DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Hall of Fame - Latest Top 10 completed games HHE: The Haunted Helm HHE12: The Fork

GM

It was cool and shadowy under the massive half-moon karst, its air misty from the river running through it. Footing would have been treacherous without the pools of effluent, dribbled down from the dragon's lair, through the insides of the mountain.

The smell was unnatural, revolting and unescapable if you were going to climb up into the mine. At least you could see the entrance clearly now, a cleft in the rocks that had been widened in the far, distant past by tools. It led into darkness but light reflected off of the chisel marks on the walls further in, suggesting a navigable passageway.

Standing underneath it, you saw the problem in greater detail. Once upon a time, maybe the mine's entrance was closer to ground level, but now it was over 10 feet above the ground. You would have to climb the inside of the archway to reach it. Climb upside-down.

After a rapid exchange of ideas, you decided to lash your packs into one bundle, along with any medium-sized or larger weapons. This bundle would be tied to the end of the climbing rope, so after you were all secure in the mine, together you could haul up the bundle. Thus you would climb unencumbered. Your armour was flexible and its weight well distributed, and whatever daggers, knives or other small blades you carried, could be tucked away.

Since he'd scouted the mine on the previous day, the halfling was first to ascend, making it look easy with his three and a half stone of weight. His head stuck out from above the ledge and he commanded his (possibly non-existent) dire wolf to jump up into the entrance. This it apparently did with the ease you'd expect of an imaginary creature, leaving Seyja and the rest of the party to follow.

If you had a top and bottom anchor, you could have made the rope tight enough to create a diagonal rope-climb. You had plentiful bottom anchors, boulders, but none inside the mine entrance. Once Seyja and D were aloft, they could wedge themselves in the entrance and act as top anchor.

The others would wait their turn, keeping their balance on the slippery rocks below.

Seyja climbed first, showing the formidable strength of a born and bred rock climber that also allowed her to wield the greataxe. For her, breathing was the worst part, sucking in lungfuls of the retched stink. Bearkiller's weathered face greeted her after she'd swung up into the mine entrance.

"You climb like rock monkey." He said with a nod, as if it were a perfectly normal sort of thing for a man to say to a woman.

The dark elf came next, the rope tied around his waste, trailing back to the bundle of equipment. He'd mantled over enough eaves and parapets to have mastered the principles, but the grips, climbing amongst stalagtites, were a new challenge for him. D was slower than Seyja, relying on his flexibility to attain the maximum reach on each manoeuvre.

D was within arm's reach of the entrance and those waiting on the ground were visualising their ascent when suddenly there was a crack, the sound of splitting rock. Seya and Bearkiller's heads appeared above the ledge, looking concerned.

Again came the sound, this time accompanied by a sprinkling of grit. Seyja threw out an arm for D but too late, a fat cluster of stalagtites broke from the ceiling, perhaps dislodged by the ascents. It fell, snagging the rope trailed by D. Him and Seyja were snatched from the mine entrance by its weight and plunged into the effluent pool.

The falling rock scattered the rest of the party. Sergeant Almador yanked Weston backwards, avoiding being crushed but causing both men to slip feet first into the poison.

Somehow Jex and Tindarien retained their footing, dodging around the rock as it crashed into the boulders below it. The falling rock exploded into chunks, the largest splashing into the same pool as D and Seyja, still snagged on the rope.

D struggled but felt tethered. He was submerged in congealed dragon's blood and leachate. Holding his nerve, he kept his eyes and mouth closed and felt for one of his blades. Maybe the rope was pinned under the rock. If enough of the rock had landed in the pool, he'd be pinned with it.

Seyja was sloshing through the waste deep effluent, drenched and her eyes squeezed shut. She was covered in the lumpy white scum that grew on the surface of the pool, and where it slid against her skin it yellowed and blistered with frostbite. Only Zoltan had seen where the rock and D had landed, and was already wading towards the site, calling Seyja to him.

Weston and Sergeant Almador had only sank in up to their knees, but could feel the same deadly cold. Jex and Tindarien soon had them out and were dumping water over their legs to wash off the white pudding. When the water hit the substance, it froze into large blobs of ice and was easily plucked off.

Meanwhile, D was suddenly freed and dragged to his feet. Between them, Zoltan and Seyja had cut the rope and grabbed the dark elf under the arms, and together, the three pushed through the effluent and freezing scum, living to tell the tale.

***

An hour later you had all ascended and were hunched over in the mine.

You'd taken half an hour to venture a stone's throw upstream and wash. Cold burns from the white pudding were treated and wrapped, and D was still feeling a little woozy.

But at least there'd been enough rope coiled around your bundle of equipment that it hadn't been dragged into the pool. On the second attempt the climb went according to each and everyone's plan, and Sergeant Almador was hauled up last with the equipment.

