CF - Volo's Adventurers' Guild - PbP Campaign

Banjo is awed by Tresvar's commanding presence.  Yet, he quietly mentions to Serena and Livia, "...Those torches are set at least 10 feet off the ground.  Someone very large may be waiting in this room...".

Tresvar's counter-demand sits upon the still air in the room for a moment, then another. As the silent pressure builds, a form walks from the shadows. It is a stern looking female dwarf. Unlike other dwarves however, her skin is bluish gray and her hair, even her beard is white.  She walks to the center of the room, standing about ten feet from Tresvar. 

She looks up at the dragonborn defiantly, then says, "We may have not made these halls, but we did not defile them. We use our kins foundations and improve upon their legacy. You clearly have some skill. Otherwise, you would not have made it this far. I, Ghared of the Duergar of Khundrukar, now ask you, surface dwellers, what claim do you have here?"

"... Or they are just some dwarves..." .

History 17 to know something about Duergar?

((Banjo has seen mention of Duergar, but did not really focus on them... just enough to know they are supposedly a race of dwarves from the Underdark, and heard stories of them capturing surface dwellers to sell and use as slaves)).

Serena moves closer to the others, whispering. "We have absolutely no claim here right? But we can't just pack up and go home right?"
"I think our presence here would be preferred to yours Ghared of the Duergar of Khundrukar, but perhaps we can all walk these halls?" She suggests to the grey dwarf.
Persuasion: 27 (rolled with advantage if help is given, otherwise go with first roll.)

Ghared, shifts her weight with a skeptical look in her eye. She silently strokes her beard measuring the party before her.

At last she speaks, "You speak of walking the halls, like a visitor. We sleep here, we work here, we struggle here, we live here. We are not visitors. This is our home. Yet, in a way, you are right. We are not fully masters of our home. Our existence here is challenged every day by other forces. You spoke of the 'defilers', the orcs. While they no longer come down here, they have left their mark, and in their wake, others have come. Yet, I still make this my home. And you coming into my home, are at worst trespassers, or perhaps,"  she lingered on this last word, "guests. Let us put aside this ugly posturing. We are craftspeople, living as our ancestors have in these halls. You, and I recognize your type even without those purple sashes... are adventurers... treasure seekers. Let me simplify your quest. There is nothing in the halls which we Duergar reside in which is for your taking. First, those orcs have plundered much long ago. What is of value in the area we live in now is from our hands, our labor. Second, there are however, areas we do not walk in, halls of our would be home which we cannot inhabit. This is due to some of those other forces which have made it impossible or impractical for us to do so."

She stops a moment and paces, then begins again gesturing to the north, "Let me be frank,  in addition to those brute orcs above, the doors to the north lead to halls infested with undead and cursed magic." She turns and gestures to the southwest, "The door to the southwest leads into the old kitchens, guarded by more cursed magic." Then turning back to the adventurers, "And perhaps worst of all, a dragon lives in a large lake cavern deep below. Each of these either has purloined from our kindreds halls or prevent us from making them our own. If you wish to help us claim our home, purge those areas of these unwanted trespassers. If you do so, we might be willing to let you keep," she pauses again and then proposes, "ten percent of what you find."

"10 percent!" Banjo exclaims.  "She asks us to slay a dragon for her then 'offers' us 10 percent!"  He harrumpfs.  "Banjo, the dragon whisperer, the wyrmsleeper, works for the price of 'all that he can carry,' and not a copper less."

Serena glances over at the gnome and smiles, remembering his bravery when they fought the mighty Calcryx, but then she steps by his side. "Yes, all that we can carry, that should leave plenty for you when we are finished with exploring these halls." She says in firm but friendly tone.

Ghared gruffly replies, "Hrrm, wyrmsleeper. Indeed." Then dejectedly, "Very well, what you can carry. However, you may only 'explore' those areas we escort you to." She nods, and suddenly two more Duergar appear out of thin air flanking the party. "Will you proceed immediately - or do you need rest?"

Serena at first flinches as the two flanking duergar appear out of thin air but then she nods at Ghared. "Good, I'm ready to proceed, what about you all?" She says, looking over at Livia. "And even though we have our own wyrmsleeper, let's save the dragon for last shall we?" She says with a smile and a wink at Banjo.

