Sarithspeaks as Zilly walks away. "I will guide. The Darklake is west, I assure you. From there, we will have many options."
To Monar, the drow replies, "I have some knowledge of the Darklake; it is a nearly endless web of waterfilled passages, lakes, and tunnels. No one knows all of it."
Buppido shakes his head at Monar and points to Sarith. "Trust the dark elf, will we? So be it. I say that Gracklstugh* is west. We shall see."
Sarith, overhearing Buppido, says, "Gracklstugh stands on the edge of the Darklake, you idiot."
"Says the idiot who turned the talons of the vrock upon himself," retorts Buppidowith a chuckle.
Varis pulls a small book from his pack, a journal of sorts with his notes and research, and sketches out a quick outline of the path they have taken so far, at least as far as he could remember it during the race from the Drow prison. “West it is then. What kind of welcome could we expect in this Gracklstugh? Do they welcome trade and visitors, or shun outsiders? Could we find help there?”
After helping Monar get his armor on, Zilly will sit against the rock, and ritual cast Detect Magic. The idea is to use this to help guide us, or avoid things for the next 10 minutes.
OOC: (If others are uncomfortable waiting ten minutes for it, i will not finish and move on)
Buppido gives an animated response to Varis's questions about Gracklstugh. "A large city of drow-hating duergars should make a good haven for us."
"If they don't enslave us," respondsEldeth."They won't look kindly upon all of us...or most of us for that matter. We'll need to convince them we mean no harm."
"If that's our end game, then I'll need to leave the party before entering the city," explains Sarith flatly. "But that is many days from now, I am sure."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
With everyone fully equipped and holding a general agreement that being westward bound is the best option for now, the party members carefully pick their way down the eastern side of the gorge. Upon reaching the bottom, you conclude that the western side of the gorge is far to sheer for any sort of a safe upward climb. Following the gorge northward for thirty minutes or so, you reach a place that seems to offer a manageable ascent out of the gorge. During the upward climb, on a large shelf of rock, the party finds the aftermath of a recent battle.
A vrock (but not the same one you encountered earlier) and some other kind of foul creature are lying dead upon the outcropping, both of them surrounded by a puddle of dark ichor. The stench from the vrock is overpowering.The other creature reminds you of what might happen if one were to cross a humanoid and a fly.
The bizzare insect-like creature does indeed seem familiar to Szefarian, and as soon as Sarith mumbles the word chasme, a few memories surface. Like the vrock, the chasme is a fiend often working in service for a demon lord.
A rather quick investigation of the scene suggests that these two fiends died in the throes of battle against each other.
Eldeth murmurs the question that is lingering on almost everyone's mind. "Demons fighting here in the Underdark? Why?"
Varis pulls out a dagger and pokes around the corpses they found, looking for anything useful. It was not hard to determine they died fighting each other. “I don't care why, just as long as we can stay out of the middle of it.” he answers Eldeth, not quite sure if he himself believes that will be possible. “In any case, there is little to be done here, let’s keep moving.”
At the sight of the two dead creatures, Monar closes his eyes and grabs his amulet with one massive hand, seemingly concentrating on something internal. "Keep your wits about you and keep moving. There may be more of these around if there was fighting here." He grunts in disgust at the corpses. "Lets hope if there are, they care more about fighting each other than us."
Monar reaches into the surrounding area with his divine sense, and he soon concludes that no other fiends are nearby. With unanimity, the party agrees to push onward and create as much distance between themselves and any drow pursuit.
After another straightforward climb up the western side of the gorge, you reach a large shelf that eventually narrows and leads into a tunnel that requires a single-file marching order. For what seems like hours, you clamber over rocks and negotiate steep drops and rises within this tunnel. No one escapes the periodic fall to the ground and subsequent scrapes and bruises. Every member of the party, in varying degrees, begins to grapple with three powerful needs: food, water, and rest. The first indication of any change in the subterranean maze in which you find yourselves is the presence of a faint light up ahead.
The moment he sees the light, Sarith says a single word, "Faerzress."
After an awkward silence, Jimjar quips, "I'll wager ten gold pieces that only you know what you're talking about, Sarith."
