Dorn's Deep

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Mar 1, 2019 3:30 am
"One who has walked these halls as a champion; one who has failed his people and his duties. A dwerf sees you, friend, and he would reclaim these halls from those that would defile the names o’ the old gods of Dorn’s Deep."

Reaching out, Reòthadh gives a salute to the ancient dwarf spirit. The dwarf’s face twinkles for a moment as tears form at the edges of his eyes. Before they can fall, the drops crystalize and drift away as fine snowflakes.

"This dwerf bears the mark o’ Bolverk o’ the frost, a curse and a gift to champion his people. Marthammor Duin has brought this traveler back to free his people."
Last edited March 1, 2019 3:30 am
Mar 1, 2019 5:54 pm
"Thank you, my friend," Zenithral tells Fluphy.

Zenithral continues to sit with Brother Gus. After some time, he speaks up again. "Brother. We must continue further into Dorn's Deep to rescue those further in. But first, what should be done with those who have perished?"


93/98 HP
OOC:
Last roll should read 1d10+1
Last edited March 2, 2019 1:34 am

Rolls

Hit Dice - (5d10+5)

(77629) + 5 = 36

More - (1d10+10)

(3) + 10 = 13

Mar 1, 2019 10:51 pm
Brother Gus opens his eyes. "I… We cannot bury the dead here, and the living will need attention. I believe the sooner that my brethren leave this place, the better for us."

He rubs his temples. "Everything is a blur, but… there are many enemies down in these ruins. Dark elves. Giants. Slaves and servants. There are undead, as well. But…" The priest looks at Zenithral. "Mother Egenia said you would accomplish great things, and here you are delivering us from a fate worse than death. If there is anyone who can handle the threats here, it is you and your friends, Zenithral."
Mar 1, 2019 11:07 pm
"By Moradin and all the gods o' the sturdy folk!" Norlinor's white eyes widen. "Reòthadh?" The ghost reaches out to touch the sorcerer, but his ethereal hand merely passes through the dwarf's shoulder. "How is it ye come back now, after so long lost? Where was the greatest hero o' Dorn's Deep when his home fell?"

Then, seeing Reòthadh's grief, Norlinor sighs. "But the years have no been kind to ye, brother. Last o' the kin, and broken all the same. But if there be ought ye can do to cleanse yer home, at the very least ye might oust the ones who keep the forge lit." Then Reòthadh and the others see wisps of other ghostly dwarves milling about the chamber, wandering lost and moaning airily. "While it burns hot, yer deceased kin yearn to return to work it with hands that no longer bear flesh. Cool the forge, and mayhap we rest easy once more."
Mar 2, 2019 1:17 am
OOC:
Short rest completed during all the conversation (which can be continued in the appropriate colors if there is more to say). Zen, Reo, and Al all gain Inspiration! For Al's activity in the other threads - particularly Kuldahar - she also gets one Hero Point!
The party takes some time to care for their wounds and discuss their next step in Dorn's Deep. With Zenithral and Fluphy's help, Brother Gus recovers himself enough to be able to manage caring for the surviving Ilmatari, who begin to waken with splitting headaches.

Just before the party is ready to set out, a ringing *gong* splits the air, echoing through the chamber and other passages. Maralie leaps at the peal, eyes wide. The mute gnome leaves Ug's side and waves her small hands at Vincent. When he establishes the telepathic link, he finds her mental voice quivering with fear:

Thebellthebellthebellhecallsustheslavesmalavoncalls
lateslavespunisheddeathallslavesgonow!
Mar 2, 2019 6:57 am
HP: 142/142
Last edited March 2, 2019 8:33 pm

Rolls

Hit dice 1-4 - (4d6+20)

(4342) + 20 = 33

Hit die 5 - (1d6+5)

(4) + 5 = 9

Mar 2, 2019 3:09 pm
"Lead the way, little one. We had best be quick." Alalla nods to the group and follows the gnome girl.

