Chapter I, Part 6
General Summary
Crumbled Stone & Further Efforts
1st-2nd of Summer, 117 YA
The First of Summer, a day of zestful living and celebration in communities all over Auredain, had passed under the thunderous downpour. The Companions had spent more than a day in the cold, wet confines of the crevasse. It was a sour night, a sleepless night and tempers were short although Prospit cheered everyone up by reading off the list he had made for supplies… Provided they survived the storm, of course.
And then, finally, the sun rose through the morning mist on the 2nd of Summer. The descent lent itself to a slow start to the morning as the Companions dried themselves as best they could and suffered through a late and cold breakfast. Brother Prospit spent some time in prayer for the changing of the seasons before joining the others in readying themselves. They managed to pack up and get moving to an opposite hill to view the ruins on the other side. It was the same bleak result. The rubble pile that was once the Old Raven Tower was completely devastated. Where once the rounded shell of the tower rose up and the stairs landing led inside the open-air structure there was nothing but an immense pile of rubble.
After a hurried conversation in the shadow of the hills, as they were suspicious that there may still be minders left behind to watch for folks such as them who were far too interested in the ruins, the Companions decided to spread their search out. They were all aware that the Witch had fled through an underground passage that seemed to head east and southeast. Geller noted that it was likely to have mirrored the edge of the Border Hills where they broke upon the Scrub Plains. Fastidiously removing all signs of their presence, they followed the ranger down into the lows between the hills and headed north to the Scrub Plains to skirt the edges of the hillsides.
Their pace was slow as Geller and the others peered often at the hills to their south in search of any sign of a possible second entrance into the underground chambers now lost. It was quiet and slightly nerve-wracking as they had little interest in encountering more brigands. The plains seemed to exhale as the winds swept down and across them. A quick camp in a downpatch where the plains met the hills and a tense watch throughout the night in shifts. At first it was just the wind to keep them company but then it became the disembodied howls of jackals hidden by distance and the dark. Though the animals were never seen it did little to sooth their nerves.
The following morning, the 3rd of Summer, got off to a better start as their clothing and equipment had completely dried during the previous trek. A dry night with no rain after the downpour previously was most welcome. But cooling temperatures still left sodden patches of ground that Geller steered the companions around to minimize traces of their passage. After several slow and stealthy hours of walking, sharp eyes spotted an irregular cleft in the hills that seemed to draw attention to their expectant eyes. The companions headed closer to investigate the oddiment.
The cleft resolved itself to be a small cave-like entrance set into the more chiseled side of a rocky hill where they encountered a promising sign. A trough, old but still useable, was positioned next to a number of what could only be hitching posts for horses and the like! As the rains had clearly swept through here, judging by the water in the trough, Geller and the others could find no indication of traffic or tracks leading to or from the small cavern opening. There was some discussion, away from the opening, and it was unanimous that they should enter and see whether this led back to the underground abscess that had lain beneath the Old Raven Tower.
Eschewing torches, Edlin and Prospit called upon their respective gifts to provide sources of illumination to the group. Making their way past a rough, almost natural front formed from the cave mouth; the companions tensed as they saw signs of rough stonework that had widened and planed the passage into something more civilized. Clearly, someone or some things had widened and smoothed the natural cave here into a more recognizable passageway. They proceeded cautiously as Grimbould expressed ignorance as to the actual origin of the stonework. Even an amateur’s eye would have described it as ‘rough’ at best. The work seemed not to have been done with much of an eye for aesthetics and the Duergar dismissed it as ‘shoddy manling’ work.
Using the conjured illumination, the Companions worked their way through the cave and its widening passages. At the very entrance was a closed off passage a bit higher than a man and blocked by rubble. The rubble seemed natural although it fell only in this area and it was clear that the passage seemed to continue onwards if not for the obstruction. Moving on, the companions resolved to return to it if needs must. As they walked deeper, the ceiling began to stretch high, taking advantage of the hill above it, and the walls became more natural while the open spaces grew wider. There was too much pebble scatter to find any tracks but they managed to wend their way around until they came back to the blocked off cavern passage.
A Venomous Welcome
3rd of Summer, 117 YA
Grimbould cracked his neck and spat on the ground. With his customary nonchalance, he indicated that it could be cleared in no more than a couple hours. His tapping and listening seemed to indicate that the rubble pile was no more than six feet deep; likely less. Seeing that there were no further ways out of the cave other than the way they came in or around the rubble, the Companions offered to help but the Duergar’s look of incredulity as he pointedly looked up and down at Edlin and Prospit was enough to settle the matter. With a last staccato cracking of his knuckles, the Duergar bent to the task with hands and a pry bar. In a matter of minutes, the Duergar’s work rhythm was in full swing and he muttered a labor-chant in a low monotone to lend pacing to his efforts.