"Faerzress," repeats Sarith, "is...difficult...to explain. It is magical. It is ancient. It is not fully understood. It emits light but hinders divination and teleportation."
And with that said, the drow pushes past Monar and rushes toward the dim light ahead. After half a minute, Sarith's voice echoes down the tunnel. "Come! See our good fortune."
Hesitantly, with weapons drawn, you move toward Sarith and enter a large cavern that is somehow illuminated by no detectable light source. Additionally, protruding from the northern wall of the cavern are multiple shelf-like fungi. All the svirfneblin in the party recognize the fungus as ripplebark, which is edible but tastes much better when roasted over a fire.
This place offers a bit of food and may be suitable for rest. There is no water, however.
As we settle in for a rest, Zilly will come up to Sarith and say “thanks for sticking around, sorry your kin want to kill you, and us too ” and presses his hand to his wound and sings a quick song “heard this one from a human actually, … don’t flinch...”
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Varis enters the cavern cautiously letting his eyes adjust, the unknown light providing a sharp contrast to the dark tunnels they had been fleeing through. He looks at the ripplebark a little distrustfully as the others describe it, still food was food. “Will any of this fungi burn? I can start a small fire if we have fuel. And if we think it is safe.” He investigates the rest of the cavern, looking for additional passages and openings, and any sign of anything out of the ordinary.
"This seems as good a place to rest as any," Monar says as he surveys the cavern. He points at the way the party has just come. "Might be best to go to the far entrance. We know what's behind us, and the space there is small enough to defend. We don't want to be caught in the open. A fire and food sounds just about right for now." He makes his way a few feet into the far entrance, stops, sniffs and listens.
Thinking aloud, the slaver asks, "Is it possible we can draw water from the fungi? 'Doesn't have to be much, but I doubt we'll all last long on what we have..." His is more a concern of what others will do, should desperation set in. He doesn't mind the prospect of thinning the herd, but he's not what you'd call an "active" killer.
"No measurable water in this stuff," remarks Sarith glumly. "Our best hope is to find barrelstalks or waterorbs. Soon."
Barrelstalks and waterorbs are familiar to the svirfneblin in the party, but Jimjartakes it upon himself to explain what is meant by each term. The barrelstalk is a large, cask-shaped fungus that can be tapped and drained of the fresh water stored within it, and the waterorb, a bulbous fungus that grows in shallow water, can be squeezed like a sponge, yielding a drinkable water and edible but chewy food.
"If we are indeed headed for the Darklake, then we should find one or the other," comments Treacle.
Monar's nose and ears reveal nothing. No one in the party resists the notion of eating and resting; the pace since the escape has taken a toll on everyone and exhaustion is a real concern. Some ripplebark is collected, roasted, and collectively eaten before the watches are set and each member of the party settles into nook or cranny of some sort that will provide shelter and sleep.
Eight hours later...
Everyone feels the benefits of being fed and rested, but something unpleasant...unwanted...unfamiliar...seems to be having an effect on some of the party members...
As Buppido stirs from his sleep, he begins muttering about being smothered by demonic wings; his voice conveys genuine fear, and he writhes about on the floor as if trying to escape some invisible menace.
Jimjar rises and begins to stretch his sore and tired muscles; he then explicably falls to the floor as if unconscious.
Treacle and Sarith sit up and look about the cavern and suddenly fall utterly silent and motionless
Most concerning is Eldeth, who rises as if in a trance and draws both of her shortswords; she immediately descends upon Treacle with full intent to slay the svirfneblin.
Treacle's condition makes her an easy target for Eldeth, whose first attack pierces Treacle through the shoulder. Treacle shrieks and her twin brother Tarnstrak rushes to her aid. Eldeth seems fully intent on murder...
Aside from deeply disturbing dreams or visions, the four of you feel quite normal and have no insight into what has befallen the others...
Zilly wakes feeling a bit rested. While no stranger to sleeping in an Underdark cavern, the thought of Drow hunting them and hungry demon birds flying around, quickly remind him of the perils around them.
As he stands, ready to convince is comrades of their imminent success on getting to the Darklake, he sees Eldeth, apparently in a trance, stab Treacle in the shoulder.
