Nemble and Doc had arrived at the city of healing nearly a week ago.  Not great friends yet, but growing into a comfortable bond of comrades at arms.  They had completely different experiences during the week, though both had noted, with minor interest, the arrival of four dwarven ponies, carrying what looked like, a rather attractive human woman, a man in robes who seemed cloaked in shadow, and two other men draped over their mounts who most likely were dead.

Doc, who had many, many years ago, before he'd become a full time world traveler, had spent a few months in the Crag.  As a dwarf, none to fond of most kinds of wild magic, he was fascinated by the houses of healing that used no magic at all.  Herbs, salves of minerals, logic, stitching up cuts, doctoring they'd called it, houses known as hospitals.  He'd studied a bit, and this was like coming home.  A few of the older races and faces still were there, and remembered him.  He'd used what he'd learned on the "job" and was quickly invited to share his knowledge, his improvements.

Nemble, was not so lucky.  Having come as a patient, with a ruined withered stump of a hand, that no magic could cure, he was treated.  First, the doctors made a salt and mud cast of his good hand.  Then, they formed a mold of it inside a steel ball, and then, cut his stump off at the wrist (it didn't hurt but it was horrible to watch), they attached the steel mold to his stump (filled with some putty).  It was like walking around with an itchy, slightly painful metal ball on your wrist for a week.

Inas, Marissa, Saliq and Rath spent the first day recovering, learning that Ingelbern had some nasty poisionous stinger removed from his spine, and yet remained nearly mad.  Durien, the doorwarden of the Wizards Guild, had little insight to give them other than to arrange them to be tested and find none of them had been "stung".

Marissa though seemed fascinated by Peryn, and the gardens, and spent much time there, meditating.  The night of the second day, over drinks, she announced that as a member of the Royal family, her life must be dedicated to the survival of Stormhaven, whatever the cost.  That night, she dedicated herself to Peryn in hopes of a clue to healing Ingelbern, and perhaps the Lord Mayor.

The next morning, she asked Inas about a dream she had.  A rabbit had died before her, and laid there, gasping its last breathe, then its eyes had gone flat.  Moments passed, and then, fleas, ticks, and even a burrowing worm had fled the dead body.  Inas confirmed, in his matter of fact way, that parasites that feed off a live body, leave when its dead, they know immediately their "food source" is done.

And so it was that Marissa convinced the doctors to kill Ingelbern, just for a little while, and sure enough, a half dozen little living "stingers" crawled out through his skin. And so,he was revived, he was likely healed.  The cost, Marissa retired from adventuring, to enter into a year of study under Peryn's tutalage.  A fair trade indeed.

It was on this same day, that the doctors, removed the mold from Nemble's arm.  They had been cautious and warned it might not work, or might have side effects, it was bit experimental.  After all, using hydra and troll blood to reform a hand, well. Who knows. When they removed the mold, a perfect and usable hand remained, just the right size, and perfect other than a few scales along the back of the hand.

In the tavern of Clouds Perch, one of the only Inn's in town, and the ONLY decent tavern, five lone travellers in a city of healers sit and order drinks.  Nemble and Doc are celebrating his new hand, what a day to be alive in Peryn's Crag.  Inas, Rath, and Saliq await a meeting in the morning with the recovering Ingelbern, perhaps to guide their next decisions, or unravel the mysteries they've been surrounded by.

Saliq sat down at the inn table. The illusionist still felt weak after his ordeal but he knew he was recovering and as pleasant as this city was he would be glad to be away.

He was a tall and lean man with sharp but not unpleasant features, olive skinned and dark of hair and eye with a trim and neatly groomed beard and moustache adding texture to an aristocratic face. His attire, a kaftan robe of blue and red and a red turban marked him as a son of the distant Empire of the Shifting Sands. As he reached across the table to pick up his ale his hands were visible, with long and dexterous fingers such as might be found in a musician or thief or perhaps a magician. His ring finger bore a ring and his belt a fine curved dagger in its sheathe.

'Gentlemen,' Saliq said to his friends. He raised his ale in toast. 'To our friend Marissa. Our loss is Peryn's Crag's gain. May we adventure alongside her again some day.'

Taking a sup of his drink he sat it down and looked Inas and Rath. 'How are you feeling? I doubt I'm alone looking forward to be on the road again, noble as this place is.'

Across from Saliq, Rath straddled a chair and leaned with his elbows on the table. He was a tall, muscular young man -- not a young as he used to be! -- with a shock of curls on his head and a trimmed beard and mustache -- not as well-trimmed as Saliq's. Rath was accustomed to hanging out in taverns fully armed and armored, always expecting trouble, but here in Peryn's Crag he had peeled down to traveling clothes, a few bits of the lower layers of his armor, and functional dagger at his belt. Had Marissa been at the table, no doubt she would have made some jab about how good Rath could look when someone else shaved and dressed him, and that thought put a sour smirk on his face just as Saliq raised a toast to her.

Rath had torn through his breakfast, still in the habit of eating everything he could when it was available, since he never knew when his next meal might come, even though it had been a long time since he had survived hand-to-mouth like that. He had a bit of his breakfast stout remaining in his cup, and he lifted it to clink against Saliq's. "To Marissa. Still can't believe she picked to stay here instead to roughing it in the mud and blood with us lot." He said it like a joke, which meant he meant it, of course. He hit the empty cup back onto the table a little too forcefully.

"How do I feel?" Rath repeated. "Full of piss and vinegar, ready to rip a whatchamacallit from a golem's gizzard and feed it to whatever sent it after us." It was the one concrete goal that Rath could clearly identify. The mysteries and conspiracies left him dizzy and with a bellyache.  And it was bravado, of course. The golem had smacked him down and left him for dead. Nothing indicated a second encounter would end any differently.

Rathmus had four small items on the table in front of him, each strung on a winding of twine or chain: a rustic, wooden badge of Pelor in the shape of the Sun, painted blue and badly gilded around the edges; the lucky/unlucky coin of fortune, symbol of Avandra; a spiral shell, now cracked, the token of what Rath owed to Melora; and, finally, an odd device -- a dial with a spinning needle. The compass drew Rath's attention, and he rarely went an hour without examining it.

Just a few tables over, Nemble was just finishing his evening supper.  Given that Peryn's Crag was home to so many of the First Folk, his presence — like his appearance — were relatively unremarkable.  Still, though, it wasn't too hard to see that he was a visitor.

He wore loose fitting, traveling apparel.  A dark cloak with a voluminous hood sat folded upon a seat next to him ... as did a small, but finely crafted short sword.

What little hair he did maintain on his head had gone shock white years ago.  A crumpled, well-worn cap covered most of his bald pate.  His weather lined face telling of untold days and weeks spent on the trail. Like most gnomes, he was of an indeterminate age ... well into his hundreds, quite probably.   His beard was well-trimmed and he had a bushy mustache that comically accentuated almost every movement he made with his mouth.

