The camp turning to town was busy. The war with the Orcs was slowly turning against the greenskins. Though it was a lucrative matter for those supporting the war effort. With the return of his property, hunters, and hunting grounds, Lucian was ecstatic. The old trader and merchant let loose the strings of his purse and showered the little band of adventurers with several nights of dining, drinking, and dancing the likes of which none of them could have imagined.

By way of payment and thanks, the party was given access to the stores of the trade center; fresh meats and produce, wines and ales, camp services of smiths and carpenters, new clothing, a mountain of mundane equipment, new mounts, a covered wagon, and money. The little bags given to each with a vigorous handshake by Lucian were heavy with coins and jewels. Each, they would soon learn, contained thirty platinum coins and a dozen masterfully cut rubies (100 gp each) without jewelry settings. He also had a letter for them.

"This letter," The man began. "Is a letter of introduction to a Dwarf by the name of Augustus Krieg. He resides in the mountains to the north, some twenty days ride. I know of Master Krieg, he is lifelong friend, and I can honestly tell you that the elder and his clan are in real trouble. They are besieged in their mountain abode by a sinister foe that comes for them from the deep shadows. Travel to the Alamygh Mountains and seek out the village Loch Hudron. Wealth for payment is of no concern for the Dwarves there. And should you find it possible to come back this way I would gladly pay you your worth for any correspondence delivered to me."

Amazingly, despite his drunkeness, Barg managed to not forget anything at the camp, or after another round of celebrating. A bag of shiny silver coins and shiny red rocks were fine by him for payment. Opening the gem bag and dumping in his own mossy agates, he frowned when he noticed he'd lost one.

The sullen episode lasted a full half hour

"Barg has lost one of the five sacred moss stones! Now Barg must bless other stones with MORE blood to make up for losing one!"

Soon enough though there was arm-wrestling and roast chickens and singing to be had again

When the idea of visiting dwarves came up, Barg's eyes grew wide

"Dwarf gold! Dwarf gold is most magic, most potent gold. Is blessed with magic which attracts dragons and breaks kingdoms. If Barg could find some dwarf gold, misfortune is sure to follow, and strong enemies will appear!"

Thamkis' head turned from her heavily watered wine to stare at Barg

"Dwarf . . . gold? No no Barg you're not understanding . . . the thing is that those attacks are . . . there's nothing . . . "

She put her head down, the pain between her eyes already throbbing as she tried to come up with a way to make Barg understand

Brengalyn took the letter and turned it over a few times in her hands, nodding in thanks

"A letter of introduction too. A suspicious person would wonder why you're being so helpful. I trust that this Krieg's life and success is dear to you, then."

Brengalyn's ruthless negotiation faltered though, and she grew quiet for a moment, seeming to be weighing two things in her mind

"I misspoke, I think. Too long on the road, too long fighting. I imagine your profit, such as it is, this is not just that. We'll put our weapons, our spells and our Barg to the service of defeating this evil that has arisen. While we travel there, I wonder if you might know of a way to get a letter elsewhere in the world. If I left something in your hands with payment, could you manage to see it sent off?"

"Master Barg, the dwarf holds of the northern mountains are known for the power of their gold. To that end I wish you good fortune." Lucian said. "And if it is within my power to see to the delivery of your letter, Mistress Brengalyn, it would be my pleasure to assist you. Where would this letter of yours need to be sent?"

"Who's a good boy! Who's a good boy! Yes you are!" Penny said scratching the ears of the newly dubbed Spot her new mastiff riding dog. Spot was easily larger then the gnome herself but seemed very happy to take all the pats.

"Penny . . . where did that dog come from?"

Brengalyn eyed the mastiff warily

"Did you . . . steal a dog?"

Barg's eyes grew wide as the dreaded hateful dog came into seeing.

"Ack! ACK!!"

Slapping a hand on the table he drew his dogslicer

"You be getting away from bad dog Penny Purse! Dogs are hateful tricksies!"

"The Brotherhood of Eagles is a mercenary band. As I understand it they are currently contracted to the Golden Orchard, an elven druid circle, many leagues south of here, until the fiendish infection of those woods abates with the seasons. I have a brother by the name of Hagetur who is indentured to the Brotherhood, and he is the person I'd like this letter delivered to."

Brengalyn produced the letter, already written and sealed, from within her pack, and produced five gold pieces

"Would this cover the expenses and travel for a messenger?"

In reply to Brengalyn (msg # 9):

Penny looked at the other sheepishly "Noooo, he just kinda followed me..." Then she threw herself onto the dog, "Barg, you will not touc him! He is my new friend!"

As Barg stared in disbelief two completely unrelated and totally disarming things happened at once. His frog jumped into view in front of the dog and was promptly licked clean in a single swipe of its tongue. Secondly, when Barg inhaled sharply debating whether to rescue the frog or assassinate the dog the big furry mount took a bound forward and planted a near body length lick down Barg from brows to balls. Subsequently the big canine immediately began spitting and hacking as if it had swallowed a bag of nails.