Zilly looks quickly to see if he can recognize what maybe going on with Eldeth:
As soon as Eldeth begins to attack the twins, Monar runs and grabs her round the waist in an attempt to grapple her and bundle her away from the gnomes. "Someone grab 'er swords before she sticks Treacle," he growls as he wraps two long arms round her. "She needs stopping first before we can help the others."
Zilly's vicious mockery sends a quick shot of pain through Eldeth's mind, causing her to be wholly unprepared for Monar's grappling maneuver. For several minutes with the aid of a few others, Monar succeeds in subduing the dwarf until she nearly falls unconscious with exhaustion. All the while during the struggle, Eldeth was accusing Treacle of being an envoy of the demon world. Her final words before giving up the fight were Treacle will summon them all!
The others (Buppido, Jimjar, and Sarith) that seem to have been affected by whatever dark force visited the party during the night return to normal as well. None of them--Eldeth included--have much to say when asked what happened to them. All of them suggest the same thing: a bad dream that seems far too real overtook them for a few minutes.
Tarnstrack is visibly unsettled by the attack on his twin sister. Glowering at Eldeth, he says, "One more bad dream, dwarf, and I will make sure you never wake again."
Szefarian just stands there with his arms crossed. What a fine thing to wake up to in the morning. He takes a swig of water from his skin, and silently considers the ramifications of just killing the twins. The dwarf was unstable, sure, but he could work with that. And... he eyes the drow, Sarith, as well. The elf's a fool, but a valuable guide. Yes... quite valuable. If he survives, he'll make for good resale value. But the twins? More trouble than they seem worthwhile.
And so the slaver spends his morning quietly contemplating how best he would sell off his fellow prisoners, taking the time to appraise each one and their appropriate price, the sales values in the western market practically dedicated to memory.
[History: 17]
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Sarith speaks as Zilly walks away. "I will guide. The Darklake is west, I assure you. From there, we will have many options."
To Monar, the drow replies, "I have some knowledge of the Darklake; it is a nearly endless web of waterfilled passages, lakes, and tunnels. No one knows all of it."
Buppido shakes his head at Monar and points to Sarith. "Trust the dark elf, will we? So be it. I say that Gracklstugh* is west. We shall see."
Sarith, overhearing Buppido, says, "Gracklstugh stands on the edge of the Darklake, you idiot."
"Says the idiot who turned the talons of the vrock upon himself," retorts Buppido with a chuckle.
*Gracklstugh is a heavily populated duergar city
Varis pulls a small book from his pack, a journal of sorts with his notes and research, and sketches out a quick outline of the path they have taken so far, at least as far as he could remember it during the race from the Drow prison. “West it is then. What kind of welcome could we expect in this Gracklstugh? Do they welcome trade and visitors, or shun outsiders? Could we find help there?”
After helping Monar get his armor on, Zilly will sit against the rock, and ritual cast Detect Magic. The idea is to use this to help guide us, or avoid things for the next 10 minutes.
OOC: (If others are uncomfortable waiting ten minutes for it, i will not finish and move on)
Buppido gives an animated response to Varis's questions about Gracklstugh. "A large city of drow-hating duergars should make a good haven for us."
"If they don't enslave us," responds Eldeth. "They won't look kindly upon all of us...or most of us for that matter. We'll need to convince them we mean no harm."
"If that's our end game, then I'll need to leave the party before entering the city," explains Sarith flatly. "But that is many days from now, I am sure."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
With everyone fully equipped and holding a general agreement that being westward bound is the best option for now, the party members carefully pick their way down the eastern side of the gorge. Upon reaching the bottom, you conclude that the western side of the gorge is far to sheer for any sort of a safe upward climb. Following the gorge northward for thirty minutes or so, you reach a place that seems to offer a manageable ascent out of the gorge. During the upward climb, on a large shelf of rock, the party finds the aftermath of a recent battle.
A vrock (but not the same one you encountered earlier) and some other kind of foul creature are lying dead upon the outcropping, both of them surrounded by a puddle of dark ichor. The stench from the vrock is overpowering.The other creature reminds you of what might happen if one were to cross a humanoid and a fly.
The insect seems familiar to the slaver. He really wracks his brain trying to parse why.
'Have I sold his kind before? Hmm... maybe I've sold to them. Blast it, I can't remember. But they seem familiar.'
