Escape the Steading
4am 26 Nightal

With the giants holding the entrance to the pantry above, the heroes clamber over the rubble-strewn staircase once again into the marshalling chamber outside the Keeper’s bunk room, and the various passages leading throughout the understeading.

Durnkin has one steady hand on Garven’s shoulder, the other around a rusting battleaxe.  Graylen and his brother appear ready to bolt back up the stairs in their decaying patchwork armor.  “Easy, lads.  Time and giant more than enough.  Better to pick our place and advantage than to run toward death.”  The Oriothor murmur agreement, each grappling their own salvaged weapons.

“So close to the surface…  and yet once again back unto the filthy caverns.” Tanthalas spits, looking to Quilro for sympathy or at least support.

Fyrnlocke eyes his blade for damage. “Nary a nick.  Powerful sword.”  He says, eyeing the weapon with a look bordering upon lust.

The deathless eyes of the raised fire giants peer without interest toward the stairwell the leads above, awaiting an intruder or  DonBrapp’s command to engage.

Grasping his rod of negative material energy carved from Rahadin’s bone, and the onyx of undead control DonBrapp heads back up to the pantry.  Quickly invoking the ancient verses he commands two more hill giants to rise from their graves to serve Vergadain.  Two ogres and another hill giant cut down one of the remaining zombie giants in the doorway to the north.

“Defend us, servant giantkin.”  The dwarf spits at them, and then beckons them to conduct a delaying defense down the stairs.

“Who is this Kill and Loot?  Is this punishment from the gods?  Is he an avatar of Gruumsh!?”  Shouts back and forth are heard from the passages outside the pantry upstairs.

“Durnkin, have yer kith and kin keep eyes on the passageways while we repel these overgrown bastard humans.”  Durnkin nods and sets the Oriothar to the flanks.

Fyrnlocke flanks Kailute in the center of the chamber, behind Quilro.

DonBrapp doles out magical healing, with the least as usual being bestowed upon Fyrnlocke.

A voice booms out from the top of the stairs.  “This is Oondar.  I wish to speak to the one who calls himself kill and loot.”

“Snosra demands immediate surrender, and a halt to the insurrection of heinous and traitorous red-ears.”
After Kailute responds with several witty observations about how the heroes have been making more giant zombies than the giants have been making intruder graves, Oondar orders more forces down the stairs.

Two ogres leer down the stairs toward toward the undead hill giants.

Quilro evokes a volley of magical energy into one of the advancing ogres.

Both ogres attack the giants in front of them, one missing and the other slicing upon the flesh of the other.
Kailute states “Sent to your death by your betters, eh?  Well your fate will reflect those you fight!”  He lands double blades upon the ogres, one of whom clutches at his now bleeding shoulder.

The undead under DonBrapp’s command retaliate with bruising strikes to the ogres, as the cleric belts out a sonorous chant to the wealth of Vergadain.

Fyrnlocke stays at the ready.  Two more hill giants descend the staircase, spears raised over their shoulders flanking the remaining ogre, who continues to fight even as several magical orbs impact his chest from the elven wizard.

“Cousin Brundark!” One of the hill giants cries, face to face with his undead kin.  His anxiety is not helped when Kailute pierces his flesh with another flurry of lacerating blows.

Shrieking in anger, the giant lurches the spear toward Kailute, finding a gap in his defenses and landing a deep wound.

Quilro becomes invisible with a stored spell and creeps up the side of the stairwell with an eye for an opportunity to strike unseen.

The zombies continued to advance up the stairs over the blood slicked stone and corpses of the fallen, engaging with the remaining living hill giants.

Kailute moves to place his back against the wall, slaying the one surprised by his cousin.  “Don’t worry.  You’ll be joining your cousin soon.”

The opposite hill giant makes an enraged lunge at the half-orc, piercing his abdomen with his spearpoint.
“Bondas!  Report!”  A yell calls out from above.

“He’s dead.  C’mon down!”  Kailute retorts, spinning to engage again with a whirling fore and back swing, both drawing bloody lines on the giants torso.

Filled with rage the remaining hill giant leaps to attack one of the undead but loses his footing in the slick gore, his weapon falls down the stairs and he follows unable to stop falling prone on the stairs.

The undead giants stomp the life from their former companion as a voice continues to shout for updates from above.
Kailute attempts to hack a head from one of the corpses but instead is only able to mutilate the spinal column in a disturbing hackfest.

Several minutes of eerie quiet fill the chamber as the melee has ceased.  Quilro strains to listen for any activity above.  Hearing nothing, he creeps over the stairs with amazing dexterous silence, and surveys the pantry of charnel above.  The doors are closed, and it sounds like activity to the eastern passages is moving south, away from ability to be detected.

