Disturbed by Pock’s story of the troll, the party wisely exits the way they came, shutting the metal door even though they broke the lock.
They are back in the workshop area, with enough room to rest.

"We need rest, set a watch and get some shut eye?" he asks the others in general. "After we rest Pock can lead us through."

Regdoc cast his aching bones upon whatever looked comfortable. Chomper walked over and plopped down as well, yawning widely. The old cleric removed his extremely worn footwear, and rested his gnarled feet upon the fur of his guard-dog. Chomper didn't seem too displeased with the gesture.

"Starshell... who names their daughter Starshell?" He scratched absently at his white whiskers.

Noticing a questioning look from the hairy little fellow they'd just liberated, Regdoc explained, "She's the daughter of His Grace, lass ran off with her daddy's magical sword and made her way toward the Earldom of Braustein - which has coincidentally been overrun by... humanoids. We're charged to bring her home for a sound spanking, fetch the sword and get a thank-you note from the Earl... or whomever is still alive there."

"Oh, yes, and butcher some horny minotaur."

Looking around to see if he'd missed anything, the old cleric sighed. "This pathway through the mountain is... unclear to me, we're treading the Everwinding Path somewhat blindly. You can help us, and in so doing would earn you a portion of promised reward. Be warned however, we've lost several of our party to this point and we've yet to even see a cloven-hoofed track!"

Chomper twitched, apparently having dozed off during the telling.

Manaku looked for a quiet spot to reflect and rest.  He provided a watch turn and studied for a bit before spending a few hours in reverie.  His trance looked restful, but a little uncomfortable to be honest.  While he reset, he reflected on his past and the times he was called cursed.  It wasn't something he openly talked about but it was something that weighed heavily on the choices he made.  Finding the gnome was an interesting twist.  He'd wanted to put an end to the troll but figured it would be best to go with the group for both safety and to help keep them safe.  Only time would tell if the decision was the right one.

Rest? Or well...why not? Pock does a quick scan of the area and locates a nice spot in a corner between several piles of tools and material. Ducking in among them, the gnome curls up and goes immediately to sleep, snoring happily from among the grease and metal.

Hearing his niece's name in conversation, Einhard looked at the group and snapped. "Starshell is my niece. Powerful nobles can name their daughters whatever they feel like, though in this case I am pretty sure it was her mother's idea. Anyway, enough chit chat. If you need rest, now is the time. Let's barricade ourselves in here. I will keep watch for a while." he finished.

Dwarghar begins lifting moving anything he can to support the baracaid.

I’m not sure I believe DIS story, and you know? dats da firs Time you’ve told me where we going?

What reward did your Baron promise anyway?

Regdoc replied sleepily, his eyes already closed, "Fortune, rank, livestock of some such, and perhaps a bit of a rummage through forbidden spellbooks... you know, typical promises seldom kept. We really needn't worry ourselves overly much, at the rate we're going, none of us will make it back anyway. 'Cept for yours truly of course... the Wandering God isn't quite done with me yet... but the rest of you? I see your doom!"

Chomper sighed and scratched a bit at some unseen pest.

"Even you flea-bag! Doom I SAY!"

Amalrik shares the f9rst watch with Einhard. If there is any trouble, these two will have to hold it off while the others awaken and such. Another long day underground.

Is not like I got anyding else to live fur.

Dwarghar Looks around this room and the one next to it for any tools wire, rope springs metal interesting things he might use in future trapmaking.

He will bitterly make himself a sleeping nook and crash easily, ready to wake whenever one of the long legs bothers to make him sit a watch.

"And Iffy was going to get her pardon... shame she didn't make it."

Chomper whined lowly, the young thief-girl had slipped him many a stolen treat.

In reply to Dwarghar Stoneblood (msg # 10):

In this passage there's abandoned mine equipment and a long-cold blacksmith's forge. You can scrounge up enough bric-a-brac after a few hours to own a Trapmaker's Kit.

Brodd helps gather the trapmaker stuff in case we ever get another rogue. He gave a quiet prayer for Iffy as well.

[Alietra doesn't count?]

Okay, gather for Alietra, didn't know she was a rogue. Forgot. I'm an old man, what do you expect!
This message was last edited by the player at 13:40, Tue 03 Sept 2019.

The truly old one was lounging a bit, leaning his head against his faithful guard-dog who was slumbering himself. The noise from the rest of the party rummaging around through a gnomish junk-pile roused Regdoc when a pile of small parts fell and scattered across the floor.

"Keep it down kids! I'm trying to rest!" he barked.

Bwooof! Chomper said.


OOC: Let's move out! Rested and ready!

Chomper's ears perk, and he spins himself towards the battered double doors and growls. At the same time, he starts backing away with a hint of a whimper.