Laughing at Barg's predicament, Lucian spoke to Brengalyn, "Of course mistress of battle, your letter will go out on the next caravan headed there. I run a mail delivery service with many of my wagon trains. This one is one of my more common, and lucrative, stops. There will be no charge, of course."

"ACK!"

Barg tumbled back, falling from his seat and shielding his face

"Barg has been attacked! Barg might be poisoned by tricksy dog lick!!"

Thamkis extended a hand to the dog, letting the veil of the woods and rivers slip for a moment so she smelled as she should

"Come away, you've no idea where he's been."

OOC: wild empathy 20 to get Spot to leave Barg alone

Spot bore in on Thamkis as if he had known the crone for decades, not moments. It was surprising to see. Barg didn't see it, however, as he busily wiped away all traces of the slobber he assumed would soon be polluting his soul.

"I will arrange some transportation for you into the town of Tropanstan. It will put you within four to six days travel to get to the dwarf hold to the north. Depending on weather, of course." Lucian said. "Enjoy tonight, the caravan leaves in the morning. Sorry to rush you, but I had this caravan organized for this expedition weeks ago."

"That will be sufficient, do you know if there's anywhere in town where gifts could be purchased? Examples of local craft, fine spirits or that kind of thing?"

Brengalyn wathced the whole debacle with her small companions with no small amount of amusement. They were all of them capable, and if Penny was going to steal a dog . . . well they'd handle that problem later

"Why yes, the bazaar here is full of exquisite artisans and artists. It is why I ship so many good from this location."  Lucian said. "Furs, clothing, silver works, fine spirits, some sweets, astounding breads, river pearls, good weapons, especially the daggers here, and works of bone and horn. It is a wondrous market indeed."

Penny took out her handkerchief, holding in laughter "Here Barg, wipe yourself off with this"

Barg grabbed the handkerchief and blotted the dog slobber off himself

"Barg thanks you Penny Purse. Barg will be strong, resist dog poison. Penny Purse is very brave to keep dangerous monster as pet!"

"If it might suggest, Brengalyn, I would be willing to take the lead on finding a gift or two for us to have on hand. I was raised by dwarves, speak their language and know their ways. It might be that I'll see something you would miss, something that will help us later?"

Thamkis placed a hand on Brengalyn's hand, smiling up at her

"Or we can go together? I would welcome some company, if we can trust Barg and Penny to not burn half the town down in our absence."

"Sounds alright with me, after all they have Spot now."

Penny pouted calling for Spot "I can be good, how much damage can one blind gnome do anyway?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:55, Sun 06 Feb 2022.

The day passed in a moment, or felt that way. Wagons were packed. Horses and mules were fed and rested for the coming journey. Mercenaries, for the first time, were hired to protect the caravan. And Lucian organized several crates of 'special' trade goods.

Brengalyn and Themkis managed to find two barrels Yellow Apple Brandy, a particularly well aged brandy from the farmlands far to the south. And no Dwarf in his right, drinking, mind would scoff at a barrel of hardy brandy. They also came across a wonderful find in the form of a collection silvered steel knives in elegant elk hide sheathes. The quality of the metal would be an attractive gift for a Dwarf of some regard. It was expensive. But, then, making an impression of new people often was.

The morning came as no surprise, but it did come early. Caravans started before the sun scared the horizon. It took time to get organized and rolling when there were sixty two wagons and coaches involved. The pace was slow. Very slow.

Penny rode atop Spot playing her banjo as she went, her and Barg had gotten into few shenanigan's while the two more 'responsive' people were gone but for the most part were well behaved. Penny did what she could to help boost the moral of the men, playing the same music that had caused an uprising that freed many of them only days before.

"Yellow Apple Brandy! That'll do the trick, along with those knives we found."

Thamkis inspected the gifts several times, checking the knives and brandy, even after they'd bought them, fretting over all.

"There's two kinds of dwarves. The kind that like a good experience, and the kind that like a good artpiece. Both speak to a deeper want in the dwarves, a love of history, of place and time."

There place in the convoy of wagons, coaches, carts, and cattle herds was near the front. A place of honor and safety by caravan tradition. The two wagons to their front were a wagon hauling a dozen armed guards followed by the caravan masters mobile home office on wheels. The drovers and teamsters whistled and sang lively tunes as they went.

Soon the days passed into the first week on the long road north. The weather had grown a sight cooler, especially in the early morning hours before dawn. Thankis found that many of the Dwarves of the caravan hailed from the northern mountains. Brengalyn noticed that she had a strange following of young warriors who seemed to be infatuated with her. Penny played and sang and picked a pocketful of coins. Barg, champion of frogs, grog, and wrestling became the unexpected life of the party on many nights.

The caravan had been on the road for nine days when it pulled into its first real town in the north. There was a chill in the air despite the bright sunny sky. There local population was decidedly becoming more and more Dwarf dominated. The town was called Heldrick's Rest and was known for it's temple to the god Novesk and a particularly large and very purple potato known locally as miner's spuds.

"Goodest morning Heldy's Crest! Morning to you, dwarves of many types!"