Bearkiller led, with the party using dusty old mining lamps they'd found stacked near the entrance. You saw abundant evidence that the mine was a joint dwarven-gnomish enterprise, hastily abandoned over a hundred years ago by the looks of it. The lamps, helmets, tools, the signage and rusted footlockers. Almador was as local as you could get, but knew nothing of the place, not even rumours or folk tales.

Although every surface was blanketed in thick dust, you could imagine the miners hard at work, until one fateful day they broke into a cavern above and awoke the Beast....

You followed the trickle of dragon's blood upwards, emerging into a large shaft. There were steps and ledges carved into the walls, forming one long and precarious pathway, winding around the shaft from bottom to top. The floor of the shaft was littered with the wreckage of collapsed scaffolding and derelict lifting devices.

Tindarien could conjure magical dancing lights, that spiralled crazily up into the darkness. By their light you saw glistering, metallic veins in the walls of the shaft and for a moment you thought you'd wandered into a gold mine.

The piles of ore told you otherwise. Dusting off a hunk and holding it up to the light, there was that same glint of gold again, but striking it against steel produced a shower of sparks. It was so-called Alchemist's Gold, pyrite.

Mysterious felt drapes hung around the walls from the floor up to around twice head height. Peeking behind them, rubbing the walls with their fingers, Jex and Tindarien identified a stratum of oil shale, innately flammable rock, suggesting the felt was to deter fires.

There were no signs of life, not even rats or bats and the mine had a sepulchral atmosphere. If the Beast was one of the Primeval white dragons, it could have some ability with death magic, so you were wary for any signs of the undead.

Facing undead on the narrow pathway as you climbed up the shaft would be hard. At least for this climb you'd be on foot.

And then there was the very structure of this cave and mine system. An opening at the top, under which was a cavern, the dragon's lair. An opening at the bottom, and between the two, a mine shaft laden with pyrite and oil shale. It either didn't bear thinking about, or did.

D HP: 24/28; Rec: 4/8; AC 14, PD 15, MD 11; Init +9, Weakened
J HP: 20/32; Rec: 2/8; AC 14, PD 12, MD 11; Init +4*2
S HP: 34/43; Rec: 0/8; AC 15, PD 15, MD 11; Init +3*2
T HP: 24/24; Rec: 3/8; AC 11, PD 12, MD 14; Init +3
W HP: 38/44; Rec: 4/9; AC 16, PD 14, MD 11; Init +3*2
Z HP: 32/40; Rec: 5/8; AC 21, PD 13, MD 14; Init +2
Al HP: 21/27; AC 17, PD 14, MD 12; Init +3
Be HP: 32/32; AC 18, PD 14, MD 14; Init +6

Seyja


This was not working out as well as Seyja had expected or hoped and, after washing off the nastiness and having her wounds tended to, she - unusually tired - rested a moment.

"Let me carry the fire bomb, Weston," she said. "It (meaning the dragon) can sense you so, while it concentrates on you, mayhap I can get close enough to get in a good shot at it."

<Weston>

It had seemed like it was an easy enough climb, especially as he watched the halfling scamper up. He watched the others as they climbed, seeing how their route choices had worked out ... and suddenly the unexpected ... a section of the rock face gave way ... possibly from the corrosive nature of the foul smelling dragon blood? He might have been standing there when the rock came down, surprised into inactivity ... but Almador gave him a yank and they both ended up in that foul soup ... but alive at least.

Once he was out of that evil brew and had managed to rinse off the corrosive mixture, he gave Almador a big grin, "Seems like we are even now." He scanned the =new= route up. "Do we think it is safe to try again?"

And then they were finally inside. And relaxing ... at least a little bit ... there was still a dragon to contend with. Seyja's request got him thinking and he nodded. "Makes sense", he said as he handed her their 'ace in the hole'.

A part of his mind was imagining the working mine. He had never been in one before and it =was= interesting. But that interest was tempered by the thought that they would soon be facing the dragon once again. That mad him shiver a bit. The lack of 'animal life' did not seem so surprising ... considering a dragon live in here and was spewing it's poisonous blood everywhere. But it did make for an eerie sort of quietness.

Zoltan

It had taken longer than he'd liked, and they'd not fared well, in the climb. Luckily none had been badly injured in the several falls that had occurred.

Once they'd reached the top, he ponders the wisdom of their Firebomb plan, what with the very rock all around them ready to burn at a moments notice.

Looking over the group, and considering the fact that Nestaron is not with them, he says to Jex and Seyja, the two most injured, "Stay near me during the fight. I can heal you, but I must touch you to do so."

Jex

His dexterity had come in handy as they navigated the noxious sludge but now they had reached the dragon den and the danger was real.

Zoltan's suggestion to stay close was a good one but that got the bard to think about what he said.

