Action Thread #10 - The Mine

[Sir Clarence]

Andrin stays where he is, keeping an eye on the mine tunnel and waiting for his comrades to call him when they proceed.

[Stonjuz]

The dwarf flashes pages of learning thru his mind. Sword of the Serpent, Snakeblade, Venomblade, etc......

[ChubbyPixie]

When we are safe enough, which hopefully will be after we have secured this area. Oz, can you check if there is any trap in that chest? If not we should try the key, as suggested by Thurinor. Anyone carries a torch? These improvised ones will not last long.

Oz will take the key, then examine the chest for any shenanagins in the way of traps. If it checks out ok, he'll try the key in the chest. If it is trapped, he'll try to disarm it.

[saalaria]

Swilbosh will guard the way further into the mine - checking for approaching enemies.

[Stonjuz]

After giving up on trying to figure out if the sword is named, the dwarf studies the inside construction for dwarven markings.

[ragnboneshopper]

Day 7, Morning: Treasures in the Mine

Thurinor lights a torch as the last of the kindling dies out on the forge fire. By this light, Ozborn checks the chest for traps as Stonjuz and Ogirdor take a closer look at the fallen hob's sword and as various members of the party keep watch.

Ozborn examines the chest with care. As the light of the torch reveals the chest's construction more clearly, Stonjuz feels Turtlepoo wriggle a bit from his helmet perch as if wanting to go nearer, and even from a distance the dwarf recognizes the chest's clearly dwarven crafstmanship, the solid oak construction and carvings of dwarven miners at work (though clearly one of the goblin types has been at work marring several of the carvings, taking a crude delight in doing so, no doubt). Within a few minutes, Oz confidently pronounces the chest free of any menace that he can detect. Comparing the hob's key to the keyhole, he's immediately certain they must be a match. To his satisfaction, the key turns easily in the lock and produces a satisfying click. Holding the light over the open chest, Thurinor and Ozborn (perhaps somewhat disappointedly if they were expecting mere riches of gems or gold) look down on a collection of ten glass bottles. Half are but empty wine bottles, but three contain what might be fine white wine as clear as a golden sunset, a fourth contains a somewhat darker, caramel-colored liquor, and a fifth bottle is stoppered with a wax seal that Stonjuz, if he looks closer, identifies as a dwarven rune roughly meaning "at great need." Inside this last bottle is not liquid but a tightly rolled scroll with a similar dwarven seal clearly visible. This one translates as "venom-stop."

Meanwhile, Stonjuz handles the huge sword as a thing both familiar and strange. It is clearly dwarvish make, the runes inscribed attributing it's forging to clan Gravenfolk, a clan Stonjuz knows has long been lost from anything but memory, though he knows few specifics beyond their rumored location somewhere northeast of Greyhawk and far north of his own home in Irongate. On further inspection, the sword claims for itself the title (roughly translated) "Hewer of Serpents." The strange part is that Stonjuz thinks it an odd weapon for a dwarf (it is clearly oversized for any but the tallest of dwarven warriors of legend) but that it could have been a weapon made by dwarves for some human chieftain of old when traffic between prosperous dwarven mountain clans and human tribes was common in the world at large. Any experienced warriors who handle the blade immediately remark on its superb balance and keen double-edge.

Meanwhile, Swilbosh stands guard but hears naught of anything other than the occasional whistle of wind through whatever passages stretch beyond his sight. Andrin, likewise, hears nothing but the voices of his companions filtering through, and Malone stands leaning on his halberd, with not a living thing in sight beyond a few birds, which he thinks is perhaps notable given Andrin's previous alarm at the lack of wildlife in the valley.


Next course of action? There was mention of trapping one of the entrances to the mine. Let me know details if so. If any of you think that by their backgrounds your characters may have further geographical or other knowledge to add to Stonjuz's lore, go ahead and describe your character's picking of brain wrinkles, roll a d100, and let me know your place of origin.

[Grognardsw]

Thurinor / mine room

The elf carefully unrolls the "Venom Stop" scroll, wondering if its language is of arcane nature only readable by magic users. If so, Thurinor will keep it. If not, he will give it to the cleric.