Barg had been in a bit of a funk for a few days, having lost one of his ten burning fortune clubs while stopping to relieve himself on the road. But the prospect of dwarf gold and dwarf muscle warriors delighted him.

OOC: failed wisdom check, rolled, lost a torch

He looked up at Thamkis and the rest still on the wagon, fastening his grey-blue fur cloak around his shoulders

"We must see if there are new friends who we can beat in battle, challenge and become stronger!"

"I will be making a small trip to the temple of Novesk, if anyone wants to come. Might pick up a few supplies for miner's stew while I'm here too."

The normally dour halfling seemed giddy, greeting passing dwarves in dwarven, a tongue which seemed to flow out of her freely, unlike the guarded words of Common she doled out sparingly

Brengalyn got off the wagon agitated, restless. Flirting with the boys in the caravan and winning a few games of dice and cards did not make her feel too fulfilled, and she stood tall over Barg and Thamkis gazing about and sniffing the air.

"Food. Beer. Dwarves are famous for it and I for one need a break from Tham's cooking. If I can manage to climb back onto the wagon of my own accord it will be because I failed to party hard enough."

OOC: fatigued for next four hours as failed fort save vs hedonism

There was arm wrestling, leg wrestling, thumb wrestling, and mud wrestling. The came the foot races, foot races with obstacles, foot races against pigs, and foot races while carrying a mug of beer. Eating contests; pies, sausages, onions, and turnips were followed by drinking contests; stout, whiskey, brandy, and wine. It culminated in a battle of the wits where in the champion would be crowned for catching the most frogs.

Barg was not only in his element, he had wondered in Barbarian nirvana. And in the end defeated, quite soundly, a line of worthy Dwarven foes. And then passed out in a shallow puddle of warm beer and sticky mud.

Thamkis made her trip to the temple. Old habits came to the fore as she met and greeted priests, acolytes, clerics, and the like. It was a good visit. She learned a new worship song. She learned that the snows had come early to the northern passes and that the last trade caravans for the season would be leaving in days. She also learned that there were rumors of an ancient evil lurking in the mountains. Some said vampire. Others claimed liche.

Brengalyn found the company of the Dwarven fighters to be typical; big egos, short tempers, little sense, and tall tales. It was a delightful experience of over drinking, over eating, over lying, and ass over tea kettle when she stood up to quickly. Luckily there was a nice, comfortable bit of earth right under her face. How fortunate.

(OOC: contacts were made. feel free to ad lib them a bit in your IC posts in town as this scene plays out.)

Barg returned cackling and jigging, having proven he was strongest. Amid all the partying and the fun though, he'd put a question to the ones he'd faced

"Barg is searching, looking for big wolf. Most big, and has goblin face. Purple fur and bright eyes, very handsome. Barg wants to fight something like that!"


When he'd returned to the group with his strength proven, the goblin realized he'd lost his waterskin!

"Two things to lose in so many days!? Is baddest of luck! Which means a great challenger awaits, yes!"

Penny had accompanied Thamkis. Watched Barg play, she watched and learned. Dwarven culture was new to the gnome, she wasn't used to much of it but was soon overwhelmed by the line up of very burly bearded men and women competing with her goblin friend. She took a swing of her dwarven ale very drunk and blushing the alcohol far to strong for her gnomish body "....Stupid sexy dwarves..."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:32, Wed 16 Feb 2022.

"They are quite striking . . . but they're dangerous, Penny."

Thamkis sat down with an aperitif glass, sipping it slowly

"Best to pace yourself with dwarves. You rise to the challenge, they just make the challenge harder. Better to be yourself."

Brengalyn slumped into a chair with the other ladies, lip split and one eye bruised from a good left hook.

"You should see the other guy."

She pulled out her own wineskin of applejack, took a draught, and then motioned for more beer, tottering slightly

A loud clapping from behind drew their attention. Standing several feet fro their table was a very muscular Dwarf clad in only trousers, boots, and a bear skin cloak. His beard and hair were graying brown and as thick a fleece on a lamb. He had the scars and tattoos of a career soldier but something in his demeanor struck them as less dour, more social.

"I am Isgood Bladesingeer." Aha! A bard they thought. "You four are the ones who spent the night turning this fair town into something of a festival. Sounds like my kind of folks. I hear you are headed further, deeper into the mountains. I don't suppose you could enlighten a fellow adventurer as to the south. I myself am headed to the southerly regions just now and could use any advice a worldly traveler could give."

"Orc bands clash with scattered groups of soldiers. Last we saw it was still in the humans' favour but merchants are beginning to be waylaid on the road. A boom time for mercenaries looking to sell their swords."

Brengalyn tried to sit up straight

"What business do you have in the south?"

The gnome smirked, leaning on the elderly halfling, "You make dwarves sound so fun Thamkis...hello" the gnome belched as the dwarven newcomer introduced himself, covering her mouth and snickering she listened. Penny got really quiet,"If you see a corpse hanging from a tree it's likely a trap"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:52, Thu 17 Feb 2022.

