of the temple, so he asks, "So what would Gutak attempt?"  He speaks quietly, not wishing the words to be heard beyond their table.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:52, Mon 03 Apr 2023.

Brugar gives Grutok's answer some thought before he finally nods agreement.

"At least ye know where ye stand with a 'undred orc blades. That be death, sure enough. But better'n drow blades. Drow blades be like to be poisoned as well, so as even a scratch might do ye in," he grumbles to himself. "That be no way to end yer days."

When Hamin follows up with another question, Brugar glances at Nalgrom to see if that elicits any visible reaction from the gray dwarf.

The Orog appears to give serious consideration to Hamin's question, though it seems this requires him to drain his cup to do so.

At length he slams the empty vessel back down on the table to pronounce his verdict.

"Grutok leave Drow locked behind their Gate !  Grutok would gather Orogs and Orcs to his banner so all others fear and respect him !  Eat and drink well !"

Malgrom seems a little discomforted by this proclamation, the Grey Dwarf turning his head and eyeing the path to the door, though he does not shift from his seat as yet ... but Brugar surmises the Drow themselves worry him no more than getting dragged into Grutok's dream of power and glory.

Hamin glances at the others in the group, trying to judge their reaction to Grutok's words, as he nods slowly.

Brugar nods in agreement with Grutok's words before eventually responding.

"Aye, an' Ah reckon ye be the right one to do it, too. Ah reckon we been very lucky to be meetin' ye today, Grutok. Ah look forward to 'earing all about 'ow powerful ye become. Then Ah'll be able to tell folks about meetin' ye 'ere an' what a mighty champion ye truly be!"

Brugar stands and raises his own mug in salute to Grutok.

The elf raises her brows at Brugar's toast, tapping her long fingers on the tabletop as she considers the options, looking to Hamin and shrugging her shoulders, before turning her attention to Malgrim.

"You look like you want to say something," she challenges the grey dwarf. "Spit it out."

The Grey Dwarf glares belligerently back at Alasha'an, but as the cheers and liberal quaffing that follows Brugar's toast die back down and all eyes turn his way he reluctantly speaks.

Squirming in his seat, not liking the gazes directed his way, Malgrom shrugs uncomfortably, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, though with the noise in this place there is little enough chance of that.

"The secret way I spoke of, the passage that leads to the deeper places ... it has many branches, some I've travelled, most I've not.  But I do know that there's one of them that would take you right to the cavern where the Drow Temple stands, setting you past those hundred or so Orc blades ... if you're mad enough to try it."

"There's still the Drow themselves, of course, but if you're minded to seek a glorious death spitted on their dark blades ..."

He shakes his head, snorting in disbelief.

The Orog's eyes narrow.  [Language unknown: "Ortwilrut one nteproart nde?"] he demands of the Grey Dwarf.

[Language unknown: "Font ch ugh encenttr miaiom m onrea trurngwhad,"] Malgrom quails, his eyes fixed on the Orog.

[Language unknown: "Thiticect ol allsomeve'illtic!"] Grutok snorts.

Yetta has been following this exchange with some interest, content to conceal her knowledge of the undercommon tongue from their hosts, though the orog's last statement gives her cause to speak up.

"The secret tunnel is in a cavern to the north-west, though it seems it's the dwelling place of some 'flesh-eaters'," she translates for the rest, smiling sweetly at Grutok and Malgrim.

"I'm so happy.."

Hamin takes a mouthful of the ale, and pulls a face.  "Ullage." he declares"I could make better ale than this when I was a kid!"

While he can't understand the conversation between the orog and the grey dwarf, he can see their expressions and the emotion, so adds.  "Ah Malgrom, once more you prove a friend to us, and I thank you for it." Although it is almost as if the words are directed at Grutok, rather than the grey dwarf.  "I would be most upset if anything happened to you, and you weren't able to show us the path, before you make your way to where ever it is you want to go."

The Orog snorts his amusement, raising a fresh cup to salute Yetta's cleverness.

But he shakes his head as he considers Malgrom's intent.

"Many troops gather near Flesh-Eater's cavern," he informs the Grey Dwarf. "Attack tomorrow, slay all, take cavern back.  Much glory."

Somehow the military background always seems to come back, "So a pincer movement then ..."  the old warrior muses aloud.  "A diversion, on a second front, always weakens the enemy." he adds, almost as if he is repeating an old lesson, from days gone by.

"Not know 'pinser'," the Orog shrugs his big shoulders. "No second just Var.  Vars have honour, get glory."

"Yeah!" Hamin grins, "But I don't need glory.  Well, not any more."

Then he explains in a way that Grutok might understand.  "A pincer movement is a bit like hitting someone in the head -  on both sides at the same time." And the grin broadens as he mimes hitting an imaginary head with two fists -  one from each side."

Brugar chuckles.

"Sounds like fun. Ah'd like to see that. The closer the better, of course," he comments with a bloodthirsty grin.

Malgrom does not seem at all happy as he learns of the gathering of troops, the Grey Dwarf's forehead furrowing in consternation, though the news of the planned attack on the flesh-eaters sets him to deep consideration, his face all a-twitch as he weighs the pros and cons.

Hamin's explanation does not really help Grutok to understand, though it seems the big Orog approves of the violence that the one-eyed warrior describes, and Brugar's enthusiasm for the same.

"Var not like share," he shrugs. "But we go tell him it will be."

"Come !  We do pinser Var !" the Orog urges you grins evilly draining his cup as he rises and exhorting his band to do the same, the boars grunting loudly as if sensing a bloodletting in the offing.

Brugar raises his mug with the orcs and takes another mouthful of that foul ale.

But as soon as he gets a chance he seeks a little more information from Malgrom.

"What manner creatures be these flesh-eaters? Be there aught special about 'em, anything specially nasty we oughta watch out for or things that'll 'urt 'em more'n most?" he asks.

"Ghûls," Malgrom spits. "Filthy undead.  Pack of them.  Grown strong on the flesh of the greedy souls who dared follow the rumours of their treasure trove."

"If you were careful, you could sneak past them, so they were useful in that they kept this lot from finding my secret tunnel."

The Grey Dwarf shakes his head.  "Not going to be a secret much longer now they're finally clearing out those caverns.  Need to take our chances while we can."

"Var's not just going to say 'yes' is he?" the elf shrugs, grimacing at her cup before drinking, though the taste only slows her, not stops her.. sad to say, she's had worse.

"Can we try to minimise the bloodshed?" She's killed orcs before, but here amongst them, in their own city, to do so seems less palatable than their ale.

Hamin grins, "Why tell Vul?" the old fighter asks Grutok, then carries on conspiratorially.  "We'll do it our way, and you can tell Vul afterwards.  When the time comes, we'll help out as we need to, and only you will know.  When the time comes, you might even be able to take over from Vul as boss."

Again, Hamin takes a swig of the ale-swill.  "I always think its is good to be friends with the boss ...  But it is even better to know something they don't."

Brugar mulls over the news that flesh-eaters means ghouls. It doesn't please him at all.

" 'ow about if Malgrom shows us 'ow to sneak past 'em, so we can stop 'em escapin' down that tunnel when Var attacks?" he suggests. "Var still gets all the glory for killin' 'em. Var don't even need to know we be there at all."

"Plan was to sneak past them," the Grey Dwarf snarls.  "But if the Orcs are now camped on their doorstep, ready for the attack, we won't be able to get in."

"So we either go fight Var for the dubious honour of leading the charge ... or we front up with the rest of them and take our chances - try to avoid both the flesh-eaters and the Orcs when we duck out."

"Sneaking is same as 'pinser' ?" the Orog asks somewhat uncertain as to where the plan is going but not wanting to admit it.

"No glory," he raises an objection.  "Less Var die in fight an' we take charge," Grutok grins broadly at this thought.

"We sneak, you get the glory."  Hamin grins at the Orog, not wanting to be in the middle of a battle, if he can help it.

"Pincer works best when they don't see the second attack comin'," Brugar explained to Grutok. "If'n yer can get around be'ind them ghouls and 'it 'em from the back while they's busy fightin' Var's boys, that's when the pincer works best. Crush 'em from both sides at once."

The Orog shrugs.  "No fight Var now," he agrees, if somewhat reluctantly.  "Crush flesh-eaters tomorrow with pinser.  You do sneak ..." he trails off at this point, uncertain as to what the latter will accomplish, but unwilling to show his ignorance by pursuing it.

"Now we drink !" the Orog brightens as he and the rest of his band reclaim their seats,.  "To tomorrow !"

Brugar grinned and picked up his mug again.

"Ah'll drink to that!" he agreed enthusiastically.

"Me too!" Hamin echoes Brugar's sentiment, if a little less enthusiastically, as he takes a mouthful from his mug.

The revelries continue, the crowd unceasing in their noise and enthusiasm as some flag and take their leave while others quickly take their places, sometimes with some difficulty where the seats at the tables are contested.  Yet beneath the surface there is an undercurrent of anger at being driven back underground, and some of the fights that break out are nasty, perhaps fatal, though you choose not to look close enough to say for sure.

Grutok's band seem to be old campaigners - after the initial swilling down of the local rotgut, fast as they can, they settle in for the long haul, slowing their intake somewhat, but never stopping.  Food, when it infrequently arrives is surprisingly tasty, if unrecognisable, though to Hamin at least it is something of an oddity if not concern that there seems to be no attempt at rationing.  It seems that estimates of how long supplies would last might have been somewhat optimistic.

You steal what sleep you can, constantly awoken by the noise and jostling, and it is with foggy heads that you are finally roused by the big Orog declaring that it is time to go.  Grutok himself does not appear worried by the retreat below - you surmise that he is happy as long as there is a fight in the offing, matter not the foe.

If you retrace your steps down any of the alleys that you trod to reach the drinking establishment, then you know it not, nor do you consider it at all likely that you could find your way back as you wander about half a mile or more, you estimate, past ever more of the derelict stone buildings that serve as dwellings for the benighted inhabitants of Garek Enkdal.

At least Malgrom seems unconcerned by the path that Grutok leads you (though the boars that snort and growl at the Grey Dwarf's heels do little to help his mood), and he nods in satisfaction as a final turn leads out onto a wider way and thence to an opening to one of the tunnels that link the caverns, this one at least far less crowded than the others.

This tunnel is perhaps a little wider and straighter, though because of that the many rough-cut stairs that descend seem steeper and harder to navigate, though you all pass safely down.

When the tunnel at length opens out it is onto a smaller cavern, though one still teeming with Orcs.  From what little you can see (and smell) from your vantage, this cavern seems devoted to armorers, smithies, dyers and such crafts ... though you do not enter, for the entrance to the next tunnel stands just north of the last, this one wider still, though relatively flat and quickly traversed.

The smells get worse, and the boar-handlers struggle to hold their charges upon their leashes as you enter yet another cavern, this four times the size of the last, but still only a fraction of the size of the main cavern, and likely the dwelling of more animals than Orcs.  Thankfully Grutok chooses to follow the eastern rocky wall, so you are able to stick to the outskirts as it traces around westwards, the numbers of Orcs increasing somewhat as you reach yet another tunnel, this much narrower and very steep indeed, though the big Orog manages to push his smaller kin out of the way and force a path for you.

