"After you good sir" Roland says to Nemean, with a short but gracious bow. He puts his tools back into his pouch and draws his rapier and dagger again.

Thulgrim follows the others into the room, axe at the ready for a fight...

Finna looked inside with some curiosity but without much expectations. If "Black Spider" was  caught around here, doubtfully he left anything interesting behind. She kept an eye on the corridors.

Dusty draperies adorn the walls of the small and dark room this door reveals, which also contains a bed and brazier. The room is smaller than most in this cavernous mine, 30 feet to a side. In the corner of the room, a badly disheveled dwarf lies bound on the cold stone floor, motionless.

Full Map:

Thulgrim stands staring in stunned disbelief for a few seconds, then drops his axe with a clatter and runs over to examine the dwarf, as the bile rises in his throat in dreadful anticipation...

Medicine: 19

(OOC: Woot! Nat 20. First roll back after holidays - that's a good omen.)

OOC: Let's hope you will keep that luck for the year :)

That was the cue for Finna to step in. She was not much of a healer, but knew enough to be able to help (if the help was still needed). Finna softly touched the motionless body. Should she find a sparkle of life in him - Cure Wounds 8

Nemean stares stunned at the dwarf. He wonders how long he has been tied up in this room. He cringes as he thinks how close they were to discovering him days ago...

Thulgrim rolls the dwarf over to take a closer look. The dwarf is breathing, but is in terrible shape. Finna's healing mitigates the bruising and swelling of the poor man, but his breathing still sounds harsh and ragged.

For Thulgrim:

"Might be exhaustion - no cure for that other than rest. How long he even was here?" Finna kept dwarf's hand trying to determine the degree of exhaustion and the ways to help poor man to survive. 

Thulgrim kneels beside Nundro, lifting him and cradling him in his thick tattooed arms. A few tears drip down his still-blood-marked cheeks, as he speaks in a dwarf-whisper to his kinsman, while trying to lift a waterskin to the dying dwarf's lips.

Ah Nundro, me lad. Thank Dumathoin 'e 'asn't taken ye yet. I feared th' worst, but ye've given me 'ope once more. Stay with us lad, an' we'll 'ave ye sorted, an' ye can see these mines back t' their glory. 

The dwarf sputters as the water crests his lips, waking with a start. "Wh...wh..." he frantically asks, his words caught in his dry throat. His eyes flicker with recognition for a moment, quickly replaced by a muted anger. He wriggles away, looking almost feral up at Thulgrim. He glares, but weakens quickly, and bows his head. "Jus...be done..."

His eyes focus back at the waterskin.

Thulgrim approaches warily, offering the waterskin and continuing to talk encouragingly. Listen t' me voice, lad. It's yer clansman Thulgrim Ironhand. Yer safe now.

Then, turning to the others, he says: 'E's in a bad way. I reckon 'e might need a cleric afore 'e regains 'is senses. 

"I say he was tortured here. But he can see and has enough strength to drink - there is hope! Let's get him out of here." A cloak and a couple of javelins could work as an improvised stretcher, while Tochi and Droop could take care of him outside or even bring him to the city right away.

The dwarf eyes Thulgrim suspiciously, waiting for the waterskin to get close enough to drink. He sniffs warily, but his thirst is stronger than his suspicion, and he drinks deep - almost too deep.

"Bah," he rasps once he comes up for air. "I got me head on straight, ye durned trickster. Dressin' up as me clan aren't gonna work. Not that I'd tell ye if I knew, but I don't know! I telled ye I ain't never been to this blasted mine 'til ye sneaked--"

He coughs, his breathing still raspy, and his eyes go back to the waterskin.