"Maybe you should heal us up now so that we can last a bit longer."

Seyja


She frowned at Zoltan and grudgingly nodded her agreement.

"I will stay close to you if I can... as long as I can but, when I get involved in fighting, enraged, sometimes I forget things like that."

Zoltan

He pauses in consideration, then nods. Moving over to Seyja and then Jex he bows his head meditatively and places his hands upon their chests.

Healing energy flows into both of his companions.

"I cannot do this again today, so try not to die."

[OOC - Each of Jex and Seyja receive a recovery with a +6 bonus to the roll, however instead of using one of their own recoveries it instead uses one of Zoltan's recoveries. Also, as Zoltan has the Strong Recovery Feat, they should get the advantage of rolling two dice and choosing the higher one. Neal - Any chance he could have done this last night? He can only do it 2x/day so if he did it last night he'd be able to do it again mid-battle if needed.]

[[ OOC: +1 on Zeim's question. I'm sure he would have ]]

Seyja


She smiled, placed her hand on Zoltan's shoulder and said, "Thank you, Zoltan, my friend."

Her smile widened slightly.

"I cannot promise not to die today, but I have never died before."

D

He sputtered as he was pulled up from the horrid effluent mixture. He had intended to stay out of that entirely. He had been pretty confident that he would have, till he found himself trying to drown in the stuff. Part of his mind wondered what power was trying to take him down now. Certainly he had made an enemy of the Three, in particular The Blue.

Swearing at the cold hot feelings as he was cleared of the stuff that became ice and the resulting blisters underneath. "Well that was not fun," he quipped and sat down trying to gather his wits.

The poison had leached into him even though he had kept it out of his mouth. He felt weak and woozy.

Once up in the cave he eyed the walls wondering if they could use the highly flammable nature to work on the frost dragon. He said as much to his companions. "Don't suppose there is anyway to draw him in here, and set him along with the walls alight?"

He wasn't feeling terribly up for the fight, but he heard the barbarian woman's comment. "Well I can tell you I have died and it is no picnic. I think it was much worse than when I have been alive. So I too will do my best to avoid it."

<Weston>

"I am more committed to killing this evil beast. If my life can make that happen, I will give it willingly", he said, then added, "but not, I hope, easily."

Jex

He closed his eyes as Zoltan laid his hand on his chest and felt the healing power flow into him.

"Thank you my friend. I pray we endure. There is a tale which I must tell and a song to sing. Perhaps you'll invite me to present it in your church. It is the most valuable thing I would have to offer in payment for this healing."

[ooc: I have two heals available if I am in physical melee and I roll a nat 11 or better. It lets you use a recovery die plus 1d4 per point on the escalation die.]

Tindarien

Everything had been going well until rock started to fall. He had leaped to another rock and narrowly avoided being caught up in it. Looking below he could see several of the group in trouble and already others moving to help. Nimbly he leapt down and assisted Jex to help Weston and the Sergeant out of the toxic pool.

It could have been worse, though D does seem to be suffering some ill effects.

Fortunately the second climb went well and they ended in a shaft which he lit so the others could see. Very flammable area this and one they would need to keep their fire bomb from unless they could guarantee hurting the dragon more than themselves.

He can hear the others preparing and planning and it again reminded how well this team have operated. They will need all of their skills and cooperative working in the fight ahead.. and likely some luck too!

Sergeant Almador

The mine shaft gave him the opportunity to straighten his back (with a grunt), which put more distance between his nose and his boots.

Sergeant Almador had swilled them out as best he could, but they still whiffed of the dragon's foulness. The boots were going on the fire as soon as he got home!

He was glad to have saved Weston and clapped the younger man on the back afterwards. Honestly, Almador didn't feel like he'd repaid any debt. Maybe if his 'save' hadn't resulted in them both up to there knees in poisonous effluent?

At least the second attempt had gone according to plan though, and the Sergeant had gotten a lift with the bundle of equipment.

Having watched the others scale the inside of the arch, he realised he couldn't have made the climb even when he was nineteen, let alone now he was approaching sixty.

In comparison, the path winding up through the mine shaft looked easy as pie, especially for a Rosencliff man. There wasn't a street in town that didn't have a steep incline.

"This is a strange place. Gnomes and dwarves working together, eh? I have never heard of such a thing in these parts. Whatever they were digging for, they did not ship it through Rosencliff.

"I suppose they must have loaded it on mules. They could have taken it west to the road, or south, out of the valley to the coast. There are many hidden coves on that shore, I have heard it said."

He shook his head, thinking of the extra effort they must have gone to... when they had river passage directly to a harbour on their doorstep.

It was a secret mine, a secret someone was very determined to keep.

The man-at-arms aired his thoughts with his companions while he took a swig of small beer to quench his thirst.