The bizzare insect-like creature does indeed seem familiar to Szefarian, and as soon as Sarith mumbles the word chasme, a few memories surface. Like the vrock, the chasme is a fiend often working in service for a demon lord.
A rather quick investigation of the scene suggests that these two fiends died in the throes of battle against each other.
Eldeth murmurs the question that is lingering on almost everyone's mind. "Demons fighting here in the Underdark? Why?"
Zilly will give the scene a once over, looking for anything that may aid a group with little resources.
Investigation: 10
Varis pulls out a dagger and pokes around the corpses they found, looking for anything useful. It was not hard to determine they died fighting each other. “I don't care why, just as long as we can stay out of the middle of it.” he answers Eldeth, not quite sure if he himself believes that will be possible. “In any case, there is little to be done here, let’s keep moving.”
At the sight of the two dead creatures, Monar closes his eyes and grabs his amulet with one massive hand, seemingly concentrating on something internal. "Keep your wits about you and keep moving. There may be more of these around if there was fighting here." He grunts in disgust at the corpses. "Lets hope if there are, they care more about fighting each other than us."
Monar reaches into the surrounding area with his divine sense, and he soon concludes that no other fiends are nearby. With unanimity, the party agrees to push onward and create as much distance between themselves and any drow pursuit.
After another straightforward climb up the western side of the gorge, you reach a large shelf that eventually narrows and leads into a tunnel that requires a single-file marching order. For what seems like hours, you clamber over rocks and negotiate steep drops and rises within this tunnel. No one escapes the periodic fall to the ground and subsequent scrapes and bruises. Every member of the party, in varying degrees, begins to grapple with three powerful needs: food, water, and rest. The first indication of any change in the subterranean maze in which you find yourselves is the presence of a faint light up ahead.
The moment he sees the light, Sarith says a single word, "Faerzress."
After an awkward silence, Jimjar quips, "I'll wager ten gold pieces that only you know what you're talking about, Sarith."
"Faerzress," repeats Sarith, "is...difficult...to explain. It is magical. It is ancient. It is not fully understood. It emits light but hinders divination and teleportation."
And with that said, the drow pushes past Monar and rushes toward the dim light ahead. After half a minute, Sarith's voice echoes down the tunnel. "Come! See our good fortune."
Hesitantly, with weapons drawn, you move toward Sarith and enter a large cavern that is somehow illuminated by no detectable light source. Additionally, protruding from the northern wall of the cavern are multiple shelf-like fungi. All the svirfneblin in the party recognize the fungus as ripplebark, which is edible but tastes much better when roasted over a fire.
This place offers a bit of food and may be suitable for rest. There is no water, however.
As we settle in for a rest, Zilly will come up to Sarith and say “thanks for sticking around, sorry your kin want to kill you, and us too ” and presses his hand to his wound and sings a quick song “heard this one from a human actually, … don’t flinch...”
Healing Word: 5
Zilly has one more bardic and will share that with anyone investigating the caverns.
(OOC: First person to explore, take bardic, except Szefarian, Zilly has heard your mutterings and is watching you…)
Varis enters the cavern cautiously letting his eyes adjust, the unknown light providing a sharp contrast to the dark tunnels they had been fleeing through. He looks at the ripplebark a little distrustfully as the others describe it, still food was food. “Will any of this fungi burn? I can start a small fire if we have fuel. And if we think it is safe.” He investigates the rest of the cavern, looking for additional passages and openings, and any sign of anything out of the ordinary.
Investigation (with bardic) 9 plus 3.
.
.
"It will burn, especially the dead pieces that are lying about the floor," explains Jimjar.
Varis scours the faerzress-lit cavern and after several minutes is certain he has seen all there is to see:
All in all, there doesn't appear to be anything out of the ordinary.
"This seems as good a place to rest as any," Monar says as he surveys the cavern. He points at the way the party has just come. "Might be best to go to the far entrance. We know what's behind us, and the space there is small enough to defend. We don't want to be caught in the open. A fire and food sounds just about right for now." He makes his way a few feet into the far entrance, stops, sniffs and listens.