Brodd raises up at Chomper's antics, getting to his feet. "Something is here, on your feet everyone."

The dwarf stirs and groans, Probably forgot to take it out to piss. he sits up and takes a drink.

Manaku remains ready to stand but becomes much more alert as what some deem excitement often is a simple misunderstanding...and he would be nearly as capable in his current resting spot as he would be if he stood and readied himself.

Regdoc got up wearily. It took a few moments of stretching and popping to get his faculties factultating correctly. He glanced over at the doors, scowling. "Did anyone lock that cold-room door?"

Einhard rose to his feet and grabbed his gear. "We busted the lock, remember? That's why there is some crap piled in front of it. Twas the best we could do at the moment." He heads closer to the door, ready to react against whatever may or may not come through. "Get your stuff, and either prepare to fight or let's move out."

Amalrik whips out his sword and advances alongside Einhard. He is prepared to attempt a flanking move if needed ...

Hmph
Dwarghar gets up letting the eager ones go to the door.

He gathers his meager possession and checks for exits.

The passage slopes back up to the lever on the tracks.

Was that a groan of broken machinery? The gentle swaying of iron cavern supports?

No. That was definitely a creature, echoing from behind the pile of junk blocking the double doors.

Cave troll!

Still standing near the door, weapons ready. "Fighting or fleeing?! Not much time... if we are going, do it now! I will follow. Otherwise, get in position."

Brodd draws out his club, knowing he was about to die if it was the troll.

Regdoc pulled out a vial of oil and gestured with a tossing motion toward the door. "Somebody get a torch ready. We'll burn it. Oil first, then torch." It was important to explain such details to this lot.

Brodd pulled out a torch and lit it with the one that was already burning, the older torch he prepared for the troll.

Einhard backed away from the door. "Don't want to become collateral damage!"

Dwarghar hears the others call about a Troll and looks once again at his options, Does the lever move only tracks or some sort of door? If not obvious will pull on it.

Is there a treacherous ridge on the spiral going down that would be difficult for a large troll to navigate? Is there a good choke point?

He looks for ideas to use his trap cunning to get a Troll in a bind here using them as bait.




12:56, Today: Dwarghar Stoneblood rolled 18 using 1d20.  formulate possible trap options.
INT is 15 so +1 from trapper... is that a +2 for a roll of 20 vs some problem or a 18 where 16 or less might succeed?, I forget.

Amalrik moves along the wall away from the door. Wall is to his back. Hopefully the old one can throw well ...

In reply to Dwarghar Stoneblood (msg # 33):

That's on a d6, actually. Roll again :D

05:46, Today: Dwarghar Stoneblood rolled 3 using 1d6.  Trap

There's some sort of large iron clamp among the junk, possibly for keeping minecarts and other large equipment stationary for repair. With some assistance, You position it on its side, so it rests on the rest of the debris blocking the door. You could probably catch a bear with that setup.

But of course, that's probably not a bear.

Okay, we can catch it here, that should hold and make it difficult for the troll to attack. If it gets away we can follow tracks down as we go and try to make it lose its footing.

The Dwarf tells the others. Then he takes out his war hammer and stays back.

There it is again; louder this time. A growl of something malevolent getting closer.

Manaku thought on the battle with a troll for a moment.  It would be deadly, and perhaps a bit more prolonged than anticipated.  The idea of traps to slow it down would help in some small part so there was something to that.  But, did they have other options?  Probably not he thought silently before standing to join the others.

"Okay so what's the plan?  You trap it as best you can?  I've got eight arrows left then it's melee for me.  Doesn't anyone else have thoughts on how we take this troll down, or at least survive to tell the tale?"

Well, when it starts to bend the door throw some burning arrows and oil into the gap. Then we can fall back into the Spiral tracks and continue to harass it until we run into more Kobolds.That is all I’ve got

He will assist in making a couple arrows into fire arrows with a torch if someone wants that.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:01, Sat 07 Sept 2019.

"Trap it, lock it down and then we batter it and burn it..."

"Let's be ready to fall back, slow it down and keep attacking it from a distance if possible. Anybody else have oil?"

"I think I'll not burn my arrows until I see that it's really a Troll and not a Goblin in a bearskin-cloak."

Even as he says it, Creston has his bow drawn back, an arrow ready to fly.

"...Cave troll!..."

Pock wakes up, surging back to consciousness immediately. As cold fear wraps its clammy tentacles around his body, the little gnome scrambles to his feet. "Where? Run! We gotta run!"

Just as the frightful growl of a beast sounds from behind the double doors, Pock turns his frightened eyes in that direction and begins to back up in the opposite direction. The gnome quickly finds company in the mail-clad fighter Einhard and the burly barbarian who calls himself Amalrik...