Bearkiller

The halfling didn't spend any time investigating the mine. As with the painted cave they stayed in last night, Bearkiller either had no interest in history or he just didn't understand the significance of such things.

He told his imaginary dire wolf not to touch anything and walked some way up the path winding around the shaft's walls. Until he was at least head height with the rest of the party.

After staring at the Sergeant, he spoke.

"Maybe you stay here. You are fat and old. Slow us down."

<Weston>

He turned to Almador. "The fact that they were working together here implies that there was something special, something important there. I can't help but think that it was something besides ore or what ever."

He shot Bearkiller 'a look' when he insulted Almador. "Actually, it might =not= be such a bad idea Sergeant, to have someone willing to take on the dangerous job of protecting our way out. You would be here, on your own and we will be counting on you to make sure that our way out is protected. But it =is= an important job."

Sergeant Almador

The greying man-at-arms was gobsmacked at Bearkiller's suggestion and wasn't entirely sure how to respond. It was probably meant more how Weston phrased it, but the tribesman lacked the tact. Sergeant Almador objected, regardless.

"There is naught to protect down here but dust and dirt! My place is alongside you all, who are trying to save my town, my home."

The Sergeant of the Guard felt a sudden pang of intense fear -- shame almost -- that the party were going to insist he stay behind, 'rearguard'.

He'd joined this quest with grave misgivings, worried that he would just be extra baggage and in the end, it had been his sense of duty that had convinced him. He still doubted his ability, yes, but he no longer doubted his contribution. Even 'chopped liver' could distract the enemy, draw its attention, take a blow that might have been aimed at someone else.

The problem was, he couldn't refute what Bearkiller had said. He was older than everyone else, and he was carrying a few more pounds too.

"Please, if I was slow this morning it was... just me limbering up. But I am limber now, sirs, mark my words, I am ready and will give my all." He said, looking face to face for some approval.

Seyja


Smiling at the older man, she reached out and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Regardless of what you contribute in the future, what you have done for us so far has make you a worthy partner and a boon companion."

<Weston>

"Well, first off, no one here doubts your commitment, my friend. But to be honest, you =are= the only one here with family waiting on you, you =do= realize that, right? And this whole effort is to protect that ... the town and the families. It might be different if we were standing in town ready to repel attackers. But this =is= a bit different. I know that =I= would not want to face your family and tell them that you would not be returning. But in the end, it is your choice. You =are= free to do what you think is best", he finished giving Bearkiller another 'look'.

D

"I am happy to have you along in either role. You have been a worthwhile addition to our little party. As far as risk vs reward, it has been said. I would offer that dying and living should both be by choice. Neither is easy, depending upon what is involved." He shrugged clearly leaving up to the man to choose.

Tindarien

"You have earned your place amongst us."

The choice is the Sergeant's, as it is with all of them. He looks at the way ahead. Not too hard by the look of it. Soon they will seal their fate, one way or another.

[Ghosted for Zeim]

Zoltan

He held his own counsel. Whatever was said could sway Almador's decision. Maybe that was what the man-at-arms wanted, but some things a person had to decide for themselves.

So Zoltan kept his eyes on the shadows and spared plenty of attention for the darkness over their heads.

Sergeant Almador

He listened, and he saw their point. He didn't want to see it, because it was like a doorway to doubt, and doorway he might escape through, the easy way out. No-one could blame him. He'd be doing it for his family. He'd shown his mettle, going further would be reckless. These adventurers didn't really need his aid.

All the arguments he'd had with himself before setting out on the quest flooded back and he chewed his lip.

That sense of foreboding clawed at him. Was he repeating the same mistake as his grandfather? Did he undertake this quest out of pride?

Sergeant Almador couldn't deny that he was faced with a fateful decision, but things had changed since the day he'd met the party in the Baronessa's great hall.

He knew them better. So he knew that Nestaron had a wife and children too. The half-elf had spoken of them yesterday.

The Sergeant was sure of one thing. His life wasn't worth more than these fellows'. He had his place in the world, and it was an important one as far as he was concerned. But as much as he feared death, as much as he feared not seeing his family again, he could elevate himself above these people who were willing to sacrifice just as much and for less reason.

He nodded gratefully to the party. Their words made him want to be a better man, so he said to Bearkiller.

"If it's all the same to you, sir, I will stand by you in your hour of need, whether you have need of me or not."

Bearkiller

He was toying with his bear claw necklace, and shrugged at the Sergeant's answer. The old man wasn't his responsibility.

"Get colder further up. I think, must be dragon's lair. We go." He said, scampering up the winding path and expecting the rest to follow.

D

The decision made the dark elf nodded and slipped silently after the halfling. A couple of steps in he slowed, recovered hus balance and continued on just as quietly.