Thurinor is reluctant to partake of drink held by goblins, even if it be of dwarven brew, but he thinks a bottle could make a useful flameable liquid to use offensively. If no one objects, he'll take a bottle.

As the group discusses trap options, Thurinor says: "We could spike closed this door, and enter from the mine entrance Andrin watches. That would prevent escape by others through this door."

[Stonjuz]

"Yes, Yes, the chest alone should keep us in the black for a time or two. Anyone make out more? Fine wine, serpent killer swords, thats probably gonna come in handy, and a poison slow scroll or somethin', hold maybe. lets see it closer. Ogirdor, think you can wield this sword? Perhaps you Malone? Oz?. I should carry it back to civilization but I dont think it will hurt much for one of the fighting men to use, for now. Long lost Gravenfolk dwarven clan......a strange place indeed."

[onlyme]

Malone answers,
Yeah, of course I could. If no one else wants it, sure. That said, maybe it has curses all over it. Perhaps we should safely get it back and sell it together. Oh, and if it is easier, maybe booby trap this entrance, and let us go through the natural one below.

[Sir Clarence]

Getting bored, Andrin leaves his place at the mine entrance and returns to his comrades.

"Good job", he nods, looking at the corpses. "And you found some nice treasure as well, it seems." This he says while marveling at the wonderful two-handed sword. Andrin then notices the foodstuff beneath the table, and his face lightens up. "Apples! And nuts, and a few carrots and potatoes too. That's what I call a nice find. No fish for this druid tonight!" With these words he grabs a handful of nuts, and also some apples and potatoes and stuffs them into his shoulder bag. Wrinkling his nose he puts the carrots away again as they look and feel way too rubbery to be tasty anymore.

[zebediah]

The beverages and the bottles might all be useful, if no one takes them I will. says the ranger Seems like a fine sword. You can probably make better use of it than I could, Malone. I would advise you to try using it, the hobgoblin did not seem to be under any ill effect and judging by its looks and make it appears to be clean.

If everyone is ready to proceed Ogirdor will scout ahead in the corridor.

[ChubbyPixie]

Malone answers,
Yeah, of course I could. If no one else wants it, sure. That said, maybe it has curses all over it. Perhaps we should safely get it back and sell it together. Oh, and if it is easier, maybe booby trap this entrance, and let us go through the natural one below.

Oz, while flattered, starts to feel his special "abilities" are maybe being a bit overestimated by the group. Well, maybe you meant the ranger. I for one don't know that I trust my trap-setting abilities, having never tried such a thing. Though the spiking idea seems like a good one to me. Although... What if these corridors and the mine itself don't connect? Shouldn't we be sure of that before shutting off a route? We'd possibly be only shutting ourselves OUT.

Oz will inspect the door for any pre-existing traps, then motion for the party to hold it down for a second so he can listen at it.

[ragnboneshopper]

Day 7, Morning: Next Steps

OOC: Sorry for the delay guys, my gramps is back in the hospital and life has been a little crazy as it is...


With torch in one hand, Thurinor unstops the bottle, pulls out the scroll, and proceeds to examine it, but he can barely make heads or tails. Passing it on to Stonjuz, he instead snatches up one of the other full bottles and, after apprehensively eyeing it for a moment, stows it in his pack. (Did you take the light-colored or the darker/caramel liquor?) Then he moves toward the door, examining the possibility of spiking it shut and shedding a bit more light into the tunnel beyond.

Stonjuz scans the scroll and readily identifies its writing as near to his own practice of magic, a spell to neutralize poison. Andrin, meanwhile, rejoins the group and delightedly stows some extra rations from the goblins' store as Ozborn holds a solo debate on the merits of his trying to booby trap a door for the first time.

Ogirdor hands the hob's sword to Malone for his use, and the fighting man tests its balance with some trepidation, wondering out loud if the thing might not be cursed. (Malone, let me know if you use it or stow it...) The ranger then scoops up the remaining bottles, pronouncing them useful, and moves through the door to join Swilbosh in the tunnel. (Og, are you taking the whole chest, or just the bottles? Without taking some time to wrap the bottles, they'll make it hard to move stealthily, just jangling around in your pack...)