The tunnel is blessedly short, and quickly opens out into an admittedly tiny cavern, perhaps 300 feet across, bare of dwellings except for a stone barracks.

As foretold, here are gathered many soldiers, an attachment of which are at work removing a crude barricade that stands across a tunnel opening to the north, while nearby lounge another group of Orcs, armoured too haphazardly to be soldiers, gathered around one larger, meaner Orc who has an Ogre standing protectively at his side.

"Var," Grutok grunts, nodding towards his rival before turning his attention to the progress of the clearance of the barricade.  "Soon be done," he surmises.

Brugar watches the preparations going on in the cavern for a moment before turning to Malgrom.

"Ah s'pose there ain't no way to sneak past afore they finish unpluggin' that tunnel?" he asks the grey dwarf.

The Grey Dwarf shakes his head, angrily.

"That tunnel is the only way in," he snarls, eyeing both the Orc soldiers and Var's group warily.

"We just have to take our chances going through with the rest. Var's group is likely to go first and the soldiers will hang back, hoping the battle be done by the time they get there.  I assume Grutok will be on Var's heels ..."

"When I've passed this way before, I was able to bribe whichever soldiers were posted to guard duty then sneak past the flesh-eaters ... but if the passage has been closed for sometime, then they'll be starving and hunger will overcome their fear of so many soldiers.  The flesh-eaters can't win against these numbers, but I'd rather avoid being one of the casualties !"

"We need to head east to the far end of the cavern, take advantage of the fighting and get into the hidden tunnel before anyone spots us."

Brugar listens to Malgrom's plan then shrugs his shoulders. He checks his shield is securely strapped on his right arm and hefts his obviously blunt old battleaxe in his left hand.

"Sounds like a plan. Ah be ready," he replies cheerfully.

"Me too." Hamin adds quietly.

Seeing the barricade nearly down, Var barks some guttural commands at his subordinates, chivvying them with kicks and punches to form up before the tunnel opening, glaring all the while at Grutok.

The Orog, by contrast, leads by example, ambling almost casually over to take up station behind Var's crew, much to the obvious distress of those standing at the rear, his own band following close behind him, without prompting, the boars alone showing any sign of their excitement, straining at their leashes.

Though the soldiers show no sign of being ready to follow immediately, as Malgrom suggested, their numbers do seem to be swelling as they gather ...

... and then the last piece of the barricade is gone and Var bellows, his Orcs and pet Ogre quickly lengthening their strides as they break into a loping run.

Grutok snorts and shrugs, preferring to follow at more sedate pace as he leads the way into the dark tunnel ...

The stone steps are rougher than the last, and if anything even steeper and promise to be difficult to navigate safely in the pitch darkness beyond for those who lack Darkvision ...

Brugar watches as the darkness swallows the orcs and hides them from his sight as they race deeper into the tunnel.

"Ah've been topside too long. Ah can't remember the last time Ah saw proper darkness like that. Reduces battles to close range and melee. Archery don't count for so much, aye? Any of ye want a ride in me bag of 'olding?" he quietly asks.

Hamin watches Gutok and his followers, first merge into a blur of colours and then disappear into the darkness. "I'm good ..." he says, still staring into the darkness, "But those steps don't get any better.  Still, we had better move, if we don't want to get caught in the crush ...""

"You two can see well enough in the darkness.. and Malgrom also. The rest of us can keep a hand on one of you three."

"I'll stick with our guide," Alasha'an tries to keep the reluctance out of her voice, "Yetta with her father, Ayas with Brugar. All happy? Then what are we waiting for? Go! Go!"

The rough stone steps in the narrow tunnel prove more treacherous than you'd feared, their proximity to the flesh-eater's cavern excluding them from what token repairs might be carried out else where within the vast underground city complex, and though the three of you with Darkvision lead those without, you are forced to go slowly, more slowly than you would like to navigate them safely.

Your caution is vindicated, however as you find you have to pick your way around a dead Orc, presumably one of Var's group who lies sprawled on the stones, his neck bent at a most awkward angle ...

At last you reach the bottom, the cavern disappearing beyond the range of sight of those who can see, Grutok and his band long since down and away, the shouts and calls of the Orcs and their ilk in the dark distance giving Malgrom at least grim satisfaction.

"Better those idiots garner all attention to themselves and spare us," the Grey Dwarf whispers, sneering.  "This way ..."

He leads you, cautiously indeed, eastwards, his hand trailing the rough stone wall of the cavern, alert for any sign of the fell creatures who dwell here.

You manage barely a hundred and fifty paces, picking your way even more slowly over the loose rocks and rubble that litters the floor of the cavern, stopping abruptly as Malgrom comes to a stop, pressing himself against the side of a boulder or outcropping or the like, gesturing for you to do likewise.

"Half a dozen of the bastards, about forty feet ahead," he tells you, his voice barely audible, but full of fear. 

From somewhere in the distance you hear the sounds of fighting and the screams of the dying ...

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

"I might try to hold the creatures fast," Ayas suggests in a quiet voice to Brugar, "though I would need you to point my hand in the right direction.."

"Oh, lovely." Hamin murmurs, "Shame we didn't bring that dead orc with us ..."

Brugar grins at Ayas's suggestion.

"Aye, longears, Ah can do that for ye. There be six of 'em ghouls, about 40 feet ahead, as Malgrom said."

He grasps Ayas's wrist and elbow with his own two hands and carefully aims the mage's arm at the centre of the group of trolls.

"That be the direction where they be," he whispers.

If Hamin's suggestion to distract the ghouls is born of the callous extingencies that soldiers oft face upon the battlefield, Ayas's solution stems nonetheless from his own experiences and talent. 

Brugar guides the Adept's hand, the darkness no hindrance to one of Dwarven blood, Ayas reaching into his pocket to pull forth a wriggling worm which he crushes in his hand, its blood dripping into the sandy ground at his feet as he concentrates ...

... a mass of rubbery black tentacles erupts in the midst of the flesh-eaters, engulfing them, though whereas you'd expect them to struggle to get free, these near mindless creatures, driven by a consuming hunger instead claw and bite at the tentacles as if they are living flesh, not a magical conjuration.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

"Did he get them all?" the elf asks, frustrated by the darkness and itching to strike out with her blade.

"I think so," Malgrom allows, reluctantly, the writhing mass of tentacles making it difficult to tell.  "Can't say for sure ..."

"Right, let's move then. We need to get past them and on our way afore any more of 'em turn up," Brugar suggested. "Lead on, Malgrom."

"Nice work, longears," he adds as an afterthought.

"I wouldn't know," Ayas mutters sourly in reply to the dwarf, resigned to being dragged along yet further, his mood growing darker the further beneath the ground (and away from the sunlight he has known but briefly) he gets.

Malgrom pushes forward through the darkness, the pace slowing yet further as you stay close to the rocky wall, making your way cautiously around the writing mass of tentacles that Ayas summoned.  Those lacking the ability to see in this darkness have only the sounds of flailing, biting and cracking to inform their imaginations as to what must be transpiring ...

... but the Grey Dwarf comes to a sudden stop, cursing as he gets clear of the frenzied battle and spies a single creature nearby, watching calculatingly.  Opening its jaws wide, it issues a hoarse, high pitched cry which is immediately answered in kind.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

"More of them," the elf surmises. Blinded though she be, those cries can't be anything good, and given their proclivities, it's unlikely that anything else survives down here with the flesh-eaters.

"Stay with me," Alasha'an tells/warns Malgrom, tightening her grip on the gray dwarf. "Let me know if there's anything within reach of my blade.." she's not used to fighting in darkness, but it's never stopped her before!

Hamin moves past Alasha'an and Malgrom trying to draw the monster towards him.  Hoping to to get past, so that Brugar can attack from the rear.  "How long have we got for those others?" he calls, wanting to know how long they have to kill the thing, before the others are freed.

Brugar quickly leads Ayas forward so he is with Yetta and Alasha’an.

”We missed one of ‘em. Gotta finish ‘im quick,” he explains then dashes off into the darkness, axe in hand.

"Damn!" the elf swears softly as she finds herself waiting impatiently in the darkness with Ayas and Yetta, and of course Malgrom. She itches to draw her blade from its scabbard, but is unwilling as yet to draw the attention that its pale light will bring.

"They can probably sense the life within us anyway," Alasha'an grumbles, hand poised on the hilt of her sword awaiting any warning from the grey dwarf.

"Better keep moving, when you can" Hamin says, "At least get right past them ..."

He jabs as the creature with one end of his polearm, as he moves into the middle of the tunnel and tries to draw it after him.  Hoping to leave Brugar a shot from behind.


07:41, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 35 using 1d20+16.  Hit the thing.
07:43, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 29 using 1d20+16.  Crit?
07:43, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 13 using 2d4+9. = or 39 if it was a crit

"Can't see them," the grey dwarf replies grimly, though Hamin and Brugar do not await upon his reply, the pair of them depositing their charges with Malgrom and Alasha'an as they rush to deal with the one creature that draws near enough to be seen.

Both have fought such creatures before, but these seem somehow worse than those of their ilk that stalk the lands above in search of their prey - faster, stronger - and perhaps these were not once men, but something else entirely ...

Hamin's blade tipped pole slashes down, biting deep into the creature's stomach, while at his side, Brugar wields his axe with vim and vigor though the Dwarf's blow does not find decaying flesh.  The creature, in turn, hisses, its jaw opened wide, more than is natural as it lunges towards the one-eyed warrior, his thick leather armour all that saves his flesh from those wickedly sharp teeth, as it draws back, flailing at the space between you with its long claws as it seeks to hold you at bay, to give others of its kin time to draw near.

Two more of the creatures rush in, another two on their heels but out of range, ganging up on Hamin who has pushed his way to the fore, forcing their way through his defenses as one of them sinks its teeth into his more lightly armoured forearm. 

"The big one's bitten !" Malgrom announces, though his backward glance becomes yet more alarmed (albeit unseen in the darkness) as the sounds of battle elsewhere in the cavern intensify.  "Those Orcs are fighting among themselves now !  Fools !"

His words are drowned out by another high pitched cry from behind you, perhaps only a few paces away.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Just!

08:13, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 14 using 1d20+9.  fort.

Brugar slashes repeatedly with his blunt old battleaxe, doing his level best to carve his way through one ghoul after another.

Brugar Armbuster rolled 21,35,21,23 using d20+19,d20+19,d20+14,d20+9.  4 x attack with blunt axe including extra attack for speed.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 15,13,13,16 using d8+8,d8+8,d8+8,d8+8.  blunt axe damage (4 attacks).

"Smeg!  They are breaking free of the tentacles ..." Hamin warns the others, as he lashes out at the ghouls nearest to Malgrom.


14:09, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 27,26,20,21 using d20+15,D20+15,D20+10,d20+10.  full attacks both ends.
14:10, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 10,8,8,9 using 2d4+7,d6+7,2d4+5,d6+5.  damage.


Sorry :P  Been binge-watching Red Dwarf.

"Hold !" the Grey Dwarf tells Alasha'an, his grip on her arm tightening in warning.  "If ours can beat the flesh-eaters back, we can make a run for it ..."

"Not going to happen," Alasha'an pulls free of Malgrom's grip, drawing her weapon and heading for the rear of the line, trusting to the faint light from the blade to reveal the foe, prepared to risk that glow rather than leave Ayas and Yetta to whatever is coming up from behind.