As the Duergar worked his way through, the others rolled rocks and debris away from Grimbould’s work area as he made a concave opening in the pile. The pile seemed endless at first but by the arcane lights still glowing around them, even Edlin had to admit that the dwarf knew his stone labor. The time came when there was a loud grunt and the last clatter of rocks as the Duergar pushed his way through the opening he had made. Geller had stepped away from the group with Edlin and they peered about looking for some signs of what this might be or who may have used it. But the cave walls, except for some rough widening, were natural for the most part. Edlin even cast the light upwards to see if there was something on the ceiling and that was when Geller hissed in alarm!
The ranger’s hand latched onto Edlin’s as the mage turned in surprise. Geller forced the mage’s light source back up to where he could have sworn something moved. Edlin was no fool and caught the serious look in Geller’s eyes. In ever-widening arcs towards the ceiling, the mage worked his light conjuration off the stone walls and ceiling and then… he saw it move too.
A twinned intake of breath from the two was the only noise until they heard the click and scrabble as a many-legged shadow, as long as teenager, scuttled across the ceiling and back into the shadows. Brother Prospit looked over to see Geller nock his bow and began to draw back, arcing the arrowtip higher and higher, and then the sound seemed to come from all around them like a susurrating echo. The click-clack of insectile legs from above, to their left and their right, the ranger knew a big bug or two in his time but even he blinked as the nearly five-foot scorpion skittered down the vertical side of the cave.
Angry red with mottled brown patches, the scorpion’s carapace stood at even height with the ranger’s waist and that thought jolted him enough to fire his arrow. Even as he did so, the scorpion seemed to appeared out of the stone shadows and scuttled across the floor towards the Companions. With a shout of warning, Geller launched another arrow before abandoning it in favor of grasped steel as his blade sprang from its scabbard. Even with the ranger’s quick reflexes, Edlin chortled under his breath as the venomous arachnid charged towards them.
With splayed hands and venomous words of his own, Edlin bathed the scorpion in eldritch flames. The oversized bug seemed to almost keen as the blue-red flames coruscated over its carapace, causing the chitin to bubble, crack and then explode from the heat. With a last pop, the bug’s shell burst and the cave filled with the acrid smell of ichor. Edlin, close enough to get flaming ichor on his robes, watched it for a burn too long and then turned back to his friends with a devilish grin of elation. The mage’s friends, loyal to a fault, exchanged a familiar look of concern.
It had not escaped any of them that Edlin really, really, really liked to make things burn.
Once the shell stopped fizzing and hissing from the heat, the others noticed that Grimbould had simply turned back to his work and forced his way through the last stony obstacles. The rocks fell back from his wide-shouldered frame and they got their first look at a small… cloakroom? In a cave? Hanging on a wall were several robes of lustrous black material. Edlin took one down and admired the feel of the cloth and the fine, menacing hood that it had. Brother Prospit began to lecture him on the dangers of cult robes and even Geller pointed out that, based on the ‘activities’ they saw evidence of in the temple that those robes might be super-icky. Edlin spared a look down at his ichor and travel-stained robes and shrugged. He grabbed a pair of them and stuffed them into his sack while Prospit moved forward and directed their attention at a chest set against the wall.
Sturdy wood, iron lock, hasp and hinges, the chest was about mid-thigh on Prospit and seemed sturdy. He cautioned patience though as the Nameless were known for poisons, curses and other foul things. From the sighs in the group, it was clear yet again that Rhys and his ‘gift’ at opening things was again sorely missed. A close visual observation by them showed nothing out of the ordinary and, in an abundance of caution, Edlin incanted quickly and found no traces of arcane, divine or infernal protection. Set at a distance from the chest, they nervously levered it open and found that it contained an odd assortment of items.
A long wooden box was set in the base of the chest. Within it, amidst some dark cloth, Prospit observed a silver chalice and he steeled himself to wrap it back up in the cloth. Before he did so, all noticed that the chalice had an obsidian inset as the lip rest around the rim. In moving the cloth around, a small bound book was also discovered. The cover was dark and supple with three tiger-eye jewels glinting from it. The three were arranged in a triangle and Prospit noticed an empty seat where one jewel must have come loose. He passed the book to Edlin with a warning glance and then shook the box. A rattle answered him and he scooped out the fourth tiger-eye and showed it to the others. Finally, came the shared thought, something of value! Their expeditions had been straining their purses and, with Prospit’s mind dancing with waterproof tents and cots, the idea that the last few days had been worth it was uplifting.
As Prospit began to secure the items and the box, he looked to Edlin who handed the book back.