Perception check: 5
Thinking aloud, the slaver asks, "Is it possible we can draw water from the fungi? 'Doesn't have to be much, but I doubt we'll all last long on what we have..." His is more a concern of what others will do, should desperation set in. He doesn't mind the prospect of thinning the herd, but he's not what you'd call an "active" killer.
"No measurable water in this stuff," remarks Sarith glumly. "Our best hope is to find barrelstalks or waterorbs. Soon."
Barrelstalks and waterorbs are familiar to the svirfneblin in the party, but Jimjar takes it upon himself to explain what is meant by each term. The barrelstalk is a large, cask-shaped fungus that can be tapped and drained of the fresh water stored within it, and the waterorb, a bulbous fungus that grows in shallow water, can be squeezed like a sponge, yielding a drinkable water and edible but chewy food.
"If we are indeed headed for the Darklake, then we should find one or the other," comments Treacle.
Monar's nose and ears reveal nothing. No one in the party resists the notion of eating and resting; the pace since the escape has taken a toll on everyone and exhaustion is a real concern. Some ripplebark is collected, roasted, and collectively eaten before the watches are set and each member of the party settles into nook or cranny of some sort that will provide shelter and sleep.
Eight hours later...
Everyone feels the benefits of being fed and rested, but something unpleasant...unwanted...unfamiliar...seems to be having an effect on some of the party members...
Treacle's condition makes her an easy target for Eldeth, whose first attack pierces Treacle through the shoulder. Treacle shrieks and her twin brother Tarnstrak rushes to her aid. Eldeth seems fully intent on murder...
Aside from deeply disturbing dreams or visions, the four of you feel quite normal and have no insight into what has befallen the others...
Zilly wakes feeling a bit rested. While no stranger to sleeping in an Underdark cavern, the thought of Drow hunting them and hungry demon birds flying around, quickly remind him of the perils around them.
As he stands, ready to convince is comrades of their imminent success on getting to the Darklake, he sees Eldeth, apparently in a trance, stab Treacle in the shoulder.
Zilly looks quickly to see if he can recognize what maybe going on with Eldeth:
Perception: 13
If something obvious from that check clues him in, such as minor illusion a noise, persuasion check, etc. he will try it.
Assuming nothing comes from that check, Zilly will sigh, mutter a curse in the Abyssal language, and drop into a quick spell.
He will tell Eldeth that Dwarves are the weakest of the lower creatures in the Underdark.
DC 14 Wisdom or: 2 damage / Disadvantage
OOC: Hoping damage snaps her out of it, if not, at least disadvantage.
As soon as Eldeth begins to attack the twins, Monar runs and grabs her round the waist in an attempt to grapple her and bundle her away from the gnomes. "Someone grab 'er swords before she sticks Treacle," he growls as he wraps two long arms round her. "She needs stopping first before we can help the others."
Athletics check for the grapple: 16
Zilly's vicious mockery sends a quick shot of pain through Eldeth's mind, causing her to be wholly unprepared for Monar's grappling maneuver. For several minutes with the aid of a few others, Monar succeeds in subduing the dwarf until she nearly falls unconscious with exhaustion. All the while during the struggle, Eldeth was accusing Treacle of being an envoy of the demon world. Her final words before giving up the fight were Treacle will summon them all!
The others (Buppido, Jimjar, and Sarith) that seem to have been affected by whatever dark force visited the party during the night return to normal as well. None of them--Eldeth included--have much to say when asked what happened to them. All of them suggest the same thing: a bad dream that seems far too real overtook them for a few minutes.
Tarnstrack is visibly unsettled by the attack on his twin sister. Glowering at Eldeth, he says, "One more bad dream, dwarf, and I will make sure you never wake again."
Szefarian just stands there with his arms crossed. What a fine thing to wake up to in the morning. He takes a swig of water from his skin, and silently considers the ramifications of just killing the twins. The dwarf was unstable, sure, but he could work with that. And... he eyes the drow, Sarith, as well. The elf's a fool, but a valuable guide. Yes... quite valuable. If he survives, he'll make for good resale value. But the twins? More trouble than they seem worthwhile.
And so the slaver spends his morning quietly contemplating how best he would sell off his fellow prisoners, taking the time to appraise each one and their appropriate price, the sales values in the western market practically dedicated to memory.
[History: 17]