"Coming through!" the elf tells the pair as she strives to get to the foe before it reaches them.

Ayas stoops, fingers searching the ground at his feet for a small stone, ready to cast a spell if it proves necessary and the light from Alasha'an's blade allows.

"Perhaps try and lure a couple of those Orcs back here?" Hamin half suggests. "They could make a distraction for these things."

Brugar and Hamin lay into the foe.  The Dwarf rains down a flurry of blows upon the injured creature, and although only two of his powerful swings connect, they suffice to leave it broken and still upon the cold ground.

The one-eyed warrior switches his focus to one that strives to round him, heading for those to his rear.  He too is caught off guard by the sheer speed of the creature, but like the Dwarf lands two blows, wicked cuts of the blades at either end of his polearm, though while the creature facing him is badly wounded, still it perseveres, driven by the hunger within it.

The other three nearby close the gap quickly, scrabbling over the body of their fallen kin to bite and claw at the two warriors.  One turns on Brugar, though the Dwarf is able, if barely, to fend off its sharp teeth with his shield, while the other three fall upon Hamin, who somehow manages to blunt all of their attacks and escapes unscathed for the moment.

At the rear of your group, Alasha'an advances upon another of the creatures, intercepting it before it can reach Ayas, the faint light from her sword barely piercing the darkness, but providing sufficient illumination for her to see the foe, though it makes it hard for her to time her blow and she is slower than she would like to react, but still she hits, her dark blade piercing its decaying flesh.

That delay, however tells as the flesh-eater attacks in turn, and while she avoids its teeth, the long claws rake her face, scoring a bloody trail, though it seems she is able to shake off any ill-effects as she staggers back then comes up in a fighting stance, just as Ayas unleashes a barrage of glowing balls of mystical energy at the creature, staggering it, but not felling it.

The sounds of battle and a cacophony of cries and screams of both pain and hunger echo around the cavern, though as yet it seems no more of the flesh-eaters have been drawn your way, at least so far as your sight allows.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Sensing the light from Alasha'an's blade, Hamin grins and then attacks again, starting with the flesh eater that he has already injured.

08:19, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 33,20,30,13 using d20+15,D20+15,D20+10,d20+10.  attacks
08:20, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 11,9,10,6 using 2d4+7,d6+7,2d4+5,d6+5.  damage.

Brugar curses angrily as the ghouls prove much tougher to hit and kill than he had expected. He swings his axe repeatedly at the next one to step forward and curses again as his grip slips on his second blow and he barely manages to keep hold of the axe.

Brugar Armbuster rolled 37,20,18,21 using d20+19,d20+19,d20+14,d20+9.  4 x attack with blunt axe including extra attack for speed.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 15,11,14,14 using d8+8,d8+8,d8+8,d8+8.  blunt axe damage (4 attacks).

The elf ignores the blood streaming down her face as she sets her feet, taking but a moment to shake off the stiffness that tries to seize her limbs as she grimly swings her dark blade.

"This just gets worse and worse!" Ayas complains, trying to convince himself with bravado as he fumbles once more on the ground for a small stone, poised to repeat his spell.

A battle-madness seems to grip Hamin as he swings his polearm with skill, stabbing repeatedly with one end while feinting with the other, the sharp blades swiftly laying low his opponent.

Brugar fares less well, as one powerful blow from his axe crashes into the side of the flesh-eater clawing at him, but at the cost of his grip as he struggles to hold onto his weapon and fails to repeat his success.

On the far side of the writhing mass of tentacles that still hold fast those of the ghouls caught within, Alasha'an presses forward, her first thrust a precise blow that pierces the creature's eye, the second almost nonchalantly right though its chest, felling it and leaving Ayas without a target for his spell.

Though he injured it sorely, still Brugar's foe lashes out at him like a creature possessed, its teeth snapping short of the Dwarf's face, though its razor sharp claws pierce his shoulder.

Hamin proves luckier than he has any right to be, managing to fend off and dodge a frenzy of attacks from the last two ghouls, avoiding both teeth and talons.

The noise from elsewhere in the cavern suggests that the battle is not going the Orcs' way.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Brugar grits his teeth to push aside the numbness trying to sieze his arm and focusses on the task at hand, bashing the unlife out of the ghoul that scratched him, and then the next one as well.

OOC:
Brugar Armbuster rolled 20 using 1d20+13.  Fort save DC13 vs paralysis.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 24,24,29,29 using d20+19,d20+19,d20+14,d20+9.  4 x attack with blunt axe including extra attack for speed.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 29 using 1d20+9.  To confirm critical on attack #4.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 12,9,10,12 using d8+8,d8+8,d8+8,d8+8.  blunt axe damage (4 attacks).
Brugar Armbuster rolled 11 using 1d8+8.  extra damage for critical on attack #4.

The elf grips her blade tightly, eyes trying to pierce the gloom.. then, against all her inclinations, slides her weapon back into its scabbard to hide its light, shifting her attention to what she can hear, both in the way of any approaching foe and for any clue as to how Brugar and Hamin are faring.

Hamin doesn't really notice the noises or that Alasha'an has sheathed her sword, instead he concentrates on the enemy in front of him ...  Starting with the one right in front of him and working around towards the one Brugar is attacking.

07:34, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 31,19,25,29 using d20+15,D20+15,D20+10,d20+10.  Attack rolls.
07:35, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 13,12,11,11 using 2d4+7,d6+7,2d4+5,d6+5.  Damage.

Now Dwarf and Man seem to have the measure of the creatures, getting into their stride as they batter past the defenses of the foe ...

Brugar's first blow suffices to fell the nearest flesh-eater, but he is forced to take a step to reach the next, and while he hits it again and again and inflicts terrible wounds, still it stands.

Hamin too lands blow after blow, his opponent managing to dodge but one of the slashes from the one-eyed warrior's whirling polearm, but three times the sharp blades pierce its mottled hide and the last suffices to down it.

But one remains ... and from the darkness comes Malgrom, attacking the creature from behind, his serrated blade cutting upwards to pierce its black heart.

All the nearby flesh-eaters are downed, save for those still entangled within the writhing mass of tentacles that Ayas summoned, however long that will last.

"None of ye hurt ?" the Grey Dwarf asks, curtly.  "Ready to move, then - we must keep going before we're overwhelmed !"

Hamin nods agreement with Malgrom, "Yes, before the others break loose."  Then stepping back, he takes his daughter's hand.  "Hold on." he says to the others as he leads the chain of people past the mass of writhing tentacles and their prisoners.

Brugar nods agreement too and quickly collects Ayas and Alasha'an to join the procession through the darkness once more.

You continue to make your way around the edge of the cavern with Malgrom to the fore, those who can see in the darkness leading those who cannot.  Alash'an, Ayas and Yetta curse as they alternatively stumble over the rubble strewn ground, else at the sound of crunching beneath their feet.  Brugar and Hamin can see all too well the moldering, yellowed bones and perhaps wish that they could not as they do their best to guide the others around the worst of it, while the Grey Dwarf grows impatient at both the delay and the noise.

At one point Malgrom holds up his hand, urgently waving you all back against the rough rock of the cavern, and remains staring into the darkness for a long while, till at last he breathes a sigh of relief and ushers you on.

"Not flesh-eaters ... much worse," is all he'll say to Hamin's raised brow.

The sounds of battle and screams that echo around the cavern continue ... and if your guess is right, based on whether those cries issue from the throats of the living or the undead, the Orcs have badly misjudged the number of creatures down here and are faring very badly ...

"Here ! the Grey Dwarf hisses. "Here's the opening !" ... and while the one-eyed warrior can see it not, for all he can otherwise find his way in the dark, Brugar possesses the stone-cunning of his ancestors, though even he might not have spotted the opening without Malgrom to guide you, for it is but a narrow cleft, hid behind a fold of rock shaped, or else formed by chance, to follow the contours of what lies behind it.

Squeezing past it, you enter a tunnel, uncomfortably tight, both in width and height, so that you are forced into single file and all save Brugar and Malgrom need stoop.

"Careful now," your guide warns, "watch for flesh-eaters to the rear in case they saw us enter ... and to the fore on the off-chance they have found this passage and have nested here.

Knife in hand, he leads you on ...

The slow progress forward is frustrating, although Hamin isn't too surprised or even concerned  at the news of the Orcs' overconfidence.  That is often the way with Orcs and others of their ilk.

"Worse than flesh eaters ..." Hamin repeats as they move on from their enforced wait.  Not that it surprises him, there are many things worse than flesh eaters - and they will probably find something much worse than that to find at the end of these tunnels.  But he doesn't mention that to Malgrom.


Heeding Malgrom's warning, Hamin drops to the rear of the group, so that he can keep watch behind, leaving the front of the group to Malgrom and Brugar.

"Be there any reason to continue without light, Malgrom? The tunnel will hide its glow from those out in the cavern and ye can tell us when to cover the light afore we can be seen by others ahead," Brugar suggested after they had travelled far enough down the tunnel.

"No reason," Malgrom admits to the Dwarf. "I've not the need for light, so did not think of it."

"You can take the lead, though - if there is anything ahead then it'll see your light long before we see them ... though with the noise you all make, I doubt we'd fare much better in the dark," he snorts, possibly attempting a jest.

With Brugar to the fore and the one-eyed warrior to the rear, you continue on, the light certainly helping avoid more than casual scrapes and bruises from the walls and low roof of the narrow tunnel.  And the Grey Dwarf's fears prove unfounded, as you encounter no flesh-eaters, nor any other creature as you follow the passageway, always moving forwards as you follow it along, finding no openings to either side to tempt you from your path.

After what you'd judge to be the better part of a mile, the passage forks, the way to the left leading steeply down, the opening to the right upwards at a reasonable slope.

Malgrom calls a halt.

"This is it then.  My path lies downwards, to darker places still, while up there," he indicates the right hand passage with a wave of his knife, "is the cursed Drow's temple.  No more than a thousand paces on.  Count them carefully so you'll best judge when to extinguish your light."

"We're here safe, so you did as you promised," the Grey Dwarf admits, if grudgingly, as gratitude is not something that oft passes his lips, "so I'll wish you well, and if you don't find the success you hope, at least may your deaths be quick."

"Aye, and thank ye too, Malgrom. Ye brought us where we need to be, so Ah wish ye well, too. Fare thee well and walk safely in the dark places ye seek," Brugar replied.

Hamin echoes Brugar's thanks to the grey dwarf, and when Malgrom continues down into the bowels of the earth, he turns to the rest of his group.  "Shall I go first now?" he asks, prepared to lead them forward.

Brugar shrugs.

"Aye. If ye wish to lead, go right ahead. Just stay in sight of our light so as ye can get back to us afore we walk that light into plain sight of the foe."

Then he pauses and looks back and forth between Hamin and Alasha'an.

"Come to think on it, the two of ye 'ave some other way to communicate, don't ye?" he asks.

"These things," Alasha'an holds up the hand with a magic ring on it, twin of the one Hamin wears, waggling her fingers, in response to Brugar's question.

"Hamin can take the lead and let me know when we get close," the elf concurs. "Then have a quick look if there's anything to see and come back and let us know what we're dealing with so we can make a plan," she tells her old friend. "I'm assuming we're going for something a bit cleverer than just rushing in and trying to kill everything before it kills us!"