The alphabet is Theran, an older form but legible. Unfortunately, it is either gibberish or, more likely, in a cipher of some sorts. The conjoinings and words formed make no sense at all. It will take either study or the key itself to see if it is more than it appears.
With the items secured, the companions headed further into the caves. Wider and higher passages seemed to almost bowl out in either direction but the Companions tried to stay close to each other; if not for safety then for the comforting illumination. Heading deeper, Grimbould grunted and pointed to dark shape upon the cave floor just outside of the light. They approached it cautiously and discovered the body of a man. The skin was discolored and it smelled foul; of decay and old violence.
Turning the body gingerly, Prospit discovered that the man's back had been penetrated or stabbed multiple times. This was no scorpion attack, he noted to the others. The body was a human male but he had been dead for some time. The corpse had brown hair but the face had bloated up and was too discolored to identify any features. Brother Prospit softly swore a benediction and final prayer for the man’s soul while he checked the body for clues as to identity. A scar on the temple. In his purse, five gold Auredain pieces and a tarnished metal earring with the initials “B.W.” set on the inside of the loop. Nothing of much use. Brother Prospit ceased his investigations and all of them had a quiet moment as he finished the last blessings on the body. As they stepped away from the body, Geller pointed out that the man had been attacked further away and had only made it this far by crawling according to the tracks. Following the tracks outlined by the ranger, the others almost moved out of the room when a familiar, disturbing skitter came from different directions and then was gone. A few moments of hushed nervousness and nothing…
Brother Prospit edged along the cave wall until he came to a corner and spun around on it. A flash of something dark, shiny and lightning-quick caught his eye and he failed to stifle a yell of pain as a stinger, the size of a man’s hand, slammed into his leg. The priest staggered backwards as the scorpion skutted forward, pincers clasping at him, and shouted to his companions. The scorpion was too quick and snagged him with a claw and held the priest fast. Hearing the cleric’s cry, Edlin moved up with his hands weaving until he realized that the scorpion and Prospit were too close for his pyrotechnics. A steady thumping came from behind the mage as Grimbould whipped his axe off his shoulder and ran for the scorpion.
Prospit cracked at the scorpion and its pincer with his hammer in desperation. The beaded tail tore out of his leg, whipped back and went too high as it came in for another stab. A howl from the Duergar sent the pincer holding the cleric spinning away and spraying ichor. Prospit dipped away as Grimbould proceeded to heave at the many legs of the scorpion like a lumberjack. As sounds reminiscent of breaking sticks echoed in the cave, Brother Prospit limped far enough away to stop and get a look at his leg. In doing so, he immediately noticed the discoloration spreading and then, like a gibbet sprung, his leg gave out. The cleric crashed to the floor as only heat and an infernal itching emanated from his now deadened leg.
While Prospit had worried at the wound on his leg, Grimbould and the others ended a second scorpion interloper’s attempts and life. The cavern returned to quiet as they cleaned weapons and hurried to see if Prospit was okay. With bandages flying and advice flying faster, the companions discussed the possibilities… most of them sounding pretty bad to Prospit. The cleric had to decline, not once, but twice offers from the Duergar to simply remove his leg before the poison spread.
In time, with bandages and hurried plans for carrying Prospit out of there, the cleric realized that the feeling was beginning to return. It took some time as he hobbled around the cave but eventually he determined that, other than the leaking hole in his thigh patched with cloth, the sensation and control had returned to his leg.
It was a very relieved Brother Prospit that stepped out of the cave into the mid-afternoon sun with his companions. Though the day was young, only two-to-three hours after noon, the group was feeling the adrenaline fade and exhaustion set in. This was even worse for Grimbould and Prospit so an easy camp was decided upon and Geller disappeared into the hills to find a campsite that offered some cover from prying eyes as well as the elements. It was not easy but he found such a spot two hills over there. By the time he had returned and dragged the others to the campsite, all of them were feeling exhausted. It was a quick supper and barely unrolled blankets before the snoring began.
A Disarming Of Sorts
4th of Summer, 117 YA
Midday on the 4th found our Companions pushing their way through the Border Hills back towards Keep Dyramar. Rested but still attuned to their tired bodies, the group made good time throughout most of the day in that direction. But they stopped off at the crown of the hill where the Old Raven Tower once stood and observed the destruction. There were no stones larger than a man’s head left, all stacked and spilling down the hillside. Edlin circled the site slowly and cast his senses far but could sense nothing beyond the feel of elemental energy asunder… Which was, frankly, rather obvious. Someone or something had gathered up a whole lot of energy and ripped the very skein of elemental firmament away to cause this much destruction but was it divine or arcane… neither he nor Prospit could answer that.