Below, the group discusses the utility of burning the structure above, acknowledging it is constructed of fresh green wood.  Durnkin dispatches some Oriothar to retrieve firemaking accelerates from the forge.
DonBrapp loots the giant corpses recovering a handful of silver, a necklace fashioned of a dragonscale, and a hand drawn picture.

 “I am Romulus.  I wish to speak amongst them who hill and loot against witch-king Zengyhi.”  A booming voice of a giant type not yet heard entreats to parlay.

Identifying himself as a lieutenant to Zengyhi, he offers discussion of safe passage for the party’s departure and interference with plans.  After some fruitless banter, Quilro alerts the party to activity heard behind the halls to the wall.

“Give Fyrnlocke a healing potion, elf.” DonBrapp growls at Quilro.

“Put 350 gold in yer ledger.” He flips Fyrnlocke a potion, as Kailute downs two, assuaging several days of sustained combat.

The group discusses the forge, and if there is chimney that could afford escape.  The combination of dwarven forge knowledge and the size of spaces preclude a chimney escape route for the party.

Quilro continues to hear movement behind the chamber walls to the northwest, as if a small group of humanoids were gathering.

“Let’s head back to that rubble blocked corridor.”  Kailute and Quilro quickly agree and dispatch the forge-dwarves to make the hole large enough for Kailute to fit through.

“Let’s fight!”  DonBrapp argues, thumbing the direction of his six zombies lifelessly awaiting orders.

“Fighting giants with dead giants is fine, dwarf.  But we must prepare should we be forced to seek another route out.”

“Arrr, I see your point.  Let me and the gebbies take up the rear whilst ye plunder the dark hole.”  The dwarves set off to enlarge the space through the rubble.

Quilro assumes invisibility and moves through the rubble blocked space to head east, and immediately observes a sentry post of two orcs.  The faint light of a flickering source can be observed further down the hall, as well as the sound of movement to the south.

Back in the large chamber the sound of assembling humanoids grows louder.  Kailute begins to gather the tables and furniture and pile it against the wall in the direction from whence the sound is being heard.

“We can fit the fecking barbarian through.”  Durnkin reports the progress of the forge workers.

The orc sentries to the east are clad in patchwork armor, but are both extremely lithe and muscular.  Quilro creeps forward silently and plunges his thirsty dagger through the back of the neck and through the throat.  The other orc is mystified by the sudden death of his compatriot as the dagger yearns for more blood.

Shaking the opposing orc attempts to strike crying “Breeyark!” but utterly misses, and the elf cuts him down easily after taunting him with invisibility.  Ahead to the east the shadow of another sentry looms backlit by the torchlight but makes no move toward Quilro.  The elf guards the intersection to the east of the rubble strewn passage.

“I can’t believe Snosra continues to send you into a death trap!  Superlative leadership!”  Kailute exhorts, continuing to foul the chamber defensively with assorted furniture.
Back in the chamber the noise clearly indicates the giants using another ogre as a monster battering ram.  Repeated pounding indicates the outline of a hidden door in the northwest corner of the chamber, as the false rock is hammered out from behind.

Kailute gathers pole arms and hands one to each undead giant and retains one for himself, allowing strikes across the obstacles.

The first ogre emerges from the door, blood dripping from below his helmet and he moves to attack the giants arrayed beyond the rubble with a club fashioned from destroyed furniture.  Missing, Kailute swings with a polearm and slashes the injured ogre.

Behind him another ogre emerges, this one showing less injuries from not having been employed as a battering ram.
On of the undead giants flings his polearm off toward the stairs, completely losing his grip.  The others close their ranks toward the ogres and press the attack.

Two hill giants emerge behind the ogres, each carrying a small ballistae as a crossbow.  The large poles serving as bolts are connected between them by an enormous net, from which the scent of pine tar and alcohol can be strongly smelled.

Kailute slays one of the ogres with a crosscut swing of his polearm.

The line of undead giants continue to swing their halberds with the slow certainty of creatures beyond the grave.
The two hill giants level their ballistae and launch their weighted poles with the nets ensaring the entire line of zombie giants.  Behind them a larger hill giant enters the room carrying a large bucket sloshing with pine tar and flammable liquids and a torch.

DonBrapp withdraws, pulling the fire giants with him and ordering the zombie hill giants forward.
The hill giant tosses the bucket of accelerants upon the net and sets the whole group alight with a throw of the torch.  With a large whoosh the undead giants and net are enveloped in flames.

While the dwarf and barbarian conduct their withdrawal, DonBrapp’s mind wanders back to Ravenloft where he expects Sieben has constructed a working portion of his weirwolf golem to his specifications.

Quilro observes the rest of the party tumbling through the rubble to the west.

After commanding the fire giants to guard the entrance, DonBrapp wiggles through the passageway and joins the party to the east.