"Though if it comes to it.."  :-P

"That's still not a bad plan," Ayas grumbles.

"If not by force of arms, then we'll need to resort to stealth and trickery. If it helps, I can use magic to change my appearance to resemble one of the Drow as Yetta can, though I do not speak their tongue.. and the rest of you may seem somewhat out of place in their temple!"

Malgrom's guess proves true as Hamin, a short distance to the fore, passes back a message through Alasha'an and their shared rings before you have travelled more than a further thousand paces.

But the call is not to douse the light but to join him ... and when you do, you find the one-eyed warrior a respectful distance from the tunnel's end where the wall of rock is inscribed with glowing runes, clearly visible once you cover your light.

"One moment," the elf begs your indulgence as he fishes a clear crystal stone from his pocket, shaping a spell as he peers down the tunnel to the glowing wall at the end.

"Definitely magic.  Layered wards, moderate strength.  Abjuration and necromancy," he mutters, interpreting the magical aura.

"In my experience, such wards are not usually visible," Ayas shakes his head, puzzled.  "Such spells are usually placed to trap the unwary.  These seem to be displayed more as a warning - 'keep away or else'!"

"If Ah was setting a killer trap just to keep folk out but it would only work once afore it needed to be reset, Ah might put a ruddy great sign up warnin' folk about it, too, just to scare 'em off an' not 'ave to reset the trap all the time," Brugar responded after giving it some thought.

"Ah, well, that's it then. No way past. Our mission ends 'ere," he added with a deep chuckle. Clearly he doesn't believe that for a moment.

"Ah wish Ah 'ad one of them magic bags what ye can pull a rabbit or other critter out of it. Be innerested to see what 'appens when ye send a critter like that through yon wards afore Ah risk it meself."

"I'd have thought a dwarf would instead have chosen to seal the entire tunnel with stone such that only an extended period of excavation might reopen it!" Ayas smiles back.

"Unfortunately, there is no way to tell what the trigger, triggers rather are - it may not be so simple as detecting any approach. I might be able to dispel the effect, but it will exhaust my efforts with no guarantee of success for it seems the caster was well-versed in the art."

"Moreover, not only might such an attempt might well set the wards off, but I cannot tell what is a safe distance!"

Hamin purses his lips, Have you know that spell that drills a hole though the wall?  That way we could just go around them!  Hamin asks the mage.  "Or something that could jump us to the other side. Perhaps even take us into a different dimension or plane?"

Brugar snorts at Ayas's comment about the standard dwarven solution.

"Aye, if'n Ah didn't wanna still be passin' that way meself. Them magics ye spoke of - necro-summat an' abja-summat else. Necro be about death an' the undead, ain't it? Maybe it just be to stop them ghouls? Or maybe to kill aught what's still livin'? Be it like to trigger a spell to kill the intruder? Ah got this 'ere magic shield, ye see - Dweomerbane. Any spell cast into, through or within 5 feet of it be simply soaked up by Dweomerbane an' it don't 'urt me at all. But it don't affect magics what be already in effect. So, if yon ward's gonna trigger summat nasty then Dweomerbane oughta keep me safe. What d'ya reckon? Give it a go?" Brugar suggests.

Hamin cocks an eyebrow at Brugar's suggestion.  It might work, but it might just be the death of the dwarf he has known for ages.  However, he waits for Ayas to comment, before he says anything.

"It should work," Ayas doesn't sound extremely confident.  "The wards are in effect now, but the spells that might be triggered are not, until the conditions for their release are met."

"I can do it.. I can survive most anything," Alasha'an notes. "But it might take some time before I'm back on my feet if I need to pull myself back together again, and we don't know what else might happen when those wards go off.  Maybe someone comes running."

"Do we risk Brugar or do we risk hanging around to find out while I get back on my feet?"

Brugar looks uncomfortable about the idea of Alasha'an risking her life instead of him, but he does grudgingly admit the truth of her claim.

"Aye, well, if'n ye be sure ye wanna do it, ye best take me shield then. It'll work just as well for ye as for me," he suggests.

"We can 'ook a rope to yer belt, too, so as we can pull ye back for a quick retreat if it don't quite work as we 'ope."

Hamin grins at the old dwarf's discomfort and clever idea, ready to haul on rope if needed.

OOC: Dang!  I was going to suggest that, but have been seriously distracted recently.

Your assault upon the wards is swiftly settled.

Alasha'an stands patiently while Brugar knots a rope to her belt then sets her up with his crystal shield, unfamiliar with its use (but not entirely, for she has used a buckler in the past, though she chooses not to use one) and uncomfortable with the weight and bulk which the Dwarf bears easily.  Then it is just a matter of waiting for the rest of you to retreat back down the tunnel and for Hamin to brace himself, ready to haul her back, as the Elf advances and the one-eyed warrior pays out the rope and then takes up the slack.

The runes continue to glow as Alasha'an approaches, but remain inactive until she is but inches away, exploding in a fiery wave of black tinged orange flame which washes over the Elf ... then seems to be sucked into the crystal shield as if drawn there.

The tunnel falls back into darkness, the runes no longer providing any light.  Hamin and Brugar rush forwards to find Alasha'an unharmed, though it is not until Ayas and Yetta catch up with your conjured source of illumination that she able, after handing the Dwarf's shield, now glowing softly from within, to inspect the wall before her with a professional eye, swiftly locating a hidden trigger that allows her to push it back a crack to reveal what lies beyond.

Just beyond the opening is a narrow ledge about fifty feet up a sheer but rough rock face while, as Malgrom promised, below lies the floor of the cavern with a temple to the north, visible below in the light of many braziers that cast a blood red light upon its walls.

Though you know the Drow to be cruel, with a darkness staining their souls, still you expect any temple of theirs to be elegant, beautiful even, in its own way ... but this structure is brutish and ugly, rough and asymmetrical, indicating that either it was built by the Orcs to reflect their view of War, of which the Morrigan is the Dark Mistress, in contrast to the Drow who see all battle as a fatal dance, or else the temple was once dedicated to some older god, now forgotten before the Orcs turned to worship the Feeder of Carrion.

The temple appears to be two buildings, not one, the western half surrounded by iron railings, save for a twenty foot clear area in front of a pair of doors set in the south of the building, the eastern half lacking any railings but twice the height, with an identical set of doors.

To the south of the cavern are the black gates with its many, many defenders, thankfully all upon the other side of the gates, at the edge of the city proper, though still on the temple side you count perhaps two dozen Orcs and Orogs but see no sign as yet of any Drow.

At the edge of the cavern, just east of the gate is a black obelisk, a malefic needle of obsidian that stands about twenty feet in height.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Hamin watches the pretty lights display with interest, but then grins in relief when he sees Alasha'an unharmed.  "Nice ..." he grins at the elf.  When the other get there, with the light, he watches Alasha'an work he magic with the wall, but cautions the others to hold back, just in case the sudden appearance of a light should alert any guards.

Finally looking over the area, he frowns and decides he doesn't understand it.  "Any ideas?  It doesn't look at all like I expected." he asks.

After a moment longer he suggests  "Should we try and get down quietly, then make ouy way around the back, to see what that obelisk looks like?" and get

To say that Brugar is delighted by how successfully his shield protected Alasha'an against the magical wards, would be quite an understatement. He practically dances with glee as he relieves her of its weight.

"Well done, lass. Well done indeed!" he congratulates her.

As he looks out across the cavern his eye is drawn to that obsidian obelisk.

"Do ye remember what Lugh told us? The dark gods 'ave bound the Urthe 'erself. 'er prison lies far beneath the ground buried 'neath earth and stone, that's what 'e said. Right 'ere in Garek Enkdal ... the City of Ten Thousand Blades. Ah be thinkin' that great shard of obsidian might be exac'ly what 'e be talkin' about.

"If that be Morrigan's gate, well Saega reckoned 'er key to be a sword. Don't know for sure which sword that be, but Ah got a feelin' there be a reason we each carry the blades what we do. As Saffaris pointed out afore, my axe, Alasha'an's sword and Calanor's blade were the only three weapons that actually touched the mad god's flesh. They've served us well at the other gates. We've fetched Calanor's sword from his tomb based on Saffaris's words. So let's 'ope that do be the key we need."

He looks around at his companions a little uncertainly.

"So which of ye is carryin' Calanor's sword, anyway? Bring it out an' see if'n it be drawn to that obelisk over there," he suggested. Then he shrugged. "Might be nought but wishful thinkin', but Ah reckon it be worth a shot, anyways."

"I've got it in the bag," Yetta assures Brugar, opening said sack and fishing out Calanor's blade.

Taking the sword up, somewhat uncomfortably since it is heavier than she is used to, she waits to see if it shows any indication of being attracted to the distant obelisk.

Brugar watches Yetta for a moment then takes out his own Dwarven War Axe ("Skullsplitter") and copies her actions to see whether his own weapon reacts in any way, too.

"That was.. interesting," the elf suggests to Brugar, nodding towards his shield. "Wonder what would happen if there'd been more magic power than it could handle? Would it have just spilled over, frying me, or would the shield have exploded too?"

"Let's not put that to the test!"

Alasha'an joins in with the others, holding up her dark blade.

None of you feel that your god-touched weapons are drawn towards the obelisk, nor to the grim building.

"Let's not! Hamin says quietly, but emphatically, glad that such thoughts hadn't occurred to him before the event.  It probably wouldn't have changed their choices, but it would always be in the back of his mind now.  However, the implications run around his mind quickly, and he turns to Yetta.

"Perhaps I should carry Calanor's blade.  You don't look comfortable with it, and if it needs to be used quickly, I might have a better chance of using it effectively ..."  He doesn't mention that is there is any sort of 'mishap', he would take the brunt of it, rather than his daughter.

Yetta nods and carefully hands over blade and sheath.

"Turn around," she suggests to her father, "so I can hang this on your shoulder. It'll be there when you need it, but you can wield still that double-bladed war-stick of yours."

"You knew Calanor? Fought at his side? He'd be honored that you carry his sword."

The young woman knows what Hamin is trying to do.. but reckons that if either of them have a chance of seeing this through to its end it is he.

"It was a very long time ago," Hamin demurs, "but I think he would be happy if we can finish this."  However, he turns to let his daughter hang the sword on his shoulder.

"Calanor was a stubborn soul," the elf adds while Yetta hangs the blade on Hamin. "He'd certainly approve wholeheartedly of us seeing this through to the bitter end."

"I can get us down there.. though it might take a couple of shots," Alasha'an notes, peering over the edge then kicking the heel of one magic boot against the toe of the other, "and we might well be seen. Unless we want to scrabble our way along the wall and come down at the back of the cavern?

"Ah got a magic rope of climbin' an' a bag of 'oldin' what can carry up to 500 pounds of stuff. So a couple of us could ride in the bag if'n ye carry it, lass," Brugar suggested.

"Gimme a minute an' Ah'll 'ave a look at the route first an' see if'n we can get down without bein' seen."

Brugar quietly surveys the route choices available to them to see which looks like being the least likely to be observed by that gaggle of orcs and orogs over by the gate.

Brugar ponders the choices before you and comes to the conclusion that you'll need to make your descent at a point around sixty or seventy feet north of where you stand on the ledge, just past the uneven ground at the base of the Western cavern wall, to avoid any chance of being seen by the guards clustered around the iron gates to the south.