On his recently regrown right hand, he wore a supple, black leather glove.  Every so often, he would flex and unflex his hand a few times ... as if pained by arthritis.  It wasn't actually the case — arthritis, that is — the hand actually felt great.  Rather, it was that it was even a hand there in the first place.  It was still taking some getting used to, for Nemble had lived without it for some time.

Rising from his seat, Nemble walked over to join the table with the two men.

"Greetings."  He said warmly, a broad smile — or at least what passed for a smile when hidden beneath his massive mustache — spreading upon his face.

"Fellow adventurers, I take it?"   He continued, indicating one of the empty seats with a dip of his head.  "What brings you to Peryn's Crag, if I may ask."

He held up his gloved hand, continuing on in a blather of words even though he had just asked a question.  He was a talker, this one.

"A new hand, myself.  Good as new, I say.  Better, even.  Lost it in a foul dungeon some years ago ... had to make due with just the one.  But no longer, praise the gods."

He leaned in conspiratorially.  "That means I'm twice as good, now."

"Nemble's the name."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:00, Sat 18 Apr 2020.

Inas sits and drinks, quietly enjoying the time with his companions if not the setting.  As usual, although he does not appear heavily geared he also appears prepared to depart immediately from the tavern to the wilds.  Indeed, despite the occasion he carries his bastard sword at his side and his composite bow leans against the table.

He wears a well-crafted, hooded cloak.  The hood is pulled over his head and obscures much of his face.  Occasionally, when viewed at just the right angle, one can see that portions of his face are scarred.  The scars do not appear to be cuts or punctures or other results of combat; it as if portions of his face were once badly burned.  While the overall effect is . . . well, "not horrific," and he looks relatively "normal," still he seems to prefer to hide in his cloak's hood.

He states plainly his relief that Rath and Saliq are on the mend.  "I confess that I was quite doubtful of our ability to do anything to help you.  I am glad that we were able to get you to this wondrous place."  As a feeble attempt at humor, the ranger picks up his mug, says "Please don't let it happen again," and takes a drink.

After putting down his mug, Inas addresses Marissa's departure.  "Marissa . . . will be missed.  Greatly.  Still, I am happy for her, as she seems to have found her calling.  At least for now; hopefully our paths will cross again."

________________________________

When the gnome approaches the trio, Inas merely shifts his eyes to take in the stranger as the avalanche of words pours forth.  At first he doesn't say anything, hoping (and expecting) Saliq or Rath to say something.  When they don't do so immediately, Inas ventures:

"Twice as good at what?"

"A little of this, a little of that." Nemble acknowledged with mock-humbleness.  "There isn't a fortress built that can keep its treasures from old Nemble."

Saliq smiled ruefully at Inas's joke about not getting injured again. 'Believe me my friend I intend to stay as hale and hearty as possible.'

The arrival of Nemble and his introduction warranted a surprised raised eyebrow and then a smile from Saliq. Something about the gnome reminded Saliq of Ben even if he lacked the much missed thief's distinctive odour.

'Greetings Nemble, take a seat. You guess correctly we are adventurers even if it seems adventure seeks us out as frequently as vice versa which is why we are here; recovering. I am Saliq, this is Rath and this is Inas.'


He took a draught of his ale before continuing. 'So... am I to guess you are looking to apply your old skills?' Saliq's question was not said with any condemnation. If anything there was a touch of humour to his tone.

"Aye,"  Nemble nodded.  "Replacing this old hand of mine really set me back.  It's time to start rebuilding the old Nemble fortune."

"For the love ov all tha's holy!  Nemble?  What in the unlimited number of hells did I tell you about drinking while you're healing?"  The thick dwarven voice rumbled ahead of the squat fellow that followed.  Built like a barrel under leathers belted to him with more pouches than he could possibly need, Doc stood just a hair over four feet tall and probably weighed close to eleven and a half stone.  His chestnut beard was well maintained but his fingertips were well stained with ink, and maybe sap.  "Do you want new hand of yours to get rot?"

As he walked over to join Nemble and his new companions, he shifted his cloak to the side and deftly lashed it into place with a fluid motion.  It looked like a sashling when it was done.  You could see there was immense strength in his dwarven frame.  Years of toil likely chiseled him from stone like most dwarves.  "Sorry folks, Nemble here is on the mend.  He's not supposed to be drinking until he gets the all clear."  Doc grabbed up a nearby chair, that wasn't being used, as if it was a feather and placed it next to Nemble's.  Then he shifted his hammer so he could better sit.

That hammer looked like it was the kind used in a forge.  Not some overly ornate thing adorned and bejeweled to be envied by every warrior that saw it.  No, this was a simple trade tool for sure.  "Nice to meet you all, sorry for the interruption.  My name's Doc.  I lament the news of your folk.  Never a sunny day when a companion falls.  No matter the reason."

He motioned for the server and offered a round to those at the table on his tab, except Nemble.  "So, since I've so rudely interrupted your conversation and perhaps mourning ... how can I make it up to you?"

"Ah, Doc." Nemble replied, grinning at the chastising — it hadn't been the first time Nemble had broken the rules ... nor likely the last.

"So glad you could join us."  The small gnome went 'round the table and relayed the party's names to the dwarf.

"We're not dead yet, Doc," Rath said with a glowering smirk. He crossed his arms. "What've you heard?" Rath was now on edge and suspicious. At the Crag, his guard had been down and maybe Rath -- or all of them, really -- had been talking too openly about the circumstances that brought them here.

The dwarf seemed gregarious and talkative. He was no Norion, that was certain. Rath had taken Norion as the typical for his race. This Doc character threw those assumptions out the window.

Doc shook his head and was about to speak when an older gentleman came up and tapped him on the shoulder.  The codger had what looked like a broken pinky finger he was cradling.  "Sorry to interrupt, but my boy missed the shoe again.  Do you mind?"  Doc held up a finger to the group at the table as if to ask for a moment's pardon.  "Sure thing old guy."  He took a few things from pockets, a bit of waxed twine, a small metal stick, and some dark green gunk that smelled bad in a small tin.  He applied the gunk, straightened the finger, put the metal next to it, and lashed it in place next to the nearest finger in a matter of moments.  The old man winced initially but seemed pleased with the outcome and wandered off.

Turning back to Aldo, Doc remarked, "Oh, I'm sorry I thought you lot were the ones who brought in one of your team and laid them to rest."  He looked a bit ashamed, "My bad, humans tend to all look the same to me...and my memory isn't what it was once."  Shrugging he offered a warm apology and a smile that seemed to be genuine.  "I'll get the next round too for that mistake."  He nodded again to the server.

