The party continues their descent. Is the torchlight playing tricks? No...someone's been carving into the walls of the mineshaft. You notice filigrees and columns resembling large temples or the mighty stone structures built by Empire before it fell.

"Be wary, I think we're getting close." Brodd says to the others in a low voice.

"This place is more than just an old mine..." The elf voices his thoughts in quiet whisper.

"Yes, it's home to a great entity. Now, ready those crystals and avoid looking at these basilisk things." Einhard reminder the group. He took his crystal out of his pouch and held it in his shield hand as he drew his new sword.

OOC: I am working off the assumption that we tied up the mounts once they started getting too nervous.

[OOC: Correct]

Slowly catching up to the rear, Dwarghar studies the walls and their designs trying to make sense of the history here.


14:54, Today: Dwarghar Stoneblood rolled 3 using 1d6.  Perception .
To notice secret doors or unusual stone work
14:54, Today: Dwarghar Stoneblood rolled 3 using 1d20.  Intelligence
Vs Int 15 on knowing something of the history and knowledge of this place and it’s people and stories.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:57, Tue 05 Nov 2019.

[Roll D6, Detect Construction]

15:09, Today: Dwarghar Stoneblood rolled 2 using 1d6.  Detect

In reply to Dwarghar Stoneblood (msg # 6):

"Any of this make sense to you, Dwarghar? Is this work of your people?"

[OOC. Can I test if Manaku regognizes anything about the stone carvings?
Manaku rolled 6 using 1d6.]

Manaku is at a loss, but Dwaghar seems fascinated by the carvings...

In reply to DM (msg # 10):

Yes, these are actually quite interesting. He says l
Look in these carvings you can identify miniature models of great Imperial structures built by dwarven stonemasons long ago. Some of these over here seem to be variations on the same  theme, as if they're carved from memory, blueprints.i
I wonder if Dwarves from the Empire or inspired by it came to live here after

This is very unusuall, these weren't carved with standard stonemason tools. They were scraped out of the granite like the sculptor was working with sandstone, but this is of course much much stronger than sandstone! After it was carved it was then buffed to a shine, but not uniformly. Also the carvings seem to have been maintained regularly, with limestone drips rubbed off and kept generally clean of the decades of cavern grime. Perhaps someone continued to care for these.

Dwarghar wonders if the gnomes would do this, and tries to evaluate if he thinks these carvings predate or overlap with the time of the gnomes.

Brodd clutches his crystal from Entity, warily looking about. He admired the carvings too, but knew nothing of them except that they were nice.

As the party slowly continues onward, they come to the shattered remains of a minecart. There's a leather backpack nearby and there's a streak of blood on the floor, like a small body was dragged further in the direction you're going.

Brodd examines it and tries to decide if it was a kobold that was luckless with the gargoyles and Basilisks.

In reply to Brother Brodd (msg # 14):

Nope. This blood is reddish like a human or demihuman, not blue like a kobold or pink like a goblin.

"Somebody else down here, and they've been taken! If they're alive."

He picks up the pack.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:06, Thu 07 Nov 2019.

You recognize it as Pock's backpack. It feels like his spellbook is still inside.

"No, it belonged to Pock! Seventy-three years frozen then to be killed by a useless kobold. Something dragged him away, so we're getting close to something that is not now hungry I think."

"Oh dear...oh dear..." Leohart whispered to himself as he followed along.

"Poor Pock, it seems he was unable to escape his fate."

"It looks that way, we'll find out soon enough though I'd say."

Regdoc and Chomper followed the procession. The latter sniffed the bloody smeat a bit, but apparently gnomish heart-juice was not to his liking. He simply whined a bit and then looked ahead. Regdoc, less squeamish perhaps, poked around a bit in the backpack for anything of interest which might help them escape this underground warren, especially any ammunition for the odd gnomish smoke-belching horn weapon the old cleric had stuffed into his belt.

"Perhaps his mind hadn't yet fully thawed... these have got to be the most dangerous tracks I've ever heard of!"