The group talked quietly as they moved up and down the hilly landscape. While Geller endeavored to keep them moving between hillsides and minimize their observation, all of them had a sudden desire to be within the strong walls of Dyramar by nightfall. So they began to pick up the pace and skirt the ridgeline in a direct cast towards the Keep. Doing so made the ranger nervous, and thankfully so, as pacing ahead he caught the sound of something in a low-lying seam a few hundred feet away. With everyone waved to stillness and alerted, the ranger crawled to the top of the ridgeline to look down at the noisemaker… and his heart sank.
Easily approaching eight feet tall and nearly as broad, the Ogre was foraging around in the area between the hills. Geller could see the Ogre’s club against a rock, a crude sack of sorts over his shoulder, and the beastman seemed to be humming something as the Ogre casually lifted a boulder twice the size of the ranger and tipped it aside to look for nummies. The ranger watched it for a few moments more before skirting back down towards the group to warn them. As he approached them, Geller had already plotted out a way to go around the Ogre and began to present it to his friends but he was cut off after a few words…
Grimbould’s smile would have lit up the halls of Haraz Thun. He spit in his hands and informed everyone that the shortest distance between two places was through the Ogre. While Geller did not disagree, he had seen the beastman and its strength so he tried to caution the Duergar but it was to no avail. The dwarf was simply stropping his great axe’s face and smiling as he began striding towards the ridgeline. A collective shrug sent the others running after him and together they peered down at the creature who was still busy smashing his hand into the earth where a gopher or snake hole was visible. His strength drove his arm deep and eventually something wriggling would come up grasped in his dirty hands to be thrown into the sack.
Prospit, Geller and Edlin quickly began readying themselves and discussing tactics from the ridgeline. Alarmed by the size of the Ogre, Brother Prospit called on the Virtues to shield him and his skin solidified and sparkled as if blessed within. Unfortunately for them, Grimbould had dispensed with the pre-battle huddle and was simply striding down the hillside with his greataxe over one shoulder. The other three groaned and began hurrying after him. With no attempt at stealth, it did not take long for the Ogre to smell dwarflesh on the air and its spun around with a toothy grin to match Grimbould’s at the thought of its next meal. The Ogre bellowed at them, the sound echoing between the hills, as the Duergar began to charge at it.
The Duergar’s size played no small part in what happened next. Geller’s arrow slammed into the thick hide of the brute from the hillside and the subhuman giant roared in pain! Its wide armed swing powered the Ogre’s first, the size of a prize-winning watermelon, into a terrifying blow that went completely over Grimbold’s head. The two combatants, grossly mismatched, exchanged insults that neither could understand nor fail to understand as to its intent. As the Ogre became angry, it brought its arm back again and swung forward in blow that was sure to turn the Duergar into a flatcake but it was not to be.
Grimbould swept his greataxe around to meet the blow and even Ogre-hide failed before that keen dwarven half-moon of steel. That meaty arm was removed as cleanly as a fish head at the market. The limb, nearly five feet in length itself, went sailing over Grimbould’s head from the momentum the Ogre’s swing had put into before it was severed. The Duergar barely ducked as it dripped over him and fell to the ground several yards behind him. Geller nearly dropped his bow in astonishment as the Ogre stumbled back, stump gushing, in agony and confusion. Pain and weakness, like it had never known, overcame the subhuman and it reeled back and forth before slumping to the ground as its oversized heart worked to empty its lifesblood into the dirt below. Grimbould spared it not a moment and removed its head as it slumped nearby, finally of a height with the Duergar Berserker.
As night fell on the ramparts of Keep Dyramar, the gate guards watched warily as several dark shapes shuffled up the ramped road to the entrance. They had been heard before it was possible to see him as the one in front, a Duergar that looked familiar to them, was whistling a jaunty tune as his pack overflowed from something whose horns stuck out from the straps. The guards, finally recognizing the group, were taken aback at the cheerfulness of the Duergar. A far cry from the surly axe-dwarf that had left the Keep a few days back.
Rewards Granted
Cult Coat Check Two sets of fine, dark and menacing robes taken by Edlin amidst much head-shaking by Brother Prospit. A long box holds a silver ceremonial chalice. The chalice has a piece of obsidian inset as the lip rest. The same box also holds a small book with three tigereye stones set in the cover; another small tigereye roams the box freely. The book is old and has writing in the Theran alphabet. But appears to be some kind of cipher or gibberish as Edlin could make no sense of it at first glance.
Dead Man's Purse In a small, light brown belt-purse are 5 gold pieces and one tarnished metal earring . The earring is a simple loop and is missing the clasp used to tighten it to the ear. On the inside of the loop you can barely make out two initials, B and W.
Unfortunate Ogre An Ogre skull and 4gp, 24sp in coins that smell foul.
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