Hamin nods, and makes his way to the point that Brugar indicates.  "Lead on." He says to Brugar and Alasha'an - the keepers of the magic rope and boots.

"I should be able to get down the rope alright, but I'll go whichever way is easiest."

Brugar is close behind Hamin and quickly unloads the magic rope and bag of holding as soon as they reach the point he had selected for the descent.

"Ah reckon Ah've been climbin' cliffs steeper than this'un since afore ye were even born, longshanks. The rope makes it child's play but this time Ah don't mind usin' it to get us down quick an' quiet like."

He hands the bag to Ayas then turns his attention to the rope. At his command it knots itself at regular intervals, reducing its length slightly to 50 feet, then fastens itself to a conveniently located knob of rock on the ledge.

"Now, ye ain't got one of them magic backpacks or portable holes or aught like that, 'ave ye? Can't take one of them things into a bag of 'oldin'," he advises Ayas and Yetta.

Ayas shakes his head at Brugar's question, but Yetta hands over not one but two bags to Alasha'an for safe-keeping.

Unfortunately the ledge peters out before you can reach the place that the Dwarf considered safe, so Hamin, Ayas and Yetta must perforce suffer the strange disorientation as they enter Brugar's magic bag ... but not for long, as Alasha'an is able to swiftly scrabble across the rock face, supported by her magic boots, before allowing them to drop the pair safely to the floor of the cavern below.

With those within released from the bag, all rest against the base of the cliff, hidden in the shadows, though you are quickly able to determine that you have indeed managed the descent without being detected.

Alasha'an heads northwards a short distance, but swiftly returns with the news that there are no doors or other openings to the rear of the temple buildings.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Hamin growls softly at the thought of riding in the bag, but climbs in when he is told to, but gets out as quickly as he can, once they are on solid ground.  Shaking his head, perhaps still in irritation at the mode of transport, he sets himself to watch, while the others are ferried across and down.

After Alasa'an's scouting report, he suggests, "Round the back of the buildings anyway?  Then try our luck with that Obelisk?  Chances are it isn't what we need, but you never know your luck.  A quick strike with all three of the weapons at the same time, might have some effect ..."

Brugar grins at Hamin.

"Sounds like a plan to me," he agrees readily. "In fact, it sounds like summat Ah'd come up with. On one of me better days."

"The obelisk looked to be about forty feet from the building," Ayas notes. The elf does not like the plan, but has no better alternative. "The three of you could cross that short a distance in no time while we keep watch."

"I can summon more of those tentacles to provide a distraction," he adds, "once you are noticed.. but we need to consider what happens after you strike the obelisk with your ancient weapons. Whether that does as you hope or not, those guards will be unappreciative of our efforts - we need to combat them else beat a retreat, to the roof perhaps where we might hide?"

"Spoilsport," Alasha'an grins at Ayas. "But not stupid.  I can lift one or two up to the roof with these boots, or everyone if there's time for you all to hop into Brugar's magic bag. Or perhaps we might use Brugar's rope if anyone's a fast climber?"

Hamin frowns, then tries to remember quite what he had seen as the gate, as well as what he remembered of the roof of the buildings.  "Do you think there is a way into the buildings from the roof?" He asks, as he leads the group around behind the buildings, so they can't be seen from the gate.

OOC:  Just checking - That group of figures by the gate is Orcs and Orogs?  No Drow?  Are they fighting each other?  Or just hanging about ....
This message was last edited by the player at 07:02, Sun 17 Sept 2023.

You don't recall seeing any opening on the roof, but given the distance you were viewing it from, it does not mean there aren't any.

The guards by the gate appeared bored - some evidence of belligerent behaviour, but either fear or common sense holding them back from that straying into outright violence, and were a mix of Orcs and Orogs, the former outnumbering the latter two to one.

You make your way around the back of the building, moving quietly.  As Alasha'an discovered earlier, there is no sign of any opening, door or window, to the rear, and what light there is in this cavern is much dimmed here, with deep shadows for you to hide in.

"Anyone want to check the roof out, before we hit the obelisk?" Hamin asks, when they are completely behind the buildings?

"Sounds like a job for.. me!" Alasha'an snorts.

The elf turns her head to one side for a moment. "The noise of the city isn't much dulled even by this lump of stone. I doubt that anyone will hear us. Just need to try to stay out of sight or hope nobody's looking our way when we do need to break cover."

If there are no objections, the elf will use her boots to levitate to the top of the building.

"Give me a lift," Yetta forestalls Alasha'an only long enough to hitch a ride. "Two sets of eyes are better than one, after all."

"You boys try not to engage the foe without us.. or if you must, then try at least to save some for us!" she smiles.

"Sure." Hamin replies, as he leans against the wall of the building.

Brugar watches the girls lift off then turns his thoughts to the obelisk.

"Ah wonder if'n there'll be any sign of a doorway in it, or some markings what looks like a key point in it? Ah'll 'ave to 'ave a good look up close afore we try to 'it it," he whispered to Hamin and Ayas.

Alasha'an and Yetta slowly rise up the side of the grim edifice while Hamin, Brugar and Ayas remain in the shadows below, pondering what secrets the obelisk might hide.

Alasha'an appears leaning over the edge of the building fifty feet above you.

"They found a trap door ..." Hamin says quietly to the others.  Remembering Brugar's comment about 'a good close up look', he adds, "Alasha'an is coming to get us."

The thought becomes the deed ... while it seems to take no end of agonising waiting for Alasha'an to drift down and ferry each of you back up to the roof in turn (while navigating the black railings that ineffectively ward the back edge of the building, for the Elf is more than agile enough to kick off from them to reach the building and vice-versa upon her return), in reality it is but a couple of minutes until all of you are safe atop the roof of this edifice.

From this vantage, you can see that though the structure appears as two buildings, it is in fact one, for there is no join in the stone work betwixt each half, and the roof covers both, though it is uneven, littered more with rubble than mere dust.

The trapdoor that Alasha'an and Yetta discovered was in fact close to the back of the structure, at the point where the two seemingly separate buildings would be joined.  From the rubble that sits atop the solid looking iron bound planks, it has not been used for a long time.

Hamin prepared to move rubble, while Brugar, and the others, do whatever checks they feel appropriate.

"It would seem the cavern roof is not entirely stable," Ayas suggests sourly as he looks at the rubble littering the surface, feeling very exposed and unsafe.

Absently, the young mage casts a simple cantrip, seeking to reveal if the trapdoor has a magical aura upon it which might indicate a trap.

Brugar walked over for a closer look at the trapdoor but seemed just as interested in the rubble nearby and the roof of the cavern overhead as the trapdoor itself. He will join Hamin in clearing the rubble as soon as the others have finished checking it out too.

OOC: Is there a lock on the trapdoor? A handle? Does the rubble match the stone of the cavern roof? Does the cavern roof look crumbly or unstable at all?

The spell Ayas casts reveals no sign of magic laid upon the trapdoor, while Alasha'an and Yetta do not take much longer to determine that there are no mundane traps set upon it either, nor any locking mechanism, at least upon this side of it.

Brugar's considered opinion is that the roof of the cavern remains stable, and that the rubble upon the roof has not fallen down recently, but over a considerable number or years - decades if not centuries.

It does not take long for the Dwarf and Hamin to clear away the rubble upon the trapdoor, where a metal ring fixed to the iron strapping that binds the wooden planks  might provide the means to pry it open.

Brugar points at the iron ring on the trapdoor and looks around at his friends.

"Do we wanna explore in there or not? Stand back an' Ah'll 'ave a crack at opening it," he whispers.

If no one objects, as soon as everyone moves at least 10 feet away, he will grasp the iron ring and attempt to open the trapdoor. If it doesn't simply lift open, he will try to turn the ring one way or the other before trying to lift it again.

Hamin nods, and stakes a few steps away from the trapdoor.

The trapdoor is stubborn ... but Brugar proves moreso and the Dwarf finally gets the better of it as it scrapes free and swings back to reveal a narrow and steep spiral stair descending into the darkness.

"You first?  Or me?" the bald fighter asks the dwarf.

Brugar grins, adjusts his shield, grips his axe and leads the way downstairs.

Hamin grins, and follows close behind.

You enter the darkness, Brugar leading the way and Hamin following, the first link in a chain of four as the one-eyed warrior guides those who cannot make their way in this inky blackness ...

... though truth be told, the descent is somewhat predictable, steep steps turning ever tightly to your left, sufficient that Alasha'an, Yetta and Ayas find it easier to keep one hand on the right hand wall and make their own way down, until a call from the Dwarf warns that you have reached the bottom, perhaps fifty feet or so down from the roof above - not much of a climb after the path you trod to reach Garek Enkdal so far beneath the surface of the world.

Though it first appears you have reached a dead end, and with little enough space to stand such that only Brugar and Hamin can clear the steps, it does not take the Dwarf long at all to locate the outline of a hidden door in the wall, and the stone protrusion that might serve to release it.

Eventually it dawns on Brugar that exploring a temple in utter darkness might be fine for him and Hamin, but if the other three can't see anything this isn't going to end well.

"So what's the plan, folks? We can't explore much further if'n ye can't see nought. Which of ye 'as a light an' when are ye gonna use it?" he whispers.

"If we can't kindle a magical light between us, then I have a couple of torches in my pack," the elf allows. "But we might want to open the door first, and quietly, rather than betray our presence with bright light and a lot of noise."

Alasha'an will get a torch and her flint ready so that they can be lit when needed.

"She has a point, Brugar." Hamin says, agreeing with Alasha'an.

Brugar nods, then asks, ”Ayas, can ye do one of them magic light spells? Ah seen a fellow do that once on a dagger what he could ‘ide it up ‘is sleeve so ‘e ‘ad light when ‘e wants it and no light when ‘e don’t.”

Ayas shakes his head, the words spilling out of him in his nervousness, though he does manage to keep his voice low.

"A spell of light pertains to the elements and is the province of the Chosen, not an Adept such as myself," the elf explains.  "A book mage could do it if they had such a spell enscribed, and I believe some tavern performers have learned the knack ... though the man you saw might have been trying to trick you if he was friends with an alchemist who had the knowledge of what substances to mix to achieve such an effect."

In the dark, Hamin just grimaces.

"Then it is lucky that I have an Everburning Torch in my pack," Yetta adds, unable to keep either the note of humor or that of triumph out of her voice.

"Go ahead," she tells Brugar, "I'll be ready to light it up when we need it."

”Aye. Ah be opening the door now then,” Brugar warns those who cannot see in the darkness as he presses the protrusion on the wall beside the secret door.

With the issue of illumination for those who need it now resolved, and Yetta poised to pull the magically lit torch from her bag, Brugar turns his attention to the secret door before him, pushing the stone that will release the hidden catch to open the way ...

... but though there is a faint click, which gives the Dwarf some confidence that the concealed mechanisms should be operating correctly, the wall before you does not so much move as settle, and that but a fraction of an inch.

Hamin looks for space around the side of the door, hoping that he and Brugar will be strong enough to 'help' the door open.  If he sees enough room to get fingers into a crack, he will look towards Brugar and shrug - then place his fingers into the gap, leaving space below for the dwarf to help.  Then a soft count of one, two, three .....
This message was last edited by the player at 07:44, Mon 23 Oct 2023.