The crag isn't on the way to anywhere.  Tucked between the great forest and its denizens, and the Iron Mountains, where a great horde of the dwarven empire lives, it isn't a place traveled to casually.  It is...a destination.  One known for healing, and nothing else.  Thus, it is not unusual that the five adventurers find themselves having several rounds of drink and food in one of the few Inn taverns in the whole of the town with no other visitors.

As the third round of drinks is set down, the door opens and a woman of striking beauty enters.  Wearing long close fitting green robes, her raven hair braided back, and a single silver tiara with an emerald stone adorns her forehead.  Even Inas, Saliq, and Rath do a double take before they recognize their warrior priestess.

Walking up to the table, she pulls up a chair, and borrows Rath's drink, taking a deep drink.  She looks much younger.

"I've been sitting with Ingelbern, he is doing much better and bids you all well.  He has asked me to request your presence, not just in the morning, but before the sun rises tomorrow morning.  He requests you come ready to travel.  He wants you to leave Peryn's Crag before sunrise tomorrow, but wants to wish your journey well.  May I set his mind at ease on this point?".   

'You can Marissa,' Saliq said. The illusionist looked at their friend in surprise and relief, perhaps mingled with uncertainty. 'You look different. I assume you will still be staying here?'

He gestured around meaning not just the inn but Peryn's Crag. 'Can you at least share a drink with us and our new friends? This is Nemble and this is Doc.'

Marissa smiles at the master illusionist, "Several drinks.  And yes, though I will really miss our adventures, my heart and my faith is strongly telling me I belong here, I need to be here for some reason.  At least for a little while.  I'll be back to Stormhaven when the time is right and will certainly let you know when I return."

"Ah yes, Doc, they speak highly of you in medicine halls,  and Nemble, the man with the new hand..." she raises an eyebrow in his direction, at his hand, "...may I?"  In a straightforward request to see the newly formed hand.

"If you have any plans to travel with these friends of mine, I can tell you, you'll never find braver, smarter, or more talented companions.  Great wealth seems to fall into their laps, however, be warned, trouble follows them around like a determined hound.  And right now, they seem to have a few rather daunting tasks before them." 

Nemble considered the request for a moment before acquiescing.  It wouldn't do to start a relationship with any sort of obfuscation or secrets, he decided.

"Erm, yes."  He said, uncharacteristically quiet.  "Of course."

He removed the black leather glove and set it on the table, leaving the whole table to see his newly grown hand.  Midway down his forearm, the skin transitioned from an earthy, walnut brown to a sickly grayish green ... as if he were a potter that had dipped his arm in a clay slurry of some sort.  Along the back of his hand, the rubbery flesh had formed into scaled plaques, and the nails were more than a bit unsettling.  Not claws per se, but the monstrous mien was unmistakable.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:18, Tue 21 Apr 2020.

"It was a trapped chest that had done it."  He said, recounting the tale of how he had lost the hand in the first place.  "Lightning magic."


"After it got me, I knew I was in trouble.  Scorched the end black, it did."


This message was last edited by the player at 01:26, Tue 21 Apr 2020.

Rath opened his mouth to make a snide remark to Marissa, but then he thought better of it and gave her a good, solid stare before figuring it out. She was telling him that maybe he could trust these two as companions. That sure wasn't a conclusion Rath would've come to on his own, but Marissa was a better judge of character than Rath ever would be. That she held Rath in high regard was a perplexing exception to her insight, but whatever.

"Before dawn, eh?" Rath grumbled. "Right, then. I just hope old Ingleborn has some wise words of direction for us, or all this was a wasted trip."

He eyed Nemble's exposed hand openly but he didn't say anything.

Marissa is true to her word and stay for several rounds of drinks.  She is amazed by Nemble's hand, commenting that it was done without the use of magic, a feat she did not believe possible until coming to the Crag.

As darkness falls, Marissa says her farewells, leaving the five men to themselves.

Rath, who has watched at the strange compass over the last few days, noting it has seemed to always point rather Southwest, back towards the great forest or the sea beyond with little fluctuations, glances at it now, it is pointing near due South.

It wouldn't seem that noteworthy, but by chance, or otherwise, moments after he notices this change in position, a deep rumble runs through the tavern, through whole town, followed by several more.  Not enough to damage buildings, but it rattles the plates and glasses on the tables.

It over quick as it began, and the town settles back to quiet, although a few of the acolytes do come round checking for anything that might seem amiss.  Enough of a sign it happened all over the whole town.

And enough of a sign that it is not a typical occurrence.

Inas stops one of the passing acolytes and asks: "Has that happened before?"

If the answer is in the affirmative he inquires further, asking when they started, how often they occur, whether they are occurring more or less often or with more or less intensity, and other such questions.

The acolyte says that it has not occurred before, and they are not sure what it was, perhaps a minor earthquake.

'Perhaps we'll get answers when we speak to Ingleborn?' Saliq muses. 'I have a feeling this is all connected.'

Inas sighs.  "It usually is."

"Curiouser and curiouser."  Nemble intoned.  Nodding as if impressed.  For Nemble, the whole of life was a grand adventure, and if he saw ill omen in the tremors he did not show it.

"Marissa had the right of it, I reckon ... trouble follows you like a cloud."

Rath got to his feet as soon as the rumbling stopped. He drew Saliq's attention to the compass. "It shifted. South now. Something's on the move." He headed for the door. "I'm going to gear up. You know, in the unlikely event of trouble."


Rath made his way quickly, at a near-run, to his quarters to grab armor and weapons, vowing to never, never have a meal at a tavern without full armor ever again.

Despite the moment of tension, all grows quiet and the night passes along in relative peace.  As the night grows deeper, several groups of men and women, those who work in the various houses of healing, come to the inn for their dinners and drinks, making it seem more of a normal inn.

ooc: My next post will move to the next morning, if you wish to converse more, please do, otherwise, onward we go.

'Trouble is exactly the right word,' Saliq noted, smiling ruefully. He looked at Doc and Nemble and offered his own hand to shake.

'If you gentlemen wish to accompany us then we could always use those with skills and courage. I should warn you though there will be plenty of chance of danger... and even more chance of weirdness. We rarely seem to face simple threats.'

OOC: Quite happen to move on to the morning if we are all ready.

Doc spends a few getting ready before he joins back up with the others.  He carries with him a satchel of traveling gear to aid him in his "medicine" while on the road.  Otherwise, he looks much like he did when the group was getting to know each other over drinks.

Inas doesn't react to Rath's consternation over his state of readiness.  He simply finishes his last drink and goes outside.


OOC: Advancing the action is fine with me.