"Perhaps they've begun to think better of their lives, and withdrawn by now. Certainly the land south of here is in turmoil, but I've heard the snows are coming down on the wind early, and theirs some living dead creature that haunts the mountains? Anything to worry about?"

Thamkis put a bony hand around her gnome friend, satisfied that so long as she was leaning on old Slybones, she couldn't be off making trouble.

"Death the south. Death to the north." The bard said quietly. "I shall have to go to the west. My parents live to the east you see. I know what my father would say; 'so come home have you? the road been treating you poorly, miss your mother's cooking do you? mayhap it's time to put down that lute and take up the pick with me in the mine'. No thank you there."

"A parent is a blessing and a curse, as is a child. You will miss them when they are gone, even if it is only sometimes and only some things."

Thamkis' tone was sad, giving the dwarf an understanding expression

"If you'll forgive an old woman her boldness, I believe the great armoursmith Forgus Ingotstrum once said 'it is not the materials, it is the craft', when asked how he had made such works of art for kings and high priests. If your dream is to be a bard, truly to dance with the ancient music, then your parents will understand. It is not evil thing to be a miner, or a musician or a sculptor or a priest. It is an evil to ignore the craft that the gods have laid upon your hands to work."

She slapped a hand on the table

"If you can tell me where your parents are from, I'd bet I could give you something resembling a homecooked meal, and enlighten my companions to some true culture in the meantime! If our paths are close for a day or so?"

"What's west that you would turn from your southern journey? Anything worth wandering for? Or will you know it when you see it?"

Brengalyn took another sip of applejack from her flask and considered the dwarf perhaps more sternly than necessary.

"If you're so easily swayed for the right incentive, I'm sure my group would gladly appreciate guidance north for a day or two, if your business can wait. We'd pay some gold for the help."

"Barg would like to know an important question!"

The goblin pointed at the dwarf

"Gold for trade, Barg wants to know if you are having gold?"

"Few things in this life have the allure of a fine medley, a busty Dwarfess, and the shine of gold." He said. "But I fear bands of Orcs in unknown lands, my moher's wrath, and the ancient evil of vampires. West, my dear fellows, I shall go west. Thank you for you generous offer. You will want to travel to the hamlet of Copper Hill. There, I have heard, you will find your foe."

Penny drunkenly grasped her banjo, "Wait before you go." she strummed clumsily on the instrument, "Show me what you've got?"

Thamkis raised an eyebrow at the busty dwarfess mention

"And here I was thinking you were afraid of your mother, but it appears you're simply seeking her in some other lass. Trust a dwarf to run headlong into doom."

She laced her fingers and listened to Penny's challenge, looking back at the dwarf

"I've never known a dwarven bard to shrink from a challenge Penny. Unless he was tired, perhaps we've imposed on his endurance too much and he needs to rest, recover his strength?"

"Story and song very important, but Barg knows another important thing!"

Barg sprung to his feet on his seat, slamming his hands down

"Does dwarf have gold for trading!?"

Barg's impetuous actions soon stirred the locals to their feet in defense of their racial pride. The arm wrestling that followed was the stuff of legends. Well, local legends at any rate. Gold flowed with the betting.

(OOC: Barg needs to make roll, modified by STR, on 1d20. For every digit over 10 he will have won a gold piece. so, if he had rolled a 14 total using 1d20 + STR mod, he would have won 4 gold pieces.)

The Bard flexed his hands, cracking his knuckles amusingly, and took up his trumpet. With a crooked grin that must have been something of a come on to the local female population he set to blowing a sharp, brassy tune that soon had toes tapping and people singing along. Penny found it easy to step in, but she had to admit that it was an odd combination of instruments to be sure.

(OOC: Penny needs to roll for her performance. Much good and some coin could come of this.)

Thamkis smiled, no Dwarf in his right mind would be told they were up to a challenge by some outsider. The bard was no different. Many of the revellers were known to them from the night before. Thamkis knew a drought of hangover helper wouldn't go unused in the morning. Especially after watching the group of warriors drag Berngalyn over to a table with a dozen roast hens, to large bowls of onion and potato soup, enough bread to burn down the town, and an open keg of dark Dwarven stout.

(OOC: Bren will need to make a fort save to determine the skull bashing quality of her hangover in the morning. And roll for any social skill she has at +4 to possibly learn more information about where they are headed. Thamkis will can use the tavern's kitchen to brew up her hangover helper, name it what you will, difficulty 12 to make up a concoction using cooking, alchemy, etc., whichever skill you would use. Make it by 5 or more and the cook/tavern owner would be interested in acquiring the recipe.)

Penny began playing her banjo but her drunken stupor prevented her fingers to listen to her hands.

ooc perform 10

Barg gripped hands and twisted dwarven arms in rapid wins and triumphant glory, his green sinewy arms twisting and knotting with warped abandon

OOC: Strength check 22

"Yes, Barg is strongest! Taking dwarf gold, like goblins of old! Barg is pleased he could fight dwarves with no serious injury!! Dwarf blood is powerful curse!"