Aside from a large and thick leather-bound tome, there's nothing else of interest.

Sight of the book piques Manaku's interest. "Is that a spellbook? May I take a look..." He carefully, almost respectfully, holds the tome and inspects it.

"Leohart? You may find this interesting - want to take a look?"

Damn it all I should have jumped down after him - I ... ahhh

Dwarghar grumbles hatefully to himself

Leohart heard the question, but did not look in response; his eyes were everywhere else, watching for death to come out of every shadow.

"Eh? O, um...no. Best to just carry the book until we're out of here."

Manaku's slightly unnerving red eyes shift back to Brother Brodd. "Well then. Would you mind if I take care of this tome until we get out of here?" The elf is already opening his own pack and securing the spellbook in there while he asks the question.

"By all means, carry it."

"We had best move on from here. If the basilisks were intelligent, they would have used this as an ambush point," Leohart whispered to anyone near him.

"Well, thank the gods we've a bard!   That kind of thing should be a song."

On other matters, she whispered back- "Eh, if basilisks were intelligent, we'd be extinct.  But point taken.  I second moving on."   

Regdoc simply nodded and gestured with a jut of his bearded chin in the direction of continuance.

"Hmmm...[tries the opening to Seasons of Love]


...Seventy-three years frozen killed by a ko-bold...

...I'll work on it."

He goes back to peering over the shoulders of the other arcanists at the lost gnome's grimoire.

Einhard continues to press forward.... cautiously... crystal in one hand, sword in the other.

Brodd raises his torch up to light the way for Einhard, himself, and those trailing them.

Dwarghar continues in the back. Looking about them. Now interested in the art, now cursing himself over the dead especially his family. He has the stupid crystal for all the good it would do.

Manaku drops at the rear ranks again, keeping watch of the party's rear.

The party comes to a sharp curve to the right. The streaks of blood, now more faint, seem to follow in that direction as well.

Brother Brodd inspects the blood on the floor to see how fresh it is. Trying to decide how close they are, keeping the crystal in his hand!

Some crimson rubs off on your finger.

"We're close, it's very fresh. Be on your toes people, we can only help two people that get turned to stone."

He holds his crystal tight in his left hand, the torch in his right.

"Who holds the cure? Perhaps they should hang back so they are not the one turned to stone." Einhard suggested to the others.

"I hold it. I'll wear it on the outside just in case so it is not encased in stone."

He ties a string around it and hangs it around his neck so that it hangs outside his robe.

Regdoc had been about to volunteer for the very important job of hanging back while the others engaged stone-gazing death, but was edged out by the younger cleric. With a grunt, the old Seeker readied his mace as well as his own crystal.

"Not sure the Wanderer Himself tread very much along this particular path, perhaps we can simply outrun such a creature?"

Brodd continued to hold his torch high for Einhard near the front.

In reply to Regdoc (msg # 43):

"I doubt it's very fast, since its main attack is deadly gaze. But if it comes to that, run like a wind, Regdoc!"

Amalrik looks up and down. Cracks, fissures, ceiling paintings ...

Dwarghar continues with the others.

"OK, I will defer to your wisdom Brother Brodd. Just be ready." Einhard cautiously moved forward. Now holding the shard out in front of him like a holy symbol warding of the undead, head slightly cocked to hopefully avoid gazing upon whatever monstrosity lies ahead.

Amalrik follows Einihard, sword in one hand, crystal in the other, and looking at about knee height along the passage floor. Amalrik tries to keep in a crouch, down low.

Manaku follows the group acting as its rear guard. Once every ten steps or so he turns, scanning the darkness behind them and trying to hear if anything approaches from that direction.

"Damn it, first frozen, now buried." Pock feels a little deranged but he starts tapping the iron cart to alarm the others. Maybe they will come for help.

10:54, Today: Brother Brodd rolled 3 using 1d6.  listen. Brodd pauses because he thought he heard something tapping, but shakes his head and dismisses it as fantasy.

[New Scene!]