Way too early the next morning, after a half decent nights rest, Mallach arrives to bring the five men together for a very short breakfast, biscuits, coffee, honey, and milk.  Fully ready to travel you leave the Inn and travel to one of the Houses of Healing.   Peryn's Crag is awake, even at this hour, healing is a round the clock job, so the town does get quieter at night but does not shut down.

Led inside one of the larger houses, through a few hallways, you arrive at Ingelbern's room.

He looks slightly ashen, but is awake, and his eyes are clear.


"It is good to see old friends....and new ones.  Marissa spent several hours filling me in on what's been going on with you and at home, I am glad you are here, I've written a letter for you to take and read, sometime before you return to Stormhaven, there is no rush, it is not your current worry.  I can't answer all the strange things that have come to you, but I will give you my advice, which Marissa says you came to find."

He takes a few moments gathering his breathe.  "Ogre's aren't dumb brutes as we suppose, and their Magi, can be strangely powerful.  You've made a dire enemy of one, and by odd fate, it's gained pages of a dark magic book to swell its power.  It's attack by the Vrock's on all of Stormhaven show its a danger to all we both care about.  It may rankle to help a Mindflayer, but stopping that Magi, well, that is my advice, that first, the rest can wait".

Saliq exchanged glances with his companions before turning back to Ingelbern. The illusionist had made scant secret of his unhappiness with working with the Mindflayers but they were clearly committed now.

'So this ogre magi is behind the golem?'

Rath arrived for breakfast fully ready for travel, armed, armored, his gear clean and carefully packed. His armor was well-kept and polished to a shine, more a reflection of its enchantments than Rath's care. The warrior was dark-eyed and somber, but the coffee and biscuits had brought a light to his eyes. He carried an extra mug from the Inn, but it was empty before they reached the House of Healing, and he found an inconspicuous place to set down the empty vessel.

Now, in Inglebern's room, Rath secured the letter in a safe place deep within his pack. He consulted the compass.

"Maybe, maybe not, but he's powered up with the flayer scroll and coming for us. Guessing that quake last night ain't unrelated. This thing points to the scrolls, and it shifted position. Now, I'm usually one to face things head on. But I'm not the smartest, so if you have a better plan than heading out to meet it -- and I hope to the gods that you do, 'cause that's a horrible plan -- then I'm all ears."

Nemble followed along with the group, remaining silent as Inglebern informed the group about the ogre magi.

"Flayer Scroll?"  He intoned.  "Seems ominous."

"I'm lost.  I gather that stopping this ogre magi is a good thing for Stormhaven ... but how does it help a mindflayer?"

Rath shrugged. "The ogre has an ax to grind. With us. And it seems to think we have a fondness for Stormhaven, so ... yeah, the city's in danger. As for the scroll." Rath looked for any sign from Saliq that he should shut up now. "As for the scrolls, they're pages from some unholy tome the mind flayers are fond of, grant great powers, and we've been promised immunity from flayer influence in exchange for getting the damned things back."

Ingelbern looks to Saliq,

"I am no fortune teller, but from what Marissa told me, Durien and spent a good deal of time discussing this last night and I'd bet the Ogre Magi is the creator of that golem.  He clearly used one page from the book to summon that horde of Vrock Demons that assailed the city, the mindflayer recovered that page buried in the center of that pentagram.  And you found evidence the Magi was camped near the pentagram.  So that makes sense.   He still has five pages, and if I'm right, they are now as much an influence on him as he is on them.  Evil objects like that tend to have a will of their own.  I doubt even Master Azuth knows how or has the power to create a Vengeance Golem, seems likely that knowledge and power comes from scrolls or missing pages."

He looks a little worried when he answers Rath,  "Well, yes, I was going to suggest you track down and remove the page from that Golem, if legends are true, once the page is removed, the thing will lead you straight back to its creator before it crumbles.  It shouldn't be hard to track, you know where it attacked you, and even without a master Ranger, it probably leaves an easy trail to follow". 

"That's an awesome plan," Rath growled. "I'm in."

Saliq smiled ruefully at Rath's answer. 'I thought you might be my friend.'

The illusionist let out a long sigh. 'I won't lie, I hate the thought of working with or for the mind flayers but it seems we have no option. Ingelbern raises another problem though; should we find the book how do we protect it influencing us too?'

"I think there's another fundamental problem.  From what we've been told . . . how does one get the page from the golem?  It sounds impossible a word I don't use lightly."

"From what I gather, golems of any sort are nigh-impossible to kill."  Nemble said.  "I don't think that this is a problem for blades or might.  A keen wit and magic will be the key that unlocks this particular puzzle."

He raised a black-gloved finger as he counted off — what the gnome obviously thought were — salient points.

"What,"  He asked rhetorically.  "Does a golem do?"

"The answer my friends ... is whatever it's told.  You just have to be the one that controls the thing.  Perhaps there is a way to wrest control away from the creator?"

"Secondly, what is it that a vengeance golem does?" He paused here for dramatic effect.

"In a word, it hates.  Purely.  Viciously, and without depth or measure."  He said, leaning in and resting both hands on the table now.  "There is only one force powerful enough to counter hate ... and that is forgiveness."

Nemble continued, outlining his plan as if it were the simplest thing in the world.  "We must get the vengeance golem to forgive us, wrest control from its master, and then ask it to open its mouth ... when it does, we simply reach in and the paper is ours."

As the idea hung on the air, it was no longer hard to imagine how the adventurous gnome has lost a limb and found his way to Peryn's Crag.

"Of course,"  He admitted.  "The real trick will be staying alive long enough to pull something like this off.  I imagine something like this needs to be done up close and personal-like."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:54, Thu 30 Apr 2020.

"Or maybe we can get it to turn its vengeance inward, use that hate to our advantage.  Could a golem — sufficiently motivated — defeat itself, I wonder?  Tear itself apart if it wanted to?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:55, Thu 30 Apr 2020.

Inas looks at Nemble, but the ranger is silent and his inscrutable eyes provide no insight into what he thinks of the gnome's words.

Ingelbern chuckles at the talk of plans,  but adds simply,

"If anyone can find a way, I'm sure it is you all."

"The Ogre Mage part seems fairly straight forward, even with the complication of the flayers, that fits it as well.  The part I still can't fathom is the staged assassination of the Lord Mayor.  That is still a mystery, but one I plan to investigate when I return home.  For now, your enemy is out there, plotting who knows what next, the sooner you end that particular threat, the safer we all will be. And so, once again, as the true Seneschal to Lord Mayor Thyrandas III, I must enlist your help for the sake of fair city.  If you will do this, go now and may providence guide your actions".

Unlike Inas, Rath's reaction to Nemble was completely scrutable. He nearly smirked and choked down a laugh. "Forgiveness? I'd settle for disinterest. In my book, that a mite more powerful and a hell of lot more likley. But if it takes a keen wit and magic, well, Musfara has that covered. I'm just not sure that magic worked so well on this golem."