HP: 137/144
Hit dice: 11/14
Last edited March 3, 2019 12:08 am

Rolls

Hit dice x2 - (2d10+8)

(12) + 8 = 11

Hit die - (1d10+4)

(9) + 4 = 13

Mar 3, 2019 2:44 am
HP 101/101
Last edited March 3, 2019 2:46 am

Rolls

Hit dice - (4d8+8)

(3515) + 8 = 22

Moar - (2d8+4)

(78) + 4 = 19

Mar 3, 2019 3:08 am
HP:87/87
AC:18(+2)
Ki:7/7
SS:2/2(+1)
HD:11/14
Last edited March 3, 2019 3:10 am

Rolls

Hit dice x2 - (2d8+2)

(17) + 2 = 10

Hit dice x1 - (1d8+1)

(8) + 1 = 9

Mar 3, 2019 11:10 pm
Under Brother Gus' ministrations, the rest of the Ilmatari begin to stir. Each one shows nothing but shock and remorse at what they have been compelled to do.

Brother Gus approaches the party as they begin to leave. "Friends. I would wish you luck in this place, but I know that you do not need it. Ilmater guides your path! Have faith, and remain strong." He glances back at the wounded Ilmatari. "We will begin to make our way outside. The sooner we leave this dark hole, the better. Still, should you free more people and send them our way, we will gladly care for them. Farewell!"
Mar 3, 2019 11:15 pm
Maralie scampers through the ruins of the dwarven fortress, leading the group past crumbling statues and through great halls. As they walk, the air becomes warmer and dryer. Hotter. Eventually they arrive at an enormous cavern, large enough to hold the entire town of Targos.

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/a2/50/7a/a2507a9d57fe3e1963f2941e0ea3e91f.jpg

The majority of the place is a lake of lava, hot enough to warp the companions' vision as they look across at stone outcroppings, entire buildings, and metal walkways that cross over the lake. The entire scene almost seems to be painted in reverse of life aboveground - rather than light falling from the sky above above, everything here is lit from beneath with an angry red and orange glow, causing the tops of boulders, structures, and statues to be covered in darkness.
Mar 3, 2019 11:21 pm
The ring of metal on metal is a near-constant din from many points throughout the cavern. Huge figures can be seen pounding at anvils with hammers, working through the persistent heat to shape metal to their will and design. None of the fire giants look up from their work, but one towering shape looms nearby - a giant guard dressed in heavy armor.

"You there. Small folk. You should not be here." He drops a heavy-bladed axe to the floor with a thud and leans on the handle, one hand running through his thick red beard. "I know what the Black Swan commanded. Why do you press on when she gave you leave to depart? Surely you do not wish to anger a clan of fire giants in our own lair..."

The enormous guard peers down at the party, narrowed eyes expectant.
Mar 5, 2019 12:18 am
The dwarven sorcerer clears his throat....

"The defiler Mavalon has broken the Black Swan's word; He harbors slaves that are our kin and sought our lives when we were granted safe passage; we seek retribution for the oath broken."

Gesturing to the giants, he continues to speak in their own tongue.

"A dwerf knows of the way o' the forge, legend speaks o' the fire giants, their craftsmanship unmatched. A dwerf might expect there to be slavemasters strong enough to extort fire giants into rushing fine works for their own devious purposes."
Last edited March 5, 2019 5:56 am

Rolls

A dwerf may still have people skills (persuasion) - (1d20+9)

(20) + 9 = 29

Or friends that can help him try... (help action) - (1d20+9)

(13) + 9 = 22

Mar 5, 2019 1:21 am
Ug stands in front of the small gnome girl, bending down extremely low to whisper in her ear in gnomish that it will all be ok. He winks and lifts her up into his arms as he turns to face the giants. Standing beside the dwarf he holds the small girl protectively, trying to reinforce Reos words that the slaves were indeed family.

ug uses the helping action with reos charisma attempt.
Mar 5, 2019 12:57 pm
The fire giant raises a red eyebrow. His voice rumbles out in Giant. "Slavemaster? Extorting us? Hah! We are well-payed for our craft. Poquelin understands the value of patience and perfection, and compensates us accordingly. Malavon, on the other hand... He came to us yesterday and demanded results." The giant's chuckle is dark and amused. "We gave him what he asked for, though surely it is not what he wanted."