He said the last thing as if the dwarves would know what he was talking about

Brengalyn took to her job of getting intelligence a little unintelligently, waking up beneath a table with some hasty notes scrawled on a piece of paper

OOC: Fortitude save 9, Bluff 12 for charisma check

As Brengalyn woke up groaning, Thamkis was there, sipping on a flask of tea she'd brewed from dwarf moss.

Handing the gargantuan but prone mercenary a syrup of weeds and nettles, she cracked a pigeon's egg into the concoction and bade her drink it.

OOC: Craft (alchemy) 29, explicitly made with replicability in mind as this town seems to get uproariously drunk so Thamkis will leave the recipe with the tavernkeeper in exchange for a single gold piece and the information Brengalyn was trying to get in the first place

"The mighty . . . manticore? Basilisk? What was it you called yourself again? Hardly the great story of a mercenary captain, outdrunk by dwarves."

There was no one to laugh at Thamkiss' humor.

Dwarves lay scattered about the area in manner more akin to dead on a battlefield than unconscious drunks on a tavern floor. Several were trying, with mixed results, to regain some semblance of awareness.

A thick chested Dwarf in a mail shirt, shortsword strapped to his belt, and bronze badge on his chest pulled up in Thamkis' wagon.

"As per the Goblin's request." The Dwarf sheriff said. "Wagon brought to the front of the battle. Or tavern in this case. He wished to be able to get underway this morning even if he was unable to crawl to the wagon. So, I felt like obliging him. It was a solid plan. It was even executed well. He paid the only Dwarf in the area who would actually be sober on purpose this morning to see this through."

He hopped down from the wagon and whistled. A moment later a couple of dwarves walked their mounts up and tied them off to the wagon. The sheriff led his fellows away. It looked almost like they were leaving the scene of a mass slaying. Almost.

"The . . . basilisk. Doesn't matter."

Brengalyn struggled to her feet in time to see the wagon pull up, holding her aching head

"That's us, ready to set out on another great adventure!"

Sipping the hangover cure, she felt a little better, though the drink was still coursing through her at an alarming rate.

Barg waddled to the bar triumphant as the wagon pulled up, smiling toothily

"Barg wants there to be no hardness of feeling after he leaves. How much dwarf gold can Barg trade for a drink for all his newest friends?"

Thamkis looked around worried.

"Has anyone seen Penny? We should make sure she's up."

Brengalyn's pride twisted the cruel knife of self-expectation in her strong heart. With a surge of returning strength she climbed into the saddle, carefully so as not spill a drop of Thamkis' concoction, and sat upright in the saddle. Immediately, waves of nausea and regret washed over her as the combination of thirst, sun, and sounds assailed her like a back of rabid hellhounds.

Thamkis gave a whistle and a light crack of the reins and the wagon lurched forward. Many had gathered to look on and wave as they departed. That most couldn't stand easily or comfortably didn't seem to matter to them. The barkeep came out with cups of steaming brew and announced that he had the Mad Witches hangover cure on hand. For a price.

Barg grabbed hold of the side of wagon and hefted himself up to hang, drunkenly with his mug of stout ale, between the tall wagon wheels as they left town. After the night before with the competition, open acts of aggressive lovemaking, and impressive over eating, the barkeepers of the various taphouses, taverns, and beerhalls were sure to say their farewells to the party as they rolled out of town.

Evening would find them staring down an oncoming storm. The chill of the wind left no doubt that they were not only ascending the mountain, but that they were advancing into cold, treacherous conditions as well. Gone were the summery days in the lowlands. Coming at them now were lands of thin air, cold, and danger. Veering of the wagon-wide track that wound back and forth up the mountain, Thamkis drew the wagon up close to a shielding rock wall that towered over them but kept the vehicle and its team of animals under the thick cover of stand of maple and birch trees. The sun was sinking behind them and the cold was coming.

Penny woke with a start in the back of a wagon, a look of confusion common to those who had slept the day away from a hangover. Spot licking her awake. She hastily got up went to look for her friends. "Ohmygosh it's cold!!!

Brengalyn drew what she could around herself to ward off the cold, even breaking out her thicker gloves (though sadly still ill-equipped for earnest cold)

"We need to get more shelter. Better shelter. I don't know!"

OOC: Survival check 20

Amazingly, Brengaly was saved by the narrowest of magins when Penny's massive canine mount flondered on the acculating ice as the road began to freeze the mounting winds. Pushing the beast to find the others before the storm could overcome them as they bound along the darkening road.

Brengalyn was just turing to face the others, noticing the scant condition of Barg's attire (and the increasing shivering), just as the big mastiff came barreling, the sliding, then crshing past her close enough that she got a whiff of Penny's perfume.

Alas, Thamkis' time tortured and wordly tea kettle took yat another hit when the mastiff knocked the water filled vessel into the trees with a loud clang of tin on rock. Penny cringed knowing full well how close the mastiff, and she, were to an untimely death in the mountains. And also knowing full well that the mountains would have nothing to do with it.

Barg was off, clearly cold and shivering, to try and find the tea kettle before it was too late

"Stupid stupid hateful dog! Only sadness comes when dogs are near!"