Rath took a deep breath. "Anyway, we got five of us and two hands each, for the moment. That gives us ten tries to reach into the mouth to grab the scroll, whether that thing forgives us or not." He had his compass in hand. "Shall we hit the road, or do you all want to confer on tactics first?"

'We were told we should be on our way before sunrise,' Saliq reminded the others. 'I think we should be on our way and confer tactics en route. Remember our enemy can move too.'

The illusionist had winced at Rath's reminder that magic had accomplished little the last time but said nothing about that.

There seems little left to learn or do, Peryn's Crag has done what it does, healed the un-healable, and in exchange, learned more about its craft.

With the usual misgivings and excitement of setting off on a mission, the party gathers their belongings, and makes their way slowly down and out of the city on a Crag.

Near the exit, Marissa is waiting for them.  She hugs everyone, even the new gnome and dwarf, warmly.  She gives each member of the party a vial,

"Peryn made these for you, they are for healing.  Good luck and if you return to Stormhaven ahead of me, send my love to my Mother..." winking to Saliq, she adds, "not too much love.  And if you run into Astral, please let her know where I am".
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:55, Sun 03 May 2020.

"We'll see you soon enough, when we get our asses handed and we come crawling back here so you can reattach 'em." He returned Marissa's hug and said more quietly, "Take care, my friend."

To the others: "Compass points that way. Let's walk and talk, folks." And he left Peryn's Crag without looking back.

Nemble returned the hugs from Marissa, eager to be off on an adventure.  He briefly had looked into atonement ... but, as it was a divine spell and not arcane ... it was beyond his meager understanding.

Saliq laughed at Marissa's words, but the illusionist looked sad too to be leaving. After his own hug he smiled sadly and told the warrioress: 'Sehanine look over you Marissa.'

Then he turned and followed Rath.

Slightly before sunrise, the party moves out of Peryn's Crag, and heads south along the dwarven roads that led them to the place.  For the first half of the day, as the sun rises, it is a simple path but soon enough, the road turns to that which dwarven hands have hewn. A fine, smooth and will maintained road.  It follows in the deep shadows of the great peaks of the Iron Mountains.  One of the few huge and deep homes of the dwarves.  Though Doc's home is far away, he has long known of his cousins in the Iron Mountains.

The Great Forest to the right, the great mountains to the left, the party hikes and talks, the weather is good and it feels good to stretch the legs, to move and be doing something. Inas and Marissa passed this way on ponies before, so it seems longer by foot, but as the sun begins to fall, the territory looks familiar, it wasn't far beyond this that the attack took place.  You could push on into the twilight to the point of attack, or camp out and see the place in early dawn.

"Dawn seems safer.  Could send a scout ahead."

He pulls out a feather, and looks to the others to see their thoughts.

'Inas is our outdoorsman,' Saliq informed the newcomers Nemble and 'Doc'. 'If he says it's safer I'm inclined to agree. Whoever we send out ahead I can use my magic to make invisble. It might not help against the golem if it is still around but it can't hurt.'

Inas smiles at the compliment.  "Actually, I was thinking of aerial reconnaissance.  Something natural and therefore easily dismissed."

By the time Inas is done explaining, a serpentine owl appears; it circles and then follows a path ahead.

On Inas' suggestion, the party makes camp, a bit off from the dwarven highway.  The owl scout's ahead to the point of the previous battle, if you could call it that, with the Golem.  Other than some trees that were knocked down as it moved in for the attack, all is quiet there and in the surrounding area, no sign of the Golem or other foes.

The night is peaceful enough and hours go by allowing those not on watch to sleep.  It is deep into the dark of night that Durnin and Rath notice lights far out into the forest.  Eight to ten of them, moving quickly in a line through the woods, perhaps lanterns.  They are moving parallel to the highway and heading South. They are silent and moving quickly from the looks of it.

Upon personally seeing or being told about the travelers (whichever the case may be), Inas directs his owl to fly to the party's camp until it also sees them -- and then directs it to follow them.

Nemble helped where he could as the party set camp, before settling down by the fire.  It felt good to be out and about in the wild, natural places of the land again.  Gnomes were — by and large — an outdoorsy people, preferring their above-and-below ground homes to be in areas of unspoiled wilderness.

As the party members awaken to word of the strange lights, Inas again calls on his owl to take flight.  The bird sees through dark nearly as well as in light, moves nearly silent in its flight, and can hear a mouse scrabbling about from 60 yards away.  In no time, it locates the line of deer moving through the woods, each with several tiny figures riding on their backs. They look like tiny goblins, having spears and bows, long noses and wrinkled skin.  Even from a distance one of them turns and looks towards the owl and says something. A second later, Inas loses his connection to the owl.

The normally implacable  ranger is clearly concerned.  "I've lost my connection to the owl!"

He grabs his things, clearly intent on pursuit.

“Nine hells!”  Nemble cursed, rousing the others.  He grabbed his weapons and following Inas.

Saliq blinks, murmurs something in his native Zandaran and runs after his companions.

Rath joined the others, of course, perhaps several strides behind them as he gathered the essentials.

Inas leads the party directly to where he lost contact with his scout. Worried for the owl. The others, spread out behind him, working on arming themselves, or looking for safe attack angles, strapping on armor, waking up, adjusting to the dark woods.

Inas pulls up when he finds a cloth bag hanging down from a limb,  a note in a form of elvish, on parchment is attached to the bag, hard to read but basically saying, "Our forest, stay away, no spies!!!".

Inside the bag is the owl, alive, but asleep.

Inas can't help but grin.  A little.

He wakes the owl but does not send it aloft.  Instead, he looks fo rtracks -- knowing full well that they may be impossible to find given who is tracking.  Still he tries.

When the others arrive, he says: "I know they've warned us, but I can't help but think that as between as and what we pursue, the elves of this forest would prefer us.  And they could be formidable allies -- if we can find them."

Inas easily finds the tracks of a herd of small deer nearby but their is no longer any sign of the them or the lights seen before.

'I agree,' Saliq replies. The illusionist whispers a few words in the strange and subtle language of magic. As he did so he looked carefully around the area, as if looking for something only he could see.

---

OOC: Saliq casts Detect Magic.

Saliq is dazzled by what he sees, its like every other thing in the forest radiates some kind of magic, it clings to the edges of bark, leaves, small lights that were invisible to the eye are dancing through the dark forest in all directions, like a million fireflies, but only visible to his spell.

Having been seen, they seem to know it, and several of the larger ones, nearly an inch in height, fly up very close to Saliq, to every one else, it appears three small light materialize and float up to Saliq, to Saliq, he sees two tiny men with wings, and one lady with wings.