The guard straightens up, axe still planted before him. These words are in Common, so that all of the companions are sure to understand"It is not my part nor that of my kin to stand in the way of your feud. We have our own work to be about. Kill Malavon if you wish. But if you disrupt our craft..." The stone beneath the axe glows orange, and the weapon's head begins to sink into the floor. He lifts it free of the ground, leaving a sizable hole as the axe takes a chunk of molten stone with it. "Keep your business to yourself, and you will have no trouble from us."
Mar 5, 2019 1:33 pm
As Reothadh and the giant speak, Alalla examines their surroundings, looking for the forge's source of power and ways to exploit it.

Rolls

Perception - (1d20)

(1) = 1

Inspiration reroll - (1d20)

(16) = 16

Mar 6, 2019 5:22 am
From where she is, Alalla can see a handful of furnaces flowing brightly, each one tended by a giant working meticulously on some project. Every furnace she can see has some sort of massive piping that sprawls toward the middle of the room - presumably to some central forge.

As the party moves into the huge cavern, the fire giant guard watches them pass with a wary eye.

Maralie leads the way forward. Catwalks, bridges, every step is accompanied by intense heat. In moments each of the companions is covered in sweat. The fire giants, to no surprise, seem unbothered. The heroes even notice one giant reach down into the lava with a bare arm, completely at ease in the incredible heat.

Eventually the party nears the middle of the cavern and finds some stairs going down to a passage underneath the lava lake. Zenithral recognizes the hallways hear, and knows his mother's room is nearby.

Maralie guides them to a large room, at the far end of which stands a raised dais with a throne atop it. Behind the throne is an enormous furnace, far larger than any of the others above.

And there is Malavon.
Mar 6, 2019 5:25 am
The dark elf wizard stands tall on the dais in his ostentatious robes, one hand on the throne. On the ground before the dais are two dozen gnome slaves, hands bound behind their backs. One of them is an older woman with pure white hair - Nancy. On either side of the gnome group is a tall metal statue or an armored warrior.

Malavon raises a hand in salutation. "Ah yes, you have made it. I thought I might need to start killing slaves." He waves at the two statues. "You see, these are not merely decorative. These two golems have been given comprehensive orders to kill all the gnomes should you heroes try anything, including dear old Nancy. So, please do drop your weapons and spell implements." He smirks. "Unless you came all this way to watch the feeble lady die?"

His flippant tone departs suddenly. "I said drop your weapons!"
Mar 6, 2019 12:42 pm
Alalla looks over the captive gnomes and the statues for a moment, then drops her glaive with an irritated grunt. She raises her hands.

"You're in a tight spot, Malavon. I don't see a good outcome for you here. Losing will obviously be bad for you, but what will you do if you win? Kill us all?" She opens herself to sense the otherworldly and sweeps the room with her eyes as she talks. "The Black Swan will still know that you went against her orders, and she'll be livid to hear you killed her son. Come now. Surely we can work something out?"

Alalla uses Divine Sense.
Last edited March 6, 2019 12:44 pm

Rolls

Intimidate - (1d20+8)

(2) + 8 = 10

Mar 6, 2019 4:17 pm
Reòthadh recognizes that these golems are made of iron. There are signs of master craftsmanship (certainly forged by the fire giants), but these constructs are obviously unfinished. They seem to have been meant as practice pieces, to be set aside when work begins on the final product.

Still, they do seem to be animated by magic and at least somewhat functional. They are surely capable of killing helpless slaves.
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