OOC: Perception check 15 to search

Barg kicked at the bushes searching for the tea kettle when a handle appeared. 'Ah-ha!', he reached out to grab it when there was another handle in the weeds. He grabbed that one to. Yanking at both, because one must be the tea kettle, he surprised when he had to use all of his strength to lift with. After a moment of snot bubbles, grunting, farting, and more than a few uncomfortable pops in his joints the handles came free.

The lid was stone. Easily three feet across and half a foot thick. The sudden surge of momentum sent the Goblin onto his back, under the heavy stone lid, with a woosh of expelled breath and no small amount of drool. It was cold, muddy, and glorious. Mostly because, there to his right about five feet away was the crone's sacred tea kettle. Barg smiled under the crushing weight of the stone, he found the kettle!

"If we can endure the night, I can magically shield some of us against the cold. Perhaps we should head back for a bit to find shelter?"

Thamkis was dismayed to see the party's spirits flagging so, especially as they'd be dead all the same whether they were sour or not.

The sound of Barg moving stone drew Brengalyn from her stupor, shaking herself off

"What's that you have there Barg?"

That the mercenary drew her weapon was more habit than anything else, but she was cautious of strange moveable stones.

Barg hoisted the tea kettle

"Barg has found potkettle! Is most good find. Also rock with kettle handle!"

He smiled his widest smile

The opening was obviously carefully carved into the stone. There were even rungs down into the darkness. On the inside of the covering lid was a symbol that oddly resembled a Goblin holding sun or glowing orb over his head.

Thamkis ambled over and took a look at the stone, inspecting the carving

"An ancestor of yours it seems, Barg. Strong and powerful."

She leaned to look into the hole Barg had uncovered

"It likely isn't as cold down there, if we can find a place to keep the mules warm we could investigate . . ."

Barg's eyes went wide and he dropped the kettle to stare at the carving of a goblin

"Yes! Is very smartly likeness, most good Thamkis! Barg will find this goblin and defeat him perhaps? Prove he is strongest, get his own carving?"

The kettle clanged from the stony rim of the tunnel and fell into the darkness below. Barg had a moment to look down as the shiny, burnt, coppery vessel of tea love fell from sight. Several heartbeats passed before there was the sound of the tea kettle landing on loose stones below.

"Well that's torn it! Now we need to head down there!"
Brengalyn wasted little time moving to descend.

Penny followed closely behind.

The way down was precariously close fitting for Brengalyn. Once she descended into the tunnel, climbing down rungs set int he wall, she found herself in a pitch black corridor extending right and left from the tiny spot of gray light from above. The corridor, like the tunnel she had descended, was close, maybe three feet wide and barely seven feet tall. The ceiling was arched but the floor was flat and strewn with pebbles and the occasional old bone.

Penny dropped her slight form down into the tunnel and took up the rungs. Soon enough the light faded away so that she had to squint just to make out Brengalyn's head before she stepped onto it. Luckily, the fighter's shoulder was there for her to step onto. The place smelled old, ancient, like the ruins of the cities.

Brengalyn knelt to the passage floor, drawing out a torch and working to light it with her flint and steel

"Apologies Penny, but we'll need more than your starry vision down here."

She looked up the shaft

"Barg! Help Thamkis down!"

With Barg's help Thamkis descended, holding out a hand to take Brengalyn's torch

"We'll need your steel at the ready."

She then of course handed the torch to Barg

"And likely my spells as well . . . "

The corridor was chilly, but warmer the freezing winds and snow above. By the light of the torch it was easy to make out a series of runes carve into the wall. They seemed to placed in a likely position to provided directions. But to where?

Barg grabbed the torch with both hands, hopping from foot to foot as he proceeded heedlessly down the hallway past Brengalyn

"Come friends! Is good direction, Barg knows it!"

Barg had scampered twenty feet along when there was a loud clicking noise.

(OOC: Barg make Reflex save please. Almost asked for a Dex save. Sheesh, too confusing with a 5e game I am running also.)

Though the click meant bad news, the eternally blessed Barg simply barely moved out of the way, hardly even ruffled

OOC: That's a dexterity save of 25, with Evasion

Barg propelled backwards like a, well, a Goblin launched from a catapult. Brengalyn sidestepped as the little Barbarian tumbled by to land somewhat catlike just past her in the cramped corridor. There was a loud woosh-like sound and where Barg had been standing a blade flashed out and hung in the air about waist to Brengalyn. Easily decapitation height for Barg.

Penny squeaked "Barg! Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Brengalyn moved over to try and lift Barg up

"There's no trap in the land that can outsmart Barg the Bold."

She looked ahead, drawing out a set of picks

"Perhaps we should creep forward, searching? Wouldn't want to make Barg dodge all of them!"

The tunnel wound one for another hundred feet before the party came upon another trap. This trap, however, was a spike from the floor that extended to within a hand's breadth of the ceiling. Skewered along  the spike was the drying corpse of a minotaur. It was clad in armor of plate and chain, a dilapidated backpack was torn and its contents spilled onto the floor, and there were several weapons about the corpse or on the floor beneath it.