The speak as one voice, light but detectable in the quiet forest.

"Mortals shouldn't wander about the forest, things here might hurt you, by choice or by accident, besides the others will be pranking your campsite by now...." they giggle at that.

Nemble's eyes widened when he saw the firefly lights approach Saliq.  Gnomes were a woodland people, and some of the ways of the Fey folk were known to them.

"The tall ones speak true."  Nemble said.  "'Tis allies we seek, not enemies."

"An exchange of gifts, perhaps?"  The gnome offered, uncertain which customs and ceremonies the fairy folk held dear.  "Or oaths?"

"To show that our intentions — and our actions while within your wood — are pure."

At Nimble's words, there are multiple flashes around the party, and the three lights near Saliq become visible in their tiny forms to everyone.  The girl, flies over near Nimble, and says,

"Aren't you cute....You seem to know of us, we love to trade, and trade oaths...but you should not do that, we will try to trick you, hold you to words you did not mean to say, even the best of us are tempted to that, the worst of us...are worse than what you come here to seek."

'By the moon goddess it is an honour to meet you noble fey folk,' Saliq said. He smiled. 'My friend the gnome has been suggested wisely. Perhaps simply a exchange of stories or of magic? We have seen much and done much.'

Inas had some experience with fey; some good, some bad.  But if that experience has taught him one thing it is this: he has no special talent or insight that will help produce a positive outcome.

Plus, in such dealings, more voices is rarely better.

So he lets Saliq and Nemble take the laboring oar(s).

The three fey, giggle delightedly, "A knight of the Dream, offers a story, we could not resist if we wished it.", they fly up together for a moment in quick conference, "A story of whimsy, or portent?" They ask.  Without waiting for the answer, they say,  "You begin...after you've each taken a turn, we will take ours"

Rath was wary.

And, for the moment, silent.

Saliq strokes his trim beard thoughtfully. 'Well there was the time a half-dragon, half-basilisk turned me to stone. Or the time we became guardians of a baby dragon. Or when we confronted a giant snake made out of wooden blocks. Or our journey through Dream, though it seems you have heard of that. But perhaps I should begin at the beginning. It was an evening when a young man named Lhosof walked into a tavern with a gleam in his eyes and a sack full of gold...'

As he drew into the story of the adventurers first expedition into the Gaping Maw the illusionist laced his words with the language of magic and drew strange sigils in the air with his fingers. A group of adventurers appeared on their first quest, Saliq and Ben and Norion and Eagle and others now forgotten. As he spoke of the sewers the air became crowded with the scurry of rats, as he told of the battle with the goblins their leering forms appeared from behind trees only to vanish into blue mist at a gesture. Ga appeared, as ugly as in life and engages in a duel of wills with Saliq, as he once did so long ago before his final defeat. The epic story climaxes in triumph... then turns to comedy as the adventurers slip and slide across the forest floor trying to capture the escaped boggle Khreev-dag.

By the time Saliq has finished his tale, a thousand tiny lights dress the trees in the surrounding woods.  Almost silent during the telling, although at one point, there is a gasp.  When he is done, for many moments there is silence.  Then, the three fly over near to the master illusionist.

"Your magic is different than ours but quite beautiful.  A story full of memory, pride, excitement, loss, and sadness as well.  A real story, it deserves as much. anyone else before we start??".

Inas shifts a little closer to Saliq; more as a show of solidarity than in an attempt to protect him.  Clearly, he's not going to try to contribute anything.

Nemble leaned in, fascinated by the illusionary story that Saliq wove in the air.

"I had no idea."  He said with admiration, as the wizard finished his tale.  "Quite the adventure."

He spared a glance to his recently un-maimed hand, contemplated sharing that story ... but opted against it.  Instead, he turned toward the assemblage of fair folk and awaited their contribution.

Rath had a story, but it wasn't a story to tell. If the fey-folk strapped him down and started pulling out his teeth, he might tell it.

Given the quiet response, the three fey tell their story.  As they begin describing a forest with an open space where the moon shines down onto the smooth forest floor.  There, a single seed takes root.  The words seem to fade and a picture forms in your minds, as if you are seeing it, or dreaming it.  The seasons change and the seed puts forth a sprout, which grows, and grows.  Seasons rush by, the sprout grows into a small sapling that is nearly killed by drought, nibbled by deer, whipped by wind and snow, goes dormant and returns to life each spring.  Decades pass and it grows large and strong, putting off great branches of thick leaves.  Small faeries move into it and begin making it their home, as do many birds and squirrels, insects and all manner of creature.   Years and years pass and you notice there are several leaves that have turned brown, the rest are still green, but the faeries gather around the dark leaves. Concern on their faces.  They later gather near the tree and perform a ceremony, small lights rise up and vanish into the air, heading off in all directions.   As the weeks pass, the brown creeps deeper into the branches, and one affected branch snaps off in the wind, to dangle and twist.  It is yet another week gone past when a great bird flies down to land in the tree.

An Eagle!  It inspects the tree before using its great claws to pull the broken limb free and then flying down to the ground, and there transforming into a brown robed man, one Saliq, Inas, and Rath recognize, though he looks older and more worn about the edges.  Again, you hear a gasp from the many fey in attendance.  The Great Druid lays a hand upon the tree, and gold light flows into it.  Several of the brown leaves fall to the ground, but mostly return to green.  The tree is healed.

As the images fade, the say, "As you can see, we are already allied".

'Truly your magic is a thing of beauty and wonder noble fey,' Saliq said, acknowledging the three tiny beings before him with a nod of his head. He smiled. 'It is an honour. I imagine no dull witted orc or greedy brigand would last long against your skills. And it is good to know our friend is your friend.'

"We were surprised when he appeared in your own story, but we cannot claim him as a friend, we commonly protect these woods, and so are allied, but we can't really imagine he has any friends.  Now, we continue the story....".

The sun rises, its a warm morning, and it gets uncomfortable sleeping through it.  Yawns follow dry mouths, and tugging needs to visit a bush and relieve the pressure building on bladders.  No one is on guard, but everyone is well rested.  It hours past sunrise.

"Shit," Rathmus muttered, rousing the others even if they were already starting to open their eyes. "Saliq. Inas. Get up." He staggered to his feet. "Nemble. Cragspire. We slept."

Rath quickly checked his gear, to see if he was missing anything, and then he hustled off to take a pee before doing more to figure out their situation and what to do next.

A quick check of the camp finds very little different about it.  There are few packs, or pouches with draw strings where the strings/latches have been tied shut with elaborate knots, but nothing is missing or damaged.

Breaking camp, it is a short trip to the sight of the golem attack.  It has been nearly a week since that day, so many of the signs of battle are already gone, but there are several large trees knocked to the ground where the monster emerged from the forest.