Quilro feels his dagger pulling to the southeast.

“Hey elf…  how about you start lifting that fecking swordarm to do more than drink pilfered liquor!”  DonBrapp shouts at Tanthalas.

“Who is this singing minstrel to command me to the front of the lines!  I will join you in the fray, Ser Cleric when you muster the bravery to lead!”

“How about you follow me, elf.”  Kailute states flatly.

The tension rising, the group heads to the southeast, where some rubble has been piled in front of an ornately carved basalt door.  It emanates a powerful sense of energy, and is clearly not of the same giantish work the rest of the dungeon exhibits.  Even in the murky darkness it appears to gleam with its own light source.

Grasping his negative material rod, and the onyx of undead control DonBrapp notices the usually cool items begin to radiate a deep sense of heat.

Quilro feels pulled by the dagger to explore what lays beyond this portal.

Durnkin directs the forge dwarves to clear away the debris and the party stands before the mysterious door.

“I think…  something demonic may be here.”  Quilro mutters.

DonBrapp is experienced enough to know they grow close to some sort of intraplanar gate.
“Maybe we should fine a place to rest before we enter this space?” Kailute counsels.
“Concur, wild one.  I don’t think we’re prepared.”  DonBrapp agrees.

Out of concern of ambush, DonBrapp directs the forge dwarves to close up the passage behind them.
“Keep yer eyes on the leaf licker, Kailute;  been a dwarf’s age since he’s been able to spendthrift our treasury on thin wine and thinner wenches.”

Quilro advances east in front of the party.  Searching diligently for traps he only finds a cuirass and helm propped up on sticks with a string set for alarm.  Attempting to cut the rope, Quilro misjudges and the gear collapses into a loud clanging mile.

Grabbing his moonblade, the elf shouts “FOR ELDARYM!” and charges ahead.  The cavern changes from worked dungeon to natural hewn caves and encounters a surprised orc.  Impaled upon the moondblade, the sentry falls dead upon the damp cave floor.  The caves split north and south, with torchlight emanating from the south and the overpowering scent of lizard guano comes from the north.

Following closely behind, DonBrapp searches the corpse and takes a carved bone shiv.
The group moves north into the darkness.  In pockets of side caves, pupiless gray eyes peer intensely at the group of humanoids entering their space.

“HYARK!”  Kailute shouts an order of “Heel!” in orcish, prompting the scurrying sound of webbed feet upon the slick cavern floor.

DonBrapp and Kailute put forth their rock and lantern, lighting up the room.  It prompts hissing and clicking, and the nearest gray skinned lizard humanoids move north to retreat.  Standing between four and five feet tall and appearing a mix between bipedal salamanders and humans rippling with muscle.  Their pores appear to excrete a gray green ooze that immediately causes the dwarf and half-orc to retch in revulsion.
Kailute lifts DonBrapp from his feet and places his head directly next to his neck taking refuge in the magical protection of the ruff.

“QUENCH THE SUN!  PUT IT OUT!”  The clicking voices of the troglodytes demand.

“Where Budrak?  Where Budrak?  Trade tools and food…  why manthing?  Why dwarfthing?”  One of the lizard folk attempts to communicate.  They speak of much larger caves housing giant lizards to the north, and a river that exits from the caves to the mountains beyond.

Kailute begins to explore to the south, toward the faint light provided by a dying torch in a sconce bolted into the rock wall.  Sneaking into an alcove that offers a sliver of observation into a further nook, he sees two enormous orc-ogre humanoids breaking their fast from beaten copper bowls in a private room of some rustic luxury.  Carpets, stuffed pallets, maintained weapons line the walls of this male and female orog.

Further to the south a larger conglomeration of orcs can be heard.

Skirting to the east Kailute follows a well-worn approach before observing opening to larger caves that appear to host dozens of orcs.  He returns to the party and describes the scene.

Fyrnlocke directs the dwarves to bury the orc sentries in the rubble.

Kailute approaches the sentries to the south and requests parlay with Budrak.

An enormous muscled orog approaches “I am Budrak Ogre-Tongue.  Who approaches?”  The chief relays his disgust of service under the giants, who kept the Red-Ears enslaved below rather than reaving the mountains.  While they share common cause with the Heroes, no elves nor dwarves can enter the clan cave unless they are slaves of the orcs.  Budrak claims no knowledge of the ornate door the party describes.

It is agreed a neutral cave used for farming moss and mushrooms could serve as a resting place for the party under the watch of the Red-Ears.

Ultimately the party decides to rest in the area further back to the west, near the rubble closed entrance.
As Tanthalas is spaying about the lower nature of the orcs, Fyrnlocke comes up behind him, and with a mix of head butt and a sleeper hold knocks the obnoxious elf unconscious.
10am 26 Nightal