Swilbosh, for his part, has just realized with a start that the dark shape he has been looking at in the corridor seemed to move right as Thurinor shed his light further into the tunnel. The shape is small and stands on two legs, about the size of a short goblin. It's found a shadow to stand in and it's still too dark in the tunnel to be sure, but it hefts a tool or weapon in its hands as it sizes you all up. As Ogirdor comes up behind the lizardman, he hears the figure speak in goblin: "Tharg's gone, now some lizard? Crap day, I quit..."


Parley, fight, flee, something else? Only Swil, Og, and Thurinor are aware of this newest visitor...

[saalaria]

Swilbosh hefts his axe then says in common:

"come out little beassst, we mean you know harm if you come to parley"

[Grognardsw]

Thurinor will position the torch to light the shadows in which the small creature is concealing itself.

[onlyme]

Malone stores this new sword.

[zebediah]

Come forward in peace and we will not hurt you. Ogirdor says in Goblin as he lowers his spear

[Stonjuz]

"Does any of this pertain to the woman's poem? Did we make notes?" The dwarf thinks out loud.

[Grognardsw]

For convenience, the poem again:

...Elf and Half and Dwarf and Man
Wizard, archer and halberdier
Priest, strider and swordsman
And hence did the lizardine appear?

Are they villains? Are they heroes?
Are they lost, or true and straight?
Where doth does this brave band goes?
They number o'er six, but less than eight.

In the forest, hear me sing
Marvel, wonder, oh so bright!
See me dance and cavort keen.
Will there be a feast tonight?
Lost and weary, so they say
Will they leave or will they stay?

Eye upon an isle shining
Isle upon a lake a-resting
Lake beyond a river flowing
And band upon a forest questing

So where are now, the stones a-ringing?
Where are they, the short ones singing?
Where is he, the traveler seeking?
Where is it, the eye a-gleaming?

Where now are the smith and fighter? Where are now the beards a-growing?
Where now are the axe and the hammer? Where is now the ale a-flowing?
Where are treasures kept a-gleaming, and red forges once a-glowing?
Where the Rocs are now a-nesting? And proud travelers a-coming?
Where is now feminine laughter? Where is now the prance and jolly?
Where are now my sisters of yore, with all their freecare folly?
Where are happy days gone by, and the dancing under the moon?
Where are the tales and memories, of all those departed so soon?

They have all long passed away
Like melting snow on mountain
And none shall see them today
But still found may be their fountain

They have all vanished from lore
They have all faded to night
And none shall see them no more
But their legacy still shines bright

For upon this land a doom has fall
With no escape for one and all
Where once pale limbs did water lap
Now only dark wings do make their flap
Where once upon the beauties sung
Now only chords of death are rung
Where once none where known to die
Now only fools and weak ones lie

Who shall gather the secrets, and mysteries that need finding?
Who will sail downriver, along the flow that's winding?
Who will punish the Dark ones, who once their kin were killing?
Who shall see the Serpent's Eye, and with brave tales returning?

So are they villains? Or are they heroes?
And are they lost, or true and straight?
And where doth does this brave band goes,
These who're over six, but less than eight?
In the forest, they heard me sing
Saw me dance and cavort keen.
Marveled, wondered, oh she's so bright!
Shall we have that feast tonight?
And lost and weary, or so they say
But will they leave or will they stay?

[ragnboneshopper]

Day 7, Morning: The Goblin Smith

The better-positioned light shows a grubby and clearly frightened but belligerent little goblin with surprisingly muscled arms. Though Swilbosh, Ogirdor, and Thurinor make no overtly menacing movements as they converge, they are unable to coax the goblin to talk. It apparently can't get past the hungry-looking lizardman appearing as if from nowhere. It drops its pickaxe and makes as if to flee down the tunnel, shrieking as it goes!

(Reaction roll of 19, stays negative despite a cumulative +10% modifier, with a follow-up morale roll of 72, fails by 32 after mods, so panic and flee...).

Reaction roll: [1d100] = 19
Morale check: [1d100] = 72

The rest of the party hears a bit of the attempted conversation, and certainly the shriek, and wonders what the heck is going on in there...


Actions? I'll roll initiative if any decide to give chase/attack, usual posting protocol...