Inas scouts around for tracks and finds a lot of them, many deer tracks and other smaller footprints, perhaps the creatures who rode the deer,  they seem to range all over the place, as well as those of the golem.  It seemed to be in this area for some many days, as if going in circles.

Rath checks his compass and sees it is now facing south-east, directly towards the higher peaks of the Iron Mountains.

Inas sighs.

"Southeast, then?"

The leader in the wild, Inas' suggestion is about the only sensible one.  The party moves out and continues along the dwarven road that leads higher and higher into the side of the Iron Mountains.  Shortly after a short stop for a lunch, the entryway to higher roads comes into few.  Where there left it a week ago, it was an elegant archway guarded by rather casual dwarves.  Now, its rubble, and a dozen stout dwarves wearing heavy mail are guarding it.

Inas greets the dwarves.  Assuming the party is not attacked, his greeting includes the obvious question:

"What happened here?"

One the dwarves recognizes Inas from earlier in the week.

"Last night, jus' past dark, a big ugly giant came stompin' outta the trees and knocked our gate down like it was a toy.  Hurt a few of the guards too, but went straight up to the main road that runs through the Heart of the Mountain.  It tore down another gate on its way up there so, since it didn't seem to want to fight us, we jus' opened the rest of the gates and let it go.  We weren't 'aving any luck hurting it.   It entered the deep road, but it ne're come out tha' other side. Round midnight there was a minor quake, so we think the rock trolls might have stopped it".

Saliq frowned, less certain about the 'rock trolls'. Still no sense causing a panic.

'We have a little healing magic if your men need it,' he told the dwarf who had spoken up. 'We're trying to destroy that giant thing before it does anything worse.'

Nemble followed the dwarves' gaze as they mentioned the deep road.  Suppressing a shudder, he tried not to think of what a quake might have done to the stability of the caverns and tunnels within the mountain.

"It seems," He said. "The only way out is through."

"Ah, well, thank ya' fer the offer, but our healers are well on'it, tha' injuries were all from the crumbling of the gates, tha' damn thing ne're raised a hand to hurt any ov us, naught even to defend itself.  Course', we couldn't put a scratch on it.  Follow the midlin' roads that lead up to the great stairs, gotta' go up to the main entrance if you want to use the road through the heart ov the mountain.."

Doc was never one to dally with fae.  Nope.  That was something that never ended well.

However, when they met up with the others who'd been harrowed by the giant he wondered how things would proceed.  In time, his companions would learn more about him and why it was good that he was joining them on this hunt.  He just hoped that he didn't have to hurt the big guy.  Sometimes, very rarely, giants were just as intelligent as smaller folk.  But, most of the time they weren't and needed to be nudged in a more befitting way towards less populated areas, or put down.

"Glad to hear it.  But, if anyone as the worst of it and needs a hand...know it is offered."

Inas nods. "And tracking won't be hard."

From anyone else this might be thought to be a joke.  But Inas isn't smiling.

To say the dwarven mason's are masterful would be an insult.  As the party makes it way up through the steep mountain roads, finally coming to a long and very steep set of stairs, rising up the side of the great mountain, time and again their breath is taken by the artistry, sheer effort, and amazing views.

Doc, although not a native of the Iron Mountains, has visited their great Halls before.  The great city of the dwarves lies farther to the south, but all these roads, and the three highways that cut through the mountains to connect east and west are built for commerce.  You can spend weeks trying to go around the mountains, facing weather, dangers, delays, or cut through the mountain, in a safe and quick way, for a small fee of course.

The highway closest to the dwarven halls is called the starry road, the one to the north is known as the keyhole pass, and the one you are travelling is called the starless highway, it is the only one that crosses into the Heart of the Mountain.  A place of lore amongst dwarves, as being enchanted or haunted, depending on the story.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, your legs are feeling mighty jelly like, but as your crest the top and see a great entry with fifty foot statues on either side, images of a dwarf king and queen book ending a passage that is a full twenty feet high and wide.  The stairs end at a wide flat space, clearly there are other ways to arrive at this place, likely with horses and wagons as well.

There is but a single visible guard, who waves you over,  "Five gold each to pass through the Starless Highway.  Take all the time yeh want but dunna linger in the Heart, straight in and out ov that chamber if ya know wots good fer you!".

Saliq nodded. Not a cheap price exactly but they could afford it.

'Thank you master dwarf,' he said. 'Do many humans use this road?'

The guard looks a bit surprised by the question, or any question.

"Turmgal Steelhammer, ov tha' clan of steelhammers, forgive mah manners.  Too long at tha gate.  This road is mostly used bah humans and Sea-elves, the bounty of the sea doesn't last long, so ships docking full ov' bounty, moves thar' wares quickly this away to thar' customers inland..."

Rath strikes a rather casual stance and checks his compass, and sure it enough, it is pointing straight towards the entry to the mountain.   He hands over his five gold, and with a grim look, heads into the Starless Highway.

Twenty feet wide, smooth as glass on the bottom, with the top and sides just rough hewn, the road leads down rather steeply.   There is a single checkpoint about a hundred feet in, with just two guards, each standing next to a single lever.  They do not question you and simply wave you forward.  You see no gate, portcullis or other device, but surely the levers do something to shut down the passage if need be.

For the next mile, you move deeper and deeper into the mountain.  Occasionally there are passages to one side or the other, they are also 15 to 20 feet wide, but these are only 4 to 5 feet high.   Doc explains that most connecting tunnels in the dwarven kingdom are designed that way, easy for dwarves to fight in, miserable for taller foes.

The air remains fresh but grows warmer the further you go.  The passage slowly levels out, but it is unremarkable other than the endless darkness.  Without a light spell, the gloom would soon become unbearable.  After several more hours of walking, the passage ahead grows lighter, a deep red glow, and there is a low rumble that throbs through the stone.

Coming out of the tunnel, you enter a huge cavern, hundreds of feet across, with a single fourty foot wide fissure across the entire length of the room.  Straight ahead, a sturdy stone bridge crosses the fissure, and from below, is where the red glow and ebbing rumbling seems to eminate.   You can see on the far wall, the highway continues on the opposite side of the cavern.  This must be the heart of the mountain.

As you eyes adjust, you notice five large boulders just on the other side of the bridge, sitting on a raised mound of dirt.  One of the boulders stands up and turns your direction, it is generally humanoid, but as wide as it is tall, about eight feet of both! it just stands there unmoving.  As your eyes adjust to the new light, the creature comes into focus.

"Stone giant?  Golem?  Earth elemental?"  Doc looks to the others to see if anyone knows the answer.

'I don't know,' Saliq admitted. 'But probably not of dwarf make. As I'm sure I don't need to remind you Durnin dwarves are near incapable of not leaving their mark on stonework and this being seems a little crude to be such work.'