Brugar retrieves an iron chisel from his backpack and uses that to try to work the crack at the edge of the door open a bit wider, or uses it to wedge the crack open so it can't trap anyone's fingers. It would be easier work if he could hit the chisel with his hammer but he doesn't want to risk the noise at this stage. When he has done what he can with the chisel, he  lends his muscle to assist Hamin's efforts to force the door open.

Though the stonework might not be up to Dwarven standards, the gap between wall and stone is still too narrow to allow Hamin to get a grip ... but Brugar manages to chip away at the inferior stone to create a fingerhold for the one-eyed warrior, then uses the tool as a lever to assist him ...

... the door opens, though not easily and not quietly, as the long-settled portal grinds stone on stone, and dark marble tiles and a variety of weapons fall crashing to the floor. Seemingly the secret way was tiled over at some point, either deliberately or unknowingly, though not so well done as to seal it off forever, though broken tiles and sharp if rusted weapons litter the ground and line the sides of the opening.

As you carefully step through the opening, flickering flames in huge braziers reveal a vast room divided into two chambers of roughly equal size, lined in black marble on which are set thousands of weapons of all kinds, though mainly swords, most rusted with age.

In the eastern chamber a wide stone stair leads downwards, while in the centre of the western chamber there is a great dark pool, seemingly the source of the pervading stench of decaying flesh that fills the air, giving this immense hall the aura of a battlefield, if lacking the corpses and carrion birds.

Before the pool is a line of Drow, perhaps a dozen, their scarred and blistered faces set in calm resignation.  Nearby are three dark robed figures, all now looking puzzledly in your direction, eyes hidden beneath voluminous hoods, though one quickly turns back to the line of wounded, barking a command, upon which the foremost of the maimed steps forward into the pool and soundlessly vanishes beneath the dark waters.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

"Marvellous." Hamin says, although it is clearly sarcastic.  "Have you got a nice fireball, Ayas?" he asks the mage. "Or do we just cut them to pieces?"

Ever the professional, Hamin's eyes dart around the room, noting that the swords are mostly rusted, and taking note of those that aren't.  After all, the swords we have might not be the right ones, and where better to hide a special sword than amongst thousands of others.

Brugar waits for a response from Ayas but will at least move aside to allow Ayas a clear line of sight to the drow.

"Any spell that calls upon the elements is the province of the Chosen alone," Ayas replies to Hamin, apologetically, if in somewhat of a rush. "The best I can do is summon more of those tentacles to hold them fast."

If there are no objections, he'll do just that.

"So.. except for Ayas, we all brought swords or axes then, did we?" Yetta remarks, drawing her own blades.

"I could get my crossbow out and shoot a few bolts at them, but in this light I'd probably hit one of you!"

She shrugs. "If we're going to fight, might I suggest that we spread out a bit, so if they've got fireballs we make it more difficult for them?"

The elf laughs, drawing her own dark blade.

"The dwarf down the middle, one carmine takes the left, the other the right.. and I'll  go long," Alasha'an suggests in turn.

"But you go first," she tells Ayas. "Just so I know where not to land!"

"Just mind that pool," he reminds the others, then adds " I don't like the look of those robed ones.

Then sets off at a charge, heading towards the single black robed figure.

Scale?
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 07:15, Mon 30 Oct 2023.

"Aye, summat goes in the pool, summat worse comes out, no doubt!" Brugar predicts.

Seeing that Hamin is heading around the right side of the pool, Brugar heads around the left side where there are two of the dark-robed figures to choose from. He too charges forward with axe and shield ready to meet the drow priests.

"Oh, we're going now.." the elf notes as man and dwarf take off at a run. Hurriedly he begins to cast the spell that will summon those rubbery tentacles even as he tries to calculate where best to direct it.

"Middle?" Yetta asks Alasha'an as her father goes one way and the dwarf the other, though she doesn't hang about for a reply, choosing to follow Brugar since there are two of the dark-robed figures in the direction he's headed, so she's in with a chance of skewering one of them!

At the sight of the Drow gathered around the dark pool, Hamin and Brugar barely hesitate, the pair picking up speed as they charge the foe, causing Ayas to act quicker than the Elf would like, once more summoning a patch of writhing tentacles that ensnare one of the robed figures and most of the maimed Drow, save for the two rearmost and one who manages to struggle free.

Yetta takes off after Brugar, soon outpacing the Dwarf, while Alasha'an disappears into the shadows.

The chamber is huge, and it soon becomes apparent that to charge headlong into the fray would invite disaster, so the three slow, coming to a stop several paces from the robed-figures, even as two of the free maimed Drow reach their sides, though the third falters in the attempt, as Alasha'an suddenly reappears at his side, her dark blade cutting him down.

The two dark-figures exchange a glance, as if silently communicating, then they begin to cast.  The one nearest to Hamin calls down a column of divine fire that engulfs the one-eyed warrior, while the other casts a summoning of her own, causing three hideous dog-like creatures to appear near Brugar and Yetta, their flesh seemingly flensed, their bodies covered with quills, howling in unison as they advance. 

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:28, Wed 01 Nov 2023.

Hamin slows, momentarily caught in the flames, but thrusts a hand forward - mimicking a spell caster.  Then advances to a point where he can strike, should the cleric try to cast again.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:25, Sun 05 Nov 2023.

Brugar steps forward to engage the first of the howlers and repeatedly hacks at the ugly beast with his blunt battleaxe. His blows lack finesse but still promise to break bones.

Brugar Armbuster rolled 25,24,18,16 using d20+20,d20+20,d20+15,d20+10.  Attack howler with blunt battleaxe, speed.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 10,11,16,12 using d8+8,d8+8,d8+8,d8+8.  Damage with blunt battleaxe.

As the flames around him subside, Hamin gestures, causing the floor beneath the two Drow nearest him to become slick, sending the pair to their knees as their footing fails.  As they struggle to rise, the one-eyed warrior skirts the side of the dark well, ready to strike the Drow priestess should she turn her attention to renewing her assault and in her distraction allow him the opportunity.

On the opposite side of the well, Brugar eschews subtlety, swinging his axe at the nearest of the dog-like creatures and striking it with a flurry of blows that leave it twitching on the cold stone floor at the Dwarf's feet, barely clinging to life, its fearsome howl reduced to a feeble cry of pain.

Facing a pair of the creatures, Yetta opts to move to the east, hoping to dispatch one before the other is upon her, the short blade she pulls from her scabbard flickering as it passes through the air, growing in length as the creatures lunges forwards following her first feint, allowing it to bite into its flesh.

Alasha'an steps away from the corpse of one Drow towards the two that stand just north of her, but they retreat to the edge of the well, the female whispering something to the maimed male before he throws himself into the darkness beyond, even as four of the trapped Drow manage to free themselves from the mass of writhing tentacles.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Brugar circles round the disabled howler to reach the next one and slashes at it with his rusty old battleaxe. His shield is on his right arm facing the two drow clerics.

OOC: Move 10 feet south, means he only gets a single attack, not a full round attack action. unfortunately.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 27 using 1d20+20.  Attack howler with blunt battleaxe.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 14 using 1d8+8.

The architecture of this temple precludes his casting of a web spell to entrap those of their opponents that might break free, so the Sorcerer resorts to his staff, using it to launch a volley of globes of mystic energy at the robed figures behind the howling creatures, hoping to distract them and prevent them from being able to cast spells of their own.

OOC: Magic Missile x 3 aimed at the robed figures.

Hamin wastes no time and launches a flat out attack on the drow priestess.  Then takes a 5' step away from the pit, to put himself in a position to attack the other drow in the grease.

---

07:45, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 18 using 1d20+15.  primary 1.
07:45, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 31 using 1d20+15.  offhand 1.
07:46, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 26 using 1d20+10.  primary 2.
07:46, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 25 using 1d20+10.  Offhand 2.


07:48, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 9 using 2d4+7.  p1 dam.
07:49, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 10 using 1d6+7.  O1 dam.
07:49, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 11 using 2d4+5.  p2 dam.
07:49, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 6 using 1d6+5.  O2 dam.

The balls of mystical force launched by Ayas slam unerringly into the Drow priestesses, though one fizzles upon impact.  If naught else, the Elf garners their attention, though none of the three are afforded the chance to let their gaze linger.

Hamin grimly swings his polearm, carving up the one that struggles to rise from the slippery stones beneath her feet, and ending those efforts as her blood is spilled.

Even so, Alasha'an advances a few paces to bring her dark blade to bear against the nearest priestess, cutting her badly, enough to make the woman's return riposte a clumsy affair, easily avoided.

Brugar and Yetta still must deal with the dog-like creatures ... the Dwarf hurries forward to confront the last of them, rewarded with the crunch of bone as his rusty axe batters the creature, while Yetta hits her stride, stunning the creature with a powerful blow before finishing it off with a lethal thrust.

The wounded Howler launches itself at Brugar, its powerful jaws snapping on the Dwarf's forearm, teeth tearing at his flesh, though he swiftly manages to pull his arm free and avoid its thrashing quills. 

Two of the three maimed Drow that are free of the area of writhing tentacles head towards Hamin, the first to reach the one-eyed warrior striking at him with his fist, the only weapon he has, landing a solid punch, though in his enthusiasm he blocks the path of his fellow.   The third of the three closes on Alasha'an where he takes up a flanking position, waiting for an opening to strike.

Those Drow caught by the tentacles continue to struggle, unable to tear themselves free, their cries of pain evident as they are struck and squeezed.  The remaining Drow lying prone before Hamin's likewise tries to regain his feet, but fails miserably,

The last of the priestesses, however, pauses only a moment to take stock of the situation before turning and running towards the black well.  Once at the edge, she shouts out, arms raised ...

... a mass of seething gray rot and corruption, roughly humanoid in shape surges forth from the well.  It looms overhead, giving off a reek of decay ...

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Hamin groans, "Bugger …", not so much at the drow attacking him, but that one of the priestesses managed to summon the thing above them.  Thankfully, his necklace probably negates the worst of the stink from the corrupted blob raising above them, but for now the drow are the immediate threat.  Grimly, Hamin continues his attacks on the drow, starting with the one closest to him, and stepping forwards to attack the second standing drow, should the first one fall.


08:52, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 25 using 1d20+15.  attack P1. – 25
08:55, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 13 using 2d4+7.  p1 dam. – 13

08:53, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 21 using 1d20+15.  attack o1. – 21
08:55, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 9 using 1d6+7.  O1 dam. – 9

08:53, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 22 using 1d20+10.  attack P2. – 22
08:55, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 12 using 2d4+5.  p2 dam. – 12

08:53, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 28 using 1d20+10.  attack o2. – 28
08:56, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 7 using 1d6+5.  O2 dam. – 7

Brugar's anger flares as the howler bites him and he bellows back at it as rage engulfs his mind. He hacks at the howler repeatedly with his battleaxe until it is dead, then slashes the fallen howler on his right to make sure it is really dead too.

Then he starts advancing toward the drow priestess beside the black well with murder in his eyes.

OOC: 5-foot step toward drow priestess.

Brugar Armbuster rolled 42,24,28,18 using d20+23,d2+23,d20+18,d20+13.  Attack howler with blunt battleaxe, speed, rage.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 18,13,17,13 using d8+11,d8+11,d8+11,d8+11.  Damage with blunt battleaxe, raging.