"I'm good to go." Livia answers, her mind busy wondering whether "all we can carry" will be equal to or more than ten per cent, considering they're not all as strong as Tresvar, and imagining a dragon as what is told in stories - sitting over a huge pile of gold - rather than what she has seen so far - Flappy and the dragon in the citadel.

Absentmindedly, her healthy hand runs gently over her wound that already stopped bleeding. Undead and cursed magic... that did not sound good. "Can we start with the Orcs before anything else?" Mostly, she thinks it is less dangerous than the other options, despite knowing very little about Orcs. "We did promise to solve the village's problem first."

Serena nods at Livia. "Sounds like a good point to start at." She says, then turning to Ghared again. "So if I get this right, you will escort us to orc territory and when we return we can rest here before taking on the next section of these halls?"

Ghared responds, "Did you not come through the mountain door? Clever. Yes, I can take you to the back stairs. Don't expect as generous treatment from that war-band. If you survive, come back and we can lead you to the other trespassers."

"So. what can you tell us of these orc trespassers? Do you know their numbers, and if they have any spellcasters among them?" Serena asks, ready to take on the orcs now.

"Oh! now you want our reconnaissance. I thought you were 'great adventurers'. Hah. Well, there are about twenty or so of them. They are wont' count you except once they start to eat you, to figure out if there will be enough for seconds. They have a religious leader among them, or as close as a war-band of orcs might have to one... calls herself an Eye-of-Gruumsh. Then there is the warlord, the ogre. He won't even stop fighting you to eat you. If you think we don't like intruders in our home,  you better hope they don't catch you poking around in theirs and call the rest to come see what vittles stumbled into their pantry. Bah. Good thing you are such mighty adventurers, or I might be worried you won't be coming back." Ghared replies with a sneer.

Watching all of this curiously and quietly (except she can always be counted on to Help with checks where possible)  Tresvar says “OK, well, lead on to these Orcs,  I’m ready.  Maybe we can catch them by surprise “.  

Ghared encourages the adventures back the way they came,  accompanied by the other two Duergar for insurance? protection? Fortunately, the adventurers had traversed through the Glitterhame recently enough that the Gricks had not resumed positions of ambush. The Duergar still comb through the area carefully, keeping an eye everywhere.

The group goes back through the crypts and Serena and Banjo note the mild surprise shows realizing that they party had left the dwarven crypts unspoilt. 

As they leave the crypts and move back to the room where the group first fended off the attack of stirges, Ghared signals for extra care, taking the group slowly across the fast flowing stream and up to the ascending stone steps to the North-West. 

Approaching the steps, the two Duergar guards, take out some torches made of greenwood and moss. They light them producing a voluminous mass of smoke. There is a buzzing, as the smoke rises. The buzzing grows louder, until suddenly four stirges swoop down from the stairwell and past the party, seeking smoke free air else-where in the cavern.

Here Ghared stops and gestures, "Go on up there. The stairs lead to the level of their mountain base. They have blocked up the passage, but I am sure you will figure something out. Just be sure not to make a lot of noise and don't lead them back down here!"

The party continues up the stairs. The stairway twists and turns a long way upward. The floor has been cut into hundreds of shallow steps, but the walls and ceiling are still natural rock. About sixty or more feet up, a rushing stream spills from a narrow crack to the south and crosses the stairway, disappearing into a narrow, winding tunnel to the north. The rill is only two or three feet wide.

Eventually, the stairs begin to widen and form more of an orderly grand staircase cut into a natural rift. This opens into a massive, high ceiling chamber. 

The ceiling soars thirty feet high in the center of this impressive chamber, and the walls are carved with images of dwarves at their forges. Two large stone doors exit to the north and south. Several old skeletons lie scattered near the northern door. A gate of wrought iron stands in the western wall.

"Well..." says Banjo thoughtfully, "Let us think on a strategy.  We have twenty Orcs and an Ogre somewhere above us, and only five of us.  The Deep Dwarves were skeptical that there would be any way to deal with the Orcs but violence.  I hate to be a pessimist, but from what I have read of Orc culture, they may not be as quick to parley as the Kobolds and Goblins were on our last adventure.  But... it is said they recognize and revere strength above all else.  Perhaps... if we could defeat this Ogre... the rest of the Orcs would bow to our might and leave this place willingly?"  It starts out sounding like a plan, but finishes sounding more like a hope and a prayer.