Of the five boulders, the one that stood and is looking your way was in the middle, as you talk to each other, it nods its head in a few quick motions, then dips its shoulders.  You feel vibrations run through the ground.  It repeats the movements, and the vibrations come again.

"It isn't rushing to attack us," Inas points out.

He puts his hand on the hilt of his sword but does not draw it, and takes one step forward.

"Living as they do in the heart of the mountain, it may be that they understand the dwarf-speech."  Nemble opined.

"Ho there, stone ones."  He called out in dwarven, taking a cautious step on to the stone bridge.

As the party moves closer to the bridge, the creature does not respond to attempts to talk to it, but you do get a look at the mound on which they are sitting and standing.  The mound, in fact, is familiar looking to Inas, Rath, and Saliq, not a mound so much as a Golem, flat on its back.  One of the stone creatures is sitting on its wrists, and ankles, the standing creature is on its chest.

The golem turns it ugly long toothed head up and on seeing the party approaching tries to move, but its pinned helplessly to the ground.

ooc: for those who missed the first encounter with the golem, you can find its description in Chapter 8: In the shadow of the mountains, msg#38 .
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:18, Fri 22 May 2020.

"I think we've found what caused the quakes."  Nemble said, stroking his finely manicured beard.  Then, his curiosity getting the better of him ... he advanced for a closer look.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:12, Fri 22 May 2020.

Doc moves and gives Nemble a nudge, "No time for fiddling old boy."  He helps keep the others on task as much as he can.

'I... I suppose the rock trolls are literally rocks,' Saliq said, his tones reflecting his surprise. 'Be unbelievably careful Nemble.'

Nemble cocked his head off to the side, listening in thoughtful contemplation for a moment.  If there had been a symphony, he could not have been more rapt.

"They may not speak the dwarf-speech,"  He said, calling attention to the swaying, bobbing movements of the rock creatures, and the low frequency droning hums that accompanied them.  "But I believe these rock trolls are communicating with us."

The gnome's bushy white eyebrows arched up sharply as an idea struck him.  "I have an idea."  He said as he reached into one of his pouches and withdrew a pinch of salt which he promptly placed on his tongue.

From another pouch, he retrieved a small blackened piece of wood from a recent campfire.  This he crushed until it was nothing more than a handful of sooty charcoal.  He ritually sprinkled the black dust in a line between the party and the stone brutes and intoned some words in an ancient tongue.

It's like listening to two voices talking at once:

behold beware// great strong evil
conquered // proud stronger tribe
not killed // frustrated curious

After a few moments, again it bobs its head and vibrations follow:

Understand / Groundlings talk

Saliq glanced at Nemble. 'Well done.'

To the rock trolls he said: 'Proud and mighty warriors we ask your help. We are tracking the creator of this evil to slay him,' The illusionist said, pointing at the prone golem. 'In its mouth it has a magical piece of paper we need to remove. When we do it will lead us to its creator.'

Saliq's words sets off a tumult of head bobbing and vibration amongst the five rock trolls.  It is short lived but for a moment it feels like they could cause damage with all that nose.

Nimble, tries to understand as they talk over and between themselves.

creator destroyed / creation destroyed??

and

proof where /  trust how

are common threads to the discussion.

Saliq glanced at the rest of the group. 'Any thoughts on how we can convince them?'

"I think they may be asking if the golem will be destroyed when we deal with the golem's creator."  Nemble opined.

"In any event, they are unsure if they can trust us."

"The mage that created this golem has sent it into your homes,"  He began.  "Just as he sent it to my friends here in the outside world.  It's only purpose is to kill and destroy."

"This wizard gravely erred, sending a machine of destruction into such beautiful and untouched places."  He continued, raising a gloved hand to indicate the bridge at the heart of the mountain.

He glanced around his new comrades, ensuring he had their support before continuing.  "I — we — swear now an oath, that I will seek out this mage and make him pay for his miscalculation."

There is a softer vibration, almost a purring from the five,  the center one adds.

"Get paper show /  confirmation trust"

It then turns, walks up the golems chest, using its massive arms pries the golems mouth wide open, and waits.

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't be too keen on putting my hands in that thing's maw.  D'ya think it's safe to do so?  And is that how to retrieve it -- literally ram your hands down its throat?"

Rath frowns, he half wanted to fight this thing, his stupid half.

Running a hand through is curly hair, he shrugs his shoulder at Inas,

"Seems like a medical procedure, eh, Doc?" looking at the new dwarf in the group.

Doc shrugged and deftly moved forward and retrieved anything inside the mouth, obviously trusting the stones to be able to keep the mouth open long enough for him to retrieve what was inside.

As Doc approaches the golems head, he gets a better feeling for how huge it is, almost 18 feet tall (when not being pinned to the ground).  He can also feel the energy that both the golem and his captors are exerting, one to free itself, the others to keep it still.  The air hums with the heat and energy being expended.

Making his way to its open maw, he can see its tongue is pressed to the base of its mouth, although, he is surprised it doesn't smell bad, mostly just like a muddy ditch in there.  He finds as he reaches in, that it is a muddy ditch in there, he forces his hand and arm beneath the tongue and sure enough, feels a parchment there.

Pulling it out is easy, but he's very glad the Rock Troll is holding the beast steady.

He pulls out his arm, covered in thick brown mud, but the parchment, small enough to be from a normal sized book, is clean and untouched.  There is writing on it that seems to squirm on the page, and looking at it hurts his head and makes his stomach clench.  Evil aura clings to it like a webbing of ink.

Immediately, the golem stops fighting to be free, you can feel the energy drain.

Saliq let loose a sigh of relief he hadn't known he'd been holding in.

'Thank all the gods for that. I better take that page Doc.' He gingerly reached out for it, trying to fight off his distaste at the vile magic.

"So now what?  That seemed . . . uncharacteristically easy."

Doc, handed over the paper easily.  He was glad to have both arms by the look of things on his face.  "Well, do we go back or forward?"

As Saliq tucks away the evil parchment, the Earth Trolls all stand back, letting the golem free.  For a moment, it stands and looks around but it does not attack, and turns and continues to the east, along the same highway and in the same direction.

It does seem anti climatic for a battle, but as you watch it go, the five trolls turn and walk away

"I think we follow it."  And Inas makes ready to do so.

The rock trolls depart, without a goodbye.  Strange creatures, and intriguing, but no time to think much about it, your golem is heading east.  Not fast though, even with his long legs, he staggers along at a slow  pace.  Occasionally, a bit of him falls off.


ooc: unless anyone has plans to do aught but follow this golem to its creator, I'll update the journey, and open a new chapter. It is going to take a week of travelling, but...you know it ends with its creator, I urge you to plan/prepare.