Barg crept up to the torn pack and tried to see if there was anything worth salvaging

OOC: Perception check 12

Barg slipped forward, closer and closer, to find that there was little of actual use of value left on the corpse. It had been there for quite some time, hundreds of years by the state of the bones and metals. But, closely inspecting the ground for lost coins he found footprints in the age old dust leading onward into the tunnel. And there was a peculiar set of drag marks among the tracks.

Penny followed a little behind.

Brengalyn knelt down to help track these tracks, making note of the marks and signs

OOC: Survival check 11

Thamkis brought up the rear, Graham waddling behind, and with weathered hand and wizened eyes regarded the tracks and what they meant, where they led

OOC: survival check 27

The footprints where broad and had the feel of orcs and, maybe, hobgoblins. The tracks were old, likely as old as the time-worn corpse. Whomever had been here had passed by ages ago. But, as Themkis looked up to express her thoughts on the age of the tracks in the deep dust she noticed a mark along the wall that stood out only because of the bright beauty of Penny's face so near to it. It was a trailblaze and it indicated that the path ahead lead to something of import. Or most likely, it was the way to whatever this dead fellow and his company had been bound for in the past.

Barg, getting too bored for his own good in a place too small for his boundless energy and chaos, kicked at the dust on the floor anxiously waiting to move on and discover adventures and powerful foes. Something rattled. Thamkis reached out a delicate hand and lifted a odd key from the floor. It was marked with Dwarven runes indicating that it was the key to the armory of Manorhelm. Whatever in the hell of dusty darkness that was.

"A key! A dwarf key! It is most oxpissy day indeed!"

Barg danced and capered, the thought of a dwarf key to a dwarf door of a dwarf room filling him with glee. Dwarf rooms had dwarf gold!!

"And you can probably hold onto that key Barg, once we have Thamkis take a look at it. She's sly in the ways of the dwarves."

Brengalyn motioned to Thamkis and then moved up against the wall to let her through

Thamkis hobbled forward, taking the key from Barg to look at the runes

"Hmmmm, very interesting. Manorhelm. Perhaps it will serve us in our travels, perhaps someone wishes to access this place, or keep it safe."

(OOC: So, there I was thinking, when are they going to post in. Well, doh! bart moments aside, i completely missed that i didn't.)

The passage went on for some distance. Nearly a mile according Brengalyn's pace count. A little over according to Thmakis'. But, as all things do, the corridor came to an end. There was a large, elaborately carved door of marble hung with what appeared to be hinges of adamantium. There were deeply carved runes about the door.

Thamkis was surprised to see the inscriptions of a dozen spells preventing the entering of devils, demons, dargons, and the dead. The four D's of Doom some of the old Dwarves were fond of saying. There was a large knob at the doors low right with a peculiar key hole. Footprints in the deep dust went through the door at some point in the past.

"Oooooo!"

Barg marvelled at the door hinges, cocking his head to one side then the other trying to figure out what metal they were

Likely steel!

"We could see if I can pick the lock? Dwarven locks are much the same as others."

Brengalyn knelt with her picks to try the keyhole

OOC: disable device check 30

There was the unmistakable sounds of metal pins and tumblers clicking about in the lock. Then with a final smooth twist, Brengalyn felt the lock give way. The door was unlocked. As she was about to withdraw the lockpicks there was a second, unmistakable click-whir as a trap that had laid dormant for she-didn't know how long was triggered.

(OOC: everyone make a reflex roll versus getting killed by a malicious plot device!!!! wait, that is right, a reflex check. am in the right game system. i forget.)

Old bones may have been sly, but they were also old, and Thamkis' knee locked as she tried to get out of the way, the dull pain of it likely nothing compared to the trap . . .

OOC: rolled a 9

The glint of something shiny on the ground caught Barg's attention and he stooped to look at it, heedless of the trap!

OOC: Reflex save 22, evasion

Panic set in as Brengalyn heard the click and she tried to let her reflexes take over. Panic and instinct did not a loving bed make though . . .

OOC: Rolled a 16, have Evasion too

There was a sudden rush of air, and whirling of gears, and a cluster of darts shot from a panel in the door. Barg sprang away like his beloved toad in with a screech of warning rebounded off of the ceiling. Brengalyn dropped to one knee and leaned flat to the wall. The darts found their mark in Thamkis as the old crone spun and stepped toward the wall. The pain wasn't bad and their was a weak tingling of age old poison that had lost its potency.


(OOC: Thamkis that will be a whopping 3 damage. Piercing of course. the poison had lost its potency. So, the dart trap is quite old.)

"Bags!"

Thamkis touched a finger to the dart, feeling it had pierced her outer clothes and become stuck in the silk chemise under her robes. She gripped her robes and flicked it, the darts falling to the ground

"They say pain is less when you're old. I'm waiting for that dullness."