Thulgrim looks stunned for a moment, the waterskin hanging limply in his hand, both relieved at Nundro's seeming recovery, but also struggling in vain to make sense of his cousin's rambling. The next moment, his unusually-tender display of concern vanishes, replaced with his familiar impatience as he launches into a wild tirade, spittle flying from his mouth as he waves his arms about. The following is heard through his suddenly thicker accent, interlaced with a selection of unrecognisable words that can only be Dwarvish curse words:

Dressin' up as... Wha' ye talkin' boot, ye daft walloper? Yer ma's got balls an' yer pa' loves it, and I ken he fancies dressin' up as giddy maid. Yer bums oot in th' wind! If'n I nae giv'n ye me own skin I'd ken ye'd been drinkin' tha' Ireiabor stout tha' got ye singin' boot plaitin' yer auntie's beard tha' time when me an' one o' yer brothers I cannae recall which one went an' pilfered th' cellar o' tha' priest o' Abbathor what was always callin' yer pa out for nae smithin' 'im a new axe after th' one 'e lost in the caverns of ... I cannae remember wha' they're called ... 'ead on straight 'ave ye? I'll straighten it for ye I will, with a slap o' me fist on yer thick skull.

"Easy, tiger, take it easy," Finna addressed Thulgrim, but realized she could be misunderstood and clarified: "Thulgrim, your lad is obviously delusional - no surprise after days in that room. A breath of fresh air and he will be himself again. Though, I would not give him a weapon for a while. Now, can we get him out?" She was not even trying to reason with someone in Nundro's conditions, but should Thulgrim forget about returning water skin to the prisoner, will share hers.

Nemean tries his own hand at bedside manor to comfort the dwarf.

”Listen, you are safe now. The Black Spider rots in a cell, his forces are largely defeated and we are reclaiming this mine at the request of Gundren Rockseeker. He eagerly awaits news of his kin, and we will reunite you Phandalin.”

Nundro's mouth sits agape during Thulgrim's tirade. About halfway through, he starts struggling against his restraints, matching shout for shout. "Well ye damned Ironhand if yer mother weren't uglier than a donkey's arse maybe I'd've known ye for yerself and not for one o' his damned shapeshiftin'--"

The dwarf's bluster is no match for his exhaustion, and he starts another coughing fit. Settling himself, he listens to Finna and Nemean.

"Yer really yerself, then. Do ye...have any food to go with that water? I, uh...I can feel it comin' back up," he says, stifling a belch.

"Gundren's still alive, then. And the spider, 'e's...really...ye've really won? How long 'ave I...been 'ere?"

I am meself, an' tha's all I know 'ow, says Thulgrim, calming down. He digs the last of his rations from his pack, and kneels down again beside Nundro, loosing the last of his restraints, and handing him the food.

Aye, Gundren's alive, an' still thick-skulled as ye, tho 'e's been through a rough patch too, 'avin' been captured by goblins or some such. 'E's restin' in town 'ere, but ye can thank this strange-looking lot fer 'is rescue, an fer capturin' the Spider. Thulgrim gestures to the others. Tougher than they look I tell ye, an' bloody good in a fight. 

Argos is still 'ere too, an 'e'll be glad to 'ear yer safe, tho I ain't seen 'im. I cannae tell 'ow long ye've been 'ere, but there still be beasties in the mine, a' we 'aven't found the Forge yet. I've nae seen any shapeshifters tho, a' least I don' think I 'ave.

Well what're we gonna do with ye? I'd lend ye me spare axes but I ken yer not up fer fightin'. We got a couple lads with a wagon, an' we can get ye back to Phandalin, tho I might stay 'ere fer a bit while there's still beasties t' fight.

Nundro sits up, shaking his head while his restraints are cut, trying to clear it. "Good...Argos and Gundren...and Tharden..."

His face a grimace, he looks at Thulgrim. "Tharden...he didn't make it. Ah, but I see yer wearin' his boots, so ye know, then." His throat still hoarse, he takes a moment to try and clear it. "We weren't careful enough. We were supposed to wait for Gundren, but...we've been waitin' for years to see the mine. When we found the entrance, we couldn't resist. We bought supplies and forged right in, and...they were waitin'. We didn't even see 'em. I saw Tharden die, and then woke up here."

Nundro sighs, "It's true I ain't no fighter. But I came to the mine to see the place our ancestors left us, not to be locked in a bedroom like some kind o' slave. If yer keen to kill some beasties, I'm for taggin' along. I feel worse than ye look but I aren't for leavin' now."