Though the maimed Drow might have succeeded in striking Hamin, his punch brings him too close.  Even as the one-eyed warrior rocks back, he brings up his polearm in a vicious arc, slicing open the Drow's flesh as it drives him back, then follows up with another two swings that send his lifeless corpse to the ground. 

With that foe downed, Hamin steps forward, feet straddling the body as he swings his polearm once more, almost mechanically, ignoring the horror floating over the well behind him as his blades pierce the second Drow's body.  The badly wounded Drow lashes out with his fists, but Hamin easily dodges. 

On the other side of the well, Brugar is engulfed with battlerage, raising a scream that threatens to match that of the dog-like creatures he battles.  With powerful blows he downs the last of them, and turns again to the creature he previously felled, pounding on its dead flesh in his fury. 

As the Dwarf turns angrily towards the nearest priestess, Yetta reacts to the foe's attempt to surround Alasha'an, launching herself towards the maimed Drow at the Elf's back, the blade in her hand flickering as it bites into his flesh, wounding him, and easily avoiding the roundhouse punch he sends her way. 

The Drow priestess fares far worse, as Alasha'an strikes with almost casual ease, her dark blade moving with deceptive slowness, but deadly accuracy, once, twice and claiming another life.

Three of the maimed Drow trapped in the mass of rubbery tentacles manage to drag themselves clear, leaving but one of their number still caught, while the Drow nearest Hamin finally manages to find his feet and step clear of the slickened flags.

As Brugar advances, the eyes of the Drow priestess narrow as she in turn calls down a column of divine fire upon the Dwarf's head ... but miraculously it fades, even as it strikes him, absorbed into the shield on his arm, the glass shards embedded upon it, causing them to glow softly. 

To the north of the chamber, Ayas hurriedly launches a volley of magical missiles at the roiling mass above the well.  The globes of energy strike unerringly ... seemingly causing the horror to fold in upon itself, though any hope that it could be so easily defeated proves false as it suddenly materialises before the Elf, lashing out with an all too solid fist that slams into him sending his broken body crashing into the marble wall to fall lifeless to the cold stone, broken tiles and rusted weapons crashing around him.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Military training lasts a lifetime, and Hamin drops into the focus and techniques that he learned years ago, when we was just a young recruit ....  He, concentrates on the Drow in front of him, and seems oblivious to what is going on around him.  He starts by striking at the Drow who punched him, and continues striking at that fellow, until he falls -  then steps on to the next one.

---

08:17, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 34 using 1d20+16.  AOO on punching drow. – 34
08:17, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 15 using 2d4+9.  aoo damage. – 15

08:19, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 27 using 1d20+15.  offhand 1. – 27
08:21, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 12 using 1d6+7. pO1 dam. – 12

08:2108:19, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 19 using 1d20+10.  Offhand 2. – 19,
oday: Hamin Carmine rolled 10 using 1d6+5.  O2 dam. – 10

08:19, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 26 using 1d20+10.  primary 2. – 26
08:20, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 10 using 2d4+5.  p2 dam. – 10

08:18, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 20 using 1d20+15.  attack P1. – 20
08:20, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 13 using 2d4+7.  p1 dam. – 13

Brugar doesn't even break stride as his shield swallows the flames called down upon him by the drow priestess. In fact, he hardly seems to notice it at all. His sole focus is the drow priestess herself. He bellows his hatred again as his battleaxe repeatedly slashes at her.

OOC: 5-foot step to close with the drow priestess, then full attack. If she collapses, he will grab her and yank her body away from the pit. She isn't getting away that easily.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 26,35,36,16 using d20+23,d20+23,d20+18,d20+13.  Attack drow with blunt battleaxe, speed, rage.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 12,12,17,17 using d8+11,d8+11,d8+11,d8+11.  Damage with blunt battleaxe, raging.

With a flurry of vicious swings and jabs, Hamin fells the first of the maimed Drow and badly injures the second, then easily dodges a couple of punches thrown his way as two more join the fray.

Overcome with the red mists of battle, Brugar's approach lacks finesse, but more than makes up for that with sheer ferocity, bludgeoning the remaining priestess again and again with his axe, then as she falls, pulling her away from the well.

Yetta tries to emulate her father and the Dwarf, but her foe is more canny and while she manages to strike him twice, both telling blows, he remains on his feet. Though her efforts at least keep him off balance so that she can avoid his return punch, even as another of the maimed males draws close.

Seeing Ayas fall, Alasha'an steps away, leaving the Drow to Yetta, her eyes upon the roiling mass.  Even as it rushes towards her, she gestures, and a thin band of shadow tightens around the creatures, constricting it momentarily before dissipating, stopping it in its tracks for now. 

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Hamin isn't really aware of what is happening around him, and concentrates on those enemies in front of him.  Therefore he starts the process again, first attacking the Drow that he damaged previously, then switching to the next one in range. Should the others fall, Hamin will move up to attack the third drow, if he is able to.

However, what ever happens,  he will step into space that allows the third drow to take a swing at him.

---

07:56, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 17 using 1d20+16.  AOO on drow I hit before. – 17  Whoops
07:57, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 30 using 1d20+15.  attack P1. – 30
07:58, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 10 using 2d4+7.  p1 dam. – 10
07:57, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 31 using 1d20+15.  attack o1. – 31
07:59, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 11 using 1d6+7.  O1 dam. – 11
07:57, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 11 using 1d20+10.  Offhand 2. – 11
07:59, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 8 using 1d6+5.  O2 dam. – 8
07:57, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 16 using 1d20+10.  primary 2. – 16
07:58, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 12 using 2d4+6.  p2 dam. – 12 NOTE:  Should be 11 Dam.  Modifier should be +5

Brugar spins around wildly, looking for the next foe. As soon as he sees the huge monster behind him he grins like a madman and starts stalking back towards it with battleaxe and shield ready for the fight. As soon as he gets close enough he shouts and swings his battleaxe at the monster.

OOC:
Brugar Armbuster rolled 39 using 1d20+23.  Attack with blunt battleaxe, rage.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 13 using 1d8+11.  Damage with blunt battleaxe, raging.

Hamin shows no anger as he methodically cuts down the maimed Drow that assail him, his blows not fancy but workmanlike, guided by skills acquired over many, many battles, his movements economical but no less deadly as his blades find the mark time and time again.  Two more of the foe fall, though the last is not dissuaded, his sun-scarred visage showing no more emotion than does the one-eyed warrior as he attacks with but a bare fist, the only weapon he has, though his weakness betrays him and his punch is feeble and far from the mark.

On the far side of the well, Brugar turns to see the darkly roiling mass of corruption and races towards it shouting with a manic joy, Alasha'an cursing with equal vehemence as she quickly follows after the Dwarf ...

With a second foe circling around to flank her, Yetta is hard pressed to do other than devote her attention to her own defence ... but like her father her approach is to avoid the threat by ending it.  Her blade flashes twice and the badly wounded Drow succumbs to death, falling to the ground, even as she swiftly turns, unable to avoid the punch from the other, but at least able to see it coming and thus take the brunt of it on her shoulder.   In the morass of writhing tentacles behind her, the last of the Drow trapped therein finally ceases his struggles, crushed to death.

As Brugar and Alasha'an approach the constantly shifting mass, it forms into a vaguely humanoid shape.  Drawing closer, the pair are assailed by the stench of rot and a cold that chills their very souls, and bombarded by blow after blow from giant fists that prove only too solid, landing two solid blows upon the Dwarf and one upon the Elf whose more cautious approach allows her to duck the first swing, though not the second, though the pair manage to strike something solid within the horror's roiling form. 

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:10, Wed 10 Jan.

Hamin can hear the fight behind him, and knows that something is happening, but there is still a foe in front of him.  So he attacks until his final Drow is dead, before turning and making his way to help Brugar and Alasha'an.


13:42, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 26 using 1d20+16.  AOO on punching drow. – 26
13:44, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 12 using 2d4+9.  aoo damage. – 12

If that is enough damage, Hamin will run in to the fight, looking for a flanking position.  Otherwise ...

13:45, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 27 using 1d20+15.  attack P1. – 27
13:47, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 14 using 2d4+7.  p1 dam. – 14
13:45, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 33 using 1d20+15.  offhand 1. – 33
13:46, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 21 using 1d20+15.  offhand 1  Crit. – 21
13:48, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 11 using 1d6+7.  O1 dam. – 11
13:48, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 12 using 1d6+7.  O1 dam  crit? – 12

If that is enough damage, Hamin will just move towards the fight.

If it ain't enough -  He will stay and hit again  (Please feel free to roll for me)

The dwarf is so consumed by his rage that he barely even registers how much those blows hurt him. He bellows in fury and repeatedly hacks at the shape-shifting creature in front of him, edging around a little to the left as he instinctively searches for the best angle to attack this thing.

OOC: 5-foot step to the left
Brugar Armbuster rolled 36,23 using d20+17,d20+17.  Two Fortitude saves DC20 (including Con bonus from greater rage). – 36,23
Brugar Armbuster rolled 36,31,29,23 using d20+23,d20+23,d20+18,d20+13.  Attack with blunt battleaxe, rage, speed. – 36,31,29,23
Brugar Armbuster rolled 15,12,12,14 using d8+11,d8+11,d8+11,d8+11.  Damage with blunt battleaxe, raging. – 15,12,12,14

Long experience on the battlefield allows Hamin to block out all other distractions as he concentrates on the immediate threat.  Swinging his double bladed weapon, the one-eyed warrior slashes methodically at the remaining Drow before him, dropping him to the ground with three well placed blows, then quickly surveying his immediate vicinity to confirm that there are none remaining to threaten him before turning about to survey how his other companions are faring. 

Yetta attempts to emulate her father, but the maimed Drow before her proves better at dodging than the other ... though at the last she brings him down with a final, deadly thrust, panting as she steps back from the corpse, raising her blade to Hamin as she too turns around.

While Alasha'an skillfully feints and probes at the darkly viscous form floating before herself and Brugar, the Dwarf is utterly consumed by his rage and simply hacks and hacks away.  The Elf's first blow misses by a whisker, and her second only just pierces the creature's defences, while Brugar makes every blow count, if at the cost of focusing all of the attention of the horror upon himself, suffering two vicious blows in reply, though pain of his wounds cannot get past the rage that drives him.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Hamin checks quickly on his daughter, holding his own weapon up in response to her salute.  A smile almost cracks his face, but there is that thing that Brugar and Alasha'an are fighting ...   Putting his head down, Hamin charges across the room to close the distance.

OOC:  Not sure about distance on the map.  If I don't get there -  so be it.  Charge and attack is first priority.  Second priority is to get somewhere that gives flanking - preferably for both, if not Alasaha'an.  Or at least, into a position close to flanking that I can improve later, with a 5' step.

08:38, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 21 using 1d20+18.  Charge attack. – 21   LoL
08:38, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 12 using 2d4+9.  damage. – 12

Brugar continues to hack at the shape-shifting monster in front of him, his rage making him almost oblivious of the serious wounds he has already sustained. But this time he repeats a simple instruction to himself with every blow.

"Hit! Harder! Hit! Harder! Hit! Harder! Hit! Harder!"