OOC: 3 damage! Nice! Still 25% of my hp but that's being an old character

The door hung, a touch ajar, with the smell of old death and ancient dust filtering out into the corridor. Brengalyn stood slowly watching for any sign of trouble. Barg checked his pockets. A jump like that, there was no telling what could have shaken loose. Then he shrieked into giggles, he didn't have pockets! Thamkis noted the darts, and with whiff and a lick determined that the poison was Wyvern venom! Oly it must be centuries old.

"Barg has just the ticket!"

Barg fumbled for a small stone in his pack, holding it to his forehead. This mossy agate had little flecks of blue, and Barg had long known it was the fabled Detecty Stone

"Barg will concentrate!"

"What . . . in the world are you doing Barg?"

We've had bloodthirsty warriors and we've had idiots warriors, but the gods never saw fit to saddle us with a bloodthirsty idiot before

Brengalyn crept forward, past the goblin meditating, to check the door and the area beyond for any more of these traps

OOC: Perception check 17 to search

Brengalyn took her time to search for signs of their impending doom, but nothing could be found. Dubious, but certain, she took several furtive steps into the corridor beyond. What she found was shocking. Spread along the corridor, often in heaps were behead and dismembered corpses that looked to be decades old like the one hanging in the corridor.

They still wore their armor, weapons, and packs. Signs of a fight like steel scars in the granite walls and floor, arrows scatter and shattered along the corridor, and long dried bloody footprints bespoke of the combat. There were as series of doors, like the entry to cages along the corridor. At the far end of the corridor it branched right and left. There was a tall, dull gray statue of a Dwarf warrior clad in mail and holding a large sword as if it were standing guard.

"Looks like there was a fight in here, everyone care to take a look?"

Brengalyn eyed the tall statue, wary of any dwarven tricks

"Thamkis, do dwarves use stone warriors, or constructs?"

Thamkis walked in scratching her chin and looked up

"If it is one, it means we're headed in the right direction, but I don't know if this one is one."

OOC: 19 to history, 26 to arcana to identify a construct

Barg moved in as well and began looking at the armour and weapons and bits of stuff with his blue moss agate held to his head, eager to see if there was anything worth collecting. The detecty stone would know . . .

OOC: it is a normal stone

"A-haaaaa!" escaped Barg's lips. The stone vibrated. Dropping to his knees and sliding his face sideways along the floor he found it. A bag. Silver coins. And an off coin a dark metal that felt warm to the touch! Barg found it, the stone found it, quick, must pick it up before it is lost.

Thamkis eyes the statue with a critical eye and softly sniffed the air. There was an unmistakable undercurrent of the arcane at work here. The statue, it was more than a relic of ancient artistry. It was alive somehow, alive with an ancient arcane power.

Brengalyn watched in mystery and wonder. Mystified by the way Thamkis seemed to sniff at the very air. She stared in wonder as Barg dove node first into the old bones and ferreted out some coins. Mayne there was something to that stone thing after all.

"That statue is alive with a magical power. We should tread lightly . . . or with reverence."

She looked at Barg diving for coins

"Perhaps we should just prepare for a fight . . . "

Brengalyn tensed up, drawing her ankus and preparing her buckler

"Maybe you can tell it some sweet words in Dwarvish?"

She snapped her fingers at Barg, trying to get the goblin's attention

Barg raised his head, hearing the snapping, and looked at Brengalyn. He dropped the shinies and sauntered over

"Yes tall lady? Barg is needed?"

"It is a guardian of great wrath, any who try to kill or to destroy . . . or steal, are set upon. We should move with reverence and speed before it decides we're trespassing, perhaps it will let us pass further in"

Thamkis steadied herself and walked forward, Graham at her side waddling proudly as she approached the statue to see if there was an exit near it

"Do not take offense, great one. We are passing through, and do not mean the children of stone harm"

"You are welcome to pass through these halls, Lady, go in peace and live with honor." The Guardian rumbled in a deep, gravely voice in Dwarvish. It spoke with the accent of the ancient tongue, certain syllables were enunciated while others were left silent. It was odd to here to the old crone, but she understood the words without issue.

"We're free to pass. Best behaviour all!"

Thamkis took off at a walk with back straight and head bowed to show some respect.

Brengalyn followed, putting a hand each on the chaos pair of Penny and Barg to usher them along

Barg quickly tried to pocket the pretty rocks he'd found and followed, waddling so his pockets would rattle with a big smile

"Barg thanks you big dwarf man!"

"You are welcome savage Goblin man." A course voice rumbled from the statue.

The corridor stretched on for another forty feet or so and then emptied into a room that faded away into darkness. But, what could be seen was the ends of thick cut-stone cradles for weapons. Many, many weapons. Swords and axes and maces and, of course, heavy crossbows. The room was a warehouse of weapons.

The walls were smooth, cut from living rock, and their dusty expanse seemed to be covered in murals of old-time smiths toiling with hammer and file. The ancestors of those who made the weapons hanging in the cradles no less.

"We need to figure out what if anything we can find in here and then get back to the wagon before too long. I don't imagine the animals are enjoying the cold."

Brengalyn looked around for any sign of interest and whether they could use anything

Thamkis waved her hands over her eyes, both her vision and Graham's clouded by a violet mist as she looked about

OOC: detect magic