"Keep that flame from the oil or we'll all get hot, boiled hot!"

"I know. I know. But, it's he only light source we have and I don't want to be in the dark in this forsaken mine." The knight looked at the group. "Seriously, several of you look pretty beat up. We really should rest. Shall we press forward to the unknown icy hallway, or turn back and find some other place?"

"We need rest. I was hoping we could rest there." he indicates the room. "I'm not so sure now."

[groaning from somewhere inside the frozen mists]

"What was that?" Brodd steps behind Einhard for cover, just in case.

Manaku squints.

"It is very cold in there! But I see a warm body!"

The elf rushes in, half a minute later he emerges, his cloak covered in frost. He's carrying a gnome in his arms, his beard has long icicles on it and his face is ashen, but his teeth are chattering.

"He is alive!"

"Whatever it is, let's kill it and then figure out how to warm this place up without incinerating ourselves."

"Kkk...kkk...kkk...cold...sooooo...cold..."

The gnome is blue with the cold, and his teeth cannot stop chattering. His fleshy little face however is a comical mix of pain from the freezing cold and indignant anger, while his beady little eyes fix a glare at Regdoc. His shaking hand reaches into one of the many pouches hanging from his ample waist, withdraws a small bit of nasty, and throws it at the old cleric. The weak throw however falls far short of the mark.

The gnome continues glaring at Regdoc.

OOC: 04:09, Today: Pock Oneshoe rolled 2 using 1d20.  throw bit of nasty at Regdoc.

Chomper, ever the vigilant guardian, sniffed at the projectile tentatively and then walked over to stand before the gnome, his large head level with the thawing creature's own, the hound's breath turning to steam with each puff, only inches away.

"BWOOOOF!"

The guard dog snorted and then returned to Regdoc's side.

"It speaks. Hmmm.. Anyone know what 'Koh-zo-kho' means?"

At Chomper's approach to close quarters, the gnome puts up his little hands and struggles weakly to get away from the large sniffing hound. He stops, a look of relief on his face, only when the dog leaves.

Slowly getting warmer as moments go by, the gnome gains enough strength to begin standing on its own stubby little legs. He wriggles out of the Elf's arms, plopping on the cold hard floor on its feet. Brushing icicles out of its thick black hair and bushy beard, it pats its robes to get rid of any residual ice flakes. All the while glaring suspiciously at Regdoc and his dog Chomper.

He then turns its gaze, only slightly less suspiciously, to the rest of the party. "Hu er ewe? Ewe shudden be ear..."

Translation: "Who are you? You shouldn't be here..."

As if something suddenly occurred him, the gnome whips around here and there looking for...something. Eyes wide with fear, he turns back to the party, one stubby finger on his lips (still blue from his cold ordeal), with a loud whisper.

"Shhhhhh... Troll...haf ewe seen eat? Beeg...grin...nashty un..."

Translation: "Shhhhhh... Troll...have you see it? Big...green...nasty one..."

"We didn't see a troll, thank the gods! You should thank us who shouldn't be here for getting your frozen bottom out of that room."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:54, Sat 17 Aug 2019.

Regdoc wondered if he was understanding an odd language or hearing a more common tongue being butchered by this little fellow. His companions, including the elves, seemed to think he was a gnome, but to Regdoc he looked more like a malformed and undernourished dwarf with fey heritage.

"What's this about a troll? Did he say troll? Were you hiding from it?"

Turning to his companions, Regdoc reminded them, "The door to the laboratory was shut from the outside, remember? Unless there's a troll hiding in here still, I'm not sure this fellow's making much sense. Perhaps he thinks those wyrms are trolls?"

"Let's keep our guard up, none the less," says Creston, turning around and scanning for enemies behind the party.

The Moon Elf stares into the billowing clouds of frost in the hallway beyond.

"Does anyone here know if trolls have warm blood, like us...or cold blood...like a lizard?"

"I think they are cold blooded, but I could be wrong."

"Then there could be a dozen trolls down that hallway for all we know...waiting to thaw out."

"They need to be burned or melted with acid to destroy them I've been told. I never fought a troll myself."

"You," Regdoc regarded the... gnome? "Is there any more of your lot in there? What did you see?"

"If we're worried, let's shut the door to keep the cold in, and take our rest elsewhere."

Chomper yawned and looked around for something to chew on.

"I've heard tales of trolls.   We wouldn't want to fight with one, let alone several.    Yes, let's keep the door closed just in case, and get out of here."     

"I bet little man here has a good story, after he thaws a bit more."   She eyed the gnome with some degree of suspicion.  Recalling a fairy tale she'd heard in childhood, concerning a gnome whom turned out to be a rapacious cannibal...

Nothing with cold blood could regenerate as quickly as a Troll.

The clouds of frost are now seeping from the tunnel instead of billowing.

After awhile longer of the frantic looks and whispering, and seeing nothing of even the remotest threat, the gnome drops his anxiety with a sheepish look. Shrugging, he plops his butt on the floor with a resigned look on his fleshy face. "Ain't no more of us...just me left. Troll's probably bought the farm and kicked the bucket..."

Shaking his little head and showering icicles all around, he climbs to his feet, picks up a little misshapen bag lying in a corner and shoulders it, then turns to his new found companions with a serious stare. "I think we shud gow...where you guys headed anyways?"

OOC @DM: What are the visible exits from this room? Pock should be familiar with this place right?
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:44, Thu 22 Aug 2019.

In reply to Pock Oneshoe (msg # 169):

[There's double doors opposite the way you came in. This was a control room, but the furniture is in shambles and everything is rusted, with a few gnomish skeletons scattered about. Also there's a fuel leak in one of the primary tanks, leaving a fresh sheen of black fluid on the floor. As for the rest I'll PM you.]

"We seek a path through the mountains in order to rescue a damsel in distress. Is there a path trough the fortress or through the tunnels below?"

Damsel? In distress? And these guys are trying a rescue? Pock cocks his head and looks sideways at the party again, especially the habit-clad man who seems some sort of priest. Perhaps they ain't like other strangers afterall... Eyes wide with curiosity and some suspicion, the gnome pipes up.

"Sow...yaw trayin ta...blubblebuster blubblebluster..." He shakes his head, long hair flailing left and right as he changes his speech pattern.

"So...you are trying to get through this mess instead huh...well follow me then." Pock gives his long matted hair a good scratch, then beckons the party to follow, and stalks up to the bronze double door.

"Where's this damsel now? Kidnapped was she? By whom?" The gnome begins plying these strangers...who do not look so strange and weird now...with questions about their quest. He pushes on the doors to open them...