Game Posts

Ryyrik turns his attention to the final drow and draws his hammer back and swings.

Wuknit casts his gaze to the remaining drow when suddenly 3 purple balls of light fly through the air into its back.

The Phinebear follows Wuknit's orbs and turns to the last drow. He follows in the wake of the purple projectiles and slams into their target as a ball of fur, fangs, and claws.

Ulfren exhales, supporting himself with hands on his knees. "I'm getting tired of these bloody drow in this bloody mine."

"Well now we've got svirfneblin, too." Gunnar mutters, warily looking over the gnome in the cage. The dwarf rifleman lowers his weapon, but his finger stays near his trigger.

Phineas reverts to Dwarf form, spitting out blood.

"Bleh! I really need to learn a new form that doesn't bite things to death!"

He spits out a few more times before he recovers completely.

"I'm sorry, where are my manners! Nice to meet you, Wuknit! How'd you end up here? Can you tell us what happened to the ancestral Dwarf clan and their king that resided in these halls? I'm Phineas by the way, and this Ulfren, Ryyrik, and Gunnar."

Wuknit looks across the dwarves, his eyes are just a solid colour (a deep blue) and the fact that he doesn't blink seems to not bother him overly. He smiles "Wuknit is pleased to meet you all too. Wuknit was taken by the drow, not sure what they wanted him for. Wuknit would like to be out of the cage now please"

"Right! Yes, just a moment."

Phineas opens Wuknit's cell.

"Wuknit, come with us! We could use your skills. Ours is a noble cause; these halls were our home long ago. But, we were frozen in time, and you can imagine our surprise when we returned to find our mountain in its current condition instead of the thriving Dwarven stronghold we knew. I am hopeful we can still rescue some of clansmen, perhaps petrified or frozen in time in our own way. Regardless, we will avenge our clan for whatever evil befell them."

"High probability of death. Small chance of success. You in?"

Ulfren mutters to Ryyrick and Gunnar, "He does have the tongue of the tall folk, don't he? Using ten when one would do."

Leaving Phineas to negotiate with Wuknit, Ulfren pokes through the bodies of the drow. "Lessee if they gots anything interesting on 'em."

Wuknit thinks for a moment then smiles "You killed the drow who were not nice to Wuknit. Wuknit will help you all in turn."

"Here's fancy-boy's gear," says Ulfren, placing the items on the floor. "Ya see anything you like, help y'selves."

He takes one of the bottles of wine and uncorks it to take a sniff.

"Tomorrow I can prepare some magic to determine if these items are magical or cursed. Best not use them until then. However... "

Phineas looks at the lustrous silk armour, and then down at his tattered, frost-bitten hide armour, and wonders if that silk armour might smell better. It wasn't every day a druid came by a decent suit of non-metal armour.As for the other items, Phineas glances through the spellbook. He has enough wizard training from his days in the Academy, but long ago branched off that path. He'll try to see what he can make of the book next rest.

"Pfeh," Ulfren says, recoiling from the wine bottle. "Elf juice."

He sets the bottle down and checks the door to the room. "We can hole up in here for a bit, let Ryyrik and Wukkit or whoever get their legs back. Meantime, I needs a nap. Wake me when it's my turn to watch." Ulfren gingerly seats himself, wincing with the effort as he leans against a wall, and closes his eyes while sitting upright with his battleaxe across his lap.