OOC: Power attack.
Brugar Armbuster rolled 27,26,22,18 using d20+18,d20+18,d20+13,d20+8.  Attack with blunt battleaxe, rage, speed, pwr atk-5. – 27,26,22,18
Brugar Armbuster rolled 17,20,22,24 using d8+16,d8+16,d8+16,d8+16.  Damage with blunt battleaxe, rage, speed, pwr atk5. – 17,20,22,24
This message was last edited by the player at 11:37, Sun 14 Jan.

As Hamin and Yetta race towards the fight with the constantly shifting mass, Alasha'an takes a step to her right, emulating Brugar's earlier effort as she begins to work her way around the creature and perhaps shift it's attention her way.  Her free hand brushes the ugly amulet at her neck as she drives her dark blade deeply into the viscous substance that passes for its flesh.

Though he remains unmoved by the horror itself, Brugar's anger only increases as it obstinately fails to succumb to the wounds he has inflicted, leading the Dwarf to launch himself into the battle with even more abandon than before, a litany on his tongue as he strikes blow after blow on the creature, his blunt axe exacting a heavy toll.

Hamin's approach is met with a heavy blow as the creature's shifting flesh once more proves only too solid ... but the one-eyed warrior does not falter as his momentum drives him on and though badly off balance still manages to thrust the point of his polearm into the withdrawing limb.  .  :>]

Coming from the opposite direction, Yetta's run is more measured, yet it avails her little as she too becomes the target of the creature's giant fist which slams into her, the daughter proving far less lucky (or perhaps just less unyielding) than her father as her wildly swinging blade fails to connect.

Beset on all sides, the roiling mass of corruption and rot seems to linger on the point of violence before vanishing ...

... only to reappear above the well, hovering there for scant seconds before plunging into its dark depths. 

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

"That was ..." Hamin says, panting slightly from the run across the room.


OOC: Off later today.  I should be able to get a post or two in.

With the foes all vanished or vanquished there is nothing left to feed Brugar's rage and he calms down relatively quickly. He methodically checks the various cuts and bruises he has received and flexes his arms, legs, neck and back to make sure nothing is broken. He is clearly seriously wounded but it looks like he will survive after all.

"That thing gave as good as it got. Tough bugger. Ah 'ope we don't meet it again. Let's check the bodies. See if there's aught we can use," he suggests.

He glances across at Ayas's corpse but doesn't head that way himself. Instead he heads for the drow priestess that he killed and starts searching the body.

Yetta favours her father with a small smile, nodding her agreement with his unspoken words.. though that smile slips as she turns her head towards Ayas at Brugar's suggestion.

"Maybe there's a chance," she mutters, lacking any real hope of that as she sets off towards the elf, wincing as she forces herself into a run.

The flailing tentacles vanish as the magic that sustains them finally fades, leaving the dark marble floor littered with the corpses of the Drow ... and one of your own.

As Hamin recovers his breath, Brugar heads back to the edge of the well and the corpse of the priestess he slew, while Yetta hurries to the northern end of the huge chamber where Ayas lies.  Kneeling by his side, it takes her but a moment to determine that he is now beyond life.   

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

"We should remove their heads," Yetta suggests grimly, her face a mask, as she kneels at Ayas's side.  "Don't want to risk any of them rising again."

Brugar's search of the body of the priestess finds she is armoured in platemail of exceptional quality and the morningstar at her hip is of similar workmanship.  She also has a bone scroll tube and a highly polished wooden wand. He opens the scrollcase to see what is inside, probably hoping more for a map that he is able to understand rather than spell scrolls that are useless to him. He will show whatever he finds to the others, along with the wand and morningstar in case anyone has a use for any of them.

After that he will strip off the priestess's armour. Assuming no one else wants it he will stow it in his bag of holding in the hope of one day being able to sell it.

Then of course, there are more bodies to search.

Hamin leaves the searching and beeeheading to the others.  "What ever it was, it got me somehow.  I don't feel quite right ...

"Me too," Yetta looks back to her father sympathetically. "Hard to say what it is, just feels wrong."

"No hope for either of them then," Alasha'an suggests to Brugar with a twinkle in her eye. "Better cut their heads off to be on the safe side.."

"I guess we'll just have to leave it for now." he says as he walks across to Ayas, and starts to lay him straight and check hs body over.  "Does any one kow anything about him?  His family, or where he came from?"  As he asks, he starts to remove anythinng of value, or that might be magical from the body.  "Can't leave anything behind that the Drow can use and, when we are done here, we should take his body back into the world for a proper burial."

None of you, even Yetta who's suggestion it was, has any great desire to behead one corpse, let alone so many.  Hamin joins his daughter to attend to poor fallen Ayas, methodically beginning to strip his body of anything that your foe might make use of, the staff being the most obvious as the one-eyed warrior tries to recall what other items the Elf was able to reclaim from the store above Habmor’Anto prison.

Meanwhile Brugar continues to do much the same, setting aside the items he has recovered from the body of the Drow priestess to be distributed amongst you, including the bone scroll case which, to his disgust, contains only two pieces of parchment covered with the unmistakeable and incomprehensible markings of magic.

As the Dwarf begins to unbuckle the straps on the valuable armour that encases the body, he is interrupted as the dark depths of the well beside him begin to stir, swiftly building before his eyes into a roiling whirlpool ...

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Brugar takes one look at the whirlpool and curses loudly. He quickly scoops up the morningstar, wand and scroll and scurries over to join the others beside Ayas's body.

Sighing, Hamin prepares himself and moves forwards until he is level with Brugar.  However, her keeps some distance away from the Dwarf, hoping to set up a flanking position.

Brugar quickly makes his way over to where Yetta stands poised with her blade over Ayas's body, as Hamin circles around, all eyes fixed upon the violent whirlpool that engulfs the well ...

... a roiling mass of darkness and corruption erupts from the depths, hovering above the well. It is twice the size of the first, and exudes the same chill aura and stench of rot, though whether it is the same one now grown or this is yet another of the creatures, you cannot discern.  As you watch, the constantly shifting cloud resolves, as did the one before, into a vaguely humanoid form that floats menacingly in the upper reaches of the temple.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

Brugar curses as he sees the size of the thing that has emerged from the well. He is already seriously injured from the previous battle with its smaller cousin.

"Be it time to be leaving?" he suggests reluctantly, as he stows the morningstar, wand and scroll in his bag of holding.

Hamin hadn't realized that Brugar was so badly injured, and it is, perhaps, the first time he has seen the doughty dwarf suggest a retreat.  ""That looks like a stairwell." he says pointing across the temple, "I assume we still need to go down ..."

Like her father, Yetta was unaware of Brugar's injuries. "I have a wand that should heal you," she tells the dwarf, "but we should put some distance between ourselves and that first."

"Stairs it is," she swiftly agrees, without a backward glance. "Let's go!"

"Come on." he says, setting off after his daughter.

As the immense roiling mass begins to drift towards you, you race for the stairs in the adjoining chamber.  Alasha'an, closer than the rest of you to the black cloud of corruption, looks as if she'd prefer to stand and fight ... but joins her companions as your footfalls echo as you cross the dark marble.

The walls of the second chamber, like the first, are covered with rusted weapons that reflect little of the light from the braziers that blaze away in each corner, and the same pervading stench of decaying flesh fills the air, as you reach the wide stone stairs, steps lit, if poorly, by the light from above, and from somewhere below.

With just a backwards glance to confirm that the roiling mass continues to stalk you, you head downwards, careless of your footing, and unable to rest a hand for support on the weapon-clad walls to either side, though thankfully nobody falls as the stairs prove steep yet in good repair.

You descend perhaps sixty feet before the stairs give way to another chamber, its walls still covered in the rusted tools of war. Smaller braziers burn in the corners, and there is a raised and rune-scribed ring of stone that marks the centre of the floor.  Small side chambers are lined with stone sarcophagi, while in the opposite wall hang two doors, with an all too familar round plug of stone, about five feet in diameter, bound with with graven chains embedded in a seal of plaster at its centre.

The shifting darkness gathers at the top of the stairway behind you, slowly moving forward, as if savouring the moment ...

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

”Yetta lass, if Calanor’s blade be the right one, we must break the seal on yonder portal with it. Or maybe Alasha’an’s blade be the right one? Ah’d steer clear of yon magic circle on the way there though. Dunno if we can ‘old this thing ‘ere on the stairs though. T’other one were onto Ayas inna blink of an eye.”

Hamin reacts, but perhaps not in  the way that Brugar expects.  "Heal him." he calls to his daughter, and he makes a break for the seal, skirting around the circle as he goes.  Dropping his polearm, away from the circle, he pulls Calanor's sword from his back and charges towards the seals as fast as he can.

OOC - Double move this round, if there is a second round action he will charge the doors and strike at the seal as soon as he is able.  I am working on the assumption That this is a Great Sword.

10:07, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 28 using 1d20+16.  hit seal with Calanor's blade (assumes charge).
10:09, Today: Hamin Carmine rolled 12 using 1d10+6 ((6)).

OOC: Brugar is down 98hp, that's about two-thirds of his total hit points. 8 nights of peaceful sleep and he'll be virtually fully healed. Probably not worth poking him with a wand of CLW if that monster is about to attack. Brugar took 48hp damage in one round (two hits) from its smaller cousin.

OOC: a couple of pokes might keep him up for an extra round, and that might just be enough ...

"Keep moving," Yetta tells Brugar with a small smile that holds little humour, pulling the Dwarf along with her around the markings on the floor as she fishes her wand out and speaks the word of command to activate it and heal him.

Yetta pulls the injured Brugar along with her, healing him as they go, and being careful not to cross the circle inscribed upon the stone floor.  Alasha'an trails along behind them, sword out as she warily watches the roiling mass that slowly descends the stone stairwell. 

Striding ahead of his three companions, Hamin has already reached the doorway, but does not pause there, nor look back, as he swiftly drops his polearm to one side and draws Calanor's blade, his hands fastening tight around the pommel as the one-eyed warrior brings the greatsword down hard upon the plaster seal ...

... a loud noise, like a thousand hammers striking anvils in unison assails your ears as the seal shatters, bursting asunder.  The chain drops away, the noise lost amidst the tumult, as the door swings slowly open.  Upon the stairs, the shifting cloud of darkness and corruption pauses ...

The plaster dust swiftly settles, revealing another steep flight of stone stairs leading down, the stench of death and decay somewhat lessened, though the air beyond is foul and stale.

OOC: Map of the proceedings updated ...

"Stairs down." Hamin calls, as he heads into the foul air on the staircase, "Come on ...."

"Can we block the door?" Alasha'an calls out, bringing up the rear, her gaze flicking between Yetta and Brugar and the roiling mass following slowly in their wake.

"Would it do any good?" the elf ponders sourly, answering her own question, albeit with another, as she retreats towards the stairs. "We've opened the final portal after a journey lasting hundreds of years.. and we're but seconds from disaster!"

"Dunno, but be worth tryin'," Brugar mutters as he swings the door closed.

He quickly retrieves some iron spikes from his backpack and hammers them in with the side of his blunt battleaxe to wedge the door closed before he follows the others down the stairs.

Of course, if the approaching monster brushes the door open before he can do that, he will abandon the effort and retreat downstairs immediately, or if it is just a tentacle reaching through the doorway he will take the opportunity to lop it off instead.